She's having a baby

“For the love of God, will you settle the fuck down?” I think to myself. “Why can’t you be a good fetus and just let me get a good night’s sleep?  I give into your cravings, I sing to you and play that fucking ridiculous, Baby Einstein music for you; in the hopes that you won’t turn out like your ungrateful siblings.”

I think to myself, it's your own fault... Dr. Mendez told you to make sure to use condoms, until the birth control pills have a chance to get into my system. I should have kept the IUD instead. An unexpected anniversary gift you are. You can thank your Daddy little one.  

“Downtown, no kids, a concert, and a fancy hotel room… c’mon Danielle, it’ll be fun” he said. It was fun. The concert was awesome. Hanging out with Tiffany and her new boyfriend after the concert was great too. It’s so nice to be with friends, talking about non-kid related topics and not having to have to worry about the time and getting home. The hotel room… fucking expensive but worth it. Sometimes you just have to spend on yourselves. The huge, king size bed; the marble bath and shower; and a beautiful view of the skyline. It was definitely romantic. Too bad all the margaritas I drank turned me into Lindsay Lohan’s long lost sister and I went all Girl’s Gone Wild.  Obviously your Daddy enjoyed the show I gave, because here we are now with you playing soccer in my uterus. “Finally”, I say to myself a half hour later. David Beckham has gone to sleep.

I’m never getting pregnant, again.

Now I can go to sleep too...hmmm, David Beckham. I wonder if likes full term, pregnant gals. As many times that he’s knocked up that skinny bitch Posh, I bet he does. Yeah, I bet he get on some of this. What the hell am I thinking? I look like a bloated anaconda and I feel like road kill. I just need sleep. Me, my happy thoughts and a few hours of uninterrupted blissful sleep. Yay, I’ve even managed to get myself into a semi-comfortable position. Wait… are you kidding me? I have to pee, now? C’mon, give a girl a break. “Fine!” I scream in my head. “I’m going”. I sit up and look over at my husband…. David NOT Beckham.  “Comfortable much you asshole?”, I ask his snoring carcass. He farts and giggles in his sleep as a response.  Just kill me.  Seriously, I’m not going to get any sleep tonight. Maybe I should smother him. I was wrong, it’s his fault, why I’m in this state. There are mitigating factors here, such as cruel and unusual punishment.  Will a jury really convict a pregnant woman ,who was being tortured by her husband with gross and toxic flatulence; and his refusal to turn on the A/C in May? So what if I can see his breath when he is sleeping? It’s  fucking stifling up here. Oh… I’m supposed to be peeing. I can’t wait until I have a normally functioning, non- preggo brain again.

Okay, I’m getting up. I swear to god I can’t wait until this thing is out of me…. Two more weeks. That’s it. God I hope this one is smaller than the last two. I can’t push out another 9 lb kid again. I swear his ass better let me sleep in tomorrow. It’s Sunday. Nobody better bother me. Something else is tomorrow too. I can’t remember. All I know is this baby is due in a week and a half. This kid can’t come quick enough.

 I’m never getting pregnant again.

I start walking to the bathroom… oh shit. Why are my panties wet? Something is trickling down my leg. Fuck, my water is breaking . No… I just want to sleep.  I’m not ready for contractions and pushing and fuck... my legs aren’t shaved and my hooch hasn’t been trimmed in months.  

“David!!! Get up!!!”  I yell, “My water just broke”!  No answer. I flip the light switch on, grab the nearest object to me and throw it at him... What To Expect When You’re Expecting… Ironic, I bet he wasn’t expecting that.  Anyway, where is my suitcase?  Finally, he’s up. "Call my parents and have them come over to be with the kids. I need to change before we go” He sleepily nods and I set out to quickly change my clothes. Being huge and pregnant however negates the physics of dressing quickly and I’m still putting on my shoes when my parents arrive. I kiss them quickly and David herds me out the door to the car. “Relax”, I say “I haven’t even had my first…. ARRRRHHHH” My first contraction comes hard and painfully.

“Slow down, you’re going to kill us”, I say and then turn to David. “What the fuck is wrong with men?”, I ask. “You all need to be Mario Andretti when you're driving us to the hospital and damn near kill us in the process?" Oh shit, another contraction. Fuck that hurts “Well what are you waiting for? DRIVE!!”

I’m never getting pregnant again.

I’m sitting in a triage room of the emergency department. “Do I look like I have a fucking insurance card? I’m sorry that I forgot my purse. My priority was on getting my baby and me to the ahhhhhhh…”, another  contraction. “Just breathe, honey” says David. Oh sweet Jesus. That breathing shit didn’t work with the first two and it won’t this time either.  "Just get me a room and a fucking epidural”

“Will you stop touching every damn thing in the room … you’re not a doctor!”  I say. “Wanna play doctor?” he asks. “Yes asshole… at this minute I want to play doctor with you. Please give me a chance to hold your balls in my hand” I reply and glare at him. “I think I’m going to get something to drink. I’ll be back”, he says. Tight jeans or not I vow to myself… his cock is never coming near my vagina again. I’m tired of runny noses, wiping asses and fucking play dates.

I’m never getting pregnant again

“What do you mean I can’t have an epidural? Are you out of you mind?”, I scream at my nurse. “Where is Dr Mendez?” I ask. “He is en route ma’am, please try to settle down. We are going to try and make you as comfortable as possible. Please remember your breathing and Lamaze". Before I get the chance to tell my nurse that new age breathing won’t be necessary if she gets me a fucking epidural, David walks back in smiling, with a coffee in hand. I’m sooo regretting the earlier decision not to smother him when I had the chance.

“Guess what?” he asks. “I saw your blogger friend Stacie leaving with her husband and their new baby. Did you know she was pregnant?” "No asshole, I don’t keep up with my friends", I think to myself. He continues, “Yeah apparently she just gave birth a few days ago… it was a baby boy”. I reply “Yes David, I know. Remember when I told YOU about it the other day?” Oblivious to my snarkiness, he replies “Oh yeah, you’re right. You did. I’m sorry. Anyway, she told me to tell you good luck and that she’ll text you in a couple of days. Their kid was big. I can’t believe she was wearing jeans already. Can’t tell she just had a kid” As I look around for something to stab him with, Dr Mendez steps in to the room. He reaches my bed, smiles down on me and asks “How are we feeling today?” Uh... We? Do you have a parasite trying to fight its way out of your vagina too? Being a woman… I lie. I smile at him and say I’m okay, I’m just ready to get this baby into the world. “Good” he says, “Let’s see where you’re at. Looks like you’re  fully dilated here and I think it’s time. Kelly, can you please get her ready for delivery” Kelly, huh? She looks like a Kelly. With her dark hair and beautiful smile. Probably thinks she’s Wonder Woman too… whatev.

I’m never getting pregnant again.

Fuck… Why won’t you come out? I’ve been pushing for two hours. For the love of God, just give me the episiotomy. VBAC… why are sticking a plunger up my hooch? One thing I asked for, just one: a small baby. But Noooo... I’m two weeks early and this kid is still huge. “Here we go”, says Dr. Mendez. “One last time, Danielle. I need you to bear down hard and push” I do and relief. I hear a baby’s cry. “It’s a girl. Dad, would you like to do the honors?” asks Dr Mendez. I’m exhausted and can’t keep my eyes open as Dr Mendez delivers the afterbirth. I keep my eyes closed and I just want to sleep. I hear “Lil Miss Efficiency” Kelly, scurrying about with my daughter. Oh shit, the baby book… did I pack it? I hear my husband say “Can you add do some of the foot prints here too?” Finally, he is doing something useful. Kelly asks me “Would you like to hold him now?” and lays her in my arms. I gaze down at my new daughter’s wrinkled and pink newborn face. I see her father’s lips and mouth and my nose. I memorize the details of her face. She wrapped up tight and warm and is content against my breasts. I can feel her warm breath on me as she sleeps. I hear my husband say “She is beautiful, just like her mommy”.

My eyes are growing heavy, when my husband leans over, kisses my forehead and whispers softly, “Happy Mother’s Day”. In this moment, I’m lost in love with my child. I remember this is a love I’ve felt with all my children. This feeling of pure love between a child and mother… that no matter what pains motherhood brings me.

             

I will be getting pregnant again...

 

To all my Mom fans out there… I hope you enjoyed D’s motherhood story and it made you giggle at some points and smile knowingly at others. All you Moms are amazing treasures. You give life and nurture it, rarely getting all the credit and appreciation you deserve.

Please don’t ever doubt for a minute you aren’t appreciated. We spouses and kids may not say it enough, but we do love and appreciate you... everyday.

We know our lives would not be complete without you.

From me, to all of you…  Happy Mother’s Day

 Munch

 

 

The Panty Debate

Well Hello there!!!

Do you wear panties? Do you know someone who wears panties? I bet you do! There are all kinds you know... bikini, brief, thong, hipster, cheekster, boy-short and even grannies! 



#Ageappropriatefail

The issue at hand is Victoria's Secret "Bright Young Things" panty collection being marketed under
the Pink Line. There are some panties in a bunch over the new line. Opponents (parents) taking offense that their tweens will flock to VS to spend money on the brightly colored undies, which are emblazoned with slogans such as "Wild Thing" or "Kiss Me" across the bottom. The VS company and it's Pink representatives say this is not the case. That the Pink line has always been targeted towards college aged young women. This collection is geared towards collegiate age spring breakers. I think that's true. HOWEVER, what I also think is more true, is that young girls want to emulate older girls. The issue with that? More than ever... younger girls (tweens) are looking to emulate and take after their older counterparts or sisters. Girls want to grow up to quickly... peers, TV & magazine ads, and social media telling them that dressing scantily is the fashionable thing to! (I'm not even going to tackle the "this is how you need to look when wearing them" angle and the self esteem issues it causes) In a nutshell... young girls and ladies are being sexualized way to early in the name of fashion.




The only surf that better be up is the "Crimson" tide.
In which case... these panties are wholly inappropriate.

I'd be a horrible father and I'd be lying if I said I'm not horrified at the thought of my daughter, in a few years, sporting the Pink line undies and having suggestive phrases emblazoned on the butt.

With that being said... do I have the right to try and shut down VS or bad mouth them? No. They have the right to make money, if someone buys their product. Do we as parents have the right to worry? Of course we do, we're parents. THAT IS OUR JOB. We need to worry, we need to be responsible, we need to explain to our Tweens why certain clothing choices are not for them. That's the key. Be a parent. Parents should know what kind of knickers their daughters are wearing. It's our jobs to teach our daughters to respect themselves and their bodies.






To teach them about responsible sex... to teach them they need to stay virgins until they are thirty, errr, I mean "ready"... If we do that, then I won't have to worry about anyone but her mother and I, seeing her panties.    







It's our job... so let's get it done
say NO to retailers who
would sexualize your Tween daughter

Munch

In the end...

MUNDSCHENK Kurtis J. Mundschenk, 60, of North Fort Myers, Fla. and formerly of Gahanna, Friday, March 4, 2005 at Cape Coral Hospital. Served as a member of the law enforcement community and the Corporate Security Industry for over 30 years. Member of the American Society for Industrial Security, International Foundation of Protection Officers, Security Management Information Network of Ohio, Founding President; Wyoming Law Enforcement Firearms Instructors Association, International Association of Law Enforcement Firearms Instructors, Ohio Identification Officers Association and a Life Member of the International Association for Identification. Member of the Gulf Shore Mustang Club and former member of the Ohio Mustang Club. Survived by wife, Denise and brother, Jim (Margo) Muth; two daughters, Krista (Shane) Pearson and Kamie (Tom) Guzy; one son, David (Jessica) Mundschenk, and a step-daughter, Terra (Danny) Ernsberger; grandchildren, Drew, Luke, Alex, Kaitlyn, Zack, Derrick, and Sydney; Friends may call Tuesday 6-8 p.m. EVANS FUNERAL HOME, 4171 E. Livingston Ave., where service will be held Wednesday 11 a.m., Pastor Paul Gateman officiating. Interment will be at Highland Cemetery, Glenford, Oh. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made in Kurt's name to the American Heart Association or the Cape Coral Auxiliary, 625 Del Prado Blvd., Cape Coral, Fla. 33990.

Obituaries... a final essay if you will. A short paragraph that grieving survivors piece together to notify others of their loss. A short paragraph in which we try to convey to others who the deceased was. An essay which rarely does justice or explains who the person really was or why they were special. As you can see from the obit above, my Dad passed away seven years ago today. All the obit shows however, is a few of the places he lived, some of his accomplishments and who he was survived by. 



WTF?!?!?!?!?

As I stated above.... it didn't really do him justice. It doesn't show who he was or how he lived. He was born to Elmer John J "Al" Mundschenk and Gertrude Elizabeth (Trudy) Mundschenk (Heery) My grandfather was a successful and to be honest, a pretty damn bright engineer. He worked for North American Aviation and was involved with the Mercury spacecraft program and the X-15 jet to name a few. As was custom back in those days, Grandma Honey was a stay at home Mom, although I believe she had been a hand model at one time. (Cool, no?) Although my grandfather had a relatively, as far as I know, happy childhood... my grandmother did not. She had a hard life growing up, which translated into undiagnosed mental health issues going into her adulthood. Her tool of choice when it came to discipline for my Dad, was a cat of nine tails. A stick with a knotted leather strands. No fucking lie. I actually have the damn thing laying around here somewhere. It was used mainly once he was to big for her to handle... like when he was ten. I'm not judging her. I can't imagine the number of women, or men for that matter, who had to live with mental health issues prior to the invention of drugs like Prozac, Paxil or Zoloft to name a few. He did get his revenge. When he was sixteen and she was trying to unsuccessfully hit him for some breach of conduct, (boys will be boys) he took the damn thing from her and tied all the strands into an combobulated mess of leather and knots. Later on in life they would make light of it and joke about it. 

Still, the fact that my Dad actually grew up to be happy and pretty adjusted is a miracle. He grew up and went on to study religion, at his parents' urging, at Capital University, which back in the day was pretty well known for it's education of Lutheran ministers. Dad ended up failing or leaving with a D average. I don't believe it was due to a lack of faith, he would later become heavily involved in our Church when we were growing up and he was always a man of faith.... I think rather it's because he found someone he cared for, fell in love with and his grades suffered. Also, I think he subconsciously knew it wasn't his true calling. 

Although he left the university, he was there long enough to meet one of his lifelong friends and us childrens' Godfather: Paul, who continued on and became a Lutheran minister. They were birds of a feather and enjoyed the college life. Amongst their experiences at college, was a White Castle eating competition, which is the stuff of legend. I think they both made into well into the forties, before Dad got sick.

Being lifelong friends... Paul ultimately delivered my Dad's eulogy... Something he had previously retired from doing. He didn't tell me until after the fact. True friends are like that and I'm glad to know Dad had someone like that. I cannot express my gratitude to Paul, on behalf of our family, for doing so. The funniest part of the eulogy... Paul making reference to my Dad's well known habit of sleeping in the buff. I don't know when this started, but apparently... it was as early as college. Paul related a story of an early morning, when he, Dad and their roommate were still sleeping and received an early morning visitor. Dad having the bed closest to the door answered... naked. As Paul recounted, Dad opened the door, had a few words with the visitor, slammed the door and advised his other roommate that the roommate's Mom was  there to see him. The things we discover about our parents and their youth. How they are unlike the people we know growing up. I laughed about that memory for weeks after the funeral.

Dad was a joker and a prankster. He loved to tell a good joke and to get people on a prank. He was good at it too. His sense of timing and delivery was impeccable. Making people laugh and smile was one of his joys. I think that's where I get it. Although I'm far more out there than he ever was... the end result is the same. Make people laugh. Make them feel good. We all need more laughter, joy and friendship in our lives. Thank you Dad, for making sure that was the one lesson I learned above all else. 

In the interests of full disclosure... I have to be honest. Dad was no Saint. He had a temper. He was a yeller, much like me. He didn't hit and he rarely drank. One or two at most. I never saw him drunk. He hated to lose control of himself, as he was very much a "controller" of all things. Not in a domineering way, but in a way so that there was no situation that he couldn't control or step in if necessary, to protect us or from making mistakes. While that's not horrible, kids and spouses have to learn and grow from the mistakes they make.

There have been many things I've learned abut my Dad in the years since his death. Some funny, some good, and some bad. What's most important is that I've been fortunate to understand him in a different light. A light that still gives me wonderment and makes me believe he was the superhero from my youth. He was flawed certainly, but we all are. We each have dreams, fears and hopes. Mostly his dreams and hopes were that his kids would be happy and successful and that we would always love him.

Dear Dad... In this, as you did many things, you overachieved. WE MISS YOU AND LOVE YOU EVERYDAY.


Sincerely,
Munch
Cool Ass Big Sis
My Twin
The Girl Who Be Mom
and the Grandbabies  


Post Script:
An interesting item to note, to me anyway, is that my half brother Sean and and my half sister Lissa's Mom, Kathy, passed away on the same day as my Dad. I had not yet met either of them or ever spoken with them when we experienced our loss. I knew nothing of their lives. I also had not met or spoken with my biological father, Pat; whom I knew of, but had not ever been in contact with.

It was 2 years before that would happen. Truth be told, that was due to my grandmother, Sue, on my biological father's side. She found my mother and myself (Goggle! A stalker's tool!) after seeing my Dad's obituary.  While that's a story for a different day... it's hard to dismiss that as a cowinkiedink or if I would know any of these amazing people now, had it not been for our losses.

To everything there is a purpose   

Notes from an Abuser

Bourbon - I once drank almost an entire bottle in 6 hours.
Not cool or good for you.



 

Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism.... topics I'm familiar with, but have remained tight lipped about. Until now and I don't know why I feeling the need to share, but I am. I know I usually "wow" you with funny stuff and couture opinions, but today I'm going deeper... much deeper. Bear with me or move on to something more "light". It's okay and I understand. Some days I want nothing but funny, as there is way to much Negative Nelly in the world.

Not negative, but awfully uppity for someone growing up on the Prairie

I think it may have been prompted by an upcoming, proposed change in the DSM-V release.  It includes merging alcohol abuse and alcohol dependence into a single new entry labeled "alcohol-use disorder". It struck a nerve with me. Not a bad nerve, but not a real good nerve either. It took me back to a dingy and poorly lit office... 18 years ago. Back to when I was 21 / 22 yrs of age and still in the USMC. I had just been diagnosed per the DSM-IV as an "alcohol abuser". The criteria listed in said manual is:

Alcohol Abuse:

A. maladaptive pattern of alcohol use leading to clinically significant impairment or distress, as manifested by one (or more) of the following, occurring within a 12-month period:

(1) recurrent alcohol use resulting in a failure to fulfill major role obligations at work, school, or home (e.g., repeated absences or poor work performance related to alcohol use; alcohol-related absences, suspensions, or expulsions from school; neglect of children or household) Nailed this one consistently. I was always late... despite that I was usually running to work.  In fact, I passed a company formation PT run one morning. Can't imagine what the C.O. of the company thought.
(2) recurrent alcohol use in situations in which it is physically hazardous (e.g., driving an automobile or operating a machine when impaired by alcohol use) I can honestly say that I wasn't guilty of this, as I didn't have a car. That was not alcohol related... just poor financial decisions made on my part, due to a huge ignorance of personal finance and credit matters.

(3) recurrent alcohol-related legal problems (e.g., arrests for alcohol-related disorderly conduct) I didn't get arrested by the Po-Po, but I had gotten into trouble for my tardiness once to often. The official charge was AWOL. Absent without Leave. I was 5 minutes late to work, but multiply that by 60 and you will be made an example of. I went before the company commander and received non-judicial punishment. (NJP) The punishment accorded to me?
 45 days Restriction  - The Marine Corps version of "grounding". You have to stay in your room unless you're working or eating. It didn't work, but that's another story.

45 days EPD - Cleaning transient rooms in the barracks and such.

2 months forfeiture of half my pay - My pay wasn't that much AND I still had a free roof over my head with three squares a day.

Mandatory Alcoholism Consult - Interview With the Vampire. Just kidding. It was an interview with a Staff Sergeant who was hungover. The result of that interview being diagnosed as an alcohol abuser and a two week treatment outpatient program.
(4) continued alcohol use despite having persistent or recurrent social or interpersonal problems caused or exacerbated by the effects of the alcohol (e.g., arguments with spouse about consequences of Intoxication, physical fights) Certainly re-current due to re-occurring problems with supervisors and the Staff Judge Advocate.

B. The symptoms have never met the criteria for Alcohol Dependence - I won't bore you with a response to each of those bullet points, but I did not meet the criteria.

In all honesty, alcoholism and alcohol abuse was the norm in the Marine Corps. Much like the other service branches... it's a club of mostly young people, with stressful jobs who need an outlet. Often times, it is found in alcohol. (I.e. Work hard, play hard) At the time I was in, the accepted mindset was largely: Drinking hard is upholding tradition. In hindsight, it's easy to see how damaging it was... the failure to educate young Marines, men and women alike, about the dangers of alcoholism and abuse.

Especially a Marine like me, who was/is genetically predisposed to alcoholism and started drinking at age 14.... I'm now 39, a month removed from 40. That's 25+ years of not just drinking, but often times abusing. Fortunately, in the 18 years that have passed since being diagnosed, my drinking pattern has changed. It's no longer a case of the "Get drunk or go home" mentality that I subscribed to in the Marine Corps. Now... it's more along the lines of "Do I want a beer? I do, so I'm going to drink a beer" I don't drink everyday and I go days in between. I don't have to drink, but I just like to do so. It's that simple. Sometimes I over drink though and that is what scares me. I'm with friends or in a drinking setting and all of a sudden, I turn into Kesha. I'm like "No, the party don't start until I walk in"

It's troubling because more often than not, my kids see it. What message am I sending, in addition to the alcohol ads that proliferate the television airwaves coaxial cable/satellite signals, to my children. Drinking is what adults do? It's cool?

Have never encountered this situation
when drinking a Bud Light

The answer is a resounding: NO. Dad is an alcohol abuser at times and this is exactly what you have to avoid; experimenting with and drinking young... because of our genetics.

Use of alcohol is okay. WHEN YOU"RE OF LEGAL AGE and in moderation. You don't have to kill a 6 pack or 12 pack because it's in the fridge and you can get more. Be smart. Have a plan when you drink and never get behind the wheel, ever. Pick up the phone and call a sober driver.

These are the things I am vowing to tell my children. To make sure they understand. Cycles have endings and my family's cycle needs to end now.

Munch 

The Gun Control Debate

Munch here... going on record about Gun "control"

Stop comparing this argument to Hitler's takeaway of guns or that Obama specifically, is trying to takeaway guns. That's not going to happen. The President does not have that power. Do people even read the constitution anymore or know what it takes to repeal an ammendment?

Stop blaming "assault" rifles as the problem. Is there a "polite" rifle, dumbass?
      a) a bullet from a .22 will kill you just as dead, as a bullet from a .308.
      b) a .22 rifle is just as semi-automatic, as an A/R-15... that means as quickly as someone pulls the trigger, a bullet is sent downrange. An A/R-15 may look more badass, but it is no more deadly than a .22 in the hands of a marksman.
      c) If a weapon is used in a tragic event and the perp is spraying down victims with a fully automatic weapon... that weapon was illegally obtained or was stolen from a citizen who was licensed to own said fully automatic weapon. The licensing process for obtaining a fully automatic weapon is heavily regulated. "You have to get what's called a "Form 4" from a class III gun dealer, fill it out, send a check for $200 to the Treasury Dept. and successfully pass a background investigation. Over and above that, on your form 4, is a space that has to be signed by the "chief law enforcement official" in your county. Without that signature, the form is not accepted. The Treasury Dept. will cash your check for $200 and keep the money whether you are approved or not. When the form is accepted and approved, and you pass your background investigation, the BATF will send it back to you, advising you that you can go purchase your weapon. You are then subject to inspection by the BATF at any point after that. You may not sell or give the weapon away without the prospective buyer going through the same process as you went through" <<< borrowed/plagerized.

So if someone goes to the trouble of obtaing an illegal weapon Do you think they give two fucks about what the "law" says they may own? <<< Not borrrowed

Look... I know that the framers of the constitution did not envision the weapons of today. The intent of the 2nd Ammendment was to establish a well armed militia, WHO HAD FUCKING MUSKETS,  and to not infringe upon the rights of the peoples / citizens to be armed and defend themselves and their property. For some people who own farms and ranches, this is still a very real and needed right.

This idea that people have, that Congress needs to pass legislation for "CONTROL" of guns. Why? Do the responsible citizens, who live their life following laws, need MORE regulation? My problem with gun "control" is that the control ONLY effects those who are already responsible and following the existing laws.

So... What we do need? How about we start by utilizing some common sense? More people concerned about each other? People that look out for their neighbors and their neighbors' kids? We need to get our heads up, put our cell phones down and look the FUCK around... FUCKING be observant. Be vigilent. If something feels or looks shady... IT PROBABLY IS. Call the police. Call the school. Tell them you see, what you perceive to be a threat and then let them make the call if it's a threat. They are trained to do so. Don't hope for the best or dismiss your gut feelings. Better to be safe and embarrassed than sorry.

You're an adult, trying to gain access to a school? Why? Do you have a child there? No, good... go fuck yourself. You're picking someone up or waiting? Great, please wait in the parking lot, where you will be monitored on video and if we think you're shady, the police will be called to investigate.

Parents... please educate your children on guns and gun safety!!! What guns are, what they are capable of, to respect them as being deadly if not handled correctly. That the killing they see on video games is not real life. It isn't glamorous. Bullets make big messes. The consequences are forever, never to be taken back.

Kids. My opinion is this. Criminals very RARELY shoot children. It's not their MO. Regardless of that, criminals dont give two fucks about gun control. They're still gonna have guns.

So who is doing this killing? What I am seeing is this... teens or kids barely into their 20s, committing these horrific acts. Why is that happening? I still think we're dealing with a lot of mental health issues. Kids that were abused or bullied. Think a kid is being abused? FUCKING call someone. See a kid being bullied? Throttle the little, punk ass bully, call his parents and hope his Dad whoops his ass again! Next, sit down with the victim. Make sure he is okay. Talk to him, smile, re-assure him that adolesence / puberty is the absolute shitiest time of his life, but in the end... it will work out with a little bit courage and the willingness to talk to someone when needed.

Still worried about the kid? Talk to his parents! Scared of their reaction? Talk to the school! They will keep you annoymous. Some of these tragedies could be prevented. All we have to do is take care of  and look out for one another. Love one another. Do unto others. These steps aren't hard to take for cryin out loud and we could save lives in the process.

Stop making this a political issue, because it isn't.


MUNCH  

I am WOMAN!

While I am not actively involved with Blogger Idol, as I’m too lazy to check out how the whole process works, there was an assignment in Week 2… "a day in the life of me, but from the perspective of the opposite gender" Interesting… I mean maybe not a day of my life per se… but just to write a blog, about a day, from the perspective of the opposite gender. I mean... write the female version of me. This has got to be awesome. I apologize for the length in advance, but it was unavoidable. Apparently, I'm one of those "chatty" girls. As always... feedback is key. 

 

A day in the life of Danielle..

 

6:45am- A weight shifts on my husband and I’s bed.  My eyes slowly open. In the bright sunshine of our naturally lit and spacious bedroom, I see my husband sitting next to me on the bed. He has a smile in his eye and bends down to kiss me softly on the lips. A cup of my favorite morning blend coffee is in one hand. With his free hand, he tucks a strand of stray hair behind my ear. He says “Good Morning Beautiful, time to get up.” He sets my coffee down on my nightstand and gives my pert bottom a playful smack. As he gets up, he smiles at me mischievously, (reminding me of last night’s amazing activities) and then walks out the door, towards our children’s rooms. He has already dressed for work. I can smell his sandalwood scented aftershave, as it wafts across the room. He is so gorgeous. Still the man I feel in love with. He works out every morning, rarely drinks and his body is still as lean and hard as it was, when we first started dating. I smile to myself, as I swing my legs out of bed onto the floor. I reach for my peignoir robe and satin mules. I go into our large, marble master bath and complete my morning toilet. I wash my face, brush my hair and then my teeth. I step on the scale lastly and see the same number that has greeted me every morning, other than when I was pregnant. Some things should never change and I’m proud that my weight is still that, from when I was in college.  

7:15am- I go down the stairs and walk into our designer kitchen. I see my husband and my beautiful children at the table, eating their breakfast; which my husband prepared for them. He is such a fantastic cook. I say “Good Morning” to my children and kiss their cheeks. I think to myself how lucky I am, that my boys don’t turn or fuss when I kiss them. They go back to their discussion on who’s the better Superhero. "Duh", I think to myself, it’s Ironman; but I let them go on about Superman and Batman. I place a well manicured hand on my husband’s shoulder. When he looks up at me, I quickly plant a brief, but memorable kiss on his lips and graze my finger along his ear lobe. Something I know drives him crazy, but in our current situation… he is helpless to do anything about. I whisper into his ear “Payback for that smack, maybe later Mister”. He smiles and says “Count on it” 

 



Springtime Chic!!!

8:00am- I’m in my master closet deciding what to wear. My husband and the boys left for work and school a few minutes ago. I’m meeting with some Blogging Mommies today and we’re meeting at Easton for lunch. Not to dressy I think to myself, I don’t want to shove our wealth in anyone’s face. Hopefully our lunch goes quickly and I can do some shopping later. Let’s see, “what to wear or what not to wear”, I ask myself.  “Not too Nordstrom’s and certainly not too Old Navy” With that I choose

 

1:00pm- Lunch at California Pizza Kitchen. I choose a light Chicken Caesar Salad and a glass of White Zin. Soon enough, we’ve gotten caught up and we chose which Blog Her convention that we’ll all be attending. Yay!!! I can’t wait. We’re going to Chicago! I love the downtown Macy’s. It’ll always be Marshall Field’s to me… but things change. I’m just happy the landmark is still there.

4:00pm- I’ve just finished my Blog post for the day and regaled my followers with tales of today’s trip to Easton. I’m sure I’ll have to go on later and reply to comments.

5:30pm I’m in the process of finishing up dinner. It’s a new Pinterest recipe! Yay!!! I Can't Wait! It looks and smells FANTASTIC! 

9:00pm The boys are in bed. I’m laying on our large oversize, sectional couch and reading a book. I'm enjoying some wine and my new book, "Gone Girl". I can’t believe the nerve of this guy Nick! I just know that he killed his wife. "What a jerk!" I think to myself.. "Poor Amy"  I look to my own husband. No... my guy could never be like Nick. He is watching some football game. Fortunately though, it’s mostly background noise, as he is giving me the most amazing foot massage. His hands feel so good and now I’m starting to lose interest in the book, in favor of his touch. After about 10 minutes, he moves up and straddles me and begins to rub my back. I just love he is so in tune with the little things I enjoy. Foot massages and back rubs... I love the way he always just spontaneously does it with no prompting. :-) Oh GAWD… his hands feel so good. I mean REALLY good. Time to pay the Piper I think to myself, as I did say "Maybe later Mister" earlier today. I turn over and smile sweetly at him. I then reach up around his neck and fiercely pull him to me, kissing him hungrily on the mouth. The backs of his hands softly graze my breasts and....

 

 



DEH DEH DEH DEH DEH DEH

 

OH Shit…. 6:45am? That bastard hit the damn Snooz button on the alarm. Fuck! We’re all late. I fight and untangle myself from the sheets, which  I’ve managed to wrap myself up like King Tut’s mummy in. Quickly I kick at my husband’s back and yell at him to get his ass out bed. Shit, shit, shit … I hate being late! 

 

I run into my son’s room blinding him into awareness and in the process stepping on several fucking Lego’s, which my son can’t be bothered to put the hell away. Note to self.. throw all this shit away while he is at school. Fortunately, my somewhat loud and wholly unintentional “FUCK” as I stepped on the damn Lego’s, has awoken him and he is now scurrying to get ready… bonus. Maybe today won’t suck.

Hello... I'm Marty and I'm here to scare the
beejeebus out of you. Our specials today include...

My teenage daughter is fortunately already up and getting ready… bonus… wait no.. I have to use the downstairs restroom and I REALLY have to pee. Shit. I run down the stairs and make it to toilet in time. (barely, why the fuck do the drawstrings on women’s pajama pants get so fucking tight?) Ahhh... Much better, thank you. I reach out for toilet paper… OH MY FUCKING GOD!!! There is a fucking spider on the damn toilet roll! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit… don’t scream I think to myself, as I’m sitting here helpless with my pajamas and panties around my ankles and nothing to blast this mother fucker to kingdom come with. Damn teenagers… it’s her fault. Why did she use our bathroom to get ready I wonder. "Okay, think Danielle, you can do this." I grab a spare roll from under the counter, finish my business and pull everything into place. The spider hasn’t fucking moved… I think maybe it’s dead? Smart mom then chimes in and says “Don’t fool yourself girl, that motherfucker wants to eat you! Kill it! Summon your Xena: Warrior Princess and smite that sucker into oblivion!” Yeah.. I think to myself, I can do this. BULLSHIT!!! This is my husband’s job and one of the few things he is good for. He deserves to deal with this, especially after hitting the snooze… and after the not so amazing night he thought it was. I quickly grab a glance in the mirror, smile smugly to myself and let loose like a little girl. I scream… loudly. My husband comes huffing and puffing, from the one flight excursion of stairs looks at me and yells “What the hell is wrong?” I point at the spider and say “KILL IT”. He smiles at me and laughs… he says “Really? Oh my God, Danielle, it’s JUST a spider!” “It is not, JUST a spider." I say "It’s a disgusting hairy thing that has eight fucking legs and probably has 50,000 baby eggs inside of it, waiting to hatch all over me if I touch it. I will NOT KILL it! YOU do it!!”. He smiles at me, looking at me tolerantly (I swear at this moment I want to stab him… after sex maybe, like a Preying Mantis) He looks at me, grabs the spare tissue tissue roll, tears off a few sheets and uses it to squish the spider. I look at him and say “Thank you, now I’m not going to die”

7:15am- I'm standing in the kitchen, while my son is eating. I've just tasted the first sweet drop of caffeine nectar in my coffee. In that moment, I know I will not die today. I throw a Lunchable into my son's Transformer lunch box.  “I don’t want anything to eat for breakfast. I'm dieting", states my daughter. Fuck, I don't have time for her drama this morning and I'm still kinda pissed at her for the whole bathroom/spider thing. "Fine", handing her five dollars," just get breakfast at school" At least I know she'll get something there... she always does. Unfortunately I'm out $5 bucks for my smokes... A bad, nasty habit I enjoy because it keeps me sane.

8:00am- Thank God the husband and kids are gone... I can breathe. Think, what needs to be done today? Bathrooms? Meh.. Laundry? Eh... yeah I can get another day out of this bra. New Blog Post? So much pressure.. Facebook? oh who am I kidding. Let's do this thing! Coffee? check! Clean sweats? check! Logging into my page as the: puttogetherbloggingmother.blogspot.com? Check!
No traffic... "Shit' I say to myself. I call my only real blogging friend Stacie and ask her to please give me some "love" and promote my page on hers... I finish the call and tell her "Thank you sooo much! I owe you" I hate that Stacie is so cool and I'm not. 

1:00pm- Lunch... I'm not hungry. I'm thirsty. I want something sweet. Hmmm,, wine is sweet. Shit, I just drank half a bottle of wine. Oh well, might as well kill it. 

4:00pm- I've finished my blog post. I'm starting the screen and hitting the F5 refresh key every minute. No comments. "I suck at this!" I scream out loud and look down to see our dog nodding his concurrence. I starting to cry. I hate being unpopular... Then I realize, Wait, that can't be it, because I'm awesome. "I bet Stacie forgot to promote me. That's it. I'm sure of it" I say to myself. Where did that new glass of wine come from? Oh well, waste not, want not.

5:30pm- Disaster... STUPID PINTEREST! I hate you!!! The recipe I wanted to try is an unmitigated disaster and it taste like shit. Christ, is there anything else we can have? I look in the cupboards... empty. I look at the clock...silver lining... Hubbie just got the kids and he can pick something up. I dial my husband's cell. "Hey sweetie, can you please pick up something for dinner?" I ask. "Yeah, sure" he responds. "But why? I thought you were trying some Pinterest thingy out" he continues. I lie and say "We were out of the right ingredients." He then asks "Why didn't you just go to the store then and get them? I mean you had all day, didn't you?" I don't answer. I hang up. Sometimes cell service in the house is spotty. 

9:00pm- The kids are in bed. I'm bushed. I'm tired. Hubbie and I are on the loveseat in the den and this fool is looking at me, like he wants to go a round in the sheets, which still haven't been washed. "Be a trooper" I tell myself. I lived through college and I know I NEVER washed those sheets my Freshman year. Fuck it... I'm feeling two bottles of wine and I'm bloated and gassy from all the salt in the takeout, which hubbie picked up for dinner. I explain that I'm not feeling well and ask him to rub my back, he responds with "I have something for you that needs rubbed" Great... Thanks Mr. Romantic. I just told you I feel like shit. Would it kill you to offer to rub my back or my feet? It's not like I spend my days fucking off and doing nothing... well excluding today. But a girl needs her mental health days and such was today for Danielle... female, stay at home blogger Mom.

My Christmas Musings

 

My post today was inspired by Justin over at Daddy Knows Less and his post So This is Christmas. I've been following Justin for awhile now and I am proud to call him a friend. At least an acquaintance... He lives on the East Coast, we've never met and his Blog is way cooler than mine. I don't know if our witty comments back & forth on our respective Blogs and FB qualifies us as friends, but I like to think it does. Merry Christmas DKL. I wish you, your Director, Peanut and Luna the very best that the season has to offer.  

And with that....

Christmas... I love it; I hate it; I want more of it; I want less of it... all at the same time.

I love the spirt of the season. I see JOY. I see HOPE. I see LOVE for our fellow man / woman. I see families loving each other & coming together, I see random acts of kindness, people smiling at strangers and treating others as they would be treated. I love seeing these looks on my kids faces...



Buzz is so fricking cool!!!

Nope... NOT UGGS!!!

 

 

 

I love my family. I love spending Christmas Dinner with them.... and I loved it when Special K tried to camp out, to catch a peek at Old Saint Nick. (she didn't make it... do they ever?)



Twin going in for some green bean casserole!

Special K waiting for Santa



I hate that these feelings and acts don't last all year. I hate that in the days leading up to and on the one special day we celebrate the birth of Christ, we are at our best. The next day and the days after... not as much.

Most of all, I hate that my parents are gone. Gone to place where I can't call them and say Merry Christmas. Gone to a place from where they cannot visit their grandkids & children on Christmas. Christmas 2004 was the last Christmas we would spend with my Dad. It was also the first and only Christmas that he got to celebrate with his only granddaughter.




Dad and KK in the only photo I've been able to find of them together








 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a Christmas surprise I'll never forget, as I didn't know my Mom and Dad were coming into town. It was the best present I've ever gotten. One I'll never forget. Especially as I ran into my Dad as I bounding down the steps in a rush. Why was I in a rush? Good question... Pants in The Family tricked me... she implied that the surprise guests were people I hadn't seen in years. I scrubbed this bitch till it shined cleaned this house from top to botttom in order to make a good impression. I think Pants in The Family just did it to get a free house cleaning out of me. I'm onto you woman!

Christmas 2009 was the last we would spend with Mom. It was the last time she baked cookies with Special K and Pants in the Family. Christmas Cookie baking days have been hard since. I didn't stick around for it in 2010. I couldn't. I kept seeing Mom sitting in her chair decorating cookies and gabbing with KK.

    


This year I stuck around. I even decorated a cookie for my Mom. I still saw her sitting there at the table. She was smiling. That's how I get through the Holidays. I know my Mom and Dad are still there. Smiling and Laughing. Wishing us the best and looking over us.

Merry Christmas Mom and Dad.

 We love you and we miss you.

Munch