Here’s something they don’t teach you in lamaze

We had just come home from a trip to the local grocery store.  My husband was putting away our coats and the boys began running around in the living room.

Come on! son 1 shouted to son 2.  Let’s play! 

I don’t remember what game it was.  Just assume something terrifyingly frenzy, that involved lots of running, shouting, messing up of my already quite messy home, and raising of my blood pressure.

Son 2 replied I don’t do that.  I’m a girl.  With an emphasis on the “don’t” and the “girl”.

I sighed a terribly frustrated sigh and thought grimly This kid is going to start kindergarten soon.  It’s one thing if he marches around the house, demanding that his clothes and sippy cups be in shades of pink and purple only, and it’s another if he does the same in school.

They like to make big deals out of these kinds of things in institutions of the educational type.  When son 2 was delayed in his speech, he was analyzed by six different child psychologists, therapists, and special education teachers.  I try not to think about the conclusions they would reach and the questions they would have regarding my son’s flip flopping on his gender.

Because to me, and to his pediatrician, it isn’t a big deal.  He’s four years old.  Hardly the age where major life decisions are made.  It’s probably a phase that he’ll eventually grow out of.  And if he doesn’t, he doesn’t.  If that’s how and what he chooses to be, then that’s how and what he is.  We all know his behavior isn’t the work of the devil whispering bad things into his ear after we turn out the lights.  I doubt even that spiky tailed mofo can get past the all seeing eye that is the ADT motion sensor.

I keep telling him he’s a boy that loves to do girl stuff, because he loves to do all the boy stuff, too.  And that’s fine.  Boys can love the colors pink and purple, dolls, pretty hair, etc.  But he’s still a boy.  And I can’t check both M and F on his school forms.

I said it gently the first 10 times or so, calmly explaining to him the whole boy with the likes and dislikes of a girl concept.  He listened and said Okay.

Then came the situation mentioned at the beginning of the post.

Oh my Allah!  Omg!  Not again!  Jesus!  Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Stalin, John, Lennon, Yoko, Ono, Rinko, Star! 

That’s how I vent my frustration.  I spout nonsense.

We’ve been through this before, darling I said through clenched teeth.  You’re a boy that likes girl stuff, remember?

All I got in response was a big, Cheshire cat like grin from Son 2.  :mrgreen:

There had to be some way to get him to understand.  I thought for a while about obvious differences between the sexes.

Hair length?  No, that wouldn’t work.

Boobs?  No, I wasn’t going to start that.  The male fascination with the female chest is something they’ll have no problem figuring out once they hit puberty.  The bigger, the better is pretty much self explanatory.

I really didn’t know what to say, so I blurted out You’re not a girl because girls don’t have wee wees.

From the corner of my eye, I could see my husband raise his eyebrows and smirk.  I wanted to pinch him.  He wasn’t helping.  And why was he wearing that expression?

Because he knew what was coming up.

Often I tend to miss the obvious, like the time I thought I was reaching for the minty blue mouthwash and almost gargled with the stuff from the bottle clearly marked Windex.

My husband is a smart cookie.  He knew what was coming next.  He just sat there, arms crossed, and let me deal with what I had started.

Son 2’s eyes got big and round and Son 1 started to laugh.  Bewildered and obviously anticipating something scandalous, they asked the question that I, quite foolishly, hadn’t anticipated.

If they don’t have wee wees, what do they pee out of ?!?!

And they haven’t stopped asking it.  I tell them I will sit down and explain anatomical differences between males and females soon, when I know what to say and how to phrase it right.

It’s better than I don’t know how to tell you this boys, but I have no idea how to approach those kinds of topics with you.  Your grandparents always chose the ‘no’ option when they sent the ‘would you like your child to participate in sex ed classes’ permission slip home.  They were first generation fobs that were scandalized by such a notion because, in the old country, you found out where babies come from on your wedding night.  No sooner.

I’ve got some prep work to do on the topic before I open up my big mouth again and start an avalanche of questions.  Because kids ask a lot of questions.  Their minds and voices don’t have the confines and restrictions of the adult thought process.  And I really don’t want to say anything that might confuse the heck out of them.

I always prided myself on being the most knowledgeable on any topic that was parental, but apparently, mom and child specialist are sometimes two different things.

Who knew?

I have converted from hateful comedianism

I used to be a Bill Maher fan.  I liked the way he approached his topics and discussions.  Without fear and with no attempts at being diplomatic.  He never seemed scared or intimidated by anything.

His body language was always of someone at ease, no matter what he was dealing with.  He once wowed me with his ability to get Ann Coulter to shut up.  I don’t know if you are familiar with the woman, but it’s quite the accomplishment.

Then this happened.  😯

What he said doesn’t surprise or shock me.  I’ve heard it all before.  He’s entitled to his views and opinions.  Whatever people want to believe is up to them.

I’m just disappointed that Maher generalized.  That’s such a Fox News thing to do.  I thought he was better than that.

And I have just one question.

When the hell did Muslims ever agree on an issue enough to classify it as the mainstream view? 

Muslims concurring?  That’s news to me.  That headline can definitely “break the internet.”  It’s got even more potential than Kim K’s giant oily ass.

We can’t even agree on when to celebrate our two holidays.  Yeah, just two.  The Islamic calendar runs according to the lunar cycle, so classic discussions about when to hold the occasion of Eid have been Is the moon visible?  Did <enter far off relative> in <enter farther off country> see it?  Was it hiding behind a tree?  It was?! 

In that case, I think I’ll celebrate it the day after my third cousin’s great uncle’s daughter in law’s granny does.  You know, just to be sure, in case Allah is watching and he gets mad that we missed the chance to argue over something. 

My husband no longer calls it moon sighting.  He says the correct term is now moon fighting.

Maher would like us to believe the majority of Muslims support the criminals that perpetrated the violence in France.  That the extremist view is the dominant view.  But what about the Muslim police officer that was one of the twelve victims?  And the Muslim employee at the Kosher deli?  What about Malala Yousafzai and her family?  Abdul Sattar Edhi?  Ahmed Aboutaleb?

Did these people just miss the memo or what?

As the actions of the crazy fucked up minority of the religion get more frequent, I am seeing more of the world calling for the peace loving ones of us to do something about it.  I think they see it as sort of like asking parents why the eff they don’t do something about their delinquent kids.  Except I don’t remember giving birth to evil monsters. Shudders.

That delivery would’ve been something.  Forget the birth. Just consider the episiotomy.

My cousin is more religious than I am.  She covers her hair and I don’t.  She doesn’t gossip and I do.  A lot.   She’s involved with social work and I’m not.  My contribution to the community is to keep my kids from fighting in public places.

We both follow the same book.  She interprets verses one way while I interpret them another.  I don’t say she’s right and she doesn’t say I’m wrong.  We are both free to practice the religion as we see fit.

I don’t understand, then, why we are to blame, apologize, or take responsibility for someone who doesn’t follow her version or my version but chooses to espouse his own evil, perverted version.  I fail to see what we have to do with that.  Or what Buddhists have to do with this.  Or Hindus have with this.

Say we followed the religion of shapes.  I liked circles and you liked squares.  And then some dumb ass mofo decides to bust out a triangle.  Do we give up our love of geometry?

Am I getting anywhere with this, or is my circle story pointless? 😆

It might be for whom nothing we say is enough.  We can condemn until the cows come home and make buttermilk.  We can preach nonviolence, hold interfaith gatherings, give interviews, but they’ll still insist “Maybe most Moslems peaceful, but until they recognize and destroy their growing jihadist cancer they must be held responsible.” 

Thanks, Rupert Murdoch.  How the hell did you get where you are if you can’t even spell Muslim? What else would you like for us peaceful Moslems to do?  Sit on the bombs ourselves?  I’m all for making the world a better place, but how do I do that with my ass falling off of me?

The majority of us are just people simply trying to live our lives.  I’m sure you don’t hear of us, though.  How could you?  “Muslim working, 9-5″ doesn’t make the news.  Muslim dropping kids off at daycare doesn’t either, nor does Muslim enjoying company sponsored free seafood buffet.  Muslim slowly realizing he’s allergic to shellfish might, though.

Before you know it, a whole lotta people are blamed for the actions of some.

That’s not to say Muslims or Islam is in any way near perfect.  Far from it.  We’ve got our problems, like any large, multiracial, and multicultural group would.

One complaint I always had was that Muslims should lighten up and be less judgmental of other Muslims.  The liberal use of the word haram, meaning sinful, is another.  Because haram is everywhere.

I’m haram.  You’re haram.  Is anyone out there not haram?  Come on, people, save the judging for Allah and the afterlife.

Yup, we’ve got issues all right.  And the fucked up, crazy minority is one of them.  Sad that only the stupid ones are heard and spoken about.  Such as this guy.

*Shaking my head in disbelief *

Forget sharing minute similarities of the same faith.  Right now I’m embarrassed to be part of their species.

When I was in middle school, I made the mistake of making fun of the religion of a couple of classmates that had been teasing me.  Yes, I went there.  I regretted it almost immediately, though, and apologized soon after.

I saw the bewilderment and hurt in their eyes at the insult to their god and their religious practices.  I decided  that that was a level I never wanted to stoop to ever again.  A person’s religion is beloved for him or her.  It’s their way of life.  And to ridicule something that important to someone else would truly be a callous thing to do.

In the words of Homer Simpson, “Jesus, Allah, Buddha! I love you all!”

But that’s just me and my way of doing things.  I can’t shove that opinion onto someone else.  If you want to draw cartoons, you should be able to draw cartoons, whether they offend people or not.

I remember watching a news special on the KKK once.  The African American mayor of a large city was in charge of and had to provide the security for the rally that the group intended to host that day.  And of course he didn’t agree with them in the least.  But it was their right.  And rights are and should be equal for all, bucktooth ignoramus included.

This is what I did on no sleep

So you know that really really bad stomach thing my four year old had?  Well, we realized he caught it from the hotbed of germs known as the kids play area at the mall during the busiest shopping season of the year.  In the future we will have to consider exposing them to really shitty illness as a drawback to getting the kids out of the house and away from the TV.

Our son is doing much better now, thank god, and being his regular self again.  But guess who caught it from him?

*Raising hand slowly*

And not just me.  The rest of our little family, meaning my husband and my seven year old, were also not safe from its predatory ways.

This year’s strain of the stomach flu is not the stomach flu you are familiar with.  No, not at all.  This feels more like it should be called Ebola, Jr.  I kid you not.

It leaves you feeling hot and cold at the same time.  It sends its minions to gnaw on the inside of your abdomen.  The best way I can describe the feeling is hot little dull knives poking at your innards.  The pain was what kept us awake the most.  I don’t remember dealing with so much of it during past stomach issues.  It made my not so very religiously inclined seven year old ask if it was time to pray so that Allah could take away the hurt.

You don’t know whether to shit or to barf first, they’re both so overwhelmingly compelling.  There’s an eye of the storm moment after every mad dash to the bathroom, where you think okay, that was the last one, I feel much better, until around 30-45 minutes later, when you’re doing it all over again and you realize the effing remote’s crapped out (no pun intended) and the repeat button is stuck.

The one and only good point about mutant stomach bug, version 2014 is that it moves fast.  The little slut.  The three of us caught it late Wednesday afternoon, and by early Thursday morning, we were able to give the hallway bathroom a break and get some rest.  By Thursday afternoon, I was able to get up, walk around for a few minutes, and attempt to take care of my pretty much back to normal four year old.  Yay for primary caretakers!  Where being sick means you get to do all the stuff you normally do with the addition of being sick.

Protect yourself from this year’s strain of stomach flu as well as you can, internet peoples.  You don’t want to catch this thing, believe me.  Compared to it, the stomach bug you have dealt with in the past is the common household cockroach.  This, my friends, is Godzilla.

If you think you can handle hours of shitting out all your body fluids, caressing your garbage can like it was your breastfeeding newborn, and having your ass make love to the toilet seat, then go ahead and give it a call.  You’ll find its number scrawled on the walls of dirty public bathrooms everywhere.

Ha ha.  That’s a funny one.  Get it?  Walls?  Stomach bug?  Dirty bathrooms?

You suck. 😐

It is now Friday afternoon and we are all on our way back to normal.  Lingering side effects have been a constant state of mild nausea, a heightened sensitivity to smell, and an overall feeling of having a bad hangover.  My nose is telling me there’s an open jar of sewer water somewhere in our house, but my husband is saying just stop complaining, will you? and that I’m overreacting.  Okay, then.