Monthly Archives: July 2014


Have you seen this hashtag? I see it on Twitter quite a bit. At first it bugged me. Being overtly unapologetic isn’t really my style, so reading someone say something they know is unpopular and possibly offensive and then using a hashtag like this to practically dare others to not be offended… ugh, it’s just too much. Leave the provocateur stuff to the professionals (like Joan Rivers– she’s been using hashtags since before they were pound signs!). And then other people were using it for no real reason. “Ate a hot dog today. #SorryNotSorry” Um, whaaaa? Unless that hot dog was made from real dog, lady… #RelaxYourFace.

Then I started to realize why people were using it. Because the word “sorry” is one of the most incorrectly used words in the English language these days (“opinion” is a close second). To this day I remember a HS friend who would start most of her statements with, “I’m sorry, but…” or “No offense or anything, but…” It’s like a huge neon sign flashing the words, “I’M ABOUT TO PISS YOU OFF!!” I wonder what ever happened to her…

And then, when people have no reason to be sorry, they use the word anyway. Here– take a look:

At the risk of sounding like a non-woman… women talk like that? Blech! Why?!?!

I got a friend request on Facebook a few days ago from a name I didn’t recognize. Now I’ll admit that I’ve met a lot of people and I don’t remember all their names. So I gave the guy the benefit of the doubt and asked him if I knew him. I was pretty sure I knew what the answer was going to be, since the only info I could get from his page aside from his name was that he was “In a Complicated Relationship” (red flag, much??). His response was something along the lines of “no, Dear. I just want to get to know you.” I don’t think he intended it to resonate with the “I’m middle aged and horny! I’m here to pick up chicks online!” skeeviness. But…ew.

And damned if I didn’t almost start my response with “Sorry, but…”

What did I have to be sorry for? That it’s not 1998? That this isn’t MySpace? That I’m not some naive 18 year old who thinks being “Facebook popular” is the pinnacle of social success? I know every single person on my Facebook friend list. I knew them in HS or college. They’re extended relatives. They’re networking contacts. That’s just how I roll on Facebook. So I replied, “no thank you. I’m only friends with people I actually know.”

Short. Polite. Unapologetic.

Here’s to not saying words that we don’t mean.

(Yessiree, Mr Yankovic– I hate them, too.)


I have a problem

And it’s…. THIS:


(Get organized, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.)

This is a bin rack with a Spongebob Squarepants theme. And to paraphrase Bill Engvall it’s like the guy who cleans 
Port-A-Potties: it just catches crap all day long.  (You have to admit that this analogy is too funny to not give credit where credit is due.)

I reorganize that thing constantly. I throw out the broken stuff and sort everything over and over again. And it still ends up looking like… that. I seriously just want it gone.

But what is my alternative? I still need space for the items there, preferably in a form that allows the boys to access them easily.

Here’s to making room for living.

Ah! I feel weefweshed!

(Quote: Lilly Von Shtupp, “Blazing Saddles.” I’m generally of the opinion that the late great Madeleine Kahn really had a speech impediment and any role where she didn’t speak with one was her acting.)

We recently returned from our annual beach vacation. Some people might say a week with the in-laws doesn’t sound like much of a vacation, but that’s never been the issue. For me, it’s been a week in a different house with my children. As a Stay-At-Home-Mom, that is Not. A. Vacation. That’s just… relocation. In the past, I’ve honestly not been all that psyched about going. But the kids love it, so I never said anything.

That’s when I remembered my New Year’s Resolution– speak up more, be more honest. I can pretty much peg one occasion a month where I’ve heeded my own advice and it has yet to lead me astray. It’s as they say: Honesty is a positive course of action that yields satisfying results. (Ok, “they” say it in a more slant rhyme fashion, but where’s the fun in that?)

So I spoke to the Hubs about why I wasn’t all that excited to go to the beach house. That he spends the whole week with his nose in his Kindle. That I have to encourage the kids to get away from the TV and hit the beach. That I’m the one to feed, diaper, escort, and discipline the kids. And I can do all that for a lot less money by staying home.

Well! Miracle of miracles, my honesty paid off. By the time we’d settled in that first day, we’d eaten at two restaurants already so we agreed on sandwiches and chips for dinner. I got Pint Size Genius his sandwich and took it to the table for him to start eating. When I turned around, there it was: the Hubs, making Toughie his dinner.

Now you should know– and if you don’t, let me put it on the record here– the Hubs is not derelict in Daddy duties. He often feeds, clothes, escorts, medicates, diapers, and disciplines. He just treated our vacation as his vacation… from all that. And that don’t work for me.

The rest of the week continued in that same vein. Too many requests from the kids used to get the response, “Ask [parent that I am not]” from both of us. Not this time.

So the vacation went better than usual. Although I’m still considering a “girl’s day out” to a beach… where day drinking is acceptable and I don’t have to change a diaper.

Here’s to speaking up and being rewarded with a good time.