Liam: “That’s NOT fair! I’ve only JUST gotten big enough to sit up front, and you can’t take it every time! We should take turns!”
Caolinn: “I’m leaving home in two years, and then you can sit up here whenever you want!”
Liam: “I’m not waiting TWO YEARS! It’s not fair!”
Caolinn: “You know what isn’t fair? That I have to have a period every month, and someday, I’m going to have to push a baby out of my vagina…that’s what’s NOT fair!”
Liam: “Mom, she’s pulling the uterus card again!”
Me: Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan.
Ryan: Yes?
Me: (Sending picture.)
Ryan: What…the…fuck…
Me: Right!? This is a thing now?
Ryan: What aisle are you in, and why? Do you have something to tell me?
Me: I’m buying tampons, and these were right there. You know…for people who are blaming faulty sperm for why they still have to buy tampons. Can we discuss the name “Pre-Seed”!?
Ryan: Can we discuss that for just $44.99 and a handjob I can get 2,000 CVS points!?
Me: Halvsies?
Ryan: Done!
It seems my son has picked up my love of statistics.
Xavier: “Did you know that in 78% of rattlesnake bites, the victims are men?”
Me: “What does that tell you?”
Xavier: “That men are STUUUUUUUPID.”
Me: “Why do you say that?”
Xavier: “Because women don’t poke things with sticks.”
(As my son saw me casually glance at a very well-built man jogging shirtless.)
Xavier: “I saw that.”
Me: “So did I.” (giggling)
Xavier: “Gross.”
I’m just gonna go ahead and show you some flowers first, before I make half of you mad.
I’m going to go ahead and apologize, because while this entire post will be fraught with references to dicks…none of them will be remotely funny. Maybe if you’re new or just really into a good dick story, read about the time I broke up with someone over Jon Hamm’s penis. It doesn’t disappoint. (Okay, huge lie, it’s an enormously disappointing story on every level, especially for Jon Hamm.)
Anyhooooo…
Today, I want to take a moment to thank Planned Parenthood. I want to thank them for the education that I was able to pursue, my health which is relatively stellar, and mostly, for giving me control over my future. It is because of Planned Parenthood, that I have never needed to have an abortion, and for the fact that I’ve never HAD to make a choice.
Thank you for giving nonjudgmental, factual, realistic education to anyone who wanted it, along with affordable birth control, to keep them safe and healthy. Your work has enabled so many millions of people to live full and happy lives, so that, when they are ready, they can have healthy families.
Thank you, Planned Parenthood, for getting me an immediate appointment when I was 20 and thought I was dying, only to find out that I was the victim of too-tight underwear. Thank you again for when I was 33, and convinced I definitely dying this time, because of a chronically unfaithful partner, and for literally holding my hand until the rapid test showed I was safe.
I’m hardly alone…I know my hands aren’t the only ones you held. Thank you for holding the hands of people that I love, who didn’t get good results, and for handling it with such love, compassion, and care, that they didn’t jump in front of buses or swallow every pill they owned. You steered them to medical help, counseling, and showed them that their lives, while altered, were not even close to over.
Thank you for providing prenatal care to women who have no insurance, but who wanted to do the right thing, and for giving easy affordable cancer screenings for women, who otherwise could never afford it, and maybe wouldn’t have gotten help until it was too late.
And yes, thank you for also providing safe and LEGAL abortion services for those that need it. Thank you for being a beacon of light, so my college roommate didn’t have her sexual assault compounded, by having her body taken over, again, by the son of a bitch who raped her. Thank you for hiring AMAZING staff, who treated her with such gentleness and compassion, that the only emotion she ever had following her procedure, was a deep and profound sense of relief. Thank you for ending the days my mother lived through, as a nurse in New York, in the 1960’s, where she saw many, many women lose their lives to blood loss and infection, because they were left to butchers when they were too poor to fly overseas, where it was safe.
Thank you for fighting for all of us, even those who fight against you, because you believe we should have options in our lives. Thank you for fighting the good fight, and getting so many millions of women through not only the best most amazing parts of their lives, but also the hardest and scariest. Thank you for taking care of our brothers, boyfriends, husbands, sons, and friends, who also count on you for their futures.
Just thank you…
(Looking at a stuffed animal her brother won in a contest.)
Caolinn: “Xavier, you said it was 11-inches tall. This is like 7 inches at the MOST.”
Me: “Yes, Caol, it’s time you learned that men frequently lie about size.”
Caolinn: *blank confused look*
(ten minutes later…)
Caolinn: “MOTHER!!! You are AWFUL!!!”
For those of you who are new…D’Avonte, easily one of my favorites (okay, they’re all my favorite), is a 6′ 3″, self-identified drag queen, who comes to school in full regalia every day. Another fun thing about D’Avonte…D’Avonte likes to pretend to be menstruating every time there’s work to avoid.
This is what happens when I’m trying to teach math, y’all. Please picture the entire conversation in a stage whisper…
D’Avonte: “Miss McMcerson…Miss McMcerson!”
Me: “What?”
D’Avonte: “I got my period. Do you have a pad?”
Me: (Shaking my head)
D’Avonte: “Miss McMcerson…I need a pad.”
Me: “This is your sixth period this month.”
D’Avonte: “I need a pad.”
Me: “What you need is a health class.”
Seamus: (Reading from his phone.) “This study claims that men who take lots of selfies are generally crazy.”
Me: “Ruh roh…having some self-reflection?”
Seamus: “Apparently, men who post them unaltered have poor impulse control and have a higher incidence of being psychopaths, but men who edit them and add filters before posting are just plain old narcissists. I always edit.”
Me: “So, the only thing keeping you from being a fucking serial killer…is a sepia filter.”
Seamus: “I better keep editing my photos.”
Me: “You better stop eating your neighbors.”
Me: “I’m sorry, I’m just not that girly. I’m basically a dude with boobs.”
Ryan: “I disagree. Yes, you can be a bit of a dude, but you can also be very girly. Strangely, sometimes, you’re both masculine and feminine, at exactly same time.”
Me: “How is that even remotely possible?”
Ryan: “Last week, you told me to change the channel because you said you were about to cry because, ‘A dog looked sad.'”
Me: “Where’s the masculine part?”
Ryan: “You told me if I didn’t turn the channel quickly, you’d, ‘Punch me in the dick.'”
Me: “Point taken.”
**For the record, I would never punch him, let alone in the dick, and he knows that it’s a figure of speech. I don’t support domestic violence in any way, especially in a manner that might impact my sex life**
Sitting at coffee with my darling George recently, we started talking about our respective love lives, at which time George expressed the opinion that I was “too choosy”. I prefer to say that I have a keener sense of bullshit than the average human being. That having been said, I’ve made a cursory accounting of the reasons why I have rejected suitors. Sadly, this list only applies to the last year, but not-as-sadly, I’m happy to report that I still stand by each and every rejection with zero doubts.
-When asked their three favorite songs…two of them were on Guns and Roses’ Appetite For Destruction, and they listed Nickleback as their favorite band.
-Led with, “So….those real?” Yeah…real, real unlikely to wind up in your mouth.
-Constantly referred to his sons as “My Boyz”. First, the z-key isn’t that much more available than the s-key, and secondly, you’re not that street…give it up, white boy.
-Told me that there was “no way” I could “say no to these baby blues.” You’re 40…no one gives a shit about your eye color at this point, and unless you’re Paul Fucking Newman, you can’t pull that shit off.
-Led with, “I really like the pants your son is wearing.” Sir, did your neighbors receive a yellow postcard when you moved into the neighborhood? Are you banned from the internet?
-Used the R-word three times in a five-minute span, even though they knew that I was a special education teacher. Riiight, so when you’re hitting on a civil rights attorney, I bet you throw some other really awesome words around to impress them.
-“I’ll get you on the back of my bike, if it’s the last thing I do.” No…just trying will be the last thing you do. You won’t remember much…the end will be swift.
-When I made a remark about having a lot of Jewish friends, said, “Oh, that’s cool. You know that they killed Jesus, right?”
-When JOKINGLY asked if he’d ever committed a crime, winked and said, “Well…it only counts if I was convicted, right.” I had the distinct feeling that I was the only one joking.
-Expressed an admiration for Glenn Beck. End of story.
-When discussing equal rights, said, “I don’t see why we shouldn’t let gay people be just as miserable, divorced, sexless, and unhappy as the rest of us.” So you want my number why? Because the best case scenario sounds this attractive?
-On the first date, brought me a dozen red roses and introduced me to the waitress as his “next wife”.
-When told I was a teacher said, “Yeah, but what did you REALLY want to be?” Well, Sir, what I really want to be now is a giant hand, so I can slap the shit out of you.
-Weird random Capitalizations in the Middle of Sentences. Granted, he chose words that he Deemed Important, but it still annoyed the Living Shit out of me.
Fisticuffs and Shenanigans 