If you take your moms to a museum...

I think I suffer from some type of parental amnesia. All moms must have it. Nothing else could explain a mother willing to have more than one child. But mine extends well beyond childbirth. I ‘suffer’ quite often. I believe wholeheartedly that things are a great idea, hate (totally exaggerating for effect here) them the entire time and then afterwards, remember them fondly and sign on to do them again (and again.) Some examples include sleepover parties, tent camping in the summer and more recently and most notably, field trip chaperoning…I love the idea of field trips and being the kind of mom who always tries to go and afterwards I have great stories and pictures and a desire to go again. But in the middle, while I am there, they can be quite painful. And don't even get me started about the darn bus rides...

I usually like to think of our little family as pretty typical. Two working parents, one child we adore and ruin, a cozy little home, a school we agonized about, extracurricular activities (karate and such, you dirty birds!) A lot like most families these days. So, sometimes I actually forget we are different at all… Oh, just in case you don’t know, we are gay, (both of us, which really works out most conveniently for all involved.) And not that there’s anything wrong with that…The times where I am most often reminded that our family is not typical are pretty much any time Cyn and I set foot into X’s school together or join him on a field trip. The questions and curiosity always abound here in good old Glen Burnie where we are a bit more of an oddity. No judging, they are just little folks, just lots of entertaining reminders that we are not the norm round these parts. "Are you X's mom?" "Are you really his mom too?" "Why does he have two moms?" "Are you his real mom?" "Does he have a dad?" "Well then who is/where is his dad?" "Do you really celebrate Hanukkah and Christmas?" Oh, and just in case you are new to this parenting thing, please be aware that teachers and other parents do not like it when you tell students to “myob, shut the f up and get back to work.” Just saying...

On our most recent trip to DC’s Smithsonian museum we were actually accosted (again, exaggerating for effect here) by one mom who felt it was completely unfair that we two moms had the same size group that she had on her own. Though she was probably right, I frowned upon her tactics so was not as willing to help as I may have otherwise been. I mean really, throw me a bone, we found one way that being gay moms was a total bonus and she wanted to rip that away. Yup, that’s right we have faced years of discrimination (again effect,) been denied the right to marry or share in any of the other many benefits of straight couples just so that one day, down the road, we would be ahead in the field trip chaperoning department. She’s onto us!

But really, it was a mostly wonderful trip…the butterflies were lovely, X faced a fear, the children listened, Mr. Rob sent us on a ridiculous wild goose chase (I mean educationally stimulating Scavenger Hunt) and we all spent the day together! Can’t wait for the next one!!!

What were we talking about?



X and Cyn working on the scavenger hunt that nearly killed us all. 



If you give a boy a bento box…

Super S - Saving the world one plastic baggie at a time (and then choking the living crap out of it one paper towel at a time…)

I’m just going to come out and tell you this right now, not gonna lie, before you start to read this (well, I haven’t even written it yet) you have a right to know…I am a great big HYPOCRITE, a bit of a fraud, a walking contradiction, possibly even (so sorry Holden Caulfield) a phony! Ok, if you are still here reading you either a) can’t believe that could be true about me b) love me anyway c) want to see me go down in flames so you can feel a little better about yourself or maybe d) you are just curious where in the hell I am going with all this… Hmmm, let’s see if I can remember.



X enjoys his perfect bento box birthday cake

Oh yeah… Like most folks nowadays, I try to do my part for the environment, the planet, our future planet dwellers, etc. We recycle at home,  use reusable containers whenever possible (difficult for Cyn as I drag her away from the convenience of the ever appealing plastic bags,) pack X’s lunch in a bento box (which often includes emptying things from a small container, such as apple sauce or yogurt, into a bento container because he will remember to bring the bento boxes home, but may not remember to recycle the plastic containers at school,) don’t run the car during carpool time, love to buy/use things made from recycled materials, buy organic milk and I absolutely adore organic cotton (not sure how that really helps, but organic and cotton are two of my favorite words and it just feels right for the planet for me to be that happy about material!) So all good stuff, right? Right! So...I am helping to save the planet, right? Wrong! The problem is I often undo much of this good with my over attachment to a few conveniences. I confess, I love paper towels. A dish towel will rarely do. Paper towels are fresh and clean and white and new and I use way too many for way too many things and I am so sorry, but I can’t seem to break that habit. Another big issue which I hadn’t thought much about until recently is the heated dry setting on the dishwasher, I always use it, every cycle and I am not sure how I will survive without it now that I know I am wasting energy. Even with the heated dry setting the tops of cups are still a bit wet and I have to dry them with a…come on, you know what I’m going to say…A PAPER TOWEL. If I give up the heated dry how many paper towels will I have to use to dry the dishes…Oh, Cyn says we let them air dry. Ugh, ok, well maybe for my grandchildren and their grandchildren I could try that, but I’m telling you right now, it’s gonna hurt a little, so I hope those damn kids grow up and amount to something and I don’t save the planet for their little asses for nothing!

The point is, in case it was lost in my rambling somewhere, I feel as if I try to be a green little friend to the earth, but am often left feeling like there is so much I could be doing…composting, driving less, always using cloth towels and napkins, or even just not running my computer as much (as if!) So if you are greener than me, I salute you! And if you are not, I salute you too because you are likely trying and it isn’t easy being green!

Kiss me, I’m green­-ish as no actual paper was harmed or wasted in the creation of this blog!

If you name your blog...If you give a b!+ch a blog...

Felt like I needed to pay homage to the inspiration for my blog title by taking it all the way, so here goes nothing...

If you give a b!+ch a blog, she's going to ask for a follower.

When you become her follower, she'll probably ask you to comment.

When she's finished, she'll ask you for a re-post.

Then she'll want to look at your blog to make sure you have hers listed on the side.

When she looks at your blog, she might notice something you've said.

So she'll probably comment and throw in a live link.

When she's finished visiting your blog, she'll want to post another blog.

She'll start writing.

She might get carried away and do this for every blog.

She may even end up writing on yours as well!

When she's done, she'll probably want to take a nap.

You'll have to make a little space for her on the couch with a pillow.

She'll climb on, make herself comfy and grab her smartphone.

She'll probably ask you to read her a blog.

So you'll read to her from one of the blogs, and she'll ask to see the photos.

When she looks at the photos, she'll get so excited she'll want to post one of her own. She'll ask for an SD card.

She'll post a picture.

When the picture is loaded, she'll want to tag herself and her friends.

Then she'll want the picture posted on your facebook page.

Which means she'll need your wall.

She'll post the photo and then post a link to it.

Looking at facebook will remind her that she likes having readers.

So...

She'll ask for another follower.

And chances are if she asks for a follower, she's going to write a blog to go with it.

(Thanks Laura Joffe Numeroff for your inspiration, we love your books!)

If you give a mom a couch...

"A well-spent day brings happy sleep." -Leonardo da Vinci

Our couch is a black hole! I love it, but I cannot sit on it, noone can. It takes up most of our living room, can seat at least six comfortably, is the only soft spot (other than Cyn's chair) and yet we rarely ever sit on it. Cyn sits in her chair, X doesn't sit and I usually sit in a dining room chair (at the computer, of course.) If I sit on the couch (I have actually tried this a few times over the years) one of two things immediately happens, sometimes both...Either I fall asleep (no matter how un-tired I am, no matter what's on tv, no matter who else is in the house, no matter how much caffeine I ingest) OR X appears out of nowhere (I think there is a trip wire that alerts him, but I have not discovered where the damn thing is located, which by the way is also somehow linked to the dryer buzzer, which I guess is actually a third thing) to climb on my lap/climb on my back/give me a twenty minute dissertation (with visual aids and sound effects) on why typhlosion is a sooooo much better pokemon than celeby/climb on my head/ask for a snack/ask for a drink/ask me to see what he just built/or just generally lay down on top of me (see picture above for an example of a both scenario.)
Mostly though, I just avoid the couch. I putter about in the kitchen, use the computer, play a game at the table, chat on the phone, text or all of the above. And if we decide to watch a movie together as a family, I have two choices, sit at the table and watch the movie while puttering or hit the couch and enjoy the previews (if I'm lucky) before drifting off to sleep. I can go all day, stay up to all hours of the night, as long as I avoid that darn couch. By the way, it's not me, it's the couch! When we do have company and they do risk sitting on the couch (ignoring both the posted and verbal disclaimers) they fall asleep too. Especially if watching a movie. It happens all the time. Even to those stronger than myself. And when the time comes to remove me/us/them from the couch...Not gonna lie, it's ugly! See, we don't want to stay there all night, we want to be comfy in our own bed/in our own house/with our own pillows/our own perfect, white, down comforter. So you cannot leave me/us/them there, but go ahead and try and get me/us/them up to move. But you can't blame me/us/them it's the couch, it's the black hole of Glen Burnie. Getting kinda sleepy. Feels like couch time...G'night all.

If you give a baby b!+ch a Barbie...

Happy Birthday Barbie Millicent Roberts!

Apparently (I am totally trusting you on this one, Jen B) today is Barbie's 52nd birthday! So, happy f'n birthday Barbie, this blog's for you! I am sure it has not been easy keeping your anatomically impossibly perfect figure and perfect skin for so many years. You look uncannily similar to the Barbie I first met almost forty years ago. You are a walking (ha, well you can't really walk without my help, can you?) ad for Botox and breast implants and lipo suction and not eating (some of my least favorite things and the reason, despite our past relationship, we can never truly be bff's.) But from one b!+ch to another, you go girl. Super socially responsible!
A few weeks ago my mom brought me one of my childhood you Dolls that she had found in her basement (yes, I had you, yes I loved you, I even had your townhouse where you and Midge and Skipper, my fave, shared a home, hmmmm.) I was particularly surprised to hear where you were unearthed because my parents only moved into that house when I went away to college, again, hmmmm. You can see yourself in the photograph (above left) in the lovely corset that I apparently left you in for most of your adult life. Hope you weren't too uncomfy Barbie (consider it payback for all those years I actually gave a shit that I didn't look like you, who's laughing now!) You actually look 52, which by the way, is older than me, (but still kinda hot, despite the leaves and rust in your hair and dirt on your legs) in that photo.
I heard somewhere once, long ago (you can probably look it up if you actually care) that if you were a real person with those same measurements/proportions to your figure you would be completely unable to stand or walk. No idea if this is true, but I have never been able to shake the image of you trying! :) 
Anyway Ms. Roberts, hope you had a b!+chin' birthday. You have been ruining the self esteem of young girls for years now, but we know you can't help it, you were just made that way! And you have given tons of fun to girls everywhere (including baby dyke me.) And a little piece of me (yeah, we all know which piece) will always adore/hate you and your perfect, plastic, perky parts!

If you give a nice gal a blog...she's going to have to be a little b!+chy

Sometimes being a b!+ch is all a blog has to hold on to...

Ok, this one is sort of a retroactive post. It probably should have been my very first blog, but I was more inspired to write about other things at the moment. And doing things a bit messy and disorganized is way more my style. So you are getting me, as me. Lucky you...
A lot (ok, really just a few, but I am sure more will follow suit) of friends have asked in the past few days, Why a blog ? (who knows) Why now? (read and find out) What inspired you? (I will tell you) I was discussing blogging with a couple of college friends who were just beginning brand new blogs. One mentioned that the toughest part for her was coming up with a name for her blog. Immediately a blog name (you know what it is, it's right up there) popped into my head. Later that night I began to think maybe I should snag the name just in case I ever decided I wanted to blog. Not too shockingly it was available. Apparently the combination of a childrens' book format and a dirty mouth had not yet occured to any others. Phewww! But then, a few hours later, I could not stop myself from writing. It slipped out. And now I keep oozing.
I really did not think blogging was something I would ever do. I had a challenging experience a couple years back where I was on the wrong side of someone's blog and it did not go well. I was upset and responded accordingly and at some point accused the writer of only "accepting meaningless accolades from like minded readers." A notion I completely understood the moment I typed my first words as a blogger (the title) and not a bloggee. Thus, some disclaimers: I will be over the top at times, I likely will offend someone with my humor/grammar/spelling/disorganization/outspokenness/profanity/writing style/adorable twinkle in my eyes/etc. And if you do not like tweens/teenagers/nannies/small children/water/gay people/women/me (perish the thought) or hearing about tweens/teenagers/nannies/small children/water/gay people/women/me, then this blog is not for you! I may even be snarky and sarcastic and rude. But I will try not to go too far with others feelings and I will try, try, try to be accepting of feedback that is not always "Wow, Shari, you are the greatest!" though I hope there is some of that too...

Oh and two more things (see, messy)...
1) Blog intended for mature audiences only (c'mon, look at the f'n title, dumbass!)
2) There will be many, many, many parenthesis (I just can't write without them!)
oh make it three things...
3) Any resemblance to people living or not (well they probably don't mind) may or may not be intentional. But I think it doesn't really matter, since this is my blog. Right???
4) (Oops) and lots of ... cuz I love those little dots!

If you give a gal geek a smartphone...

A gal geek and her smartphone are not soon parted...

Yesterday morning I was in the middle of a few facebook and text conversations when I really needed to get my act together and get ready for work. I started running the water for a nice hot shower, but found I was quite hesitant to leave these conversations on hold while I actually got into the shower. Which (of course) led me to instead post two more facebook statuses 1: "C'mon geeks, I really need a smartphone that works in the shower!" and 2: "Hate that awkward period (my entire life) when you are geeky enough to want something, but not geeky enough to invent it." The second one I actually posted from in the shower, but PLEASE do not tell my wife this or she will get me the help I need! So, I'm thinking I might be a little too attached to this phone. By the way, it's totally awesome and can do everything and I love it and it takes great pictures, and has swype and direct links to youtube and facebook and twitter, and, and, and...
I started to notice that I might be having a problem last week when X brought home more detailed info about a field trip I had signed up to chaperone and I noticed the clause  "Smoking at any time during this trip is prohibited (easy breezy, I can totally do that part) and cell phone usage should be limited to emergencies only." I immediately began thinking this trip may not be for me and can I really last an entire day of 'quality time' with my child (and several other first graders) without my crutch, my closest pal, my confidant??? And what constitutes an emergency anyway? What if I see something really funny and need to post a status before I forget it, is that an emergency? What if a friend texts and asks me what I'm doing later/needs a favor/wants to know what the dress code for a restaurant is/needs to know where the closest Chipotle is/wants to know what I think about Brittney Spears, are those emergencies? Or, what if someone I barely know posts something great and I need to "like" it (oh crap, I won't even see what people are posting?)
I should have known things were getting out of hand when I tossed and turned all night after booking our summer vacation. The night of booking I posted this: "Feeling so brave, booked a one week summer stay at a campground with no wi-fi! I heard they have trees and stuff though." And by morning I had completely chickened out (not really, there were other reasons, I promise) and begged Cyn to cancel that campground at a $35 penalty to us. Later that week we re-booked at Jellystone Park where there is free wi-fi in the cabins! Of course I would have my phone with me anyway...
Sooooo, please help (don't really) I am addicted (but like it that way) and really need an intervention (no I don't, I'm fine!) Thank you so much for your concern (leave me the f alone!)

If you give a Charlie Sheen a marriage...

For so many (in Hollywood and occasionally elsewhere) the marriage formula = marry, (sometimes child,) cheat, divorce, mistreat, repeat. and repeat. and repeat. (not necessarily in that order)

I kinda like Charlie Sheen. And I actually feel really sorry for him, especially with all the added pressure of being in the limelight while he is currently in train wreck mode. But all this talk about Charlie, his marriages and his other 'relationships' keeps bringing to mind the opposition to gay marriage. Really? Seriously? This guy can marry who he wants and we cannot because we will damage the fabric of straight marriage. Guess what, if that's your 'fabric,' better grab the moth balls because some of you guys (no, none of you personally, of course) suck at it! 

A few (three, well six, well three couples) of our gay friends have recently gotten married in DC soon after it became legal there. So far I don't know any straight folks (ok, maybe poor Charlie Sheen, but I am thinking that may be unrelated) who have had their relationships impacted negatively by these gay marriages. In fact I am quite sure most of our straight friends now have improved marriages because of these gay unions, I notice they are kissing and holding hands more, several were recently able to conceive after years of trying and almost all have recently had financial windfalls. Oh, I know, I am just being silly, we couldn't possibly have that kind of impact on other peoples' marriages. Hmmmmm.

Anyway, all I am saying is give gays a chance (isn't that a song?) We couldn't f it up too much worse. And don't we deserve to be 'bi-winners' too?!?!

Oh and just in case that whole gay marriage bill thingy doesn't work out, does anyone know where I can 'hire' a goddess (or two?)

If you give a carseat a mouth... (aka, if carseats could talk)

Last night, after a milkshake incident gone horribly wrong, I decided it was finally time to throw out X's booster seat (noone panic, I have a spare!) As I was putting it into the garbage bag this morning, I couldn't help but think of all that seat has gone through and seen over the past couple of years.  As mom to one school aged child and nanny to four tweens and teens, I have spent a LOT of time in that car (the nanny van, as the kids call it) and by result a lot of time with that booster seat. That seat has seen me at my best, singing (ok, my singing is not THE best, but I am usually at my best while singing,) laughing and joking with the kids, handing out snacks, drinks and occasional meals (while safely stopped at a red light...mostly) listening and (as needed, whether desired or not) giving advice, helping with homework... And that seat has seen me at my worst, yelling (yes, sometimes I yell, though there is always regret,) hurting feelings, going too far with a joke, texting while driving (before it was a felony of course,) spilling soda everywhere (this happens a lot for some reason,) crying because I've hurt feelings or gone too far with a joke, crying at every song on the radio, crying because X didn't get into Monarch Academy, crying because X did get into Monarch Academy, (you get the point, I've done a lot of crying in that car.) If that booster seat could talk I think it could tell you just about everything there is to know about me and who I really I am. But alas it sat there all the while, never complaining, despite all the noise, ruckus, potty accidents, emotional outbursts of all sorts, singing (sorry) and endless showers of  slurpees, icees, crushed goldfish and finally milkshake it had to endure. Thank you orange booster, you wore it well! My secrets die with you...

If you give a blog a follower...

I got so excited when I looked over and saw I had one follower. Woohoo, someone is following me and I haven't even started talking yet! Oops, then I suddenly realized it was just me as I had signed on to follow my own blog. Rookie mistake by an obvious blogging virgin. Oh well, Cyn (my partner of 15 years) says "if you write it, they will come." Until then, I remain, as always, my own biggest fan.

If you give a b!+ch a blog...

she's going to want some followers to go with it.