Kirtyhoo

So parents of middle school kids are steaming mad that their children were given a list of explicit words. The school was trying to be proactive and make sure students were educated on words that are NEVER to be used at school. For this lesson, they presented each student with a complete list of profanity, carefully reviewed the list and then sent them on their merry way – to ask their parents, “What’s a blow job?”

Now, with this kind of book learning why is everyone up in arms that our students won’t be ready to compete in tomorrow’s job market. Come on! With this training, they’ll surely be able to navigate the professional world with such well quipped phrases as, “are you f*cking kidding me?” and “he wouldn’t know foreign policy if it bit him on the ass.”

This story reminded me of Kelsey’s first profanity lesson. Three years old and wise to the world, she approached Wes and said, “Dad, we don’t say God damn.”

Wes: “No, Kels, we don’t say God damn.”

Kelsey: “We just say fuck. Huh?”

Family fun night last night in front of the boob tube – happily clicking between “Dancing with the Stars” (go Cloris!) and “The Biggest Loser”. It’s very educational. Trust me. Anyhoo, up pops Macy’s new TV ad that reminisces about the good old days and features black and white shots from favorite TV shows. It’s a feel-good spot about how long Macy’s has been around – like 150 years or something.

As the spots ends, our genius son who’s currently taking an A.P. Economics course pipes up, “Sears has been around a long time too. We talked about it in class last week.”

Beaming at the realization that Tyler’s paying attention in class, I respond with, “You know, you used to be able to order homes from the Sears catalog.”

“Yeah, well you used to be able to order brides too,” Tyler added.

“Really?” I ask a little stunned. “Wonder when they stopped that?”

Tyler, “Well, when I order my next washer and dryer, I’ll ask if a wife comes with that.”

I just keeled over – dead from the shock of seeing a pig nose growing on my son’s face.

Ok, so I haven’t written in some time now. And politics is certainly not my topic of choice for Kirtyhoo – but I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE and neither should you.

The current headline today on CNN.com is “BUSH: We Must Act Now.” Really? Well

gee, Mr. President. Nice of you to fucking chime in. It was so comforting to know

that you cancelled your travel plans yesterday to stay in Washington to attend

meetings on the economic crisis. Thanks. FOR NOTHING.

And in case your super power brain can’t comprehend how the mess you’ve created over the past 8 years has impacted the average family…let me break it down for you.

I lay awake at night wondering if the 401K that I’m been building up the past 15 years is going to worth a damn next week. I work more for less each month because of my generous tax donation and higher health insurance premiums. I worry about how I’m going to pay for college next year when I’m pumping tuition money into a gas pump each month. I pay more for fewer groceries.  And I’M ONE OF THE LUCKY ONES!  

You’re right, Georgie. We Must Act Now.

Act 1: increase my donation to Obama’s campaign

Act 2: make my voice heard – we deserve better than this

Losing Isaiah has been hard. Devastating. And simply the most painful thing I’ve yet to experience in my life. This last month has been a roller coaster. A completely f*cked-up roller coaster. One minute I’m laughing and the next, crying. Feeling guilty for laughing and then completely pissed off that Izzy’s not here laughing too.

But, there seems to be more laughing now. And remembering funny little stories isn’t followed with tears. Oh, I still have my moments. But now, rather than feeling sick to my stomach when I see Spongebob. I grasp to remember all the funny things Isaiah said all those times we watched episode after episode in the hospital.

I guess this is all part of healing. And that’s really what it’s all about right? You get sucker-punched in the gut and it’s your choice whether you keep laying down, crying and feeling bad. Or, you stand up.  

Today, I’m standing. And it’s thanks to the support and prayers of my family and friends. Thank you for the notes and hugs. I love you all.

http://www.overcomeaml.org/

For the past two days, I’ve been interrogating my family – convinced that someone has been looking at porn on my notebook. You see, I was sitting at work on Monday and started typing in bliptv.com in my web browser. And blindsexpress comes up. BLIND SEX. OMG, one of my kids has been looking at porn. It’s gotta be Kelsey. She borrowed my computer last night so that she could MySpace in front of the TV and while I thought she was posting comments on her BFF’s page – she was looking at nasties.

Eeeew. Blind Sex. How’d she even get this url? And what the hell is on this site – people having sex with ugly people only they don’t know they’re having sex with ugly people because their blind?

Well, after two agonizing days of questioning everyone but the dog and everyone including the dog looking at me like I had two heads, I finally found the courage to check out this porn site.

And, come to find out. I WAS THE GUILTY PARTY. See for yourself.

http://www.blindsexpress.com/ProductDetail.do?id=2335&width=34&widthFrac=0&height=77&heightFrac=0

Kelsey sent me the following text message on Saturday, May 3, 8:09 am

hey mommy! i just wanted to say i love you so much and im going to be playing for you today. (can you bring me some seeds and a gay-to-rade) thanks mom! i love you x3 billion!

Not sure what makes me more misty-eyed… the “i love you x3 billion” or the brilliantly played request for snacks bookended with a well executed suck up. 

My 17-year old son quickly corrected me, “It’s up your nose with a garden hose.”

“Yeah, well in your ear with a can of beer,” I replied.

Last Thursday, I received THE CALL. Fell out of my chair and started planning my bucket list.

Caller: Ms. Stanaway, the radiologist has detected a 0.6 cm obscured density on your mammogram.

Me: (what the hell did she just say? Oh, God. I’m dying.) Silence

Caller: Ms. Stanaway, we need you to come in for a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound. Are you free tomorrow or Monday?

Me: (Oh, God, this is serious – they need me to come in right away.) I’m free Monday.

Caller: Ok, we’ll see you at 2:15…. And then, all I hear was blah, blah, blah, obscured density that differs from your previous mammogram, blah, blah, don’t wear deodorant, blah, blah. Do you have any questions?

Me: Ummm, what? (I can’t even comprehend what you just told me – and can’t even talk with this lump in my throat. So even if I had a question, I can’t get the words to come out of my mouth.)

So, I spent the weekend calming my nerves with cold beer and hard labor in my garden. Monday’s appointment came and went – boobs painfully squished into flat, little pancakes. And the radiologist found nothing. Hallelujah!

Apparently, I’m part of a growing trend in the mammogram biz. This article appeared in the New York Times yesterday. Rather timely! 

Ladies – schedule your annual appointments TODAY. It sucks, but there’s power in knowing that you’re OK.