Happy Baby

Happy Flowers. Comment if you know what kind they are.

Edward bunched his socks like he usually does when he’s decided that his day is now complete. (I don’t know why he does this. They have to be unbundled before they’re thrown in the wash, but at least the exterior is clean.) Facing Guinevere in her toddler seat, he sat on the rug and called out, “here, Guinevere, catch!” He tossed them each gently to her. She was unfazed, observantly wide eyed.

“Edward, don’t be so mean,” Bailey chided. She rubbed her large belly, curled casually on the couch.

“I’m not, look. She’s picking it up.”

Guinevere extended her hand to the bundled cloth hesitantly, looked up and saw that we were watching her expectantly. Her expression clicked from naïve to mischievous, and she ‘chuckled’.

She wheezed and grunted like an old man, even poking out her chin, pulling the skin from her lower face and neck. Edward responded with a sort of Mikey Mouse chortle that sounded like the character running from a snapping dog. Somehow these things sounded similar. She got excited and chuckled more enthusiastically. They went back and forth this way until Guinevere was so passionately wheezing and whatever other noises she was making while simultaneously rolling her wrists and ankles the way she does when she knows she’s being watched,  and Bailey couldn’t breathe because she was laughing so hard.


Troll Week

My husband is a troll.

troll2verb 1. informal make a deliberately offensive or provocative online posting with the aim of upsetting someone or eliciting an angry response from them -Google

He trolls for the sake of enforcing justice, so he only really trolls bullies and other trolls. It gets him in trouble sometimes, but I love that about him.

Another troll I respect is John Oliver, host of Last Week Tonight. On August 16th he did a segment on televangelists, specifically the ones who buy private jets for cash that had been donated and use them for personal use in the name of the church. Then, following all the legal guidelines (some accidentally), he created a legal entity recognized as a church, named Our Lady of Perpetual Exemption. He proceeded to ask for money, because he could, and when the IRS looks at him and says, “What the hell are you doing?” he will turn around and respond, “What the hell is your problem with me, if you let these televangelist pull the same bull$#1t through deception?” I’ve never considered myself to be attracted to a person for their looks, but rather to their intelligence and ambition, and John Oliver’s got it.

I would like you all to give a round of applause to the hackers who exposed Ashley Madison users. Was hacking wrong? Absolutely. Was distributing personal information (real names, addresses, email addresses, phone numbers, credit card information) wrong? Undeniably. Exposing cheaters? The idea is Machiavellian in nature to believe that the means are justified by the end. I can’t answer for the hackers about whether or not it’s worth it, but I’m going to think positively about the results. I don’t like to think of myself as being judgmental, but I recognize that we can’t even fathom what perfection is, much less accomplish it, and I can’t help but find humor when my relationship is considered ‘consented infidelity’ (as if) and yet respected individuals are being exposed for not following the rules of monogomy. (For those of you who want to feel ashamed, this is for you.)

And to the trolls that expose the flaws in our laws, let’s raise our glasses in toast. By following the law, a profile for someone who doesn’t exist was submitted as a presidential candidate. Make sure you vote next year for presidential candidate, whether or not you decide to vote for Deez Balls.

And for desert, on the last day of the week, my fortune cookie surprised me.

"Okay, I'll come back later, get some rest."
“Okay, I’ll come back later, get some rest.”

Therefore, in honor and recognition of the trolls who make us laugh, shake our heads solemnly, or revise our laws, I want to invite you to celebrate troll week every year, starting on the third Sunday of August and ending that Saturday. (Next year in anticipation of voting season is going to be particularly eventful.)

On Teaching Babies (at Six AM)

The street lights illuminated her saucer-sized eyes, which drifted sleepily side to side in a daze at 5:45 in the morning. I recognized the voice on the radio. “It’s Eminem,” I informed her. Her eyes drifted to mine, oblivious, and then away again. I have and will continue to teach her things even if they go over her head, no matter that she’s seven and a half months old. I chuckled at the lyrics.

“I don’t like Eminem,” Bailey stated. She slouched at the other side of the car seat, hair lit orange at each passing streetlight. Guinevere turned to stare at her.

“I do. He’s really popular in Germany, too.” I couldn’t tell if Guinevere liked Eminem.

I imagined a voice criticizing my parenting. It’s easy to imagine when you’ve been in court over it for a year and a half. It’s also easy to imagine a lot of things at almost six am. You let your child listen to this music? they would say. (Now, I realize that people wouldn’t say something about exposing a baby to mature language [I don’t think] but I’ve been surprised by a lot of things lately). Yes, I would retort. I would not say that she’s just a baby and doesn’t know any better, though. I would say that Eminem makes good music, and his lyrics communicate many relevant statements. I don’t believe that I should shelter my baby from reality and cover her ears from ‘bad words’. She needs to know that words are just words, so that when she goes to school, instead of crying to me that some kid called her gay, she can make a witty retort to them about homophobia.

Imma Be NaNoWriMo-ing

I love literature, and I love my followers.

I lost motivation. I’d become thinned out so much just from work. The court case is far from over, but we can’t take a swing as fast as we’d like without money to push us forward. “What do you do outside of work?” Laundry and dishes. I wonder what I can do to rejuvenate me. What kind of things did I used to do for fun? Does it matter? Because all my free time goes into seeing how much I can unpack or whether I can make a dent in the chores.

During my breaks at work I would use my precious data to read the blogs of my followers from my phone. It’s been a pleasure reading your work, dear readers, and has helped me to get a little inspired again. Reminded that I’m a literature addict, I dug around for more. In Sublime Curiousity’s post How Many Novels Can There Be? I learned that there was a National Novel Writing Month.


There’s this terrible plot I came up with years ago when I was eating a homemade quesadilla I made at Anakin’s house and I looked outside at the gloomy weather. Let me tell you how naïve it is, I came up with this before I was in eighth grade, and I’m a sheltered child who didn’t know what she was thinking, but I wanted to be a child prodigy so I wrote it. As I raced my uncoordinated fingers over the keyboard, listening to the vintage radio built into the wall to songs like The Way I Are for motivation, I thought I was f***ing genius. And then I would put it down for two days, go back and think I was f***ing stupid for thinking I could pull this off.

On a side note, Anakin read the damn thing without asking me, rubbed it in my face, and ignored the fact that my protagonist was abused by his father. I had to vent, thanks for tolerating me. But now I probably have to change the title to make it harder for him to find me, I hadn’t considered that previously. Yes, I think he’s stalking me, he’s that creepy.

Now I think, “who cares how crummy the plot was? I have life experiences to beef it up and make it palatable, and no one knows how it used to ‘supposed to’ be. I can do what I want, change it dramatically, as long as I write over 50,000 words in a month!” Why I think I can manage this with two jobs and a kid during the month we have a baby due, I don’t know. But I feel moved to get more involved in writing, and especially sharing my writing, and this seems like a good stepping stone. The hardest part right now is not jumping in for another two and a half months.

I’m also using NaNoWriMo as a way to talk to Gwendolyn (our oldest) about writing, which is an interest we share. I told her about it, and I’m proud to say that I’m the first to introduce her to it, so I feel accomplished that words were shared between us for the first time. We were secretly avoiding each other to avoid the awkwardness that could arise. I haven’t warned her yet that I can be very awkward, I thought it might make things awkward if I did.

…I’ll stop talking now.

Legally Married

“So, how do you feel?”

“Nervous. Why am I nervous? Ishouldntbenervous we’ve beentogether three years…”

Alice chuckled at me. The plaque on the door said 120. The date was 9/20. Don’t forget this date. Edward and Bailey were hunting down an ATM. I continued reading the walls. I read and reread a flyer demanding to have your IDs and the fee of $81 handy. Behind the desks were figurines of couples and an upside-down heart that Alice and I couldn’t help but eye warily, pondering the intentions of the artist. My hair was pissing me off again and I was mad at my shoes and why didn’t I take a little more time getting ready.

They returned. Bailey played with the bills in her hand as I addressed the clerk behind the counter. We weren’t the only lesbian couple. No one seemed to care that we came with another couple, either, even though we seemed to be the only ones who did. Plural marriages are still not legal, but now we can all be married. I never considered, especially given the nature of my relationship, that I could actually get married. continue