It's Really Not Funny

It’s really not funny.

The talk about women being able to get promoted if they “get on their knees.”  Discussing being able to grab their private parts if you are famous.  Catcalling from amongst a group of other men at a lone woman in an attempt to make her feel uncomfortable and give you a laugh.  Jokes about women being there to make you a “sammich” (as if that “word” alone isn’t already vomit-inducing).

Immature, a tell-tale sign of your lack of confidence in your masculinity (or perhaps in your self as a whole), even a bonding ritual with others with the same underdeveloped psyche, but not funny.

Calling it “locker room talk,” it doesn’t make it better. Because there are a bunch of you that can only get camaraderie by putting down women just means there a bunch of you that have never progressed past a certain developmental level.

 

I know, I know, I can already hear the insults aimed my way in your head.  Go ahead, say them aloud.  I’m sure it will make me look at you in a much better light.

I’m a very intelligent woman.  I have high standards. I am not afraid to share my opinions or to stand up for what I believe to be right. I really don’t have a need for people who can’t treat women respectfully, 100 percent of the time.  I’m not going to apologize for that. I’m also not going to raise a son who thinks that what is termed “locker room talk” is ok, that it is just what it’s like to be a male, and I’ve done a pretty darn good job so far.  I have a 16 year old whose respect for all people, male or female, is something I am very proud of him for.

The more women have been coming out about abuse and harassment they have endured, the more disrespect I’ve been seeing from many men towards women, particularly in their words and their jokes, or my particular recent favorite, being told to just be quiet when I have an opinion.  I guess that is to be expected, there will always be a fight when the customary order of things gets interrupted.

 

We weren’t supposed to fight back, but we are. Things are changing.  Thank goodness, it is about time. 

That's why they have wine. 

The Thing About Respect

Respect.

It’s a word being tossed, well, OK, hurled around social media lately.  It is a word, however, that from what I have observed, often is misunderstood.

Respect is not an entitlement.  It’s not a one way street.  It’s not something that can be dictated.

If what I have been reading and hearing is the norm, it’s not even a goal, but rather the illusion of it is.

If your child is disrespectful to you, for example tells you that he hates you, how do you deal with it?  Do you try to teach about respect and act in a matter to earn it, or do you just demand it?  What kind of lesson does your child learn if you yell at him and speak to him in the same disrespectful voice he spoke to you in?  If we demand that he never say those words again or he will be punished, but he is thinking that he not only hates you now, but also resents you and feels that you haven’t even taken a moment to wonder why they were disrespectful in the first place, are you now being respected?  My answer to that would be no.  You might be comforted, and even smug, that the next time they don’t say it aloud to you, but if they are still thinking the same thing, is that truly respect?  No, it is just the illusion of respect, and you feel good because can feel like you don’t have to worry about whatever it is that was causing the problem in the first place.  Yet the problem remains, and the respect is not really there.

Unless you live under a rock with no internet, TV, radio, or newspapers, you’ve no doubt heard all the chatter about NFL players who have knelt during the national anthem.  People are upset, understandably so, because the feel the flag and our country is not being respected.  However, what is being demanded by many, including our President, is that they be forced to respect it by standing.  Forced to respect it.  Forced.  As if respect emanates from the position of our knees, and not from our souls.

This might be news to some people, but you can respect the flag and our country without ever hearing the national anthem.  The best way to honor our country is actually through real action: voting, being involved in your community, standing up for our freedom.  On the flip side, you can be standing with your hand over your heart at a football game, purely because that’s just what you do, not even thinking about our country but about where you last saw the beer vendor or how far away the bathroom is or making a mental note to buy bread on the way home, or, if a player, about your competition, just giving an illusion of respect.  We seem to have come to a place where we don’t realize the first, and honor the second.

If we feel someone is not respecting our country, our first thought should not be the not-really-respectful thought of “you are a scumbag,” but rather we should be wondering “Why?” and go from there, to deal with any issues that may be hindering actual respect.  That is, if our goal really is respect, and not just the illusion of it.  We probably should also give the respect of listening to other’s feelings and thoughts, even if we think they are wrong, rather than calling them “monkeys that are paid to dance” for us, and perhaps throw in a bit of understanding that if we don’t treat someone else respectfully, they are not going to listen to anything we have to say.

Respect or illusion?  What is your goal?

That’s why they have wine.  I’m going for the real stuff.

Thoughts of God in the Aftermath of a Storm

A friend recently posed a question online asking about the response “God is Good” when speaking about what they were spared from in Hurricane Irma, when there were people in the islands and other places that were not as lucky….

I answered my friend with a basic answer, that I believe most people use that as an expression that might be the same as saying “Thank goodness” about something, that it’s just an expression of gratitude that things weren’t as bad as they could be, and it really doesn’t have anything to do with what others might have experienced.   But there really is much more to say, I just needed time to figure out how to put into words what I just know in my heart.

As is the usual case with me, I think much more deeply about these kinds of questions than I think people are asking, so I thought I’d use my blog to put down my thoughts rather than taking over someone’s post.

First, of all, God is good.  God is the embodiment of love, and he loves each and every one of us whether we choose to love him back or not, even if we don’t believe in him.  Believing in him does not give us a monopoly on him.  He doesn’t love us more for having faith or for being obedient, he loves us all the same.  That is what the whole parable of the Prodigal Son is about. (Luke 15:11–32, if you would like to read it, just Google if you don’t have a bible.)

God never promised any of us a life without annoyances, bad things, or even tragedies.  He is not a helicopter parent, he doesn’t put a bubble around us because we believe in him.  Rather, he is one that gives us freedom to choose what we think and what we believe, and lets us do things on our own.  He is always there to guide, but he does not control, he is the parent that many of us strive to be.  He doesn’t magically whisk us out of the path of a storm with a snap of his fingers, but he will give us the wisdom to know what we should do if we are to choose to listen.  All of this, this is what is referred to as “free will” in the circle of believers.

Now, this is where it can get difficult for people, both for believers and unbelievers.  His idea of what is best is not always what our idea is.  We often get caught up in expecting God to do things in a particular way, but we are not in control of God.  I do believe he has the supreme knowledge, so when he disagrees with me, as much as it sometimes pains me because I’m quite a stubborn woman, I do try to listen and to understand his reasons.

So, back to the storm.

I would very much prefer that no hurricane ever come my way.  Ever.  I have prayed asking that they don’t, but, well, that doesn’t really work.  A storm, it has to go somewhere.  I have learned, however, to pray for comfort, and that is a prayer that has been granted.  I’ve had a lot of bad things happen in my life, from growing up in an alcoholic home to sexual abuse to rape to almost losing my child at birth to divorce to dealing with a child’s disabilities, and that is just the big things.  God has ALWAYS been there to comfort me, even when I sat under the kitchen table crying quietly so no one would realize I was there when my dad was throwing things around in an alcoholic rage, God was sitting there holding my hand.  He held my hand through this storm too, and because of that, I was able to hold other’s.

Bear with me while I tell my own little parable.

Once upon a time, when my son was a baby and colicky and never let me sleep, my 11 year old dog, who WAS my baby till then and was who I talked to and vented to and who was always there for me, died.  I was very upset, and I did pray for comfort. To try to help me feel better, my husband took me to his mom’s neighbor, whose barn cat just had kittens that were being given away.  Though I did not really think a cat could replace my beloved dog, I took a look at them.  I sat on the ground for quite a while, seeing what cat would interact and trying to figure out if any of them could somehow fill the void I was feeling.  The owner of the cats, after a while, she said “You know what, I have the perfect kitten for you.  Wait right here.”  She went inside and came out with a calico.  “I was going to keep her for myself, but something is telling me this is the cat for you.”

God is good, meaning I am thankful he created this woman who felt I needed this cat.

That cat, she is my 16 year old Ally, who some of my Facebook friends after my posts during the hurricane now refer to as “Weather Cat” or “Tier 8.”  She could never replace my dog, but she has an equal special place in my heart.

That cat, she saved my life and the life of my son 13 years ago, during one of our normal every day Florida thunderstorms, when one of my huge oak trees came down through my house.  To make a long story short, she made a hideous noise at me and ran, which made me follow her, and seconds later the tree came down exactly where I had been standing, holding my then 3 year old son. 

God is good, meaning I am thankful he created this cat to give me the warning.

  

Since then, she has been my weather guide. During this hurricane, she remained calm the entire time, whereas she WILL freak out if there is any impending danger, such as about a year or so ago when what may have been a small tornado during a thunderstorm mangled the basketball hoop in our front yard, or when our house got struck by lightning a few months after that (during which I paid no attention and got struck washing dishes).  She is what God gave me to give me my comfort.  And, funny, my silly posts about her on Facebook during the storm, I have found out later gave some others comfort too. 

And my comfort, it was what God gave my family to give them comfort.  While my mom, husband, and son were glued to the newscasts of the hurricane and were feeling stressed, Weather Cat and I were calmly watching a football game in the other room. I said “Ally is calm, I’m calm.” I'm the one with anxiety disorder, so this is something! Everyone came in periodically to sit down a few minutes with us and get their calm too.  As the hurricane was passing over us, my mom was sound asleep, my son was able to laugh that she was missing all the fun and he was asleep about 30 minutes later, and my husband, who was sure he would be up all night, followed shortly.  While we weren’t spared the storm passing over us, God did hold our hands.

And so, yes, God is good.  I would still be grateful for that even if the roof had blown off our house or we lost all that we had.  It filled my heart when my son said “Well, if we get a bunch of damage, we can get insurance money and fix it up and get more money when we sell it,” because he was able to get past the fear and find a silver lining.  My husband realized that he is willing to part with a heck of a lot of things in the garage, that they are just meaningless possessions. THAT is what God does for us, he gives us hope, he lets us see the positive, he lets us see what is important.  He tries to let us see the bigger picture, to see how everything affects something else, and to see how good can always prevail.

As far as the material things that were lost in the islands, I pray that God can give people comfort and hope and that they will find that their lives are still as precious as good as they were when they had those things, and that they can get help for necessities and rebuilding quickly, as he lays it in the hearts of others to assist.  As far as deaths that occurred, death is always a hard thing to deal with.  I am not going to say that death is good, but I will say that the number of deaths that occurred was infinitesimally small compared to the number of people who were in the path of the storm, and THAT is good thing.  I will also say that several people close to me have died in my adult life.  From each of those deaths, I can tell you something good that came from it, as strange as that may sound, and I can only hope that those people are able to smile down from Heaven to see the way they have positively affected the lives of others.

I’m not God, and I really don’t have all the answers, but I do hope he helps fill in the blanks in my mind over time.

That’s why they have wine.  If only I knew someone who could turn this supply of hurricane water into it…

I Learned You Were Racist Today

One day, back in 2008, when my son was in the second grade, as I did every day, I asked him how his day was at school when I picked him up.

“I learned you were a racist today!”

“Um, OK.  And how did you learn this?”

“We had mock elections, it was a lot of fun.  But if you didn’t vote for Obama, you were racist.  You are not voting for Obama.”

“It’s a little too complicated to explain to someone your age, but I’m not voting for Obama because I agree more with Bush’s policies, that is what voting is supposed to be about, policies.  I don’t choose who I vote for based on skin color.”

“Well, everyone at school says you are racist if you don’t vote for Obama.”

“Well, if you see me do or say anything racist, let me know.”

“OK.”

Years later, when my son was in middle school and had found an interest in history and politics, on the way home from school one day, he out of the blue said, “Mom, I’m sorry for ever calling you racist.”

“What?”

“Remember, about Obama.”

“Oh, OK.  Thank you.”

“You aren’t racist, and I really don’t like some of Obama’s policies either.”

“I’m glad to see you have learned to think about this stuff.”

In 2008, I did not have a Facebook account, and probably many of you did not either.  I wouldn’t doubt, though, that if we did, I’d have been called a racist there for the same reason as what my 7 year old had been told, and that is the point where I think all of this began.  By all of this, I mean the assumption that anyone that has conservative views or is Republican is ABC and anyone that has liberal or Democrat views is XYZ.  It’s when we really began categorizing people and assuming who they voted for told us everything there was to know about them. The popularity of forums like Facebook and Twitter really amplified it, even to the point that many people deeply believe that.  I really understand now why my parents would not even tell us kids who they voted for.

I’m don’t belong to either of the 2 major parties.  I haven’t voted for a Republican presidential candidate since that 2008 election.  However, it is not because I assume the party to be racist or any other mass categorization, I just haven’t liked the candidates and some of their policies.  Ditto with the Democrat candidates, I didn’t vote for them either, not because I assume them all to be snowflakes or any other mass categorization, but because I didn’t like the candidates and some of their policies. 

A week ago, I stated that, though the white supremacist groups may have a hate message, they still have the same rights as the rest of Americans, including their right to protest and to free speech (as does any other group) and I was deemed to be racist and supporting the supremacists.  It wasn’t because I actually have racist or supremacist ideology, but just because it was the narrative of the day.  Personally, I’m not worried about the people who may think that of me, any more than I was worried about it when my son told me he learned I was.  I know what is in my heart, and, honestly, there is no way to “prove” that to anyone else, others have the choice to think what they do.  However, that type of assumption towards large groups of people because of what party they may belong to or who they voted for or because they support the laws of our land, it just fuels more hate and it’s not productive.

If you ever see me actually do or say something racist let me know.  If you see your coworkers,  neighbors, friends, or family do the same, let them know. 

Be mad at those that are yelling racial or religious epithets, be angry at those who belong to white supremacy groups, say something when your neighbor whispers, “I think the people who bought that house might be black.”  Remember that bigotry comes in a lot of forms, and stop yourself when you are about to say something about Muslims when you are actually referring to a terrorist group or about Christians when you are actually referring to the actions of one televangelist.  Realize that a hateful response to hate only fuels more hate, and that hate can only be overcome by our own loving actions. Know that hate is something that consumes and blinds you.  Understand that if someone has hate in their heart, that the blame does not lie on anyone but themselves, and it can only be eradicated by appealing to their heart. 

Listen to people, accept that there are different opinions, realize that most situations have a lot of complexity that can’t be summed up in a sound bite, and truly try to understand that there are other legitimate points of view on just about every topic.  Grow from being the 7 year old boy who believed the soundbite generalizations to the middle school one that learned how to look at people individually.  That’s how we combat hate.

When we start assuming everyone’s motives are racist, we diminish those that experience real racism, and we lose sight of who the actual perpetrators are.  Don’t be a part of that.

That’s why they have wine.

It's Not About Us

Parenting.  It’s not about us.

Well before I had a child, there was a sermon in church that for some reason really resonated with me.  The point of it was that in order to effectively raise a child, you had to learn the “language” of your child, and that language would not necessarily be the same among all of your children.  That language, that is the thing that should guide you in how you talk to, discipline, and even love your child.  That language is how THEIR brain works, what they think, what is important to them, how they react to things.

I was blessed with a wonderful, funny, intelligent, strong willed child.  However, that blessing came with some issues, issues that caused friction, distress, and even pain in him that I was unaware of, that were the source of some frustrating behavioral issues.  I was so sure all I needed to do was be strict, to demand he behave in a certain matter, to punish him when he didn’t meet my expectations.  I completely ignored the message of the sermon that had really touched me a couple of years before.  I was sure that I knew how to make a child grow up to be the perfect adult.

I was wrong.  So terribly wrong.

I see some other parents or caretakers make the same mistake, and it breaks my heart.  It actually brings me to tears reading some posts online.

Our kids, the majority of the time, they aren’t being “bad” just for the sake of being bad, to hurt us, or to try to make our lives difficult, yet that is usually our first response.  So, we go into the situation concerned about ourselves, we take it personally, our focus is on our feelings of anger or disrespect.  I know this well, because this was me.

The result of my parenting choices the first 9 or 10 years of my son’s life was that I had a child who didn’t fully trust me, lied to me, hid things from me, hit or bit me, was afraid of me, was destructive with his belongings, got in trouble at school, and if he did what I wanted him to do, it was out of fear.  Something obviously wasn’t working.

Around that time, he also started failing in school.  He always had some struggles, but they intensified greatly.  Though I had previously brought up behavior issues to his pediatrician before, they were now taken seriously.  After extensive testing, he was then diagnosed with several disorders better known by their acronyms, and it was then that the sermon from so many years earlier smacked me upside the head.  This wasn’t about me, it was about my son.  Had I only realized that earlier.

I let go of everything I thought was right about parenting, and relearned it all.  I have learned not to react to things as if they are an assault on me, but to find out the WHY, and to deal with the underlying cause.  I don’t automatically punish, I approach everything with as a teaching moment.  I realized that as a parent, I am here to guide and teach, not to scare into compliance.

Right now, I’ve got a teenager who has above a 3.0 GPA at a private college prep school, who plays for his school baseball team, who has some incredible friends, who volunteers in the community, and, the next time he leaves his room to go get a snack or use the bathroom and sees the light on here in my office, will pop his head in just to tell me he loves me.  I can’t tell you the last time I disciplined him.  I’ve had to ask him to repeat himself in a more respectful manner, or to point out that something he said was rude, but that is normal teenage boy stuff, and I recognize that.

It's not about us.  It is about our kids, and I will tell you from experience, it is the most rewarding thing you will ever do to accept that.  This isn't limited to parents of kids with disabilities, this is relevant for everyone.

That’s why they have wine, a toast to the parents who all work so hard to have great kids!

Life, LIBERTY, and the Pursuit of Happiness

Freedom.  It’s what the second word in life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” means.  It’s supposed to be what America stands for, but is it?

I was mocked the other day for holding a certain opinion, not just because I had the opinion, but specifically because my opinion was that the option was what did not impede the freedom of Americans.  It was the freedom part that was mocked.  At first, all I could think was ”Was my nap today really decades instead of minutes, is freedom no longer important in America?” but then I came to realize that we have been slowly losing that concept for a while.

Bring up about any controversial topic, and what you will here is people talking about if it should be legal or not, how the government should deal with it.  We’ve become a country that no longer cares about the freedom for everyone to make their own choices, we want the only choices to be the ones we agree with, and we want the government to tell them so.  Every time we do this, that word liberty loses more of its meaning, and it affects the life and pursuit of happiness of millions of people in this country.

Many people can’t even fathom anymore that just because something is legal doesn’t mean it is right, or because it is illegal that it is wrong.  It’s the law, so “fact.”  We let the government tell us what we should think.

Drinking soda is not the healthiest choice we can make, but we’ve gotten to the point that instead of letting people make decisions about how much they want to consume, we allow laws to be made to regulate what size cups can be sold at convenience stores in various places. 

Making laws that take away freedom of choice does nothing to change people’s minds about what is right to do, what is good for them, or is even going to change their behavior.  The soda drinker who can’t buy a 20 oz cup can still buy two 10 oz cups.  Sometimes taking away that choice can be harmful to some, such as when we make marijuana illegal so that we can pretend that people then can’t use it recreationally, and in the process keep a useful medication from people such as cancer patients.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with having opinions on matters, feeling that something is right or wrong, is good for you.  As long as something does not infringe upon the rights of another or causes another harm, it shouldn’t be something that gets legislated, something that the government decides. Influence people with mature, reasonable discussions of matters (though the erosion of that ability could be a whole other blog post), that is how beliefs and behaviors will change.

Many times, trying to specify legalities to issues takes away our ability to use common sense.  The whole which-bathroom-does-a-transgender-person-use comes to mind.  We never really had a big problem with this, didn’t even notice who was in the bathroom with us, until we tried to decide this as a black and white matter.  It’s not black and white, it’s a great big, giant gray, a gray that can only be navigated with common sense on an individual basis.

I personally believe abortion outside of medical necessity is wrong, I feel that infringes on the rights of life of the child.  However, my goal is not to make it illegal, and it is also not a black and white matter.  My goal is to try to show people options and find ways to facilitate those options, to highlight the value of life, and to express my opinion on the correlation between the acceptance of abortion and the decline of the respect for life, in the hopes that maybe I can convince just one person to make a different decision.  Looking for the easy way of having the government say “No” isn’t going to change anyone’s mind, it’s just a way to hand over the responsibility of speaking what I feel to someone else.

Gay marriage, marijuana use, sodas, birth control, breast feeding, motorcycle helmets, and on and on and on are things that affect only the people who make those choices or not, let people make their choices instead of the government.

Freedom.  I hope that maybe I influenced at least one person to find that important again.

That’s why they have wine.

No, Thanks, I'm Good

Today when I was working (I work from home), there was a knock on my door.  Two twenty-something young men in dress shirts and ties and name tags identifying them as members of the Church of Latter Day Saints, asking me if I knew about Jesus.  "I'm a Christian, and I'm busy working," I replied.  "Well, can we help you to strengthen your faith?"  "No, thanks, I'm good."  I shut the door.

This inquiry into trying to trying to appeal to who I already am, someone who believes in Jesus Christ, but with the intention to sway me to abandoning my beliefs for a "better" way, made me think of something else I encountered this week that tried to do the same, and really bothered me.

Earlier this week I read a blog post, a post that used feminism as it's way to try to appeal to who I already am.  A post that touted the writer and others that engaged in her hobby of pole dancing to be someone that did so for the obviously commendable cause of furthering the lives of women in our society, particularly those who would never pole dance in public themselves.

Hmm, well, I wouldn't pole dance in public, so I continued reading to see what exactly she was doing for me. What I was supposed to learn was that I am supposedly afraid of my own sexuality, and that I am being repressed by society, that I had poor body image, and, the thing that really ruffled my feathers, that I was to be felt sorry for, yes, felt sorry for, because I couldn't possibly enjoy sex.

That was what I was supposed to learn.  

Let me clear up the fallacies here.

Because someone chooses not to make their sexuality public does not necessarily mean any of that. As an aside, many people who choose that activity as a profession actually do it because they have had sexual abuse in their past, but that is a vast subject for another post.

I just plain old don't think my "goods" are public property so I CHOOSE not to engage in activities or fashions that make it public.  That's it.  If you choose to pole dance, fine, but you are not doing ME any favors by doing so.  I'm not crying alone at night in the corner.  No one makes me dress how I do, it's my choice.  My body displays it's 50 years of living, with wrinkles and stretch marks and a little extra fat, and I'm good with that, I don't need to twirl around a piece of aluminum to convince anyone of it.  I find my sexuality to be something intimate to be enjoyed with only my husband, and I'm really not seeing why that is wrong, as a matter of fact I think it would be disrespectful to him to think otherwise.  And, guess what, people who don't pole dance still have good sex.

Base emotions and actions don't make us more powerful.  They just make us like everyone else.  If you want to do something in the name of feminism that actually helps me, then stand up against 6 month rape sentences, try with all your might to break into a male-dominated field of work, heck, just make your husband KNOW who your children's doctors are.  

Pole dancing doesn't make me an equal to anyone but those who pole dance.  I've not come this far in life so that I can spread my legs in a seductive manner for a bunch of men who are not my partner.  Don't feel sorry for me.

I'm good.

That's why they have wine.

We're All In This Together?

We’re all in this together.  It’s a very popular phrase.  But are we?

We’re not if you log into my Facebook account.  I see too many posts and articles that include the words and phrases “privileged,” “snowflake,” “sheeple,” “shaming”…And that is just in a support group for parents of kids with ADHD.  Add to that all the names people call various politicians, thinking they are being cute, the assumptions made of people in any named political, racial, gender, sexual preference, economic, or religious group.  Heck, we even categorize cat and dog people.

We’re all in this together.  Bull Freaking Crap.  We’re not.  And you know what, the majority of people don’t want to be.

You know what happens when you pick out one group or one person to be the “blame” of everything in your life?  It means you hand all your power over to them, every single bit of it.  You are saying you are helpless, because, well, THEM!  You are absconding all responsibility, and that is what I think makes it attractive to people.

In the last week, I read a comment on the aforementioned ADHD support group I joined that said that the parent didn’t care at all what the other kids in the class had to deal with (in their mixed class where there child with disabilities was with those that don’t have any), they had enough privilege, they just needed to cater to her kid, it didn’t matter if it negatively affected the other children.  To my amazement, and honestly, utter disgust, most people agreed.  I’m sorry, that is not “We’re all in it together.”  That is “My life is hard, and I’m deciding it’s harder than yours, so mine is the only one that matters, and, well, SCREW YOU!”  Yep, that is exactly what it says, and it happens in every area of life.

 

My child has ADHD, and a couple other acronym diagnoses.  He’s not special.  His education isn’t more important than anyone else’s.  It is AS important, but it is most certainly not MORE important.  Teaching him that the system is against him, that others might see him as less, that he deserves special things because other people have some stuff easier, all that would do is make him a victim with no motivation to make the best of his life.  Instead I’ve taught him that things may sometimes be harder for him than some others, but he is completely expected to do them anyway, to work hard, to not give up, to realize that if someone thinks he can’t do something doesn’t mean they are right.  He’s not a victim of his circumstances.  He’s an amazing human being and he knows it.

And then the rest of my Facebook feed, same theme, different privilege or people to blame.  It makes me frustrated, because that will never lead to change.

Our lives are our choices.  Make them wisely, and know that you are in charge.

That’s why they have wine.

Happy Mother's Day To Some Wonderful Kids!

On this Mother's Day, I'd like to acknowledge all of "my kids."

Yes, only one is biological, but there are so many others that hold a place in my heart:  My nieces and nephews, all the neighborhood kids who used to use my bathroom and drink out of my hose on the back patio of my condo and sometimes just came over to talk to me when my son wasn't even home, the baseball teammates that I drove to and from practice, the group of boys who used to run to my car in the school pickup line to say "Hey, Mom!" and who I still joke around with when they are playing PS4 online with my son, my son's best friend who came to Disney with us for Spring Break and played right along with my silliness and stupid jokes.  You all are amazing young adults, and I am blessed that you have been in my life.

This is what Mother's Day is really all about.  Mom's aren't special without their kids.

That's why they have wine.  Or, in the case of most of you who are still young, Pepsi.  Love you all!

Judge Not Lest Ye Be Judged

Judge not lest ye be judged.

Not only is this one of the most misinterpreted quotes in the bible (Jesus is talking about hypocrisy, not telling us to not use our brain), but it’s the Makes-Me-Better-Than-You popular sentiment these days.  (Did I mention hypocrisy?)

We all make judgements.  At least I hope we do.  If you do not, how do you know if you should be wary of a stranger?  How do you decide who to date?  How do you decide who is acceptable to babysit your kids?  How do you know if that investment is a good idea?  If we never drew conclusions based on dirty shoes or shifty eyes when talking or when someone just didn’t seem to belong, we’d have a heck of a lot more of unsolved crimes, like, well, all of them.

Judgments are necessary.  Some are inappropriate, say assuming someone is incapable of something because they are a certain gender or a criminal because of their race or a pervert because of their sexual orientation.  However, what reigns in those judgments in our society?  Chew on this a moment.  It’s the JUDGMENT on those people for their views.

Am I judgmental?  Sure I am.  So are you, whether you want to admit It or not.

And if you start a sentence with “I don’t judge…” I’m going to judge you as a liar, ignorant, or most likely, someone who wants to seem better than others.

Judge away at what I just said, that is your right.  We don’t have to agree.  Then actually try to live your life making no judgments whatsoever.  Good luck making it out of your driveway.

That’s why they have wine.  My judgment tells me that mine tastes pretty good.

That's What I Mean

"Hey, you forgot your medicine this morning," I told my son as he got in the car.

"Yeah, I figured that out."

"What do you mean?"

"When I wasn't paying attention in class.  Well, I was paying attention, but, you know, not the same."

"You were having a hard time paying attention?"

"Yes, that's what I mean."

Had I not noticed that his 7-day pill box was not laying out on the kitchen counter like it usually is in the morning, I still would have known.  The teenager that often takes a nap on the 30 minute drive home was wide awake...wide awake and fidgeting with everything in his reach.  He messed with the visor, looked in the mirror several times, played with my water bottle, drank my water, pretended he knew the words to the classic rock songs on the radio and sang along, badly.  Through all of this there was commentary on everything under the son, including a conversation of how I still had to work when I got home while he could relax.  Well, at that point work sounded a bit peaceful!

I asked him if he got in trouble for anything.  "What would I get in trouble for?"  I just gave him the "you know" look. Before we went the medication route I got notes and phone calls from school fairly regularly about his constant talking.  In the back of my mind I always just thought "At least he's getting some of that out on someone besides me."  I do wonder today whose ear is worn out.

At his last neurological appointment, his doctor asked him if he wanted to try to lower or go without medication as he's been on it quite a while.  It only took him about a split second to say "No, I want to keep it the same as now."  His doctor told him that was fine, some people still prefer to take it as adults.

I think he made the right decision.  He's not a bad kid without it, I don't like him any less, he's actually quite funny and entertaining when he's in constant chatter mode. However, he's scattered, and it bothers him to not be able to focus, and today showed us that he still needs the help the medication gives him.  His medication actually wears off shortly after he gets home from school, but his evenings are more enjoyable because he isn't dealing with frustrations he might have otherwise had during the day. He's matured enough to be able to figure this out himself.

ADHD, it's not made up.  It's not an excuse used by parents.  My son, he will happily explain to anyone who asks how it makes him feel, clearly if he took his medication, a bit scattered if not, but he will tell you.

Believe him.

That's why they have wine.

A Toast To Friendship

I don’t have a huge list of friends, especially female ones.  I’m an introvert and happy with that, I enjoy my own company.  I don’t like the drama that many female (and some male!) relationships can create.  I don’t believe in rushing to the defense of someone no matter what, I believe in holding to my values and in being honest when I think someone is out of line, and this is not what leads you down the road of popularity.  I’ve my whole life been more “one of the guys” than the sorority sister type.

This is not to say I have no friends of course, there are some I hold very dear, and each holds a special place in my heart.  There are the few moms I’ve met through baseball over the years who I get together with probably not often enough, we all are busy, and, well, I need to be texting them for the next get together, it’s been a few months.  There is a friend who I see rarely, but who was there for the birth of my child and whom I know will always be there for anything I need. There are male friends I’ve met through the cigar lounge my husband went to long before I married him, who text me helpful or funny or silly things during the week and who I really enjoy hanging out with on weekends when we all go to the cigar lounge.  There are friends from work with whom I instant message during big meetings (we work from home) to discuss the things that way-way-up-there-disconnected-from-our-day-to-day-jobs people tell us about our jobs, who also get together periodically to connect in other areas of our lives. There are friends I know from high school and college, and thanks to the internet we've reconnected and see each other occasionally. There are friends I know from online forums, including a parenting page I used to help admin.  There are friends from the neighborhood or mom's of my son's friends and various other random places.

And then there is a friend who, well, just really, really gets me.  She is close to my mom’s age, she lived across the country until this year, and I actually met her on a Disney message board!  One day, over 10 years ago, she posted asking about something she had heard of, a “Monorail Drink-a-thon,”, in which you take the monorail and get a drink at the 3 resort stops.  She never expected her post to turn into a phenomenon, and I never expected a post to turn into a long friendship, but, well, that is what happened.  The post became a thread where we formed friendships and actually all met at Disney one day to do the Monorail Drink-a-thon.  We hit it off when we met, and the rest is history.  We’ve met up at Disney at least a dozen times since, even sharing a room sometimes at the resort, she came down from Chicago to attend my wedding 5 years ago, and she now lives in a home she bought in Orlando.  She holds one of the biggest places in my heart, and I just wanted to acknowledge that.

That’s why they have wine.  And she is always there to toast with me, even if she sticks with Bud Light!

It's Hard, and I Don't Care if I'm Not Supposed to Say So

I sit here exhausted, finishing the dinner I prepared, writing this blog to give me a little more time before I have to go clean the kitchen.

Running through my mind, competing for space with a particularly clingy song, “If you like pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain…”, which has been driving me crazy for the last few hours since hearing it picking up my son from school, is a blog I read a few days ago.  It was a great blog, a validating blog, one that made me think, “Yes, thank you!”  It was a blog that started out saying that all moms have a lot to do, we’re all deserving of accolades, but that particularly wanted to give kudos to working moms, the moms who others often think “How do they do it all?”  You actually don’t see a lot of those, and the reason why could be easily seen in the majority of the comments. 

Comments that say working moms aren’t good moms because they abandon their children to be taken care of by strangers so they can have the luxury (luxury???!!!) of going to work.  Comments that express psychologically damaging offense because it is implied being a stay at home mom isn’t a job in itself.  Comments about how much harder it is to be a stay at home mom because working moms have so many helpers (helpers???!!!) Even comments about how we shouldn’t commend working moms if we aren’t going to do the same for working dads in the same sentence.

Well, I’m going to do something very unpopular.  I’m calling BS.  Bull-Freaking-Crap.  (Well, I guess technically that is BFC, but hey, I’ve had a long day.)

The truth is that married stay at home moms, single stay at home moms, married women without children, single women with no desire for children, single working moms, married working moms, moms that work from home, women without children that work from home, and any other group who is going to be offended because I didn’t call them out specifically, we all have very different lives.  We all have hard things in our lives, we all have stressors, but they are likely to be very different things.  This is the truth, but per political correctness, this is the only truth that this full time work from home for a major company, married, mom to a teenager (one with a few issues that require neurologist appointments and medication) is supposed to say.

I’m going to now move on to what we’re not supposed to say.  Let me preface this by saying that in my 49 years of life I have been a member of many “groups.”  I’ve been single without kids, married without kids with no intention of having them, a married mom, a single mom, and always a working mom but for the twelve glorious weeks where I was on disability and therefore a stay at home mom to be, and stay at home mom.  I do get what it’s like to be all of those.  Being a working mom has been the hardest stage of my life, and I'm not going to apologize for saying that.

First of all, yes, being a stay at home mom is a lot of work.  I know this well, because I also changed diapers when my son was little, taught him to tie his shoes, I take him to doctor’s appointments, I drive him to school and pick him up everyday, I take him to sports practice, I help with homework, I pack lunches, do laundry, volunteer at school and for sports leagues, buy groceries, fill prescriptions, cook dinner, do housework, and am there when he needs a shoulder to cry on or advice or to help figure out why his computer won’t boot up.  Working moms actually don’t have these mythical helpers we all hear about.  I kind of picture them as being a bit like Santa’s elves, and I could really, really use a few of them, but alas I missed the memo on how to get into this secret world.

Second, working moms don’t go to work to relax and socialize.  I’m laughing so hard right now I’m having a hard time continuing my thought on that, but thanks, I needed that laugh after my work day.  I go to work so that I can make my car payment, pay tuition, pay for quarterly neurologist appointments and expensive medication, pay the electric bill, pay for the food we eat.  My job is not the least bit relaxing, it is stressful enough that it’s causing me problems with my blood pressure.  I get up at 5:30 am, get ready for the day, and start my mom job by driving my son to school – a 70 minute round trip if there are no accidents, and then I work from 9 am to 6 pm at my paid job, using my lunch hour to again do my mom job and pick him up, and in between there I juggle meetings and figuring out how the heck website A lost it’s formatting on a page while running an update on website B and coworkers asking me questions about websites C and D, while the websites E-Z are wondering why I haven’t gotten back to them yet.  That would be the extent of my “socializing,” unless you count saying “Thank You” to the mailman who brings a package to the door.  After 6, then I start the rest of my mom job, starting dinner, throwing in a load of laundry, hopefully get back to making dinner before something burns, clean the kitchen, pack lunches, go to get school and sports uniforms ready for the morning only to realize I forgot to put them in the dryer, put clothes in the dryer and start another load, feed the pets, again go to get the school and sports uniforms ready for the morning, help my son find the misplaced baseball cap, pour a giant glass of wine, sew a button back on a pair of shorts, sort through the day’s mail, realize I forgot to pay a bill that is due and go pay it online, hear the alarm on my phone go off telling me it is time for my son to go to bed (yes, I really have one!  When you are trying to get everything done you are not paying attention to time), go tell him goodnight, take the trash out, get myself ready for bed, heat up my dinner that I forgot to eat, and I finally get to sleep around midnight.  Relax and socialize, ha!  There is not time for that silliness.

Lastly, we don’t think we are better than anyone else, though probably a bit busier.  However, we are understandably annoyed when someone downplays our life as some kind of choice to let other people raise our children so we can go hang out and party at the office.  Personally, I’d love to be a stay at home mom, it just doesn’t fit my budget, but I don’t believe that being one would make me better than anyone else either.  There are benefits to both – I would have less stress and less blood pressure problems and would get a little more sleep if I stayed at home, I have a little more money and health insurance because I work, for example.  When someone writes a blog about the sacrifices of stay at home moms, I have no issue with that.  When someone writes one that says they understand the struggles of working moms, please, just let us have that for a minute.

That’s why they have wine.  And it’s about time in my schedule for that large glass.

The Myth of the Superheroes

We all know someone in our life that we sometimes think must be superwoman or superman.  You know, that person that does so much it exhausts us to even think about it, that person who will help when you ask, that person who often puts everyone and everything before themselves, that person who takes care of children (maybe even those with special needs), customers at work, elderly parents, volunteer work, and still is there to hear you vent for an hour and give you a hug when you are having a hard time.  We often think these people have it all together and really have control of life, and never need any help.

It’s not always true.

I know.  I’m one of those people.  I get up at 5:30 in the morning so I can get my son to school before starting work, and sit down in the evening at 10:00 after picking up that same son from school, working till 6 or later, getting groceries, making sure everyone has dinner and has lunch and clean clothes for the next day, cleaning, taking care of pets, making sure we have all the necessities for a school projects and home repairs, answering emails, going to baseball games or at least picking the kid up after one, helping my mom or a friend or a family member get something done…It’s at this point I usually eat my own dinner, and try to wind down.  I go to sleep about midnight, get my 5-1/2 hours of sleep and start all over again. 

I’m stressed.  Seriously stressed.  Stressed so much that my blood pressure is staying high even though I take medication for it.  Stressed so much that I broke down in tears at my doctor’s office earlier this week talking about it.  Stressed so much I was prescribed an antidepressant/antianxiety medication to help with my mental health so it doesn’t keep affecting my physical health. 

Stressed so much, and no one even noticed.  When I told my husband, the person who knows me best, that my blood pressure was high due to my stress, he asked me “Why?”  Granted, he works evenings so doesn’t see me much during the week, but honestly that is one of the reasons why - he’s not here to help me with all the things that need to get done, and apparently not here enough to notice I was falling apart.

That person that you know you can always depend on when you need something, who is there to help talk though your problems, who will take your kid to practice, who will volunteer to tackle a problem at work, that person that you wonder how they are doing it all...Take some time to ask them how they are doing.  Don’t just say “Wow, I don’t know how you do it all,” say “Wow, how can I help you?”  Maybe sometimes we are too proud to ask for help, but we still need it, and just the offer can mean a whole lot.

And that, my friends, is why there is wine!

Don't Offend Me

You learn some very interesting things on the internet.

This week I learned that bubbles are scary, phobia inducing annoying, worth fighting about, and can ruin your whole day.  I mean, who knew?  Well, actually, YOU should have known that, or else you obviously aren’t thinking about your fellow man.

And if your toddler finds them entertaining and distracting enough to get through particular situations, well, your toddler just needs to man up and deal with it because there are adults that can’t handle them.  I get that, my toddler was totally in charge of his emotions 20 years ahead of his age, independent and mobile, he really should have been the one to sacrifice.

Yes, this is our world.

Our world in which people will call others names like “snowflakes” if they are unhappy with particular political happenings, and then turn around and demand freedom from bubbles.  My head may still be foggy from recovering from the flu, but this just seems really humorous to me.

There are a ton of things that annoy me.  I’m thinking about not mentioning any of them so then I can feign righteous indignation when someone didn’t think enough about me that they did them anyway.  No, it doesn’t matter that they have no idea that might bother someone, if they thought hard enough, they’d just know. Well unless the problem is their parents didn’t raise them right or this generation is just selfish…

But, because I don’t want to feign righteous indignation, I just want to be righteously indignated, here is the list of things people must not do or they will risk offending me and thus being offensive people who just don’t care:

Speak before 9 am.

Offer me coffee.

Drink cheap wine.

Wear perfume.

Leave the toilet seat up.

Leave whiskers, nose hairs, toothpaste, or any other foreign substance in the bathroom sink.

Remove anything from Styrofoam packing.

Meow constantly (hey, animals should be courteous too!).

Say anything positive about snakes.

Send me invites for Facebook games.

Spell something wrong.

Make a single sound when you chew.

Act like your Chevy is cool.

Get within 3 feet of my personal space.

Accidentally bump into me (if you had just followed the rule above…)

Play any song by Heart.

Like any song by Heart.

Ask me to do something when I’m already busy.

Start any sentence with “Well, MY kid didn’t….”

Spray bug spray.

Chew gum.

Tell me "indignated" isn't a word.

And, last but not least, not understand sarcasm.

Now, since my husband and son break at least half of those rules on a regular basis, it’s actually a good thing that I’m really not that easily offended.  I understand my quirks are MY quirks and I am willing to own them.  All that stuff that bothers me, it’s just life, normal life, stuff that people are allowed to do and somehow may even enjoy.  I mean, I don’t get how anyone can like the song “Barracuda,” but it apparently brings some people pleasure. If something really bothers me, I will ask you to stop, as in “Turn that Heart song off or I will start divorce papers now!”  Otherwise, all is good.  Well, except if you have left the toilet seat up, you ARE on my mental list.

That’s why they have wine.  Sometimes you just need to tune out your own issues.

A New Era at the Fair

The Florida State Fair is just a few miles from our home.  It is our "tradition" to attend every year on Student Day, a day the schools in our county give a day off and a free ticket.  Our tradition has changed little over the years, the biggest being my son no longer got a free ticket, but he did still get the day off, when he started at private school.  I would take the day off, we'd get there at opening, explore the entire fair, and leave about 4 hours later before any crowds got there.

This year ushered in a new era.  Some was good, some was bad.

My son started high school this year.  The school he attends is in the next county, he no longer gets the day off.  I took a half day off of work and we went after school this afternoon.

The parking lot is huge, with multiple entrances.  I always go in the same entrance and park in the same lot so that I remember where my car is.  When you get there at opening, that is an easy feat.  Not so easy when you get there at 3:15 pm.  I couldn't even go in the same entrance, it was blocked off, having to park my car in a different lot had me discombobulated.  I am easily confused that way, I always park in the same area EVERYWHERE I go.  This was not starting out good for me and I was worried I forgot to lock my car because I was out of sorts about being in a different spot.  I was already driving my son nuts.

I bought a beer about 5 minutes after we got inside.  This was a good change.  You can get one of those at 3:15 pm on your day off.  It relaxed me and I didn't worry so much about my car.  But then I started counting my cash in my head, after having spent $26 for the two of us to get in and then $8 ($8!) for a 12 oz beer.  At this rate we'd be out of money in 15 more minutes.

I asked my son where we should head first.  Every year, this is always to buy fries, even if it is 9 am.  Not just any fries, but Fiske's Fries, from the same Fiske's stand we always do, though they have a few of them.  Not this year, he had eaten lunch just a while earlier.  He wasn't hungry yet, and told me to lead the way.  I headed towards Cracker Country, a living history museums, with actual relocated buildings from the late 1800's along with costumed Florida Pioneers re-enacting some daily pioneer activities.  This is one of my favorite things at the fair, and something we always do.  This is where my son started driving me nuts.  We usually go in all the buildings, and watch all the activities.  This year, this was "the boring part" and he refused to stop and look at anything.  We did the whole area in 5 minutes.  He didn't even let me get Kettle Corn.

Next, I headed to the buildings that contained displays, like artwork and crafts that have been submitted for competition, as we were right next to it.  This was the even "more boring part."  "When can we go do the real fair stuff?"  "We are."  "No, the real stuff."  What usually takes about 30 minutes took us, again, five.  He did at least not mind walking through a special display they had this year on candy history.  I would, however, have liked to READ the actual information displayed.

There are some food stands located near by, so we looked through those next.  It is always interesting to see what deep fried concoctions they have:  deep fried Twinkies, deep fried Oreos, deep fried strawberries, deep fried cinnamon butter, even deep fried Kool Aid.  And there is lots of bacon.  Bacon wrapped corn dogs, meatballs, and chicken, chocolate covered bacon, bacon on a stick.  I'm holding out for deep fried bacon, someone needs to come up with that soon.  My son was not quite yet ready to indulge.

We next went to an area where craftspeople sell their goods.  Yep, you guessed it, another of my favorites, and even ever more "boring" for my now whiny teenage companion.  He was hungry, he now wanted food.  So, once again, 5 minutes.

I asked him if we could look at a few animals, since we were right there by the barns, before heading to the midway.  "They are the same animals that are here every year.  How many of them do you need to see?"  "Well, I think this barn has a bathroom, and I need to use one."  Yes, mom win!  I can still fool you into things!  We got fresh squeezed lemonade outside (and, oh, they had baconade!) and headed in the barn.  The cows were being presented.  We watched that a couple of minutes and then I did actually head to the bathroom.  All I can say is, when the bathroom in a barn is the cleanest of all at the state fair...I was the only stall that didn't reveal cowboy boots under the door, but this is my new fair bathroom.  This is one of my new favorite places there.  It's even better because there is no attendant looking for tips to tell you which disgusting stall is open, and an even bigger one if they lead you to one where the toilet was flushed.

So then, we headed to the midway.  Mind you, this is not to do rides.  My son doesn't do rides that, as he told me a few years ago, might be missing a few screws or bolts. He didn't want to play any games this year either, he is kind of over winning a cheap stuffed animal. It was purely for the food.  He was really hungry now.  I asked what he wanted.  I should have known.  Fiske's fries, from the right stand.  We passed two other Fiske stands to get there.  These really are the best fries, especially if you put the malt vinegar and salt on them.  The kids favorite chips are Salt and Vinegar flavor, but you can't get him to put it on fries, unfortunately.  It did't stop me from eating about a third of his large cup of them though.

We continued walking.  I got on of this year's "new" specialties, a Steak Sundae.  A large amount of fries covered with cheese sauce, sour cream, the mandatory bacon, and sirloin steak bites.  The steak was actually quite good.  I recommend this dish, heck, I might have to make if for dinner some time.  I couldn't finish all the fries though, for which I kept hearing, "If you wouldn't have eaten half of mine, you could have eaten those!"  The kid got a corn dog, one of his fair favorites.

It started getting more crowded, and the kid does not do crowds, so I knew what was coming.  "Are you ready to go?"  "Well, you know I have to look through the Expo Hall."  "Yeah, I know, I'm pretty sure that is why you always park at that entrance." Well, he may be on to something there.  I tried to talk him into silly socks with sharks on them and light up sneakers in men sizes we saw being sold there, but he just wasn't going for it.  He didn't believe me that it would make him the coolest trendsetter in school.  I am actually relieved there was no useless stuff he wanted this year, though it still brings a little tear to my eye when I see the wooden rose on his sports collectible display shelf that he just had to have when he was about 5.

Two and a half hours and $65 dollars poorer after arriving, we headed home.  My son asks "You took the afternoon off, right, you don't have to finish working all night?"  My heart was touched, did he want to spend more time with me?  "Yes, I'm off, why, what do you want to do?" "Nothing, I just was betting that if you are off, you're going to take a nap when you get home."

And I did.

That's why they have wine.

A Challenge for Unity

I'm on the left because I didn't vote for Trump.

I'm on the right because I didn't vote for Clinton.

I’m on the left because I think the refugees that have been brought into our country should be able to get a job.

I’m on the right because I understand the need to improve our vetting processes and delaying bringing refugees in.

I'm on the left because I think the executive order regarding the "travel ban" was overreaching.

I'm on the right because I think we do need to protect our country from terrorist attacks.

(I'm on the "wrong" side to everyone because I think that we aren't including some of the countries terrorists have actually come from).

I'm on the left because I'm OK with insurance covering birth control.

I'm on the right because I don't think it should be free.

I'm on the left because I don't believe in the death penalty.

I'm on the right because I'm pro-life.

I'm on the left because I don't think we need to spend billions of dollars to build a wall.

I'm on the right because I think we should enforce our current immigration laws, including deporting illegal immigrants.

I'm on the left because I would be OK with some exceptions/easy paths to citizenship in some circumstances.

I'm on the right because I don't think we should have sanctuary cities.

I'm on the left because I think teachers shouldn't have to buy their own supplies and I support public education.

I'm on the right because I support vouchers and charter schools for those kids who just don't do well in public school.

I'm on the left because gay marriages don't bother me.

I'm on the right because I think we need to be careful to protect laws that ensure that religious organizations or people don't have to perform those ceremonies if it is against their beliefs.

I'm on the left because I support other religions.

I'm on the right because I am Christian.

I'm on the left because I am wary of Trump.

I'm on the right because I was wary of Obama.

I'm on the left because I support people's rights to peacefully protest.

I'm on the right because I don't agree with everything everyone protests.

I'm on the left because I choose to eat organic and non-gmo whenever possible, and support labeling.

I'm on the right because I don't support the free market rather than regulations in determining what kind of food and sizes can be sold.

You get the picture.  I could go on for hours.  The thing is I KNOW WHO I AM.  I am someone who doesn't really care what a particular party supports to form my opinion.  I'm good with that.  I'm good with the fact that it causes others to think that I'm stupid, racist, a snowflake, or whatever the insult of the day is, because I know I am none of that.

What I'm not good with, the hatefulness that is prevailing in our country right now.  The hatefulness coming from the Donkeys and the Elephants and all the rest of the animals in the zoo.  There is not a reason to call other people names, not a reason to post pictures to make fun of people, not a reason to hate someone because of their opinion on a subject or who they did or didn't vote for.  This is supposed to be the UNITED States.  Can we work on UNITY again?  I find it extremely disturbing that we somehow found ourselves as a country divided in two, with both sides only trying to hurt the other, to make them mad, to get some kind of revenge on them. We are so much better than this, at least I hope we still are.

You know, if you really listen to people, really listen, you will see how much they actually have in common with you, how much they have the same values, how much they want the same things in life.  We don't all express it in the same words, or all agree on the best solution to a problem, but most of us actually do agree on what the problems are.  

Stop calling names.  Stop relegating people to "them" and "us."  Stop making us the Divided States. Start focusing on how to make things good for everyone. This is my challenge to you. 

That's why they have wine.  It's that or living in a big bubble. 

R-E-S-P-E-C-T, Find Out What It Means To Me

There is a post being shared around social media about not supporting the Women’s March, and how we don’t have anything to complain about as women in the United States right now.  If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you can read it here:

https://www.facebook.com/brandi.goingsatkinson/posts/10154999873267372?pnref=story

I agree with much of it.  I can vote.  I can have a job, and I have a pretty good one.  I can drive.  I can speak my mind, which I’m doing right now.  I don’t blame anyone else for things in my life or consider myself a victim of anything.  Rather, I take responsibilities for my actions, learn from those circumstances where bad things out of my control have occurred, and don’t consider myself any kind of victim (and I believe being a victim is more of a choice, you can choose to be an overcomer).  I believe that there are much worse conditions that women endure in other countries, and that we should put a lot more focus on that.

However, I think that women in this country do often lack something that they should have, and that something is respect.  Respect as a human being, not respect as someone who looks good in a bikini or has a pretty face.  I want respect for my intelligence, my emotional strength, my kindness, my ability to do my job, my talents, my thoughts, my personhood.  While we have come a very long way in American society, and I do get that kind of respect from most people, there has still been a bias about women in my adulthood.

I experienced when I went to an Armed Forces recruiter and was told they didn’t want me, though the paper laying on his desk in my view clearly showed I scored the highest in my school on the ASVAB.

I experienced it when an employer eluded, after I worked there a while, that he gave me my job because I was pretty.

I have experienced it when I go to Home Depot to get something for a home repair, and when asked what I am looking for, I get 5000 condescending questions about what I’m doing before the inevitable, “Ok, you have the right thing.”

I’ve experienced it when I walked around a car dealership with my child for an hour and could not find a salesperson to help me, and when I finally did, test drove, and went to buy the car, was told, exact words, “Wow, you actually can afford this and you have good credit.”

I experience it daily when I see posts online that say things like “She just thinks that because she is ugly.”

I experience it when I turn on a movie, and the male lead is a 70 year old past-his-prime man and the female lead playing his wife or love interest is a 25 year old attractive woman with fake breasts.

I experience it when I read that a man that commits rape is given a light sentence and excused as just a “boy being a boy.”

I experience when I am told I’m a “bitch” for doing or saying the exact same thing that would be esteemed in a man.

I experience it when I’m told that saying “I can grab a woman by her *private parts*” is just something all men say and there should be no concern about that, because that’s just normal.

Yes, I have a job with a good income, I have earned respect at work for my abilities, I can run my household, express my voice, vote, have served on the board of an athletic league, have been an athlete myself, have control over my medical care (after figuring out what insurance companies try to not have available to you), I can handle my own finances, I can stand up for myself, can support myself, can take care of myself, can feel comfortable in my own aging skin and weight-gaining body.  Yes, I am a strong woman.  No, I am not a victim.  I have a good life, with a great husband who does respect me and a son that has been taught to do the same. Yes, we are equal on paper, but sometimes in actual life, it really doesn’t feel that way.

Respect.  That is what every human being wants.  That is what some women speak up for, march for. And no, men are not all, or completely, to blame.  We women can be our own worst enemies sometimes, as often all the concentration is on abortion rights (which, by the way, not all women support) or birth control, or dressing up like sexual parts, and there are those who try to find their respect by conceding to the sexual object persona which seems to be desired.  However, saying everything is OK, everyone is considered equal, everyone is respected is a lie.  Just like it is a lie when we say that about equality of races or sexual preference.

Everyone deserves respect.  The main rule my child has is “You don’t have to like everyone, but you have to treat everyone with respect.”  He’s learned it well.  Can’t we all?

That’s why they have wine.