I know I’m a neurotic mom. I try to hide it well. Sometimes I’m really good at that, other times not so much. Now, I’m not saying if I ran with every neurotic thought that runs screaming into my noggin that my monkeys would end up living in plastic bubbles. Even I will admit I’m not THAT bad. Besides, I couldn’t really fit those in my highest safety rating family vehicle.

The monkeys are now 6 and almost 5 and rather bright lil girls. I know they need the room to start exhibiting some independence and I’ve been working on that. I’m all about it at home and in controlled environments and had been really proud about branching out. Over the summer I began to allow them to go into public bathrooms on their own. Meaning, I stand right outside the main bathroom door and they go in together, do what they need to do and come out. Until this past Tuesday, I thought this was a great way for them to feel like big girls and still remain safe.

I think it will be a long time before I do that again.

It started with a text from my sister shortly after 6:00pm. She’d ventured to Hobby Lobby and was texting me pictures of all the Christmas stuff they had up. When my alert went off again, expected to see a giant fur-trimmed, bright pink leopard prin stocking. Instead I received franticness. One of those brief moments that occurs that makes you question humanity. Or am I making too much out of it?

Here are the details:

She walked into the clearly labelled ladies room. Straight ahead was the open door to the handicapped stall, so she went in. Standing in the stall was a man peeing. If it were me, I’d have probably gasped and started apologizing. She just quietly backed out (thinking “oh shit I walked in the mens room!”) and went to find a male employee to tell him about the incident.
Now, there are some understandable reasons this may occur. Say, if it were a bar or there was a mental/cognitive handicap of some sort. Unfortunately neither of these were true. In fact this man actually worked for Hobby Lobby in loss prevention. Not only that, it’s his moonlighting job so-to-speak. His real job? Local law enforcement.

So…

A sober, male law enforcement agent walks into a clearly labelled women’s bathroom in a very family-orientated craft store in which he actually works IN LOSS PREVENTION (read he needs to know that store inside and out) and proceeds to leave the door completely open while he whips it out to pee. My almost 5 and 6 year old know the difference between the mens and womens bathrooms. They also know to close and lock the door when they are in a stall.

His response when confronted by my sister and the male employee “I thought I heard someone walk in.” That’s it. No “omg, I’m so sorry, I have no idea how that happened.” No remorse. No apology.

There is nothing in this that tells me this was just an accident. And it beyond creeps me out. I know that if I had been there and the girls had to tinkle, I would have let them go in while I stood outside the door. They would have gone straight to that stall because they could both go in it together. And they would have seen a grown man with his penis in his hand. They would have screamed, I would have run in and that guy would have been knocked the truck out by me. Forget the junkpunch. I would have been in full on mama bear mode. It would not have been pretty.

Am I overreacting? Is the neurotic in me running amuck? Do you think this was just some accident?

HELP! 🙂

My monkeys are getting soft… and they’re taking me down with them.

The fact that my girls could quote Star Wars at two and three years old didn’t surprise any of my friends and family. The shocker was they did it wearing pink.

“I thought you hated pink.”

Pink does indeed make my right eye twitch in many of its applications. The only proven documented cases of me donning pink are my sister’s wedding from Hell (think pink meets Carmen Miranda) and medicinally. I have the distinct pleasure of being allergic to mosquitoes and yet living in a place that jokes they are the state bird. Thanks to those lil bloodsucking bastards and Calamine lotion, every summer I turn into a pale pink spotted leper. My theory on the whole pink thing with my daughters is this- just because I have issues with the color doesn’t mean I’m gonna impose my view or distaste of it on them. I want them to be their own lil people and if that means them liking pink, so be it.

Alright, look, I was totally hoping they’d take after me. They had me pretty convinced I was in the clear for a while here too. Pink was a passing phase. Purple, red and black have replaced it.

But I am far from out of the woods.

I know my name has girlie in it. True to form, I am quirky with my girlie-ness. People have been known to receive surprise packages of homemade daisy sugar cookies lovingly decorated with M&Ms. But, eldest’s last birthday cake request turned out to be a life size Yoda. Which I blissfully tackled creating new cuss words as I built him. I’m almost always seen wearing lipstick. Yet the makeup and hair product department scares the complete shit out of me. Last year I am proud to say I learned how to put on eye shadow for the first time. Figured one day I may need to teach the monkeys that. Hairspray, however, is still a complete mystery to me beyond a fixative for charcoal drawings and a make shift self-defense device. You never know when an Aqua Net flame-thrower may come in handy ya know. I’m girlie on some levels, others not so much.

I had a close call last year when my phone rang at 7:15am on Black Friday. Panic ensued when a woman who is like a sister to me uttered ”Look bitch, my nieces are getting Barbies this year and that’s that. Suck it up.” And they did. It was less than a week later I got the joy of calling her and saying “Guess what hooker- your youngest niece just popped the head off her Barbie and chucked it at her sister. And she did the same back. That’s right, Barbie head fight all up in here.” Whew.

Still not out of the woods.

Last week during our drive home, eldest monkey was talking like 93mph about her day. Then gasps. “Oh my gosh mommy, I totally forgot to tell you- J CALLED ME HIS BFF TODAY!!” My brain so hadn’t processed yet and before I knew it I was all “Oh my gosh that is like way awesome.” And then she was all “Do you know what a BFF is? “ And I was all “Duh, it’s totally Best Friends Forever.” And then she was all “Wow. Mommy you are like so totally awesomesauce.” Then a voice of logic from within bitchslapped my neurons back into place. WHAAAA?? She’s only 5! I had visions of a 13 year old having body snatched my kid. And me for that matter!!! That night we had a “Goonies” intervention. Had to be done.

But it started to sink in. She’s growing up. They are growing up. And being exposed to BFF’s and lip gloss. I know girls will be girls. The dresses and skirts don’t bother me at all. I can even live with the fake plastic my first hooker heel dress up shoes they clomp around in. Well, until I step on a stray one. Them suckers hurt. The first rock star they met in person wasn’t someone from a Disney show, it was Maynard from Tool & Puscifer. They don’t want ballet lessons, they want to go to “Kung Fu School.” It’s been balancing out, but I’m scared of the scale tipping. Too soon! Not ready. There’s not nearly enough saved up in the therapy fund yet.

And then there was this Wednesday night. What started out like a normal Monkey Family Movie Night, quickly downward spiraled. Alvin and the Chipmunks the Squeakquel was harmless the first time we watched it. This time, it changed. While Simon is still their favorite, my safe lil balance was thrown way off. Thanks to those lil Chimpettes. Monkey Family Movie Night turned into me learning the words to some “you’re hot and your cold…. you’re yes and you’re no” song and Beyonce’s “Single Ladies.” Not just the words, oh no, we went further down the rabbit hole than that. To sum it up, a knock on the door from the neighbor girls later and I had a room full of lil girls and somehow I was choreographing our own routines to the songs.

I am not ashamed to say I had fun. Their giggling is infectious. And it’s my favorite sound in the world.

But, I’m scared. I’m scared of that scale getting tipped long term to all that is pink and plastic and Barbie. To stereotypes and living up to peers’ expectations instead of being true to themselves and who they really want to be. They are my daughters though. I have faith they will settle into their own quirky girlie-nesses. Proud to be girls. Knowing that being soft doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. That having boobs doesn’t mean you don’t have brains. That life is a continual learning process and someday their daughters may teach them as they continue to teach me.

The next day eldest’s class went to the book fair they have going on at her school. She was given an envelope of money from me and told she could buy anything she wanted with that money. There was only one requirement- it had to be something SHE wanted. Not what she thought I would want, or her sister would want, or her BFF would want. What SHE wanted.

And this is what she came home with.

Obi-Wan, you are my hope.

So, I had me a lil moment on Twitter Friday morning. Ok, it was more like a Falling Down moment. I was Michael Douglas and I’d had enough. Now I know #twitterisalotlikehighschool, but my faith in humanity felt like it was being flipped off. And I snapped… just a touch.

You see, I logged in that morning and the number two trending topic was #getwellgaga. #Haiti was barely clinging to the bottom of the list. Admittedly, that was enough to bother me. Then I pulled up my faithful buddy Google to find out what exactly the well wishes were for. For a number two slot, I expected to find a diagnosis of cancer or, at the very least, a car accident or shot by a crazy stalker fan. I’d have MAYBE settled for a trip to rehab. Not that I’m wishing any of these on her. Instead I read “Lady Gaga cancels performance due to exhaustion.” You’re kidding me- right? Exhausted from cancer treatments? Exhausted from running from crazy knife/gun-wielding stalker fan? Exhausted from saving the world from certain doom? Jeebus give me something here!! Nope, just “exhausted.”

Over 3 MILLION people have just been severely affected in a nation that was already struggling with some pretty serious issues and people are more focused on sending get well wishes (that she’s never even going to see, let alone respond to!) to some goofy bitch that just needs to eat a sandwich and take a night off from partying?? Yeah, I went from bothered, squealed right on past pissed and landed firmly in Superfly TNT.

As I’d already blipped my morning love song to my coffee my second tweet of the day was:

“What the fuck kind of world do we live in that get well wishes for some obnoxious wannabe who is merely ‘exhausted’ out trends #haiti?!!??”

Followed by:

“Seriously. You know who is EXHAUSTED? The 3MILLION people affected by Tuesday’s quake and all the volunteers in #haiti trying to help.”

And I hit the ground running from there. I also refused to call Lady Gaga by her name as to avoid adding anything to the already trending hash tag. Then I went after the number one hash tag #OMGfacts. I kept it there so any of the people looking for their tweets may actually end up receiving a bit of education. I tweeted several facts regarding the issues facing those in Haiti. I am happy to report that MANY of my tweeps backed me. With comments, with RT’s, with DM’s, they supported my anger. My disappointment. My sadness.

I think people’s obsession with celebrity worship is disgusting. Believe me, I’ve met more than my fair share of celebrities and they are assholes just like the rest of us. In many cases, even worse. What have they truly done to earn such admiration and blind lust? What value does that worship truly add to one’s life? Actors and actresses may have done a performance that moved you. Ok, but that performance was written by someone else. That character is not THEM nor their creation. Furthermore, most of the time, that character isn’t even REAL. Musicians may be talented, but their music often isn’t written by them and they aren’t singing that song to you. Really, I hate to break it to you, but they aren’t. There are hundreds of thousands of wonderful, highly musically talented people in this world that will never be noticed. Are they just as worthy? Is it for the sole purpose of looks? There are beautiful people everywhere on this planet. Most of which are beautiful INSIDE AND out. Do they not beckon the same then? Don’t even get me started on the Paris Hiltons of this world. I think you’re getting my point.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not shunning all you fanboy and fangirls out there. I get digging a show, a character, a game, a movie and collecting stuff that goes along with it. Hell here in monkeyland we have a tank with a fish named Wonder Woman, a frog named Princess Leia and a snail named Chauncey The Wonder Snail. I’m not picking on you. Not at all my dearies. It’s the chicks that get the vapors and bawl for weeks on end because their favorite so and so is engaged. It’s the guys that wallpaper their room with posters of their favorite so and so and name their designated self love hand after them. It’s the people that all went suicidal when Michael Jackson died. It’s the people that take it to that whole other level. Like sending get well wishes to Lady freakin’ Googoo on Twitter.

< / rant>

Just like life, Twitter doth take away and it doth also give. While it flipped off my sense of humanity on Friday, this week it gave it a big ole wet smoochie. And it did so in #geekswithheart. Power to my geeks! Two of my absolute favoritest sexy ass sisters in geekhood @GeekGirls and @GeekyClean have come together to form Geeks With Heart, a fundraising effort to help Haiti. And yup, I just wanna hug ‘em.

All proceeds raised go to Mercy Corps. Mercy Corps mission: “Mercy Corps exists to alleviate suffering, poverty and oppression by helping people build secure, productive and just communities.” Their motto: “Be The Change.” I LOVE that! Just some of their efforts to help survivors in Haiti to recover include “ ‘Comfort for Kids,’ a trauma-counseling methodology for children that (they) co-developed and deployed after 9/11, Hurricane Katrina, the Sichuan Earthquake and other disasters.” Currently, they are “focused on immediate humanitarian needs: water and sanitation, trauma support and job creation.”

For those in doubt, while Geeks With Heart is small (for now!), Mercy Corps is big. This is what they do and they are good at it. They will know how to properly handle and disperse all funds raised to assure that they meet the greatest needs first. They’re pros y’all.

So, please, show some support. Show some geek love. Show some nongeek love. Just show the love. To do so…

Visit Geeks With Heart here.

Visit The Geek Girls Network here.

Visit Geeky Clean here.

Follow @geekgirls

Follow @geekyclean

Add a Twibbon here

Do me proud folks! This is the kind of moment I LIKE having!

I’ve gotten to a point in my life where it truly does take quite a bit to phase me. Most events turn into a tiny dip, lil hill or occasional loop de loop on the roller coaster that is my life. This latest one is gnawing at me a bit though.

It’s at times like these that I wished events in my life were made up. Partially because then they wouldn’t be real. Partially because it is just so bizarre that it would make me pretty damn talented. This is one that combines them both.

I’m having many mixed emotions about moving back to the town I grew up in. It’s only been a week so they are all still very fresh. This is a town I swore I’d never live in. A town I loathed for many reasons. Funny how life works out.

So, this past Friday night I’m getting ready to go out and I notice an e-mail notification pop up for a new message in my Facebook inbox. It’s from a girl I’ve known for years. Decades even. Like basically since the 1st grade. Despite being really close (like BFF forget passing notes, we had a notebook we’d pass) a couple years after graduation we lost touch off and on. We’ve kept in spotty contact for the last five or six years. Even this last year on Facebook, our contact remains pretty here and there. It’s been a couple of months since we’ve really had some solid interaction with each other. When I saw the “OMG too funny” subject, I fully expected the message to be a “Ha ha I heard you moved back!” kind of thing. Oh how I wish it was. Instead I got:

“Hey Nat. . .
*** and I are getting divorced, and we are both on evenfreaksneedlove.com. I just logged onto his account. .i like to help him find dates, and I just saw he winked at you!!! OMG too funny. He is (Insert user name here), his pic is bad, he is cuter in person. And the greatest guy!!! btw i am dating girls now, so that kindof was a problem for our marriage. lol Anyway, thought it was super funny, and if you are lookin for a great guy. . he winked.

BFFKindOfFriendYou’veKnownSinceFirstGrade

WHAT THE FUCK!!?!??!??!! Seriously. What. The. Fuck.

I think I read it like three times before it truly started to sink in. Holy range of emotions batgirl!

Ok…

1) Usually one would get more of an ease into things. Maybe not so much on the divorce part. I think even I’m guilty of dropping that one like a “Yeah, Prick is an abusive fuck and I’m done” kind of bomb. But, the lesbian part is usually not quite sammiched between “BTW” and “LOL.” Truth be told, not an entire shock she’s batting for the home team. Also, she knows me well enough to know I’m the gal that’s going to be supportive and all about whatever makes her happy. Still, lil bit of an ease in to all this is all a sister is askin’ for.

2) Not yet divorced and helping him find dates. That’s…ummm…sweet? Perhaps it is the therapist in me, but they’ve been together far longer than my ex & I were and have kids as well. Now, I don’t really know him, so I could be way off on this, but after years and kids and being told you ain’t sportin’ the right equipment, there’s gotta be some healing time involved there. Even if he wants to jump back on a mare- she’s a new lesbian. Do you really want a rookie pickin’ dates for you?

C) WHY WOULD I WANT YOUR HUSBAND?? There may be a sub clause I’m missing in the chick rule book about suddenly jumping off the heterosexual ship but OMG NO! Beyond creepy!! Beyond wrong!! Like I’m calling a technical foul here! And what the hell must you think of me if you feel I’d be all up on that????

Perhaps I should simply be flattered by this whole situation. Lord knows I am no angel and certainly no prude. But leapin’ jeebus on a pogo stick, even I have a threshold of yuckyness. This done sprinted its happy ass right on past it.

And how does one respond to that message?? My first response of “Are you out of your fucking mind???” was put on the back burner while I let this all sink in and fester a bit. Instead I opted for a much more politely worded version of “WOW. Sorry to hear about your divorce. Congrats on embracing your inner lesbian. The offer to date your husband is very flattering but I’m gonna have to pass because umm.. I’m kinda seeing someone. Yeah. That’s it. Best of luck to ya both. I’m here if you need me, but forgive me for not winking back. What a small, crazy, fucked up lil world we live in.”

Still haven’t heard back from her. Future reunions shall be interesting.

Dear “Dedicated Thin”-

Fist off, thank you for stopping by and reading my post. (I use post vs. blog because your comment leads me to believe that the probability is high that you haven’t ready anything else I have written.) The fact that you took the time to not only do so, but leave me feedback as well is appreciated. Seriously.

Secondly, in re: to “what a piece of complete shit”, it is good to know that I’ve done something right in your eyes. You see, I pride myself on not doing things half-assed, so accomplishing a complete shit versus a partial or incomplete shit is a concept I can more than hang with. So, yay for that!

Now for your big question- “Are you really that much of an egotistical, self-centered asshole?” That is a bit more difficult to answer. I say this because your vagueness doesn’t really give me much to go on. The mere fact that I have a blog where I spew forth random babblings about my life and expect people to read it could indicate yes to egotism and self-centeredness. Then again, one could point that same theory at anyone who has a blog. Further, one could point it toward someone who posts such a comment on someone’s blog whom they don’t know. Goodness knows I would not want to indicate those were my feelings towards them. I am constantly amazed that anyone reads my babblings and frequently thank them for doing so. I put it out there not really expecting anyone to read it at all and am grateful when they do. (I could reference my introductory post regarding my blog and its description, but quite frankly that may come across as snotty and I really don’t feel that is necessary at all.)

Is it the whole topic itself that seems to wreak of egotism and self-centeredness to you? I understand that keeping some tadpoles from being flushed and opening my big mouth when I feel that things are wrong isn’t really saving the world. There are thousands and thousands of people out there that have done and will do great, heroic things to truly save this world. Their stories are FAR more worthy of reading than mine and that fact is one I do not lose sight of. They are also people I strive to be more like on a regular basis. Even if it is just in my own quirky, dorky lil way.

To some extent, I can see why one may question me being egotistical and self-centered based solely on that one post with those points in mind and knowing or reading nothing else about or by me whatsoever. I do honestly apologize if that is the only perception received as such.

Having said that, who does such a thing? Honestly?

Mr./Ms./Miss/Dr. DedicatedThin. You set up an account with LiveJournal, filling in only that you are allegedly from the US and that your birthday is supposedly January the 3rd. That’s it. No entries on it. No following of anyone. No friends. You leave your vague, judgmental comment while hiding safely behind your cloak of anonymity. I trust I won’t offend you by stating that has just a tiny lil whiff of self-righteousness to it. Which brings me to the last word of your question/comment…

Asshole? No, no really I am not. An asshole struts about on a regular basis exuding negativity and unprovoked, rude, inappropriate, unwarranted behavior. It is a skin worn daily and an ugly one at that. So, I say, with great confidence, that I am not an asshole. Can I be a bitch? You betchya.

For instance, I’m willing to bet you may find it just a touch bitchy when I say that before you go on anyone’s blog and start leaving comments such as the one you left me, you may wanna put on your big people’s panties, lay your own self out there for others to see and scrutinize and lob a couple of bricks at your own glass cottage.

Say what you want to say, think what you want to think about me. At least I have the balls to look someone in the eyes. That includes myself in the mirror.

Thanks again for stopping by and have a wonderful day!

Sincerely,
Natali

P.S. You may want to avoid reading part three of my Save The World Syndrome Saga sugar because I’m guessing you’re not going to like that one either and I’m not going to refrain from writing it (or anything else for that matter) due to your comment.

P.P.S. It just occurred to me that another possible reason for your disgruntledness could be that you are an angry PETA supporter that has become offended by my comments regarding them. Well, it that’s the case… fuck you. Yup, I said it.

After weeding through an inbox full of insanity on freaksneedlovetoo.com, I actually got one that had some potential. There was a charming awkwardness about his first message. His profile was kind of plain, but there was a tint of hope with the fact that a. he was a single dad (which helps in understanding what goes along w/ the joys of dating moi) and b. he was a geek (in case I haven’t made it clear- geek is WAY HOT to me). So, I pursued back. We e-mailed back and forth for about a week and then actually talked on the phone. It was going really well. Some kick ass commonalities. No obvious red flags of insanity. No attempts at phone sex right off the bat. Stable job. Heard him with is kids and sounded like a really good dad. I’m thinking – “Wow. This might be easier than I thought.” Silly, silly me.

So, after two weeks of talking and such, we finally get to set up an actual date. Oh, and score another big point for him being a huge fan of sushi as well! Yup, a man that wants to take me out for sushi. Day of the date rolls around… a Saturday night. I’m really nervous cuz that’s how I get when I like someone. Total Über Dork Girlie in full effect. Seriously, I know it’s going to fully shock you, but I do get totally shy when it comes to someone I like. I girlied up. Well girlie for me. Yup, a hint of the one hair product I own and actual eyeshadow. I was gussssied.

He arrives. With a dozen roses. Swooon! Ok, I know roses are cliché and if you truly know me, I would dig tulips or daisies more, but omg, total A for effort. Another bonus- I’ll admit, he’s way cuter in person than his pictures. The ride to the sushi restaurant was like two 16 year olds driving on their first date. Both goofy grinning and trying to think of conversation. Eventually, it came though and he started to relax. Me, not so much.

We sit, we chat about what to order. I stay away from any alcohol as I’m the world’s cheapest date so, yeah, not a good idea. No matter how much I’m thinking it would sedate the butterflies. Waitress takes the order and we slip into more comfortable chit chat. Silly stuff, music (I inflicted Puscifer on him and turns out we were both at the same Beastie Boys concert at the same time), TV (we both actually watch Hell’s Kitchen). Food comes, we dig in. Doing good so far…

Talk of TV shows continues as I mention I rarely watch TV. Then he asks “Have you ever watched the show ‘Intervention’?” I’ve got a sushi and woo hoo this date is going good kind of buzz so my brain isn’t processing quite as quickly as it normally does. I respond “I’ve seen a couple of episodes and thought it was pretty good. Sad, but they mean well.” Then it comes…

“I’m going to be on it.” * CHOKE * I feebly attempt a recover and blame it on a chunk of wasabi. “Really, you are?” Him: “Yeah, they were out like two weeks ago to film.” I’m doing math in my head and even w/ a sushi high, I know that’s right when we started talking. Me (trying not to panic yet): “ Wow. So.. umm..were you one of the interventers?” I’m thinking “Fuct if I care that’s not a word and please say yes.” He laughs. “Oh my gosh, yeah. Ha ha no, I wouldn’t be here if I was the main subject.” * HUGE SIGH OF RELIEF* Me: “* giggle* Yeah, I guess not. Well, unless it was vastly unsuccessful, but that doesn’t make for good TV. So, was it one of your friends?” Him: “No, it was for the kids’ mom.” * instant stomach knot * He continues: “It was really crazy. They came out to the house and interviewed us and then took her off to a rehab in Florida. So, she’s there now until she finishes detox.” * gulp * * head spinning * Me: “W O W. Um.. then what?” He’s missing my meaning of then what and replies “Then they come back and shoot some follow up footage. It’s not gonna air until Fall. I’ll totally let you know when it’s on. Oh! Maybe we can watch it together!” I close my eyes, count to ten in Japanese (seemed fitting) and shake my head like an Etch a Sketch in an attempt to clear it. * deep breath * Me: “So, was she living with you at the time they came to film this?” Him: “Yeah. We’ve been off and on again for years. But, I’m thinking this time is the last straw.” Me, just being me at this point, “So Sid, does Nancy know you’re on a date now?” Him: “ Hiuh?”

Waitress, I’ll have that drink now.. Jack & diet and oh.. make it a double. PLEASE.

Yup…who knew I’d meet me a celebrity? Damn right I’ll post the link for the episode when it airs. We can pop some corn and watch the train wreck together. Good times.

It was roughly three weeks into running a 46 bed group home for those with chronic mental illness, when I was in my office working on an Individualized Service Plan. (Fancy term for basically the packet of instructions and care plan for a resident.) My doorway was the third most popular location in the building- the first was the smoking lounge, the second was the vending machine room. Three of my guys were hovering in my door way when the following conversation occurred…..

Mathew*: “Antanette, Antanette, I didn’t get a hug yet today. Antanette, can I have a hug.”

Mark*: “You’re an idiot Mathew*- her name is Nadia.”

Luke*: “You’re both morons, her name is Natasha.”

Antanette/Nadia/Natasha/Me: “Actually, my name is Natali.”

Luke*: “Shut up, Linda!”

I still don’t know who Linda is…..

*All names were changed to protect resident privacy per Federal HIPAA guidelines.