Monday, May 21, 2012

My bloody weekend

Last night, I was lamenting that the kids and I didn't do much over the weekend. However, it occurred to me that the weekend featured more blood than usual. Not in a way that would make passers-by stare in horror, fortunately. Still, though... Events were bloodier than normal.

Saturday night, after I put the kids to bed and informed them that wolves would eat them if they didn't go to sleep, I went downstairs to enjoy some quiet time. The peace was soon broken by the sound of Ethan screaming. Then, Ben called down to me "Mom! Ethan's got blood!" Damn it. I told those wolves to wait for my signal. Seriously, though, I ran upstairs and saw my little baby boy with blood covering the lower half of his face and both hands dripping with blood. It seems he was doing a little recreational furniture climbing and broke a fall with his face. This is not the first time it has happened. Last summer, Ethan gave himself a half dozen nose bleeds from similar activities. Just like those times before, once I cleaned him up and snuggled him, he calmed down and all was well. It's worth pointing out that he gave himself a bloody nose at daycare earlier in the week from running into a pole. He's going to end up looking like Owen Wilson if he keeps this up.

Sunday afternoon, I was outside with the boys when I decided that they both looked really shaggy and could stand to have their hair trimmed. I thought I'd give it a go, despite the fact that I have never, ever, ever given either of them a decent haircut. Ever. You know that Ben Franklin quote that goes, "the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?" That totally doesn't apply here. Shut up.

I got out my hair cutting scissors and a comb and decided that Ben would be the first sacrifice upon the altar of really bad ideas. It was going fairly well right up until I snipped off a tiny chunk of his ear. He sat screaming as I ran to get some tissues and blood dripped onto his shirt and got in his hair and... oh, the humanity. I am such an ass. He stopped screaming once a bandage was applied but there was no way in hell he was going to let me near him with scissors. He didn't even want to go and let a professional finish the job I had started. I couldn't just leave him with a quarter of a haircut, so I found my clippers. Unfortunately, they were missing the adjustable guard. "Oh, well," I thought. "I'll just eyeball it," I thought. "Can't be that hard," I thought. Actually, I didn't think any of those things. I was just batshit crazy. As you can probably guess, I made the kid look ridiculous. If I had smeared some dirt on his face he could have been "Urchin #4" in a production of Les Miserables. I decided to head out and buy some brand new clippers to at least try to even things out. I told my mom my plan and her response was, "you're letting him out in public like that?!" Look, he's lucky he still has both ears, mom. Sheesh.

After purchasing the fantabulous new clippers with their various adjustable attachments and "self-sharpening" blades (how??), I finished the job while lamenting how short his hair is now and muttering that "your daddy's gonna kill me." Ben was a champ. Then, I turned my lunacy on Ethan. Ethan, who had beheld the entire spectacle from the beginning, was not going to put up with my crap. He screamed like a beast. He thrashed, he clawed, he fought, he wiggled, and he spat angry defiance at me. I bribed him with cookies, though, and got him to hold still long enough to give him a slightly longer and much more even-looking version of his brother's haircut.

Both boys have since informed me that they like their haircuts and that they still love me. Ben even told me, "I don't want daddy to kill you." I can't say that I would be as gracious and forgiving in their shoes. A good friend of mine has assured me, though, that I have definitely scarred Ben and that he'll probably fear scissors for the rest of his life. Just one more way I have made a mark on his delicate psyche.

The point I want to drive home is, I had nothing to do with Ethan's bloody nose. That's all on him.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

A Challenge

I just read an article on that pointed out how fat-shaming isn't going to make people thinner and really just creates a toxic environment. It doesn't do anyone any good, in other words. Then, I watched a snippet of the news on about a girl who was driven to suicide from bullying. This is certainly an all too familiar issue, isn't it? Topping this cake of despair is the recent passing of Amendment 1 in North Carolina that prohibits same-sex marriage AND same-sex civil unions. True, President Obama freaking finally spoke out in support of marriage equality, but it's just not enough to turn my frown upside down.

I mean, what the fuck is wrong with people?

How hard is it to be nice? How difficult can it possibly be to not bully someone to the point where they feel like death is their only option? How laborious is it to bite your tongue instead of calling someone a "fatty" or any other of the far-too numerous synonymous insults? And why the HELL is there even a debate going on as to whether or not consenting adults should be able to get married? What is this crap about the "sanctity" of marriage? You know what? Only my husband and I have any effect on our marriage. Kim Kardashian's 72-day circus of a marriage didn't undermine ours. Newt Gingrich's numerous affairs didn't hurt us. So how on earth will allowing loving same-sex couples the same damn right enjoyed by hetero folks cause marriage to suddenly become sullied? Answer: IT WON'T.

Just be nice! I don't care if your religion dictates that you can't support gay marriage. Not supporting something isn't the same as acting like a dick. Suck it up, go to church, and freaking move on. I don't care if you don't like fat people. Truth is, they probably hate you, too, or they would if they knew how hard it is for you to not be such an asshole. Fat people are out there, ladies and gents. Pointing and screaming isn't going to do a damn thing. I don't care if that kid who sits across from you in English class is socially awkward and you think his glasses look funny. If you derive pleasure from another person's suffering, you are the real freak. It's not him.

I'm throwing down this gauntlet, people of the world. Stop being mean. Try to go just one day without throwing out a racial slur or a fat joke or calling someone a "fag." For once, don't taunt that kid from your English class (or wherever). Refrain from polluting the atmosphere with hateful words/signs/slogans and then be amazed at the end of the day when you find that you didn't implode and your god didn't smite you. Check your blood pressure - I bet it's lower. And if you're up for it, take up the challenge the next day and the next. Take it up for a week, a month, a year, the rest of your life. There's this part in "The Brothers Bloom" when the character Penelope tells one of the Bloom brothers that his soul is constipated and full of grumpy, petrified poop. That's you, mean people of the world. It's time to unclench and let all that awful, spiteful poop go. You'll feel better and you'll no longer be full of shit. (ba-dum bum)