Off Duty Mom

Thoughts from an exhausted mom who is NEVER really "off duty"

Archive for the tag “rants”

Some days I just really don’t want to be a responsible grown up

My mom and dad are the coolest.

Seriously.

They’re supportive, helpful and kind.  They have a beautiful marriage and they truly love my children and me.  My husband has a very strained relationship with his family and my parents have warmly welcomed him into the fold with us.

BUT…

We seem to have different definitions of what the role of “grandparent” is supposed to look like.

Please let me know that I am not alone on this.  I need to hear from some voices who understand.

Today, my 6-year old son, told me he was “too sick” to go to school and that he was “going to throw up.”  Now, I am not going to call him a lying shithead, but I will say that these two statements he said to me are not true.  Draw what conclusions you will.

When I left for work, he was sitting on the couch reading Minecraft books.  READING.  Awesome.  You go, kid.

At this point, my husband is preparing to start his day.  He was upstairs in our room, still in bed because he had rearranged his work appointments this morning to take my son to school — for his last day of 1st grade.  There were likely going to be pictures and a special breakfast and generalized merriment.

Knowing that my husband was unlikely to respond in the desired way to the claims of illness, my son picked up the house phone (OMG — yes, we still have one of those) and called my mother, crying.  He told her he was sick and was scared of throwing up and he couldn’t go to school.

Now, we all know rule #1 is “don’t play mom against dad.”  If mom says, “no,” then that is the answer.  If dad says, “no,” don’t go ask mom.  Don’t you good-cop-bad-cop us.

But, perhaps we were unclear about whether it was okay to ask “Nana” for something when mom didn’t give you the answer you wanted and dad was not likely to tell you what you wanted to hear.

So, now, here is where things get interesting:  after asking where “Daddy” is to my son, my mother asked whether the “patient” would like her to come to our house to comfort him.

Of course the kid said, “yes.”

And this is all happening without my husband or me knowing about it.  And, now my mom is on her way – at 6:30 in the morning on a Wednesday – to my house.

The little guy creeps into my bedroom where he sheepishly tells his father that he “accidentally” called his grandmother to tell her he was sick.  Daddy responded to tell him that he is not sick and that he should go back to reading.  He also should not bother his grandparents with these stories.  If there is a problem, Mommy or Daddy will solve it.  It’s our job.

Then, my mother walks into my house to console the now weeping child I’ve birthed.  She sees a pained, ill child whose parents are – I don’t know – ignoring him/not loving him enough/not caring for his illness/not listening to his desperate pleas for help and affection.  I can’t really be sure what was going on at this point.  Allegedly, my mother told my son twice to go tell his daddy that he was sick, but the little man said that he couldn’t because his father was sleeping.  In the argument that resulted on the phone later with my mother, she threw in something to the effect that she wasn’t sure if my husband was passed out or had fallen and couldn’t get up or there was other trouble.  If that were true, I can’t speak to why she never attempted to contact him directly, though.

And, now my husband is seething.  He figured that the kid’s confession of his “accidental” phone call would be soon followed with a phone call from one of my parents saying, “hey, this is weird.  Little Guy just called us crying that he was sick.  What’s up?  Do you need help?  Everything ok?”

But, instead of that, our take on this overly dramatic response is that we must be such fucking horrible parents that immediate intervention was needed.

And that’s not all…

After a bit of time cradling a weeping liar kid, my mother gathers BOTH of my boys up, tells them to get their shoes on and yells up the steps, “I’m taking the kids.”

Then the door shuts behind them.

Neither of the boys was sent up to kiss their father “goodbye.”  An attempt was never made to inquire as to whether my husband was in need of help.  I was never called to be told that my children were being removed from my home by someone other than their father in whose charge they were left.

Shit just got serious.

And, after a lengthy phone conversation, my mother is mad at me for “not appreciating” her “help” and making her “always” feel as though she “can’t do anything right,” something she says she is, “frankly, sick of.”

In almost 40 years on this planet, I have never hung up on my mother.  But, I did today.

Now, you do not have to support me.  Maybe I am an asshole.  I probably am for other reasons, anyway.

But, if you were in this situation, how would you react? How would you feel?  How would you have wanted this to be handled?  And, what in the hell do I do now?

Generation Zombie

Because Google completely failed me recently, I feel inclined to rant.

Here’s what happened:

1. I am a teacher.  I freaking love my job.  It is rewarding as hell and I don’t care that it makes me poor.  I love working with young people and helping them better understand our world.

2. No amount of love for young minds changes the fact that kids can be little shits sometimes.  I happen to have well over 30 students of this particular variety all in one classroom.  For 80 minutes.

3. In an effort to figure out how to better manage them and keep them from doing the following…

–eating Hot Cheetos in class even though I have asked them not to eat anything in the room on about a million occasions

–talking incessantly with other students far and near even though I constantly move around, ask them repeatedly to quiet down and have moved seats over and over again

–saying the following (and this is not an exhaustive list):  suck my dick, shut the hell up, fuck you, go to Hell, oh shit, rape is funny, titties (I could go on and on)

–staring at me when I have told them to write notes

–forgetting pencils, papers, laptops, chargers, pens, notebooks, folders, etc.

–getting up and walking around the room freely

…I have been searching online for strategies to help me “up” my teacher game.

4. I have taken to Google (and, frankly, a number of sites associated with professional development for educators) to try to learn what other teachers might already know about wrangling 9th graders.

5.  I came up with squat.  Most educational resources out there are focused on little kids.  All of the suggestions do not relate to someone who has 30-40 students in a room in a major public high school, cannot punish anyone with a loss of recess time, and has students big enough to kick her ass.

 

So, now, here I am.

 

No one on the internet can tell me a goddamn thing about how to manage these hooligans.  I am a 15-year veteran teacher.  I have taught some of the absolute toughest kids on the planet.  Criminals, even.  If there were a yearbook of my former students you would find in it a convicted child molester, a murderer, several drug-dealers, a kid who was lucky to have been tried as a juvenile after he slit another kid’s throat (the victim lived, by the way), two assholes who got into a hallway fight that was so bloody, there was red sprayed up on the ceiling, and at least three strippers who may or may not take “extra” cash for “extra” services at their places of employment.

I am no stranger to tough kids.  But, this is something different I haven’t seen before.  This is just total disregard for other humans.  They are completely apathetic.  They don’t fear their parents; they don’t fear detentions, suspensions or tongue-lashings from a principal; they don’t care if they pass the class; they don’t have any interest in gaining new knowledge; and they certainly don’t care about anything I do or say.  I am at a loss.  They just don’t fucking care.  I am flabbergasted.  I have not seen a group of people care so little about anything.  I have tried rewards, positive behavioral reinforcement, a variety of punishments and consequences, changing seats, giving them ownership of their own learning, empowering them to make decisions about the class, offering incentives.  I have tried just about every traditional teacher trick.

They all fail me.

And, of course, this makes me feel like a complete failure myself.

As I mentioned, I am not weak.  I can handle shitheads.  But these kids are their own kind of craptastic.  They are just vapid.  They openly choose nothing over something.  When I asked a student who sat empty-handed with a blank stare today if he was opting to take a “0” for his work, he said, “I forgot my backpack today.”  This was the 4th day in a row he forgot a backpack.  He didn’t care to borrow a pencil, ask a classmate for some paper or write in marker on the back of his fucking hand.  He just figured he’d sit for 80 minutes and stare.  If I gave him a “0” for today’s assignment, that was okay.  I guess.  Eeyore.

This is no “Dangerous Minds” shit.  These kids are GOOD kids.  At least that is what we call them nowadays because they don’t do drugs, they don’t get into fights and they don’t join gangs.  They manage in some classes to get adequate grades.  Some of their parents care a little.  Most of their parents actually care a ton.  Most of their parents have good jobs and they live in the nicer parts of town.  Our school is known for good test scores and great teaching.  But, this one class of students just seems to have so much apathy and I truly fear that there is a serious generational shift I am witnessing.

Everyone hated Gen X because we were supposedly so lazy and apathetic.  This makes the graduating class of 1991 look like motherfucking rocket scientists.  The kids I see each day are empty.  And they do not wish to be filled.

I am certain that I can work to fix this if only I could build a personal relationship and rapport with each of them individually.  You work hard and behave well for people you trust, respect and connect with.  But, by the time I do that with this many kids, it will be time for them to move on and be zombies for some other unsuspecting teacher.

As parents, I don’t know what we ought to be doing, but we need to be doing SOMETHING to make our children care about anything.  One kid today in my class shaded an entire notebook sheet dark gray with pencil.  Meticulously.  Then he “wrote” his name by erasing some of the scribble.  Another young lady had to be asked to return to her seat 9 times.  9 TIMES!  What was she doing all of those times?  Just seeing what other kids in the room were up to.  I was lecturing at the time.

Please join with me to build a better generation.  I don’t know what we must do, but we must do something here.  Your suggestions are more than welcome.

The Weeds Behind Me

fire2

Today, I realized that it’s been lost
Sold and on fire, destroyed like Faust.
I recall seeing signs, blazing, “We will never forget”
But we did.

About everything.

A whole generation knows nothing of ones before.
They choose purposeful ignorance, opt to be whores
For attention.
It is about ME, they imply, not my Great Grandma Finch
Whose first husband died the night he was lynched
In Arkansas. Not Ar-Kan-Sas.

You might wonder why the schools don’t teach
About Booker T. and W.E.B.,
Wounded Knee, Kennedy, Gandhi and philosophies
Of togetherness.

Well, they do.

They teach it, over and over, to deaf ears and blind eyes,
To Orwellian automatons, in self-selected coveralls of
Skinny jeans, 60-dollar tees, an air of sleaze and a set of Beats.
And they cry about harassment, racism, and having to WORK,
Of sexist comments and how GW was a jerk
Without the slightest hint of irony at all for the absolute lack of knowledge and experience they possess.

All they know is Martin Luther King
Once upon a time had a dream.
And they can tell you that the dream was to end racism.

But, they can’t tell you a thing about Coretta, Malcolm, Louis, Rosa, Cesar, Bobby, or others who shared that vision
Except that one of those people sat down one time when she was tired.

They can’t pronounce “Tiananmen” because they’ve never heard of it.
Or “Gorbachev,” “Emmett Till” or even know of South Central before they burned it.

The only “Wall” they’ve lived knowing preceeds “-Mart.”
And it all makes me sad.

Worse yet, we try to teach a generation of kids who not only don’t know that their ancestors swung from trees in Birmingham, burned for the color of their skin,
But, they really don’t care.

This is a generation that wasn’t even old enough to remember the Trade Center collapse,
Let alone Roe v. Wade, Vietnam, or the Day the Music Died.
And, I first chuckled that teens had never heard of Nirvana, John Hughes, the Spice Girls or the Beatles.
Then I realized that this was an intellectual tragedy like I couldn’t dream of.
There was, kids, a world before Dubstep.

Believe it.

I used to write research papers by investigating information found in…BOOKS.
Now, the very suggestion of doing that would bring terribly confused looks
From students who appear to need to be surgically removed from their “smart” phones.
And I wonder when we will finally redefine the word “smart,” then.

They don’t know where they’ve come from and don’t care where they’ve been.
And yet they all think they will earn “big G’s,” drive a Lex and be freed
From the tyranny of their parents and the “system” upon turning 18.
And, they don’t know that when you’re 18, you’re still pretty stupid.

And, so Pat O’Leary hides the wire to his earbuds through his Hollister shirt
Adamantly refusing to read Swift or learn about how his ancestors survived tenement living in NYC
Only to be spat upon, labeled non-white, forever a slave to the New Country’s “dole.”
Because he couldn’t care less about how they paid the toll
For him to even sit in that seat and receive a book today.

Lily Locklear doesn’t even know she’s 3-quarters Crow
But, she’d rather chant in her head, “You don’t know –oh –oh”
“You don’t know you’re beautiful.”
Indeed, she doesn’t, but that is a whole different topic altogether.

And, Marcus knows how to design his own Nikes online and pay a few hundred for them,
But he’s never heard of Stokely Carmichael and he doesn’t own a pencil OR a pen.

Zooey is half Jewish. She thinks. Maybe.
But, she couldn’t tell you what that even means.
Is it a culture? A religion? An identity?
“What’s the difference, anyway,” she wonders as she draws on her hundred dollar jeans
With the same Sharpie she used to draw all over her best friend’s arm while they were supposed to be learning about Quadratic Equations.

And, it is a tragedy.

Not like the Challenger, which I actually remember.
But like that of the American Cheetah,
Which had existed but now is extinct
And our children’s minds, their heritage, their culture, their identities,
Too, are depleting, once having been beautiful, hopeful and strong.

I was not alive to witness Woodstock or Pol Pot; too young to really remember when AIDS first made the world stop.

But, I learned about them.  And, I grew.

And, now I say, “I, too, sing America,”
But the trail I leave behind me is growing thick with weeds and ugly from neglect
And, I can’t convince many 14-year olds to sing with me anymore.

 

What the Holy Frick is Wrong with People?

I was preparing to write a piece that was going to be freaking hilarious about women and styling salons.  I wanted to open with a funny one liner that would be a take on “Women:  can’t live with them; can’t live without them.”  So, I turned to my old friend, Google, to help me find something adorable.

What I found was this.

I didn’t investigate much.  This was the second hit when I started my Google search.  But, I did see that it came from something called the “Military Times.”  I do not know if this site is associated formally with the US military, whether it is a legitimate publication, or if it is just garbage, but I was totally disgusted.  And, I don’t get disgusted easily.

There is what appears to be a legitimate site called “Military Times” which seems to offer news, information and opinions for, by and about military personnel, defense issues, politics and policy.  I would love to believe that these two factions are not, indeed, connected, though.

I was first horrified to see that, at the time, the top response to “Women:  Can’t Live With Them, Can’t…” was related to vicious commentary about rape.  Not sure anyone associated with the military should be giggling about illegally shoving your penis where it doesn’t motherfucking belong.  Isn’t there enough bad press about how women are treated in the armed forces already?  Jesus.

The rest of the responses I read were about murdering, defiling and otherwise performing (or forcing the performance of) sex acts with women.

Seriously?

I don’t talk about it.  Ever.  But, I survived a rape 16 years ago.  It changed everything about everything in my life.  And, to see sexual violence used as a punchline makes me feel a kind of anger for which there is no real word in my language.  I, very literally, feel sick right now.

I don’t even really recommend you go and read those posts on that forum.  I really hesitated before even linking to it as I was afraid to give it more of a voice.

But the mother in me came out.  If you are the parent of a daughter (or if you love any woman in your life at all), you need to see what kind of people she will encounter in her lifetime.  Think about how you might teach her to respond to these animals.  If you are the parent of a son, perhaps you can think about what you can do to make him turn out NOT to be like the (presumable) men on the aforementioned forum.

Rape and molestation are not about sex.  They are not about “urges” or “attraction.”  They are about violence, power, anger, aggression and the deep and insecure desire to cause pain, shame and a feeling of weakness.

If you have or if someone you know has been the victim of a sexual assault, or if you were involved in a situation where you were forced, coerced or taken advantage of while you were in a state that made you unable to consent to a sexual encounter clear-headedly, please contact your city’s Rape Crisis Hotline or visit http://www.rainn.org/.

Things don’t have to be the way they’ve always been.

 

**UPDATE:

I received this message recently from reader, Christine Moore:

The Military Times is indeed a Military publication. My husband gets the Navy Times all the time. I’m not really surprised that thread is on there, rape and sexual assault is a HUGE problem in the military. Most victims of sexual assault in the Military are “written off” as crazy and discharged from the military. There is always stories in the Military Times that talks about it, and how the Military is working to fix the problem, but the honest truth is nothing is really being done about it. I think what needs to be done here is that thread needs to be reported to the military, to DOD, to the Pentagon. AND it should also be reported to the media, if the media gets a hold of something like that the military will have to do something about those people, they will have to investigate, and hopefully that will lead to some arrests.

I will be reporting it, I hope you do also, and encourage others to do so.

 

Thank you, Christine!  And, indeed, please, everyone, feel free to take action against this heinous attitude about victimizing women.

Off Duty Mom, On Duty Complainer

Let’s talk (and by “talk,” I mean “complain”) about education.

So, I’d like to outline my list of complaints about preschool, specifically.  And, no, I do not plan to wait for Superman here and get all judgmental about our country’s teachers and the state of educational efficiency nationwide.  I do not plan to spew hatred for the millions of men and women who’ve devoted their lives to helping to raise our nation’s youth.  I do not plan to pretend to know ANYTHING, really, about the inner workings of early childhood education and therefore I do not plan to pretend as though I know EVERYTHING about it by suggesting that things like merit pay, standardized tests, de-unionization or de-tenurization might “fix” the “broken” educational system in the United States.  I do not plan to turn this into a bitchfest about how cruddy our schools are and about how we “deserve” better for our kids.

Instead, I just want to crab about my experiences with choosing a decent preschool option for my kid.  I shall offer no advice, solutions or thoughtful ideas here.  Only whines.  You can decide to stop reading now if whining ain’t yo thing.

First, I’d like to moan about how many public school systems have opted not to offer preschool at all.  I live in a nice neighborhood with a nice school system.  It’s one of the reasons why my husband and I selected the place.  But, they start with Kindergarten, not Pre-K.  So, I had to set out to find another option for my little guy.

Second, I’d like to complain about how I didn’t realize that I’d have to start the process of finding this preschool program so damn early.  I began my search when my older son was 2 1/2 years old.  It was January and I was searching for a viable option for him for the following September.  He is now nearly 4 and I’ve STILL not heard from one location where we had been waitlisted well over a year ago.  We were also waitlisted from our #1 choice, a Montessori school very near to our house (which, by a stroke of luck, our son got into only because someone moved away).  The little guy did, however, get into a private school that required a $500 non-refundable deposit (which we paid and which, incidentally, was INDEED not refundable…).

That private school was a fabulous place and our son would have done well there.  And, it would have cost about as much as my freshman year of college cost my parents.

This is not, interestingly enough, the reason why we opted not to send our child there.  The convenient location of the Montessori program was the deciding factor, but nevertheless, what preschool can cost is pretty crazy.

The school system for which I work offers a tuition-based preschool option for those of us who work for the district but live outside of it.  The program costs $700 per month.  And, it runs only 6 hours per day.  Of course, I work more than 6 hours each day, so that $700 cost is just the beginning as I would have to find childcare and transportation for my child, too.

So, the nanny costs me $15 each hour regardless of whether one or both of my children is home.  She will gladly take my older son to and from school, but by the time all of this is said and done, at $15/hr. for 10 hours per day (8.5 hour work day plus commute — assuming I NEVER have to go in early or stay late…) that is $750 each week for childcare, or $3000 each month or $36000 each year just for someone to look after my children (not that that is an easy job; but that just only begins to cover all of my family’s needs).  Then, with the cost of tuition-based school at my public institution, that takes me to almost $43000 for one year of my child’s education and care together.  That, too, is more than my private college education cost for one year when I attended back in the dark ages in the 1990’s.

Now, tell me, is this a standards-based curricular component or is it competency- or task-based?

I did not ever consider sending my son to a daycare center that offers “preschool,” because (and I imagine I will get angry comments about this — bring it) I do not consider this to be real school.  I have visited many of these locations and have asked to see a curriculum.  I have yet to visit a daycare center that was able to produce a curriculum of any type, or even really explain to me exactly what benchmarks they intend to help kids reach.  The closest I got was at one place where they told me that kids will sing and learn numbers and letters.  Great.  At 2 1/2 my kid could already count to 20 and sing his A-B-Cs, so that wasn’t really fucking helpful.

Homeschooling is absolutely not an option, either.  First of all, my husband and I both work, so it might be a little hard to fit that in to either of our schedules.  Second (and I may get angry comments about this one, too…), I personally think that homeschooling is bullshit.  I spent about 12 years teaching high school literature.  I was really good at it.  This does not in any way make me an expert on Science, Technology, Mathematics, Spanish, French, German, Italian, Physical Education, or any of the other subjects I would want my child to have the chance to learn such as Digital Photography, Music, Painting, Industrial Arts, Sewing, Graphic Design or Health.  Yes, yes, yes – there are lots of resources out there to assist people with homeschooling and kids can even attend field trips, participate in local schools’ sports and communicate with other homeschool students through technology.  Whatev.  I believe in traditional education.  There is a reason why I spent 8 years earning multiple degrees and certifications to work effectively with young people.  It all made me QUALIFIED to teach.

Squeezing a human out of your vagina doesn’t a teacher make.

I know NOTHING about how to teach someone to read or play nicely or understand the water cycle.  So, I will leave that up to the experts.  When my kids are ready to talk about William Shakespeare, Richard Wright, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, George Orwell and Sylvia Plath, I’m all over that.  Until then, I want to be a homeschool teacher about as much as I want to be (or think it’s a good idea to be) a home-doctor or home-dentist for my kids.

And, now I am back to the beginning.  Preschool is expensive and hard to find.  There are more kids on this planet than schools to fit them.  We do not value early childhood education nearly enough in our society.  And, most frustratingly, at THREE YEARS OLD, my child’s schedule is already causing stress.

So, there you go.  Ranty rant rant.

Got something to add?  Feel free to comment here.  I love hearing what you have to say (unless you disagree or want to call me names, in which case I don’t give a shit about you).

My kids wear pants

In March and April, stores seemed to be bursting with adorable, tiny pink dresses awash in a sea of tulle and lace.  There were daisy-covered fabrics, giant grosgrain bows and white patent leather Mary Janes as far as the eye could see.  My visit to Macy’s children’s clothing department left me in awe of the beautiful items one could purchase for one’s selected springtime-holiday-celebration-or-religious-observation-of-choice.

IF YOU HAVE A LITTLE GIRL.

If, however, you are the proud, heavy-wallet-wielding mother of one (or more) fabulous young boy, you are shit out of luck.  Learn how to sew, sucka.

Certainly, I understand that young men do not care about fashion and don’t beg for the latest accessories like their pre-teen female counterparts might.  But, in the case of  a 3-year old boy, guess who does his shopping?

Thank you to The Children’s Place, the ONE black and white sweater vest you offered was lovely.  And, yes, Macy’s, the 20 square feet of Angry Birds T-shirts were lovely as was the T-shirt with the screen-printed necktie on it, but I was hoping for something a little more appropriate for pictures in my mother’s garden.  Perhaps if the little girls’ section hadn’t been at least SIX TIMES the size of the “Boys 2-7” section, there might have been room for something other than racks upon racks of basketball shorts and one three-piece suit in a size 6.

I can't be the only one who thinks this is cute...

Let me expand my rant to include non-special-occasion clothing as well.  My boys (ages 3 years, and 10 months), do NOT run around solely in wrinkled camo cargo shorts and Phinneas and Ferb tees.  I buy (with MONEY — just like moms of girls) khakis, polos, sweaters, jeans, vests, dress pants, oxfords and ties (if I can find them).  On a daily basis, my older son looks mostly like a Gap ad.  Though, it would be freaking nice if Target started carrying more of these items as the Gap bill isn’t something I love.  I’ve bought lovely things for my preschooler at Janie and Jack, The Gap, Old Navy (but their sizes run so small and their cuts are so wonky), J Crew, and so on.  I am sick of it.  My kid’s sweater shouldn’t cost more than my pumps.  But, I also shouldn’t have to settle for putting him in Garanimals, either.

My sister-in-law once asked if my children owned sweatpants.  They do not.  They play and get dirty in anything they are wearing because kids play and get dirty — period.  No biggie.  That’s why God invented washing machines.

But, is the retail industry trying to tell me that girls don’t play and get dirty?  Ummm…I’ve BEEN a little girl and I can say that we DO.  So, 14 racks of frilly dresses are no more useful for girl moms than the 3 total racks of all of the very limited boys’ clothes in the same store.

I also have yet to come across a single all-boys clothing store.  Yet, I can think of at least five all-girls’ clothing stores within 10 miles of my house.  What’s up with that?

Again, I reject the argument that girls are just more into clothes than boys are.  With children under 7, I do all of the shopping, anyway, and my kids would wear what I buy no matter what their gender would have been.  Shouldn’t stores be catering to mothers, not the kids, anyway?  I have the purse, people.  And, even if my boy never cares about clothes, I always will.  Don’t you want my money?

So, my kids wear pants.  Not dresses.  Does this mean I am doomed to roam aimlessly back and forth along the 4 feet of wall space devoted to boys’ clothing in a department store?

Hmmm…

If you are the mother of an adorable little boy and you appreciate outfits, perhaps one day you will be able to shop in my affordably-priced, boys-only clothing emporium where we will carry beautiful things for mothers to buy for their children.  I haven’t invented it yet, but when I do, at least I know that I will have the corner market.

The Truth Shall Set Me Free (or help me get my ass kicked one day)

I am a snob.

I admit it.  I am a complete snob about three things:  beer, books and grammar.  I do not apologize for it, either.  Suck it.

As I reflect upon the theme of my blog, I find that the longest-running common thread throughout is honesty.  I use the blog for a sort of therapy, so getting real is part of the deal here at Off Duty Mom.  There is an old folk saying that suggests that “the truth is heavy, so few men carry it.”  Maybe I don’t carry it well during every moment of my real life, but I try to in writing.

The problem with honesty is that it really pisses people off much of the time.  I don’t think that anyone really wants everyone to be honest all of the time.  The truth sucks, usually.  True statements such as “Yes, you are fat,” “Your husband is a real dick,” “Your wife is cheating on you,” and “I farted” aren’t really what anyone wants to hear – ever.

Tough shit.

Have a seat.  I have some truth to spin, y’all.

You call that a "beer"?

  1.  Coors Light sucks.  No one really likes to talk about that much because it’s nice to want to drink healthy beer (um…”healthy” beer?), but if you’re going to drink Coors Light you really might as well save your money, order a pitcher of water and one bottle of decent, medium-bodied ale and mix them together.  All of a sudden you get the equivalent of about a half dozen Coors Lights for the price of one craft ale.  Awesome.  By the way, one Guinness Draught has fewer calories than a large pear or a bowl of peas.  And, it has fewer carbs than one ear of corn, one apple, a cup of lowfat yogurt or a cup of minestrone soup.  If you are going to drink beer, drink BEER.  Otherwise, get an appletini, candyass.

    "I wrote a book, don'tcha know?"

  2. Sometimes publishers decide to publish books while ingesting copious amounts of Angel Dust and Demerol.  I have no other explanation for the reason why so much absolute garbage makes it to bookstore shelves.  In my purse right now is a beat-up copy of “The Fountainhead.”  Before that, I re-read “Cat’s Cradle” for the fourth time.  Both are fabulous.  So, I don’t feel a need to add “Twilight,” “The Art of the Deal” or “Going Rogue:  An American Life” to my library.  Even having typed the titles, I feel as though a few brain cells popped.  You know, you don’t EVER get those back, people!
  3. It ain't hard to talk right.

    I am always amused/saddened/enraged by how many native English-speakers – people born and raised in an English-speaking country by English-speaking families in English-speaking communities with English-speaking schools — cannot speak or write in ENGLISH.  Of course, everyone who reads and subscribes to Off Duty Mom is a genius, but some other folks out there can’t seem to differentiate between “to,” “too,” and “two.”  And, can I remind everyone that “you” has a “y” and an “o” in the word?  And, may I add that sentences can only have one subject and one predicate?  Maybe that one’s too high-level.  I mean, we all did learn that in 3rdgrade.  Dare I even mention that pronouns come in different cases such as “nominative,” “objective” and “possessive”?  At least let me say that there is NO gender non-specific third-person pronoun.  Wait, that’s probably too tough for the general public, too.  Crap.  Can we all just at least agree to capitalize the beginnings of sentences and use punctuation at the end of a sentence?  Is that asking too damn much?

And, now I feel therapied for the day.  I shall now pay myself $100 for the last hour and declare myself cured since I feel SO much better.

Thanks for joining me for today’s episode of “Ranting, Hormonal Mom Goes Batshit Crazy and Spews Nonsense on the Web.”

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: