Never Buy A Feather Boa And Eleven Other Lessons From 2012

The Twelve Lessons I learned in 2012:

1) Never buy a feather boa. I can't explain why or how, but they constantly leave a trail of feathers in their wake and never get any smaller or stringier. Every parent longingly waits for the day when they can point to a bald boa and tell their child that the boa (finally, FINALLY) has to be thrown away. The only problem is that no matter how many hours you spend vacuuming up hot pink feathers, that day never comes. So never buy a feather boa, no matter how much better you feel about doing calculus homework when you wear it. I mean, your kid! Never buy one for your kid!

2) Never attempt to build a gingerbread house without a gingerbread house kit unless you have a degree (preferably masters or higher) in either architecture, construction, civil engineering, or design. If you try to construct a homemade gingerbread house without the proper credentials, you WILL fail. Or worse, you will sit at the table with a half-constructed house debating whether gum drops or Skittles make better re-enforcers for your tootsie roll mailbox, refusing to fail. Either way, your kid will lose interest long before you do and you will hate all those know-it-alls on Pinterest with their perfect gingerbread houses complete with blue m&m moats containing leaping (how?!) Swedish Fish. Show offs.

3) Sometimes you are the parent that is all patience, goodness, and light. And sometimes you are the parent who has to put a dollar in the swear jar more frequently than you'd like to admit. I don't want to say which one I am, but I will say that there are a hell of a lot of dollars in that damn jar.

4) If you are not a do-it-yourself person then you really shouldn't try to do it yourself. Pinterest kept me captivated for about the first half of the year and I was constantly pinning crazy things that I swore I would try. However, my first (and only) Pinterest attempt of making a homemade face mask left me with a face so bright orange that the cast of Jersey Shore was jealous. Luckily, I aim to surround myself with people who are much, much smarter than me just in case I need to be bailed out of ridiculous situations and one of my best friends was able to come to the rescue. After she stopped laughing at me.

5) Read the article, not the comments. Every single time, I get sucked into some little virtual argument over something so completely out there that I wind up depressed and pessimistic, questioning the mental state of the world. I don't recommend it.

6) I also don't recommend taking Nyquil before watching four back-to-back episodes of Breaking Bad. I can pretty much guarantee that you will have the most terrifying dreams of your life, so consider yourselves warned.

7) Someday you will be somewhere without the kids and start humming to yourself. "What is the lovely song that's stuck in my head?" you will wonder until it dawns on you that it's the theme song from Yo Gabba Gabba. I can't lie; it's a pretty low moment.

8) Sometime the world is dark, scary, and beyond comprehension. Sometimes I just want to barricade myself inside my house, grow all of my own food, sew all of my own clothes, make my own power generator, make beer in the bathtub...you know, really let all of my inner crazy come out. But throwing the covers over my head in the morning while yelling "Leave me alone! I have agoraphobia like Paula Deen!" is not only ridiculously false, but also helps no one. No matter how violent and unmanageable the world seems, the show must go on.

9) It's always a good idea to aspire to write a post-apocalyptic Pauly Shore movie with your funniest friend. Even if it never happens, the brain-storming sessions alone are good for a laugh.

10) I always figured I would become looser and more laid-back the older I got, but I've found the complete opposite happening. Every day I'm just a little more neurotic and crazy. It's like I'm slowly morphing into Woody Allen with a lot more hair and a lot less talent and success.

11) As an aspiring writer living in a world where no one really likes to read, I've had my fair share of rejection. Rejection sucks for the obvious reasons, but also sucks because it is so impersonal. There's no "We know you put hard work and your entire soul into writing this, but we just don't need it right now". There's not even a "It's not you, it's us" formality. It's just no. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope that a "no" will eventually turn into a "yes".

12) A sense of humor will get you through anything. One of the best parts of my marriage is that we can always make each other laugh, no matter how hard life can feel. The whole "laughter is the best medicine" thing sounds like a cheesy cliche, but it's true. And I'm lucky to be married to someone I can wet-willy photo-bomb while he tries to balance a spoon on his nose. It doesn't get much better than that.


 Happy New Year, Everyone!

We Can't Go On Like This

Out of all of the terrible things that have come out in light of the Sandy Hook Elementary school shooting, the thing I can't get out of my head is how forty parents had to hear the words "Your child is dead" on Friday. That's a horror I can't even begin to imagine.

No one should ever have to hear those words. No one should ever have to see their child go before them, especially in such a violent, unnecessary way. I can't stop thinking about how all of those parents naturally assumed that they would see their child again after they dropped them off in the morning, but didn't. I can't even begin to wrap my head around that.

I debated for hours on Friday whether or not to pick Layla up early from school. Part of me didn't want to freak her out by taking her out early. Because what was I supposed to tell her? The world is a dark, messed up place and I don't ever want to let you out of my sight again? The truth is, I didn't want to tell her anything at all. I went as far as to consider making a (completely unnecessary) doctor's appointment just so I'd have a normal reason to show up to get her hours before school let out, but didn't. By the time I decided to pick her up, I had also decided that I was going to try to keep calm and hold it together. But when I saw her, running up to me with her big smile, excited because she found a quarter on the playground, I forgot about keeping my cool and barely kept myself from bursting into tears. I've never been so happy and thankful to see her running towards, happy and alive and so blissfully unaware that anything incomprehensible had happened that day. I can't imagine being one of the parents in Connecticut at that very time, standing outside of Sandy Hook hoping and praying with everything you have that my child was okay, hoping to see them running towards me just like Layla had done, only to find out that the unthinkable had happened. It's been days, but I still have such a hard time processing the enormity of the situation. It absolutely kills me that twenty kids who are the same age as my own child were killed for no reason whatsoever. It's hard to be a parent and not put yourself in the shoes of all of those parents who lost a child. My heart breaks over and over for them. I keep thinking, what if the conversation I had with Layla when I dropped her off at school that morning was the last we ever had? Friday is P.E. day and because Layla hates P.E., I spent the car ride to school telling her that P.E. was just a part of life she had to deal with. What if that had been our last conversation? What if the last time I got to hug her or tell her I loved her had been that morning? It is no exaggeration to say that my kids are my life and without them, I wouldn't have a life worth living. 

Because this hits so close to home for me, there are so many things I want to say. I think gun control (or lack thereof) is a big issue. I think mental health, as well as the stigma placed on mental health and with getting help is just as big of an issue, if not bigger. There has to be something we can do to stop this. Maybe it wasn't your child or my child this time, but next time it could be. I read today that 84 people have been killed in mass shootings in 2012 ALONE. Something needs to change. Something needs to be done to keep this from happening over and over.

The gun control factor is tricky, but I know this much: I don't want to hear "Obama wants to take our guns away" anymore. That's a cop-out and that's hardly what would happen if we tightened up our laws. When DWIs became a big problem, no one came in and "took everyone's cars away". When DWIs became an epidemic, stricter laws were made. Gone were the days of getting off with a slap on the wrist if you were caught driving drunk. If you are pulled over and fail a sobriety test, you go to jail. You go to court. Your license is suspended. Your picture is put in the newspaper (which I personally find amazingly effective because public humiliation goes a long way). In other words,there are stricter consequences for you to face without losing your personal freedoms. And while DWIs have not disappeared all together, they have decreased greatly which is a start. I don't understand why we couldn't apply the same principal to gun laws. If you are someone who wants to own a gun for protection or to hunt and that is your only purpose for it, then guess what? As a responsible gun owner, stricter laws wouldn't really affect you. I realize that crazy people would still try to find a way to get a gun, but I don't think that's a good enough reason to not try to make it harder for them. That's like saying "Eh, this is too big of a problem. We can't do anything to stop it, so why try?", which is inexcusable. Things can be done to stop it. To begin, guns and ammunition should not be available over the internet for anyone to order with NO background check and NO waiting period. That has to stop. I don't think it would be asking too much to take a class or pass a psychological evaluation before you can own a gun. And all guns should be properly and legally registered.

I realize that the guns used on Friday were legally registered to the shooter's mom which brings me to my next point; Guns aren't the only problem. Part of the problem is that we live in a selfish world. We say "Hey, how are you doing?" more as a polite reflex than actually caring about the answer. There's a stigma on mental instability and an even worse stigma on getting help for mental health issues. Think about it. In our celebrity-obsessed world, there is nothing the media loves more than a story about a celebrity who has gone into rehab or revealed some long-hidden mental disorder. Why? So we can applaud the courage and strength it takes to realize that they have a problem bigger than themselves that they are unable to handle alone, so they seek out help? No. It's so we can all whisper and speculate and gossip like a bunch of fifteen-year-old girls and relish in the fact that it's them and not us. We hold ourselves and each other to unrealistically high standards of perfection instead of seeing that we are all human and all imperfect. I am in NO WAY trying to justify what the shooter did (because it is completely unjustifiable) but I don't believe that you just wake up one morning and decide to shoot up a grade school. It was a festering illness. Who knows who this guy had to talk to? Maybe everyone had just written him off as another weird loner. Maybe we should all take a minute to care about each other as much as we care about Kate Middleton's morning sickness. Maybe I'm a simplistic little tree hugger, but I have to believe that maybe if there was more compassion in the world, things like this wouldn't happen so frequently.

Whatever the reason, something like this should never happen period, but it should especially never happen at a school. School is where kids should go to learn and grow and begin to turn into the people that they will grow up to be. They shouldn't have to worry about someone coming in and taking their life for absolutely no reason and then turning the gun on himself so that he never has to face the consequences of his actions. Part of me didn't want to write this blog because I didn't want to glorify anything the shooter did. I definitely don't want to use his name because I don't want it in my memory. I read a great quote from Morgan Freeman who said that we should focus less on the killer and more on preventing this from happening in the future and remembering the victims and I couldn't agree more.

So let's remember them. Let's forget for a second what political party you side with or whether you think gun control is the problem or not because SOMETHING is the problem and we need to do SOMETHING to fix it. For once, let's stop sitting on our couches watching the news and saying that something needs to be done and actually get up and do something. Get mad. Tell President Obama, whether you love him or hate him, that something needs to be done. Have more than just surface-level conversations with people. If someone needs help, help them or find someone who can. Show some compassion. Think of all of the families who will never think that this is the "most wonderful time of the year" ever again. Let's not let the shooter live in infamy, but instead remember the teachers who threw themselves in front of their students trying to save their lives and the twenty children who only got to live on this planet for six short years. Get up and take action. It won't fix everything and it won't bring those kids back, but it's a start.

I don't know why this had to happen. No one will ever really know why. The media will do everything in its power to dig up every little fact about this guy trying to find a motive, but we will never know anything for sure. All we will ever really know for sure is that was happened at Sandy Hook should be our worst nightmare and not our bleak reality.

"Mom-Shells" Make Me Want To Commit Momicide

I don't know about you, but I kind of want to give Gisele Bundchen a high five. In the face. With a chair.

To be perfectly fair (which admittedly, I tend not to be when discussing supermodels), I'm sure she's actually a lovely person. It's not her fault that Tom Brady obviously ignored the series of telepathic messages I spent years sending him, in which I attempted to convince him that models and B-list actresses weren't so great and he should find and marry me instead. I got over it when I married someone handsome, funny and kind and Tom Brady started having children he didn't want to claim and forgetting to shower on a regular basis. But her husband isn't why I want to give her a chair five. This is why:

Now to the unknowing eye, this might look like just another picture of a gorgeous supermodel in her skivvies, but in actuality, it is one of the biggest works of post-baby propaganda out there. Why? Because this picture was taken a scant three weeks after Giselle gave birth. Three. Freaking. Weeks.

Now if you're a mom reading this and thinking "What the what?!" you are not alone, my friend.

Let me back up a bit.

After Layla was born, I committed one of the most common faux pas of first-time mommies all over the world: I packed my regular old pre-baby pants into my hospital suitcase under the impression  (okay, delusion) that once the baby was out, I could just sort of pick right up where I left off body-wise. Unfortunately, during my pregnancy I really got into the whole "eating for two" deal and got an endless kick out of the fact that the bigger I got, the more people were telling me I looked great (because let's be honest, how many times does this happen in your life?!). I'm not going to lie, I enjoyed the crap out of the compliments and I'm glad I did. I was healthy, the baby was healthy, and I had an excuse to eat unlimited bags of Cheetos to a point that my fingers were permanently stained neon orange and I even had a series of stress dreams in which I gave birth to a giant Cheeto, but that is a story I should probably save for a trained professional.

My point is this: I know I'm not the only woman who has ever gone into the hospital nine months pregnant and roughly the size of a small compact car and expected to come out with the same body they had senior year of high school. So either every pregnant woman is dillusioned by hormones and artificial cheese or something else is to blame.

And as luck would have it, something else is to blame. And that "something else" is a six-foot tall leggy Brazilian who probably used a lot more than telepathic messages to get Tom Brady.

Okay fine. It's not just her.

The real problem, as with most things in life, is that nasty little "love to hate" machine called the media. This isn't the first time I've ranted about body image and standards of beauty. Both are thrown in our faces all day, every day. Next time you go to the grocery store, check out the magazines at the checkout. There's the requisite Kardashian story, a Jennifer Aniston pregnancy rumor or two, and then pictures of celebrities who "Lost 20 pounds and feel great!" (going from positively skeletal to virtually invisible) or celebrities who "Are binging because of a secretly gay husband/tanking career/alien abduction" (going from skeletal to fantastically normal, but don't get too excited because it's temporary). It's disgusting. But it's even worse when it's a new mom, usually out on the town looking fully-rested with a full six pack, approximately six minutes after giving birth. There's even a name for these ladies and their apparent superhuman metabolism and unfailing gorgeousness; "Mom-shells".

I stumbled across this phenomenon (or at least the official name of this phenomenon) a few months ago. Some editor from a tabloid (I honestly can't remember which one, but does it really matter? They're all the same) was on a morning talk show raging about how unfair it was that new moms feel pressured to be stick thin again post-baby, all thanks to the magazines full of mom-shell celebrities. Evidently, this woman, who had once paid a lot of creepy people a lot of money to basically stalk them and take their pictures, now realized that she was facilitating something dangerous and toxic because she had just had a baby herself and was subsequently hit with the full implications of her "work". Suffice it to say, this editor quit her job and swore that magazines were going to stop printing stories like this. I saw it as a win for women. There's just one problem: It hasn't really happened yet. Because apparently, we being obsessed with how big or small the bodies of perfect strangers are is an addiction we just can't seem to kick.

It honestly makes me wonder, is this a "which came first, the chicken or the egg" situation? Do people feel societal pressure to have a perfect, celebrity-esque body or are celebrities just trying to keep up with the public's expectations of them?

Either way, it sucks.

And while I will admit that I single Giselle out for purposes of my own personal vendetta, I could easily name 100 other celebrities that looked like she did only a few weeks after giving birth. It's not natural or realistic. It just makes the average new mom whose fingers are still vaguely stained orange, can only fit into sweatpants, and smells vaguely of spit-up feel really, really bad about herself. Which is the worst part of the whole deal.

Having a baby is one of the most amazing things I've ever done (and I was lucky enough to do it twice!). I am constantly amazed I was able to pull it off and actually live to tell about it. The human body is an incredible thing and I never really realized that until I had a baby. Post-baby is a time to feel like a super hero. It's a time to be amazed by the capabilities of your body, not repulsed by a couple of extra pounds.

Honestly, I'm torn between wanting to have a massive tabloid burning party and wanting to find every new mom in the world and telling her how awesome she is. I mean, come on. Look what you did! You made something out of nothing, grew it with your body, and even managed to get it out! If that's not infinitely cooler than anything you've ever done then you are a much more exciting person than I am.

When Ben is bugging Layla, I always tell her to just ignore him, because if he sees he's having no effect on her, he'll go away.  So I guess until the world decides that motherhood in it's purest, sloppiest, most natural form is sexy, all we can do is ignore the mom-shells of the world and hope the effect will be lost and the phenomenon will go away.

I can't wait for the day that a normal body is seen as a good thing. Won't that be nice??

America Has Spoken, Now It's My Turn

Well guys, it's over. The people have spoken and Barack Obama is going to be our President for the next four years.

I'd be a liar if I said this isn't what I wanted, what I hoped for, what I argued over, lost Facebook friends over, and campaigned for. But this isn't a "Haha, my guy won and yours didn't" post. What I really want to write about is respect.

Something that made this particular election so interesting for me was that Layla was learning about elections at school and we had several conversations about what it means to elect a president and why it is a privilege to vote. As the polls closed, the votes rolled in and the states on the maps turned shades of blue and red, Layla asked me if I would be mad if Mr. Romney won.

Despite my many (strong) beliefs, I told her no.

Because here's the thing: No matter what you believe or who you voted for, we are all Americans. This is our country. I am proud to be an American, proud to live in a country with the freedom to vote, the freedom to vocalize my opinions (even if I'm just bitching and complaining on Facebook), the freedom to even have an opinion at all.

If Mitt Romney had won, I would have been disappointed. I would have spent a few days licking my figurative wounds and I would have moved on. It would have been a decision made by my country and, like it or not, I would have shaken off my pride and gotten on board. I tell my kids "You get what you get and you don't get upset", which is what I would have been telling myself (and have told myself, in past elections). Because when it comes down to it, we are all in this together and going around pissed off about something that is over and done isn't going to help anything.

So here's what I'm asking of the world today.

If you aren't thrilled that Obama won another term, that's fine. If you feel like this is a great injustice to America, do something constructive about it. Write letters, volunteer for a campaign in the next election (by the way, if anyone needs me, I will be Twitter-stalking Julian Castro, trying to convince him to run in 2016), do something, ANYTHING, that doesn't involve acting like Donald Trump. This election will not create another Civil War, I can promise you that. It doesn't have to be a sign of an impending zombie apocalypse or a sign that the Mayans are right. It's not a reason to start saying things like "That's YOUR President, not MINE" (this sentiment was hugely popular after Bush won his second term and though I am far from a Bush fan, I never understood it). It's pointless, worthless and a waste of your energy. We can't undo what has been done, certainly not by telling your Obama-loving friends that you hope they "choke on their own idealism" as someone charmingly told me via Facebook moments after the election results.

That being said...

If you are thrilled about Obama sticking around for another four years, I ask you not to be a sore winner. Don't rub it in people's faces. This is not an school yard, no good will come from a "nanny, nanny boo boo" attitude. This is also pointless, worthless and a waste of your energy. It's one thing to be proud of the candidate you voted for, but it is quite another to showboat. Be respectful, no matter what side of the argument you land on. Obama didn't win by a landslide, not even close. Mitt Romney ran a very well-executed campaign that made us all think about our choices, which despite our many heated social media arguments is a GOOD thing. Not to be forgotten, Gary Johnson also ran a very good campaign (3% of the votes might not sound like anything at all, but for a Libertarian candidate, it's huge. It's like a Republican or a Democrat winning 100% of the votes. So good work, Gary!). Whether you agreed with his politics or not, the Romney campaign made us think and talk about the things that matter the most to us in our country.

We are part of a great country, one that is definitely not without its problems right now. But those problems go beyond party lines and we, as Americans, should go beyond party lines ourselves to help solve them. Maybe I'm just a naive tree-hugging lunatic (who very well might choke on her own idealism), but I do believe that people can still make a difference. I believe in hope and change. I believe in respecting the leaders of this country, whether you love them or hate them. I believe in showing respect, because frankly, could you handle being President of the United States? Yeah, me neither.

As we head into the next chapter of our lives, all I ask is that we stop concentrating on our differences and start respecting each other and working towards making our country a better place. I wish we lived in the kind of world where Romney would be calling up Obama right now and offering his help and expertise in business to help make his next four years successful, despite the fact that they are from different parties. Unfortunately, life isn't a Disney movie and politicians (on either side of anything) will probably never behave like that. So it's up to the rest of us. The easiest way to make a difference is to be kind, be respectful, be a gracious winner, shrug off your loss and come together for the good of the country we all love so much.

And, if nothing else, remember this: The political ads are finally gone from TV and the radio. The overwhelming relief that we don't have to hear that crap every five seconds anymore is the one thing everyone in this country can agree on. 

The Bird's The Word

Before I begin, a quick tangent (bear with me):

I have never played a sport in my life, nor have I ever had any desire to. In high school, my extracirricular activity of choice was theater. I can (and will) sing the praises of being part of the drama department for the rest of my life. I met so many amazing, diverse people, people I don't think I ever would have met had it not been for drama. I have always regarded my fellow Thespians as kindred spirits. We were fun and artsy (before being artsy and wearing ironic glasses became a cool thing to do. Our glasses were real, thank you very much), nonjudgmental and ridiculously hilarious. If I had any fun in high school at all, it was because of these guys.

I learned so many things through theater classes including self-confidence, imagination, collaboration, concentration, communication skills, self-discipline, memorization skills, trust, social awareness, and aesthetic appreciation. I learned many things as a teenager that even adults struggle to master and I got to have a ton of fun while doing it. Talk about getting the most of of my extracurricular activity.

Okay great, so what does this have to do with anything?

Let's face it. We live in a society where art isn't really appreciated, in any form. What are the last programs to get funding in schools? I'll give you a hint: It isn't football, baseball, or basketball. Not even track or golf. It's theater programs, art programs and music programs.

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against sports. In fact, I really enjoy watching sports, but for the sake of full disclosure, any recreational activity where I get to sit on a couch, drink beer and yell at people for accomplishing physical feats that I could never replicate in my lifetime is A+ in my book. But let's face the facts: How many times have you seen people walking down the street handing out flyers, begging you to check out the Superbowl? What? Never? Interesting, because through my theater experience, I participated in enough fundraisers, constructed enough sets, brought in enough props from home, and begged enough people to attend shows to wonder if drama teachers had to take turns selling off kidneys just to produce a show. While the athletics department got banquets and award ceremonies, we had cast parties at Denny's where everyone paid for themselves. Don't get me wrong, I'm not bitter about it. I had an amazing experience and learned how to make due with what we had (always a good lesson in any context), but I noticed the snub and it's implications. There were no pep rallies for our production of "Little Shop of Horrors" or "Alice In Wonderland" or "The Odd Couple". When the choice was between Theater (or music or art) and sports, sports always won. And that was that.

My point of all of this (I do have one, I swear) is that the arts rarely get any love. The arts don't get the funding, support, or recognition they deserve. I know for a lot of people the whole "shut down PBS" issue in the upcoming election isn't a big one. But maybe if we really look at the implications of "Killing Big Bird" (to use an overused euphemism), it's a bigger issue that it might appear to be. And while I am personally concerned first and foremost with how the state of my uterus should not be up for debate political or otherwise, the state of PBS is also an issue for me.

First of all, shutting down PBS will kill off a whole lot of jobs and would only shave off a meager 0.0014% of the budget. Which is interesting because I thought the whole point of running for president and/or maintaining current Presidency was to create jobs, unless I've been watching the wrong debates. Anyway, just by digging around a little to write this blog, I discovered that the Federal Government only provides PBS with 12% of their funding (around 300 million dollars) and the rest is provided by viewers! Like you! (Gosh, that sounds familiar...) 300 million dollar is chump change in the government world. That's what we paid to bail out like three people at Goldman Sachs, maybe even less. In other words, in the grand scheme of how much money the government blows on things like covering up John Edward's affairs and various "married", "straight" Congressmen soliciting BJs from undercover cops in public bathrooms, it's really not much. But still, let's just cut it, right? Make it one less check we get from China to keep our heads above water. What does it matter?

Only, it does matter. Hear me out.

The decline of art as we know it is everywhere. Programs are hanging on by their nails and even popular foundations like VH1 Save The Music are suffering. Possibly because no one has any idea that VH1 actually has an affiliation with music and isn't just a 24/7 screening of Basketball Wives. Movie tickets sales have been decreasing for years and movies continue to suck more and more thanks to actors like Megan Fox and increasingly bad writing. Speaking of writing, the fact that Snooki has a book should be evidence of either a decline in the art of writing or a sign of an impending apocalypse. Music sales and concert ticket sales have also been steadily decreasing over the years due to....well, Justin Beiber, basically and the fact that the radio plays every horrible, auto-tuned musician over and over until your ears are ready to bleed, while great bands are deemed "too indie for the general public" and struggle. And while we're talking about music, did you guys know that in 2011 alone, the Philadelphia Orchestra, the Syracuse Philharmonic, the Louisville Orchestra, the New Mexico Symphony, and the Honolulu Symphony all declared bankruptcy? So adios to enriching your child's life with classical music and hello to being at the mercy of whatever is on the radio. God help us all.

If these statistics haven't depressed you enough here's the kicker: PBS just might be the only exposure someone has to art in any form, be it Big Bird, Nova, Austin City Limits, or The Joy of Painting. Is that ideal? Absolutely not. But PBS is free and you don't have to be wearing pants to learn something, see something really beautiful, or hear great music. And if you're not willing (or able) to go to a museum or take music classes, it might be all you have. And yes, Big Bird is just a muppet, but he is a muppet who, along with his furry muppet friends, has promoted literacy and taught four generations of children in an artistic, creative, and often hilarious way. That means something, you guys. ART means something.

I know there are so many things to take into consideration this coming election and maybe the fate of PBS isn't that important to you. But consider the fact that art is dying and this move would just be another nail in the coffin. I want my kids to be able to take music, theater, and arts classes someday (and if they also want to play sports, I am fully supportive of that too) and to have the amazing experiences that I had. But I know that these programs are struggling and might not make it much longer.

I don't know, guys. Maybe I'm waxing poetic about this whole thing or stretching way too hard to make a correlation between PBS and the increasing loss of art in the world. I just can't get past feeling like they are interconnected somehow and that a loss of art (both in the form of PBS and in life in general) would be catastrophic to mankind.

To make sure I wasn't alone in this thought, I took my question to the streets (at least, the social media streets) and asked what people thought would happen if we took away the arts away, from school and from our lives, including outlets like PBS. This is what a few people (two of which are teachers) had to say about it:

"Then we wouldn't be educating the whole child. It is important for all student to excel in an area that appeals to them." ~N.H.

"I think this will result in an even more obese and undereducated society over the next ten years. The art program, as well as athletic departments, are essential in exposing cognitively developing children to subject matter with hopes that they will be well rounded in life (and education)." ~A.P.

"Art and music exposes kids to reading in math in a new way...if we want them to do well on all these high stakes tests, they need as much exposure as possible." ~D.T.

Again, I realize there are an overwhelming amount of issues to take into consideration when voting this year. All I ask is that you take the time to consider the issue behind the issue. Try to imagine a world devoid of art and filled with Honey Boo Boo and Nickelback, with no drama troops, school bands, or art classes, where no one will be able to tell Georgia O'Keefe from Fran Dresher. Do you really want to live in a world like that? Think about it.

And if you have some extra time, get out and go to a museum. It might be your last chance.
 

Confessions Of An Imperfect Mom

Hello, my name is Abbey and I am a perfectionist.

Being a perfectionist was never a problem before I had kids. Even though I could really drive myself crazy with it, I always regarded perfectionism as a good thing. It meant that I was striving to be the best and there's nothing wrong with that.

Until, of course, I had kids and realized that perfect is impossible. "Perfect" is a lie created by celebrity Mommy Bloggers and 30-minute sitcoms. In my life as a parent, there are moments of blissful perfection, but they come and go and I have no way to control them. What happens more often than not are spontaneous acts of two hilarious kids and their permanently exhausted parents, who are just trying to do the best they can do.

As an effort to let go of my pursuit of parental perfectionism and to show that no parent is perfect no matter how hard they try, the following are a small sample of anecdotes which accentuate my varying degrees of parenting imperfection. Why am I sharing? Because no one is perfect, no parent is perfect, and if we can all laugh together instead of putting on the perfection front, life would probably be a lot more fun. So here we go.

Confession #1: About a year ago I made the somewhat catastrophic mistake (the catastrophe only realized in hindsight, as they often are) of taking my then four-year-old and one-year-old into the pet store at the mall while trying to kill some time waiting for something else. When it came time to leave, Layla was perfectly fine and willing to leave without making a scene. Ben...not so much. Fast-forward to me, speed-walking a stroller containing a screaming, beet-faced baby with preschooler flung over my shoulder (all the better to get the hell out of there faster). Oh, but it gets better. Ben has the unfortunate habit of pronouncing "K" words like "T" words. So as I practically ran through a mall, dodging kiosks and other strollers, Ben was screaming "I want a kitty" at the top of his lungs, but it sounded a lot more like "I want a tittie!", causing several Hollister-clad teenaged boys to yell back "Don't we all?" as we raced past them. By that point I was simultaneously laughing so hard that tears were streaming down my face and swearing to myself that I would show my son's naked baby pictures to every single girl who ever came to our house, for as long as I lived. That's right, my child was barely old enough to speak and I was plotting revenge. I can't imagine why Beyonce won Mother-of-the-year and not me.

Confession #2: One of my favorite kid-friendly ways of expressing anger or frustration (i.e. swearing without actually swearing) is to shake my head and go "Oh for the love of donuts!". Sounds innocent enough, but if my kids had any idea the words that my seemingly innocuous phase was replacing, their ears would probably bleed. And fall off. I suspect Layla is beginning to catch on because now she'll respond, "Wow Mom, you must love donuts. You talk about them all the time." My bad.

Confession #3: Because I stay home with the kids all day and essentially have to be the bad guy 95% of the time, I feel somewhat entitled to pawn off things like telling the kids bad news ("It's raining, so we can't go to the State Fair today" and the like) on Josh. Yes, I play my "Uh...I don't know, ask your dad when he gets home" card from time-to-time. And I feel really bad about it...Sometimes.

Confession #4: When the kids are playing together in their room, I occasionally yell "Hey! I heard that!" from somewhere else in the house when in actuality, I heard nothing at all. I'm hoping if they think I have super-human hearing powers they'll behave better. Or they just think I'm crazy.

Confession #5: Yogurt-covered raisins are not candy, but don't tell my kids that. Broccoli also doesn't make you fly if you eat it for the first twenty years of your life, but don't tell me kids that either. It's not lying, it's genuine concern for their health and well-being. At least, that's what I tell myself as I quietly save up for their future therapy.

Confession #6: Layla is a talker. She talks, talks, talks, talks all day and occasionally in her sleep at night. Six out of seven days, I find her hilarious and entertaining and am proud of her vocabulary and ability to articulate herself as well as she does. On the seventh day I give her a dollar to stop talking for ten minutes. Because really, even God got a break on the seventh day.

Confession #7: The other day Ben walked into the kitchen and asked me what I was eating. I said carrots. They were actually Cheetos. I maintain that I just care about their health and the event in question had nothing to do with the fact that I'm almost thirty years old and I still don't share well with others.

Confession #8: Speaking of Cheetos, when I was pregnant with Ben I had such vicious Cheetos cravings that I was in a constant state of orange-stained fingers and had a terrifying, reoccurring dream about giving birth to a giant diaper-clad Cheeto. Oh, and I always told Layla they were carrots too.

Confession #9: Layla has always been my good sleeper. Ben, not so much. He's getting better, but I still have to sit with him in his room at night until he falls asleep. I used to sit on his bed and hold his hand, but now I just sit on the ground in the middle of the room (progress!). I don't talk, or sing, or touch, I just sit there. And now I live in constant fear of how this will play out later in his life. I'm pretty sure that telling his future wife "I'm sorry, honey, but my mom has to come in here and stare at us for twenty minutes or I just can't manage to fall asleep" will not go over well.

Confession #10: Last week, a little boy at Layla's school smiled at her and I was amazed at my level of rage and quantity of  "I want to kill that kid" thoughts that rose up within me. Ben, on the other hand, flirts with everyone from little babies to the eighty-seven year old receptionist at his Preschool. I don't think twice about it. Why? Do I already have double standards when it comes to my kids? I think I need to buy more Tums.

Confession #11: I have actually uttered the phrase "Don't make me turn this car around". Worse, I meant it.

Confession #12: I have a frequent and insistent daydream. I'm lying on the couch reading a book. That's it. I'm not daydreaming about winning the lottery or the drummer from Vampire Weekend. Just lying on a couch, in a quiet room, reading a book because honestly, that scenario is less likely to happen than winning the lottery and having the drummer from Vampire Weekend present me with the check. And I will confess that some days, I'm not entirely okay with that fact.

Confession #13: As infants, both of my children spit-up in my mouth. Yes, both. You would think that I learned the whole "don't hold a baby up in the air right over your face mere moments after they ate pureed beets " thing with Layla, but I didn't.

Confession #14: Layla acts exactly like me. She talks like me, she stands like me, she has a snarky attitude like me. 90% of the time she spends in time-out is for doing something that I probably would have done too. Ben is sweet and jolly and gets away with murder because he reminds me so much of Josh. This is gonna get interesting...

What can I say? Every day I try to laugh off my imperfections as a parent and to remind myself that perfection doesn't really exist. I try to save my crazy OCD level of  perfectionism for things I can control, like what I write, how well I do in school, and the frequency and volume I employ when yelling at the TV. I can't control, and don't want to control, people, especially my kids. As long as they don't suffer from the fact that Josh and I are really just making this up as we go, then I think everyone wins in the end.

And if nothing else, imperfect stories are much more entertaining.

The Good, The Bad, And The Romney

They say ignorance is bliss. And while ignorance certainly comes with less research, less nervous pacing, less acid reflux, and certainly less yelling at your television, ignorance is not bliss. Ignorance is ignorant. Information is bliss.

And with a much-anticipated Presidential election a mere two months away, information is everywhere. Unfortunately, so is ignorance.

Before I get too ahead of myself, I want to make one thing clear: I don't think you're ignorant if you vote Republican. I don't think you're ignorant if you vote Democrat. I don't think you're ignorant if you vote Independent. In fact, I don't even think you're ignorant if you don't vote for any candidate for President at all. That's the great thing about this country: Choice. If you don't like one guy, vote for the other guy. If you don't like any of the guys, don't vote for anyone. The choice is yours, as long as it's yours and not CNN's, or Fox New's, or the lone guy who protests absolutely everything at a college campus near you. In other words, opinions are everywhere, screaming at you from every TV show, magazine, and Facebook status. It's just a matter of what you choose to take seriously.

In case you guys are all living under rocks and have managed not to notice, many of the issues surrounding this year's election are incredibly sensitive to many people in many ways. Because of this, politicians (both left and right) have begun taking definitive stands on these controversial issues. And while each candidate wants to say the other is "dividing our country" the truth is, they all are. Everyone in politics is. We divide ourselves without even realizing we're doing it. I see a million Facebook posts a day: If you are FOR "The Family" and AGAINST abortion, vote for Romney! If you are FOR equal rights and AGAINST making abortion illegal, vote for Obama! According to the world around us, it's simple. You are either FOR or AGAINST.

Or are you?

The truth is, none of it is as simple as we might like to think. A presidential election isn't black and white, it's 50 shades of grey (sorry, had to be done!) This grey area is where we all run into problems. What happens if you are for equal rights (AKA gay marriage), but against abortion? Who do you vote for then? Or what if you like the idea of smaller government, insofar as the smaller government doesn't start outlawing things like gay marriage or abortion (which actually, while I'm on the topic, I need a Republican to explain to me how that works, because I would think that smaller government would equal less laws and less being in everyone's business...? No sarcasm, serious question. Someone get Condi Rice on the phone ASAP).

All joking aside, there is a serious lack of middle ground in politics and that's frightening in a world where virtually nothing is cut-and-dried. Sure, we technically have a third party here in the good ole U-S of A, but honestly, who takes it seriously? Remember Ross Perot? Ross Perot was basically made into a caricature and was essentially a walking, talking wet dream for Saturday Night Live writers. For all any of us can remember, he could have actually had some great ideas but when I think of him, my brain instantly conjures up Dana Carvey in a bald cap with his ears sticking out, intentionally doing the worst impression of a Southern accent known to man while I laughed my butt off. I remember very little of the actual Ross Perot. A few months ago Rosanne was claiming (threatening, really) to run for President under the Libertarian party. So there that is. Gary Johnson, the rumored real candidate and former Governor of my home state (Everyone's a Lobo! Woof! Woof! Woof!) has some decent, though vague, policies and ideas for improvement. Too bad most of us will never get to hear any of them, as he's not even allowed to come on TV and debate with the big dogs. Honestly, what's up with that? Are we humoring poor Gary by letting him be on the ballad when clearly no one up in Washington is thinking he's a viable option? Do you think Barrack and Mitt are worried about Gary sweeping in and winning? Probably not. We keep having elections based on this "lesser of two evils" concept, so really no matter who you vote for, you lose something (except for the 2000 election, which I will remain bitter and angry about until the end of time because I truly believe everything was lost in that one. I love you, Al!). Until we have a legitimate Libertarian party, elections will never truly be fair, because we will continue to never be fully informed about this mysterious third party we all keep hearing so little about.

This long, seemingly pointless tangent all comes back to one thing: Information. Know who you're voting for and why you're voting for him. More importantly, if we're all going to vote, we should vow to not take a leap-year approach to voting. As in, don't just vote every four years. If politics in general and my lone semester as a political science major have taught me nothing else (aside from the fact that if I ever went into career politics I'd have a full head of grey hair and a serious drinking problem), it's that the President is just the head. The Congress, House of Representatives and Senate are the neck. Local elections MATTER, they might even matter more than the Presidential election. If you feel you identify more with a Republican president than a Democratic president, I can tell you it's not going to matter much when the House or Senate or Congress is run by a majority of Democrats and the issues you believe in get buried or overruled (trust me, I just spent four  years watching it happen). I pride myself on staying informed (I want to make Peter Jennings proud, after all), but when it comes to politics, the same rule my mom always told me about girls in high school who would say nasty things to me still applies: Consider the source. And yes, Liberal media has a slant and Conservative media has a slant, but do you know what doesn't have a slant? Government records. If you really care about repealing Obama Care, don't say it needs to be done just because Glen Beck says Obama Care is unconstitutional. Read the bill and decide for yourself. In fact, you can read it right here. It's a doozie and will probably cure any insomnia problems you have had in the last twenty years, but there it is, unbiased and without commentary from either side. Information like this is public information and incredibly easy to come by. While I'm certainly not suggesting we all become policy experts (and in fairness, I'm using Obama Care as an example of ONE bill, so simmer down), it wouldn't kill us to know what these bills are actually about and to know what's really behind them. Can you imagine what it would be like if we were all that well-informed?

One final thought: We recently had a few friends over for dinner and naturally, the conversation turned to politics. One friend said he wasn't voting for Obama because he was a "Dishonest man". My initial response: Shock! Gasp! A dishonest politician! Say it ain't so! But the point I think (I hope, anyway) he was trying to make is that the word "Politician" is synonymous with the word "shmoozer" because they are all experts at saying what they know the voters want to hear in order to obtain the most votes. It's cynical and it sucks, but unfortunately true in most cases. The purpose of a campaign platform and endless campaign promises is to get the voter on your side, for said voter to see you as the only real option when election day rolls around. That being said, when pressed on why he found Obama dishonest, he couldn't really give a good reason why. This might irritate me more than anything else in politics. It's your right to think Obama was a terrible President because he did nothing for the economy and he wasted too much time with his own personal agenda. I don't necessarily agree with you, but I respect a direct, concise, researched opinion, as long as you can respect a direct, concise, researched rebuttal to your opinion. Having an opinion, but not knowing why you have it, in the day and age we live in is absolutely unacceptable. Information is all around you. And while the Republican and Democratic National Conventions are entertaining as hell (we REALLY know how to make a speech here in America!) I don't necessarily count them as informative. It goes back to the shmoozer factor. Of course any politician will tell you they voted for something "popular" or against something "unpopular", but again, how they voted is also public information that you can see right here. The internet, people, is a beautiful thing.

If you take nothing else away from this blog, please take this: I implore you to weigh your options in the upcoming election. Don't vote for someone because Clint Eastwood and his chair like him, or because he looks especially handsome in the reflection of Joe Biden's dentures, or because you'd want to do yoga with his wife. Learn everything you can and make the best, informed decision that is right for you. Research is as easy as a click of a mouse. So click.