No, I’m not talking about the crazy ass Beyonce that locked down a hospital when she gave birth. That Beyonce can go sit down.

Nope, I’m talking the Run This Mutha version.

I don’t typically warn people about the content of posts. My bio is pretty much my disclaimer. I’m far from a delicate flower and when the #truthbat comes out, all ladylikeness be damned. If you have gentle eyes or are fragile in any way, this may not be a good post for you. You know what, scratch that. It’s ESPECIALLY important that you read it then. Preferably with an open mind and an open heart. Attempt to let the words settle in for a bit. Stew them around. Give them a ponder. It’s good for you. I promise.

So…

Lately I’ve been waking up, seeing the news and reading things that make me question what country, what decade we live in. It’s like we’re downward spiraling backward into the dark ages. Overdramatic? No, not at all. Not when we have states deciding it’s okay for their doctors to flat out lie to their patients if they suspect what they have to say may result in the patient getting an abortion. Even if carrying to term puts the mother’s life at serious risk.

HOW THE FUCK DID THAT GET PASSED?

Or in Texas where they are forcing women who dare want an abortion to HAVE to go through a VAGINAL ultrasound. That thing is like 10” and no joke. I had to have one when pregnant with both my daughters and it sucked.

THE LAST TIME I CHECKED- FORCING AN OBJECT INTO A WOMAN’S VAGINA= RAPE. WHO THE FUCK VOTED FOR THAT!?!?

And people, in my own state for that matter, wanting to label all us single parents as potential child abusers. When I read that and listened to him speak, I lost my mind for a little bit, did some cussing and then thought “eh, that’ll never happen.”

I’m really not so sure about that anymore.

In fact, shame on me for being so passive about it. This is a matter that directly affects me. In my own state. Yet, I blew it off. I can sit here and give good reasoning- my life is stressful enough as it is and I have to actually put my health first right now. You know what though? Fuck that. Seriously. What good is my health if I end up living in a country that allows a doctor to lie to me and a label of potential child abuser to be slapped on me? How do I teach my daughters to stand up for what they believe in and use their voices if I don’t lead by example. Every law, every bill, every policy that is put into place now will affect their lives. If not today, than one day in the future. It is up to me to fight tooth and nail to make sure that I am doing everything I can to make sure they are all in their best interests.

We should ALL be fighting for what is in our best interests. Not just sitting back and allowing politicians to continue use us as pawns in their pissing contests.

Before you even try to start arguing “abortion is murder” with me, let me stop you for one quick second. That’s not what this post is about. More importantly, according to the constitution (which trumps The Bible right now in this country), it is not. End of discussion.

Before you even try to start arguing “it’s the Republicans’ fault” with me, let me stop you for one quick second. That’s not what this post is about either. More importantly, Democrats clearly didn’t stop it from happening. End of discussion.

Before you even try to start arguing “it’s all men’s fault” with me, let me stop you for one quick second. That’s not what this post is about either. More importantly, there are women that voted for this bullshit too.

In fact, women, we need to stop pointing fingers at everyone else and start pointing them at our own selves. I know, it hurts. It’s harsh, but it’s the truth.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again- if we ever put the ginsus away, stop stabbing at each other, stop blaming men for all our issues and ban together for the greater good, we would rule this nation. And things would be so much better.

Where did we go wrong? More importantly, how do we get it together and push forward?

Let’s start with loving ourselves. As is. We all have parts we want to work on, be they internal or external and I believe life should be about learning and growing. But, love the roots first.

Then let’s start loving each other. I saw the same people that bitched about Angelina needing to eat a sandwich turn around and call J Lo fat. Seriously? Neither one should be accepted. So much judgement being passed.

Let’s ban together and let our voices be heard. Allowing politicians to decide what is best for our bodies, best for our lives, without any input from us is wrong. Allowing our rights to be taken away without a fight from us is wrong.

In this fight, it doesn’t matter what you look like, where you are from, how smart you are, how rich you are how (fill in any adjective you see fit here) you are. If you are a woman- this battle pertains to you. Hell, if you love a woman, it should pertain to you too. The next woman you see, she isn’t a stranger, she isn’t the enemy… she is your sister in this fight too. Instead of silently judging her or judging yourself against her, smile.

Start opening up discussions with friends, family, coworkers, PTA, neighbors. Start talking openly about what is happening in our country. And instead of the politicians that are too busy pointing fingers, laying blame and measuring dick size, let’s actually start coming up with solutions.

“We the people” means ALL of us. Not just politicians, not just people in power. But wait- WE are the ones with the power.

WE VOTE THEM IN.

This is the United States of America, the “free world” and it is 2012 damn it. We are women, let them hear us mother fuckin ROAR.

It is time for us to REALLY Run This Mutha.

Love or hate Beyonce, her ass was right with this song. Sing it sugar.

You would be (or rather should be) Hellbent on finding a mother that wouldn’t love to protect her children from every horrible or hurtful experience out there. I am certainly no exception. In fact, as much as I joke about my mama bearness, I know that I have the ability to go off the deep end of neurotic when it comes to my girls. They are my world. If I could roll them in bubble wrap and lock them in one of those medi-bubbles, part of me would. Deep down I know they need to go through things like pain, hurt and sorrow to appreciate joy, love and happiness all the more. But, heaven help the first person that breaks their hearts. And heaven help the friends that have to hold me back from tearing that person’s out.

The girls have fallen in love with Adele and understandably so. I am convinced her and I would be besties if we ever met. Not only is she amazingly talented, but she’s off the charts adorable and charming. And she loves to swear. We’d have such fun together. One of their favorites of hers is “Someone Like You.” In mom mode, I think “okay, no sex and cursing so it’s okay for them to listen to.” I tend to not ever really gauge how deep a song is and whether or not they will “get it.” I suppose it’s just knowing them so well. If they have questions, they ask. So, tonight they asked me to “find a youtube of her singing it.” I was happy to oblige. I figured they’d yell at me to sing along as well (bless them for loving my really horrible singing) and that they would sing along as well. What I hadn’t anticipated was the emotion they did so with. And the discussion after that occurred.

Turns out they get it. They get the song. They learned through it that love doesn’t always work out. That you can love someone with all of your heart, or think that you do, and that may not be enough. Or someone could love you like that and you not feel it. That someday someone may break their heart and love again much quicker than them. That romantic love is a tricky thing.

I suspect they will continue to amaze the Hell out of me on a regular basis. That I will continue to wonder how they came about such wisdom and how I was lucky enough to be blessed with them.

So tonight we leaped our first hurdle. Our first open talk of broken hearts. And we all survived. I know that when it really happens it won’t be as easy, but tonight may help make it just a bit easier than it could be. They know that Disney is just one story. That mommy is still on good terms and, in some cases, very good friends with people she once loved like that. That we all survived and have loved again.

As I tucked them in, they had me skip the usual lullaby and sing “Make You Feel My Love.” And then Lilest asked me again why she couldn’t marry me because she knows I will always love her and never break her heart. After I was done explaining, she then asked me if she could marry Adele. 🙂

I will never love anyone more than I love those two.

If you’ve met my girls, there is no doubting where they came from. I couldn’t deny them if I tried. If you’ve met the rest of my family, you may wonder about me though. All the people that I take after have passed away. One of the most important ones, my grandma Katie, would have been 95 today.

Not a day goes by where I don’t miss her.

My gram was not like most grandmas. Yes she embroidered and crocheted and made the best soup ever. Her Matzoh Ball soup was my absolute favorite. But, she could also drink like a fish, smoke like a chimney and cuss like a sailor. Well, to be more accurate, she had made sailors blush.

My grandpa died young, but she always wore her wedding rings. In fact, my engagement ring was a replica of hers. If you tried to tease her about needing a man, she’d say she had one. If you said “one that’s still alive” she’d say “What the Hell for? So he can sit on my couch and make me fetch him beer? No thank you. I need another man like I need another goddamn hole in my head.”

When my dad was big and scary, she told him to go to Hell. When he told her not to use the “f word” around him, she told him to fuck off. When the world told her she needed to stop working at 65, she lied her ass off and got a job. When my parents told her there was an e on the end of my name, she told them no. Katie was feisty as Hell.

And, as I predicted for years, when God told her it was time to go, she cussed his ass out all day long before she went.

She was the only grandparent I’d ever known and the only strong female role model that was consistently in my life. In middle school I used to miss the bus on purpose so I could walk to her house and wait for my dad. He would be mad, but I got to hear story after story of her life from raising my mom and aunts and uncles to riding to work on the back of a Harley. Getting screamed at was so worth it.

She was the one that taught me not to take shit from anyone and that I could be and do whatever I wanted as long as I put my mind to it and “you don’t have to use your tits to do it either, you’re a smart one, you use your brain.” This is the same woman that set her mind on teaching her bird to hate Frank Sinatra and by George every time ole blue eyes came on, her bird Louie would BITCH up a storm. If you were to tell me she had a fling with Frank that went bad and that’s why she hated him, I would not be shocked at all. My grandma was a Hell of a woman.

I have a million grandma stories I will eventually find the strength to write, but for now, I’m easing into it. Her death is a wound that’s never really scabbed over. I look at my daughters and know how much she would love the Hell out of them. They’d come home dropping four letter words like crazy and hopped up on Brach’s candy, but I wouldn’t care.

It’s time for me to make my annual Brandy Old Fashioned Sweet (her drink of choice the last couple of decades of her life) and toast her. I will leave you with this…

When I moved out to California, I would call her once a week to check in. She’d ask how I was and I’d tell her the soup sucked. One time I called and she sounded kind of funky so I asked “Grandma, is that you?” True to form, her reply was “No, it’s Mrs. Fitzimmons, who the fuck else would be answering my phone?” From that point on, I would call and ask for Mrs. Fitzimmons and she’d laugh and say “This is Mrs. Fitzimmons, how’s my favorite little smart shit doing?”

I miss you Mrs. Fitzimmons.

That beauty in pink with the glasses is my Katie. The woman to her left is my mom. The woman below looking ready to knock my Uncle Gene the Hell out? Yup, my Katie. That gorgeous red afro belongs to my ever-amazing Aunt Carol. She’s the one from my #BoobieWed post. The two of them together would make the perfect woman.

My doctor called me while I was just done dropping the girls off this morning. I’d already made the decision that I NEED to make time to write down our conversations. Especially the silly ones. This morning’s was fun. As a geek mom, I have the ability to chronicle their lives for them in a way generations before me couldn’t. I can assemble an entire book with photos and captions, a book of them. They can keep this book and pull it out and read it to their children one day. I have made myself a promise that, no matter what, I am going to do this. I have to.

None of us know how long we will be here. I have great plans and decades to spend with my girls in my mind and heart. But, it’s not solely up to me. So, doc informed me that I have the most stubborn white blood cells and cervix she’s ever seen. The fact that I am abnormal is not a shock, but I would be lying if I didn’t say that this was the one time in my life I wish I was called normal. The cells bother her, the cervix we suspected and it doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s back. But, it does mean I get a hot date with a LEEP and sadly she said they just can’t LEEP away my entire cervix. One of these days it’ll buy me dinner first damnit.

I’m at a different place this time around, a different mind set. While I’ve always had the “let’s do this! Let’s fight back!” attitude, I was getting weary. Balancing everything was a trick before, now it’s flat-out draining. This past summer when I made the decision to go back to work full time, rather than freelance, I picked a place that was very unlike me. Yet, it fit perfectly. It’s a seasonal company. Meaning, I get laid off over the next few weeks. A lay of with pay enough to get me through it and time to take a step back and revamp. A much needed breather. A chance for a re-birth.

And I plan on taking advantage of every moment of it. I’ve revamped our eating habits and begun training for the Dirty Girl Run. I’ve begun to reorganize our house, though you probably can’t tell looking at it right this moment. The girls and I have settled in to the new schedule so far, but this is just week one of it. Now, it’s back to the things that matter. Refocusing on the dream and making it happen this year- cancer or no cancer.

Another upside of all of this was that it allotted (read: forced) me to take a step back and look at everything and everyone in my life. To boil things down to what is most important. To come to terms with what I may truly mean to some and them to me. To take stock and make an effort to mend some that may have needed mending and deal with whether it was reciprocated or not. You know how you know when someone is a real friend? It could be hours, days, weeks, years since you’ve sat down and really talked, yet a beat is never missed and that love is still there and even if they don’t have time at the moment, you can tell they are happy as Hell to hear from you.

And I’ve learned that if you completely fuck it all up, there is tomorrow.

Every single day we all get a re-do.

P.S. So today’s conversations on the way to school…..

Lilest: “GIVE US MATH PROBLEMS!!”
Eldest: “YEAH MOMMY!!! MATH PROBLEMS!”
Both: (chanting) “MATH PROBLEMS! MATH PROBLEMS!”

They are such nerds! Now, coming up for math problems for a 6 and 7 year old while driving may sound like a piece of cake. My girls don’t deal with “what’s 3 + 7?” Nope, they want WORD problems. Which means that I have to keep track of my own problem while I’m making it up. Possibly on a lack of coffee. While driving through a town that I swear has the worst drivers ever.

Me: “Okay, Hailey first… if there are 3 houses on the right side and 4 houses on the left side, how many houses are on the block?”
Lilest: “Duh, that’s 7. MAKE THEM HARDER!!”
Me: “Okie Dokie. If there are 14 houses on this block and 7 are on the right side, how many are on the left?’
Lilest: “SEVEN!”
Eldest: “SEVEN! HEY! IT WAS MY TURN YOU BIG DOOFUS!”
Me: “NOT OKAY!!!”
Eldest: “You gotta take turns cuz I know more stuff than she does, I get harder ones.”
Me: “Okay, (insert eldest’s name here) there are 12 houses on the next block, all with 2 windows. How many windows are on the block?”
Eldest: “Good one! Let me think!”
Lilest: “That’s a multiplication problem.” 
Eldest: “I KNOW!!”

Eldest got it right. In fact they both got all of theirs right. Lilest’s next one was “If mommy drinks one cup of coffee every hour and I spend 3 hours at Starbucks, how many cups of coffee will I have drank?” And Eldest got the last one with “If we got to AJ Bombers for dinner and they have a big special going where hamburgers cost $1.00 and sweet potato chips are $0.50 how much would it cost all together if we each got one hamburger and one order of sweet potato chips?”

I love that they love to learn. I love that they are a bit competitive in that department. I love that we take the time to actually spend time together in the car on the way to and from, well anywhere together. But, especially to school. We both need that love in the morning.

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I have seen all that is wrong with this world and it drives a Mercedes SUV. Okay, that may be a bit overdramatic and I do not have a vendetta against everyone who drives a Mercedes SUV. You know what, screw the disclaimer, you’ll get what I mean. 🙂

Both monkeys are in school now. I love their school. I really do. The town it’s in leaves a lot to be desired. But, the school itself is awesome and it gives me hope. It’s a public school. On one of its walls is a sign “If a child can’t learn the way we teach, maybe we should teach the way they learn.- Ignacio Astrada” And so far they have followed it. That, my friends, is what gives me hope. But, that’s a whole other post.

It’s a relatively small elementary school and has a very small parking lot. For years now, the drop off and pick up are the same. To avoid blocking school buses and traffic on the road in front of it, you line up and snake around the rows. It’s a very, very simple process that makes a great deal of sense once you learn it.

Now, logical thing for a new person to do is pull straight in and right up to the front. They wouldn’t have noticed all the cars wrapped around and so I’m sure initially it is not meant to skip everyone in line. I give the benefit of the doubt for new faces. Always. There is, however, no mistaking the “oh shit” moment. When your “whoo hoo no wait!” moment passes and you realize all of the other cars are there and you just skipped them all. Again, people react differently when embarrassed and such, so if they don’t give the gratuitous ‘Aww snap, I’m sorry” wave and look of shame, no biggie. All I ask is that the lesson be learned.

I guess for some that is just way too much to ask. And THAT, my dears is why all that is wrong with this world drives a Mercedes SUV.

Monday morning she came whipping up just as I was at the front of the line. Didn’t even bother to look. She gets waived in to pull up, then I do. Life goes on.
Tuesday morning, the same thing. I’m at the front of the line and up comes whipping Ms. SUV. Okay. Hmmm… so, I get out when I park to unleash monkeys onto the school. I politely walk over to her, extend a hand and say “Hi! I’m Natali, (fill in monkey’s names) mom and lead room mom for (fill in monkeys’ teachers names).” No handshake. Just blank annoyed stare. I continue. “Okay, well, I know that pick up and drop off can be somewhat confusing here at (insert monkeys’ school name) for new parents so I thought I would…” She cuts me off “I’m not new. And you’re making me late, what is your point?” Me “Wow, well okay, I don’t want to make you late. I just wanted to politely inform err I guess remind you of the proper drop off and pick up procedure here.” She literally turns, gets in her vehicle and off she goes.

My eye twitched and I swear I heard the music played when the Wicked Witch, (or in the event my girls grow up and read this, the “Misunderstood Witch”) from the Wizard of Oz hops on her broomstick and flies off. Dee dee dee dee dee dee. Dee dee dee dee dee dee. Dee deeeee!

Wednesday morning, I get us out the door 5 minutes earlier hoping to just avoid the situation. Guess what happens? Yup. Just as I get to the front, up whips Ms. Mercedes. I throw my hands up in a “WTF?!” way. She turns and smirks. * eye twitch * I smile and wave. Yup, I smiled and waved. Bigger person. Deep breaths. More flies with honey. She continues to smirk as she pulls ahead of me and unloads her offspring. I open my window and say “Nice to see you again! Have a great day!” Inside though, the well of profanity can barely wait for me to shut my window and make it off of school property.

Now, I feel compelled to mention that there is a rotation of teachers out front in the morning and each day it was new ones so they really didn’t realize she wasn’t someone who was dropping off for the first time and just didn’t learn the process yet.

Thursday morning, off we go. I take a deep breath as pull up to the front of the wrap around. I look to the entrance to the parking lot and don’t see her. HUGE sigh of relief. The car on deck goes… I take my foot off the brake and just begin to move forward when in she comes- BARRELING toward us. I have to slam on the brakes.

NOW I’VE DONE HAD ENOUGH.

She unleashes the smirk. I raise the “Oh, this is how it’s gonna be biotch!?” eyebrow.

She pulls up and parks. I pull up and get out. Again. Deep breath, smile on face. Sugary sweet tone in voice. With just a hint of sarcasm. “Hiiiiiii. It’s me again. I didn’t catch your name the other day.” *BLANK STARE* “Anywho, I know that the whole concept of wrapping around in rows (*hand signals all kinds of stewardess-like indicating the proper flow of traffic*) can be REALLY difficult for some people to grasp. Driving is hard. But, I would be more than happy to make a little video for you demonstrating how not to drive like a maniac and endanger the youth at this elementary school. Especially my lovely daughters. Wave to the nice lady girls!” The girls wave. And, clearly my daughters, both at the same time say “Hiiii” the same way I did and “You have to wrap around. You can’t just skip ahead.” Me: “Oh look at that- a 5 and 7 year old get the concept. Kids these days are so advanced.”

Then she snaps. “I AM IMPORTANT! I HAVE SHIT TO DO! BACK THE FUCK OFF OF ME, LET ME DROP MY FUCKING KID OFF IN PEACE!!!” Yeah, the gasping of kids, other parents and teacher meant nothing to this woman. Kids in earshot covered their ears. Well, except mine. They just stood there smiling. A horde of angry parents (okay, it was 3, but that’s practically a horde here) emerged on her as did two teachers.

I kissed my girls. Told them the same thing I tell them every day “Have fun! Learn stuff! I love you the mostest much in the whole entire universe.” And I drove away. The other people can try to drive the lesson home to her.

It’s her “I AM IMPORTANT!” attitude that is what’s wrong. We are ALL important. No one person should be treated as more important than anyone else. No one person should be given privileges that they haven’t earned. It takes a freakin village. Not just to raise our future but to nurture this country. Parents that act like this teach their children that it’s okay. Now, I am FAR from the perfect parent and will be the first one to point out my many flaws. But, I try. You know what- the first time I went to pick up the girls, I didn’t know the system. I had my “oh snap!” moment and I apologized. Then I never did it again.

If some one can’t follow simple rules of drop off and pick up at an elementary school, I fear for our future. If people become so self absorbed they can’t take two minutes to hear and really listen to what someone has to say to them, I fear for our future.

The second I pulled out of that parking lot, I was reminded of that clip in Mr. Mom. If you don’t know the clip I’m talking about, please take a minute to watch the clip. 🙂

And it made me smile.

So, fellow peoples of the world, let’s get it together. Let’s remember to treat people with decency. Let’s remember we are all in this crazy thing called life together.

Let’s remember- south to pick up, north to drop off.

And let’s hope we don’t need to raise bail money for me if that woman cuts me off again. 🙂

It may look like just an ordinary table. Sadly, some may think it ugly. Both couldn’t be further from the truth. What lies buried deep within the wood are years and years of memories. Of laughter. Of love.

Once upon a time, this table was the only table in my grandmother’s modest little apartment.

If you’ve read my “Yup, I’ve Got Boobs” (http://lifeinmonkeyland.blogspot.com/2009/10/yup-ive-got-boobs.html) post, you have caught a small glimmer into the awesomeness that was my grandmother. Her and my aunt were the first and only real strong female role models that I had growing up. Whenever I look at my family and wonder how I fit in, I think of them and it begins to make sense. She was also the only grandparent I’ve ever known.

Grandma passed away December 30th, 1999 of Pancreatic Cancer. Fuck you very much again Cancer. I remember someone looking at me and saying “Awww she just missed seeing the new millennium.” She was the feistiest 85 year old you would have ever met and I know exactly what her response would have been “New millennium, same shytting thing.” Someday I plan on writing a series of posts on her. Not only because the stories are great, but because they need to be preserved so I may hand them down to the girls and they can hand them down. To listen to them tell their children how great grandma rode to work on the back of a Harley and made the best Matzoh Ball soup ever is something I hope I live to hear.

Someday. But not today. I don’t have the strength in me today to open that all up. This last year has been one continual fight against the very type of beast that took my grandmother and my aunt. And it has gotten overwhelming. There have been days where I am so tired I just want to curl in a ball and cry. But then I think of them, take a deep breath and think “I’ve got this.” I miss them both so much.

Today I stood in the pouring rain, holding the door open as my parents brought it out of the back of their minivan. As soon as the first chair came out, I caught my breath. By the time the table came out, the lump in my throat was huge. I kept trying to swallow it, hoping the rain would help me wash it down. I haven’t seen it since before she passed.

Now it sits in our home where our memories, our laughter, our love can be added to those already within it. Its mere presence has already brought me comfort. I want to hug it, to sit at it and lay my head upon it… listening for her voice, smelling for Matzoh Ball soup.

To many it may look like a simple table. To me it is a piece of my grandma.

For as long as I can remember, I have always taken mass amounts of crap from someone before I stand up for myself. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll stand up for those I care about in a heartbeat. Yet, I’ve always seemed to subconsciously deem myself unworthy of the same thing.

I’ve long given people chance after chance and had a hard time cutting ties. It’s always seemed like giving up on someone. I don’t like to give up on people.

But, the flipside is not doing so is giving up on me. So, I’ve gotten better at voicing my feelings when they’ve been smacked around a bit. And today I took that one step further.

It’s going to seem ridiculously silly I’m sure, but it was a breakthrough to me. I’ve never actually “unfriended” or “deleted” or “unfollowed” someone I’ve known. I’ve blocked some crazies here and there but never someone I once deemed a friend (or more.)

Until now.

Facebook is different for me than anywhere else online. The monkeys have names. People on there have known me my whole life. Seen me naked. Gave me tissue when I’ve cried. Hell watched me give birth. There’s an intimacy the exists there that doesn’t anywhere else.

I realized that if someone is okay with being a complete and utter douchebag to me, than they do not have the right to that intimacy.

So, one click of the button has solved that. And it feels pretty damn good. 🙂 It also kinda sucks.

So, if you follow me on the twitters or the facebook then you know I took the monkeys a rummagin’ yesterday. You may also know that it was the “$10.00 for whatever you can fit in your bag” day and one of the women was not so thrilled when she saw my bag. For I am 1. a single mom and b. have mad Tetris skills.

The haul?

8 skirts
6 pairs of shorts
2 dresses
2 pairs of monkey pjs’s
1 monkey sun visor
23 tops (mostly T shirts)

All pretty hipster wearing brand names.

So, that works out to be roughly to be roughly 24 cents a piece. 🙂

And it’s all stuff I can layer the mess outta when it gets warmer. 🙂

Don’t ever let anyone tell you Tetris would not come in handy!!

Allow me to help you wipe it off.

I’m pretty sure you’ve heard, Amy Winehouse died yesterday at the age of 27. Now, I will be the first to admit that it wasn’t a huge shock. What was though was the level of disrespect that I witnessed surrounding it. It broke my heart and made me sick.

I’m the last person to have anything resembling celebrity worship in me. (Okay, I totally squee’d when I met Wil Wheaton, but common, it’s Wil Wheaton.) I went on a HUGE rant when I woke up the morning after the earthquakes in Haiti that affected the lives of nearly 3 million people and Lady GaGa was the top trending item on Twitter. Why? Because she was exhausted. Eat a sammich! I tell you what though, if she had died (so very much not wishing that upon her or anyone else for that matter), I would have understood why that would be everywhere.

No matter what your opinion of her, you can not deny the talent she had. She was brave and groundbreaking. She had an insanely powerful voice that was belted from a fragile, haggard looking young woman. And she had such soul. Lyrics don’t get written like hers unless you’ve been there. Songs sung from the gut like that have a trail of pain behind them. Pain that is relived every time you sing it. Sing them all back to back and it’s no wonder she had issues. Some called her a tortured soul, others a train wreck. I’d always just wanted to give her a hug and hoped she’d figure it all out.

But, she didn’t. At a mere 27 years old, she has left this world. While the reports are still out, we’re all expecting cause of death is alcohol and/or drug related. It doesn’t mean she deserved it though. It doesn’t mean that it’s okay to say horrible things.

SHE WAS A HUMAN BEING.

I saw someone ask when the news first broke if it was wrong that they secretly kind of hoped the rumors were true. ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY. Others made snide comments about Amy Winehouse’s death and how now we won’t have to be burdened by watching more about what happened in Norway. (Yes, I know they were being snarky.) Really? Do you seriously believe that Amy woke up Saturday morning and said “Fuck the Norwegians, I’m gonna one up them everywhere”?!!? Joke after joke after sick joke. Bitching upon bitching at having to see Amy Winehouse “shit everywhere.”

Everyone that dies is a loss to someone. Who are we to judge that it’s otherwise?

Here’s a thought- turn off your TV, step away from your computer and take a moment to call some one you love and tell them so. Make sure they know you really mean it. No matter if we lead the life of a saint, or that of an addict, none of us are guaranteed a specific amount of time on this earth. Use it well.

I choose to use mine to see the good and worth in people. To spend time reminding the people in my life they are important to me and genuinely so in their own unique way. To try to do my best to be a good person and a decent mother.

I am by no means a saint either. I am highly flawed and a continual work in progress.

But I can look myself in the mirror.