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.