When It Comes to Penn State and Jerry Sandusky, I Hate Being Right

Picture this. You’re walking down a quiet street, and behind a parked car, you see a naked man – who you recognize to be a neighbor — sodomizing a young boy. You’re startled, but you decide to go home, sleep on it, and then call a friend to tell her the next day. She tells a friend, who then tells another friend. At a dinner party, you all decide that it would be best if you all kept the incident quiet to preserve the reputation of your neighborhood. You even continue making small talk with the neighbor, just so he doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

Unfathomable, isn’t it? Especially if you’re a parent, you know that you could never stand by and let something like this happen to someone’s son, just as you pray that another person wouldn’t let it happen to yours. But as you’ve probably heard by now, horrors worse than this took place on the Penn State University campus dating back to 1998. As we’ve learned with the release of the Freeh report this morning, a unanimous decision was made by Penn State bigwigs to let that animal Jerry Sandusky go about his business. There was no dissension in the ranks. No protest. No second thoughts. Not even as the stream of boys were being marched into the Penn State showers. Continue reading “When It Comes to Penn State and Jerry Sandusky, I Hate Being Right”

F-Bombs Away: The 4th of July Edition

Simpler days -- D's first 4th of July in 2009.

So yesterday, on our nation’s birthday, I f-bombed my 3 year old. OK, not to his face, but on the 76th trip up a flight of stairs into my cousin’s house to get him or his brother something (as the sweat poured off of me from the 97-but-it-feels-like-hell degree day), I had a moment I’m not proud of.

My aunt came in to report that his highness’ chicken nuggets were still cold. And I lost my cool. To give you some back story, I had just finished battling it out with him because the french fries I made him weren’t to his liking. He wanted crinkle cut, I made straight cut. His brother, the eldest heir, down in the yard at the bottom of the long staircase, was also in one of his brazen “I’m testing limits today” moods, and so he had been barking his royal orders at me, too: “Fetch me some seltzer, wench, and be sure it has plenty of ice.” OK, it was really, “mom, I asked you for seltzer five minutes ago!” but it definitely had a go-fetch-wench tone.

The rest of the day was full of changing D’s poop accidents (still working on that potty training thing!), breaking up fights over whatever toy both of them had to have at the exact same moment, and trying to get in one adult conversation without being interrupted (can you guess how that went?).

All the while, I felt like my family — whom I do truly, dearly love more than anything — was judging me. Not in the “how can you let your kids talk to you that way?” way. Or “why are you letting them run you ragged and making them a special dinner at a barbeque with numerous food options?” way. Oh no. In my family, my boys can do no wrong, and I’m the mean mom who needs to lighten up with them. Mind you, this is despite the fact that when I was growing up, I was taught to never talk back, and to suck it up if I didn’t approve of a relative’s party menu. But I digress…

I was the irresponsible one who served up the cold chicken nuggets, after all. Really, I rushed them out of the toaster oven because I’d grown tired of the nagging and whining about why they weren’t ready yet. And I was the one who forget to fetch J’s beverage, despite the fact that I was up in the house attending to his brother’s dinner, and he is perfectly capable of walking over to a cooler to help himself.

So when my aunt came in on behalf of my son to innocently question me about the temperature of the chicken nuggets, I took it in an entirely different way. I snapped, and blurted out: “Tell him to go f*** himself.” Yep, that’s just what I said, and once it slipped out of my lips, I wished I could take it back. If only I’d had a few pina coladas, I might have been more care-free. But alas, my fuse had been lit from earlier in the day, and finally, as we all awaited the fireworks, I put on a fireworks pre-show for my disapproving relatives to see. As I said, I’m not proud. I wish I can have a do-over for that one. I was just so worked up, hot, hungry (I barely had a moment to enjoy a bite or beer myself all day), and envious of everyone else that was having a grand old time while I clearly wasn’t.

Shortly after the f-bomb heard around the yard, my son left his freshly-warmed chicken nuggets in the dust to dart for the desserts being put out (yep, after all that!), and I excused myself to the bathroom to hide my tears of frustration. Please don’t misunderstand. My kids are really good and sweet most of the time. This was just one of those perfect storms of heat exhaustion, over-stimulation, spoiling relative overload, and me not being at my best.

A few minutes later, I heard my son whimpering. “What now?” I thought to myself? But then I realized that the fireworks had started and he was scared. This was no power play or bratty behavior in action — he truly needed me. At that moment, we both really just needed a hug. So I held him close and kissed him on the head, and we both said goodnight to our frightening day of fireworks.

PG Excuses to Keep the Kids Away from Your Grown Up Entertainment

There’s been an awful lot of “Mommy Porn” lately, hasn’t there? I’m not here to judge, oh no.  I’m just making an observation that pop culture is shifting a little by realizing that we gals like a little Rated R fun to be enjoyed after the kids’ bedtimes, too. Not all of it is of a sexual nature of course… sometimes it’s just really cool to be entertained by books or shows that portray strong female roles. And if we can get a little eye candy to go along with it, why not?

In any event, since kids today are both nosy and technologically savvy, there may come a day when you have to come up with a quick response if your child starts snooping around your Kindle Fire, DVR selction, or finds your movie theater ticket stubs.

So, here, I give you some PG-rated back stories for five recent pop culture phenoms to throw your kids off your trail. They’ll at least buy you enough time to  go password protect your stuff!

50 Shades of Grey  – And purple, and red, and green… basically it’s what the couch looks like after years of accumulated  juice spills, baby spit up, and marker madness. Which reminds me, go clean your room!

Game of Thrones – A noble way to describe the potty training showdown that all moms must survive. Would you be a dear and show your brother how nice you sit on the “iron throne”?

Magic Mike – I’m not sure what Sally told you her mom saw, but my movie night was a story about one parent’s quest to book the most popular and expensive birthday party magician in town.

Hung – It’s a documentary about how to get all of your laundry put away in one day. Do you want to help match up the socks?

The Walking Dead – I wouldn’t watch anything with scary zombies. It’s just a silly way to describe how moms and dads feel during those first few sleep-deprived months of parenthood (and ever since!). Hey, isn’t it past your bedtime?

There you have it! Happy reading and viewing!

Is This Blog Trending on Twitter Yet? - Yes, you are awesome for reading my blog.It’s been a long time coming, but it’s here — my shiny new blog! Sure, I blog all the time for clients, but I’m thrilled to have my very own corner of the interweb to share my random thoughts. And they will be random, trust me.

Because I’m a busy working mom, much of my writing will consist of silly stories involving the escapades of my two charming boys. I also watch too much TV, love to kickbox for fitness, and on rare occasions, I may go on a rant. Consider yourself warned! But mostly this blog will feature my thoughts and commentary on the news of the day, with a little shameless self promotion now and then, too.

Until the next post, be well, and thanks for stopping by!

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