life hack: get a tattoo. if the people at the job interview notice it and look concerned, laugh a little and explain “it’s just temporary.” months later if your boss asks why you lied and said it was a temporary tattoo, stare off into the distance and whisper with a tremulous voice the poor excuse for truth your subconscious has been fighting for its entire insignificant existence: “everything is temporary.”
My husband: Are you working right now?
Me: Yeah, why?
Him: Like actually working? Or on that website?
Me: Actually working. And what website?
Him: That one you’re always on. That yahoo site.
Me: That yahoo site?
Him: What’s it called?
Him: Right, that one.
Me: I was actually working, but now I’m going onto tumblr to tell everyone you just called it “that yahoo site.”
I’d assume your daughter would want a skeleton or skull cake.
Ha! That was so last month. Her interests change daily. :-)
This week she’s into the superhero Flash, butterflies, motorcycles, and anything to do with Frozen.
A Small, Important Lesson About Consent
One of my kindergarten boys kept hugging another boy in class. The hugger was smiling big time, and just trying to show the other boy that he cared for him. The huggee was noticeably uncomfortable at times.
Me: John*, I don’t think Sam* wants you to keep hugging him.
Me: Well, he isn’t smiling while you hug him. *John looks at Sam and back to me, inquisitively* Do you like to blow bubbles, John?
John: I love to!
Me: So do I. As people, we have a type of bubble around us, but it’s not a bubble we can see. We let some people that we really love come into our bubble, but we keep some people out of it. When you just hug someone without them saying it’s ok, you’re popping their bubble, which isn’t a very nice thing to do.
Sam: I have a bubble?
Me: Yep! And, if someone gets too close to you, or touches you when you don’t want them to, you can just tell them “you’re in my bubble”, and they’ll know to back away. *turning to John* If someone tells you to stay out of their bubble, you have to listen.
John: Or I’ll pop it?
Me: You got it.
Later, I saw John hugging Sam again, and I went over to say something. John looked at me and said, “He said I could be in his bubble, now!” and Sam just nodded with a big smile.
I want to thank my friend JJ for giving me the courage to teach complex ideas to children. I don’t know if this lesson will last, but it’s one we can continue to talk about.
OH NOES! I HAVE BEEN UNFOLLOWED BY AN ANTI-VAXXER!
Sorry to dump the rains of reason down on your intellectual bonfire here, but if the shoe fits, by all means, wear it. If you want to deny facts and science, that’s your business, until you’re putting other people’s lives at risk. Which you are. Should any of your children get an illness preventable by a vaccine you blithely skipped, I hope you’re charged with child abuse. If they don’t survive, I hope you’re criminally charged with their deaths.
However, I don’t wish any of that on your family, because it happened to my grandparents. My Aunt Sharon died before her tenth birthday of polio, shortly before the vaccine was introduced. My grandparents saw their firstborn go from a vibrant young girl to a shell incapable of breathing without an iron lung. My grandmother never really talked about her much. Having lost your child in such a horrific way is nothing I’d want to wish on anyone, but you’ve apparently made peace with it. Good for you!
You should meet Kathryn Riffenburg. Her nine-week-old son died of whooping cough, an easily preventable disease that he was unable to be vaccinated for because he was too young. Previously, herd immunity protected wee ones like him. Instead, his mother chose a closed casket funeral because the suffering his little body endured made him unrecognizable.
But I suppose his death was just a scare tactic, yeah? And about Big Pharma supposedly making a profit off of vaccines — it’s much more profitable for you and yours to be UNVACCINATED, what with so many serious illnesses requiring long-term, chronic care having been virtually eliminated — until now. So maybe YOU’RE the tool of Big Pharma! DUN-DUN-DUN!
Or maybe you’re just a big tool. Hopefully, this whole going irresponsibly unvaccinated thing works out for your family and you’re never left sitting at a gravesite wondering why you thought it was a-OK to play Russian roulette with your child’s life. One in 1,000 who get measles will die. I suppose it’s more likely than not that you’ll be lucky, but I’d also venture that not everyone who would come into contact with your
walking disease vectorschildren would share the same luck.
In summary, if you ever accidentally follow me again, here’s a handy guide:
Oh sweet jeebus, I’m still getting messages from people like this. Y’all can take several seats, because none of you will change my mind on how irresponsible it is to leave your spawn unvaccinated.
Ummm… so this vaccination info-rant is WAY better than the mini one I posted this morning. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
I’m guessing she’ll pick a Super Hero cake. Or pure chocolate. Maybe both.
One of my favorite things to do when someone makes a sexist comment regarding one of my kids (“I bet she’ll pick out an all pink princess cake for her birthday, won’t she?” ”He won’t like books like that, it’s for girls.” ”That must just be a boy thing.” “That’s such a girl thing.”) is to look confused for a moment, then simply ask, “Why?”
I’ve found people tend to tune out lectures or arguments about forced gender roles (plus, the dentists office isn’t really an ideal place to go on a rant), but perhaps asking people to question themselves and their beliefs/ideas for a moment could lead to small changes. Why?
Sometimes they back track, sometimes they hesitate, sometimes they admit they don’t know, sometimes they dig their heels in and restate their claim, but for a brief second they considered Why? Why do I believe that?
We all have to start somewhere. ~JJ
"Some claim that evolution is just a theory, as if it were merely an opinion. The theory of evolution — like the theory of gravity — is a scientific fact. Evolution really happened. Accepting our kinship with all life on Earth is not only solid science. In my view, it’s also a soaring spiritual experience."
Neil deGrasse Tyson, Cosmos
Yesterday marked my initiation into the Mamas of a Child With an Ear Infection Club. It was a club I did not want to join, but now that I’m here I have a new appreciation for parents that deal with this crap chronically. R-E-S-P-E-C-T. (Also, how amazing is penicillin??)
Additionally, I have a new appreciation for the complete IDIOCY of parents that don’t vaccinate their kids. My child was in pain with a very minor illness for less than 24 hours, but if there was a vaccine that could have prevented that discomfort? OF COURSE I would have given it to her. Do these parents realize how horrible it is to see your child in pain? Do they understand that the pain would be completely and entirely their fault if it was caused by a preventable disease they chose not to vaccinate against?
It is truly mind boggling that these parents willingly risk their children’s comfort, health and life by not vaccinating. You can’t prevent pain… it’s inevitable… but you can prevent some pain and vaccinations are pain preventers. GO DO IT. ~JJ
Oh, I have plenty of biases, all right. I’m quite biased toward depending upon what my senses and my intellect tell me about the world around me, and I’m quite biased against invoking mysterious mythical beings that other people want to claim exist but which they can offer no evidence for.
By telling students that the beliefs of a superstitious tribe thousands of years ago should be treated on an equal basis with the evidence collected with our most advanced equipment today is to completely undermine the entire process of scientific inquiry.
And one more thing: In your original message you identified yourself as an elementary school teacher. If you are going to insist on holding to a creationist viewpoint, then please stay away from my children. I want my kids to learn about “real” science, and how the “real” world operates, and not be fed the mythical goings-on in the fantasy-land of creationism.
It’s not our job to toughen our children up to face a cruel and heartless world. It’s our job to raise children who will make the world a little less cruel and heartless.
I’m a teenage girl who has been reading about you quite a bit in the news lately. It seems to me that you have absolutely no idea what women of my generation are all about. I can understand that because I often deal with older people who think that their generation is superior and my generation is the worst thing ever just because we’re different. Really though, I think since you want to be all up in the public eye, it would really do you a lot of good to understand things from the perspective of one of the young women who will be taking over this country soon.
I’ve been thinking about how I can explain what feminism means to my generation in a way you might not have thought of before. I wanted to try to work from something we have in common, and it’s been kind of hard to find something I have in common with you. Then, it came to me. I bet you wear a bra.
Human After All
I’ve written more poems about you than we’ve had nights in each others’ arms, milked you as a source of inspiration so often that you could demand royalties if I made any money doing this. I could compose an entire chapbook of poems you’ve been responsible for, plaster your face on the cover along with the hearts and devil horns I’ve graffitied on my memory of you depending on my mood, cover your eyes with the title to hide your identity because I’ve kept my promise to never tell anyone you’re not entirely straight. I’ve met your friends. I understand. I wouldn’t want to tell them either.
All of this in the nearly two years since we last saw each other. Two years of progressively phasing you out of my life because it was too painful to hold on to those memories tethered by razor wire, dragging them behind me as I tried to move on, anchored here by their weight. Even if I could have shed those shackles, the gashes in these hands I used to drag your memories would sting any time I tried to embrace someone else.
I think it’s time I dropped them anyway. I think it’s time I stop adapting this story to make you a RomCom villain, because you never had enough charisma to play the role convincingly… and because you don’t deserve to be reduce to a caricature. This was no plot contrivance to teach me a lesson, even though our ambitious fling did exactly that. We were just two people who only vaguely made sense as a pair when we first met. We grew, we changed, we don’t fit together like we used to.
I’m starting to think the only reason we ever did is because I was so formless, so unshapen when I met you that I could have been a good enough fit for anyone. You deserve much of the credit for pushing me to mold myself into something firm and strong and unyielding. It’s a shame what I became doesn’t fit with your protrusions and crevices anymore. We’re pieces of different puzzles now.
So I’m declaring a truce in the civil war between the parts of me that still long for the larger-than-life free spirit who taught me how to have ambition and the parts that despise the anti-feminist boy who left me behind, evacuating them to make room for the parts that see you as just a person, neither heartthrob nor heart-breaker. Because I want closure more than I want an easy topic to write poems about. And these wounds you left on my hands? They will heal into rough scars, giving me the traction I need to finally get a grip.
Damn, I needed to read this. Owen, your writing continues to inspire. <3
Q:Happy our amazing planet day!
Right back at ya!