Tag Archives: Writing

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The Church of The Fallen Soldier

I appreciate soldiers for everything they do for us as Americans. They fight wars, risk their lives for us to have the freedom to speak as we will. As a writer, and a very opinionated one at that, I love that I have the right to say whatever I want, when I want to. Essentially, they fight so I have the right to be a mouthyand I love that right. Thank you soldiers and the constitution for allowing me to live like a jerk.

I can’t help but to think of this when I read that the Westboro Church group went to a wake for a hometown soldier dying in a car crash. I’m glad they were able to celebrate their right of speech to protest a soldier’s wake. We live in a country where their voices are allowed to be heard, no matter how crazy we might think they are. Wait, I think I may have passed the right of freedom of speech here and crossed into slander. I’ll have my legal team look into this. In my humble opinion though, if they have the right to protest because they don’t like gay people and think they are the cause of everything wrong in the world, I have the right to protest how incredibly radical and nutty they are. Totally my opinion though, slander is serious business.

This makes me think of the recent uproar over the American’s burning the Koran. Our media downplays it as “oopsie, look what I did”, when if they had burned a stack of our bibles, we’d bomb the crap out of them. Why does one group of people have more right than another? Why can the Westboro Baptist Church have the right to insult people based on things they morally oppose, but I could hypothetically get in trouble for slander for pointing out that they are a little too radical to exist? In fact why do we pass off all Muslims as radicals, when right here in our own country, we have the Westboro Baptist Church? Are all Christians now radical terrorists? Again, just my humble opinion. This is all my opinion and nothing to do with any facts other than they did mention our hometown soldier as someone to protest.

I don’t have a problem if someone doesn’t agree with my point of view. If everyone agreed, the world would be a very boring place. I care that people frolic around with their ideals but no one else can argue with them. I don’t care that Rick Santorum doesn’t believe in birth control; I care that he thinks because he doesn’t, they shouldn’t exist. I lied; I do care that a religious person hates people based on sexual orientation, race or religion. I care because I remember my good ol’ days in Catechism classes and I remember they told me God didn’t make mistakes and he loved all his children, and these people must’ve skipped those years in their religious education. If there was a God out there, I’m pretty sure he’d care more that you were a good person than who you slept with at night.

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To Baby Reality Television

I admitted before, I watch some reality shows for the sole purpose of laughing about them. People can’t really be that crazy or dumb, right? That’s wishful thinking on my behalf I think, but it has its own entertainment factor. During boring hours of the early morning, I admit sometimes watching those baby birthing reality shows. With my recent condition, I now watch these with more scrutiny than I had previously. That is where we find ourselves today in my post.

In watching this, I realize that when I’m in the delivery room birthing this bloody child out of me, I don’t want a crowd of people in there watching blood and goo coming out of me. I don’t even want to watch it, and I don’t want to watch everyone else watching it. Maybe this makes me sound cold-hearted about the “miracle of birth”; I’m not cold about it at all. I just don’t understand why everyone and their everyone would want to watch something as grotesque as the laboring process. I also definitely do not want any bloody “crotch shots”. No one, and I really mean no one, ever wants to see these and I would rather not have my vagina immortalized on film. What if my child got hold of those photos? That’s scarring for the both of us. Then there’s the degrading factor of it all; the birthing process is degrading enough for a woman with 20 different people sticking their fingers up you and staring at things you’d rather them not be staring at. Yep, for all you expectant mothers out there, I have warned you of what you’re about to face. I’ll keep it mostly clean though, and tell you that your first push is never the baby. Don’t be embarrassed, now you expect it.

I noticed something that does make me cringe a little, and this might make me sound like a horrible person. (Because everything I just said didn’t already, right?) Why would you kiss a mucusy, bloody baby right in the globs of it, especially considering what came out before it did? I want to hold my baby when it comes out, I’ll hug its dirty little body. I think I’ll hold of the lip to skin contact until after its bath though, I’m not too much of a OCD germaphobe to say that out loud. Though with previous experience, I don’t think I have to worry since the hospital I’m going to apparently doesn’t believe in the person who spent hours birthing it should touch it first.

I think I’ve learned from these shows, that first I am an overly logical person that thinks before I feel. We are talking to the person who her husband said “if we get married, we’ll save money on health insurance” to convince me to finally take the step of marriage because I didn’t see a logical reason to get married. I think of the logistics of birth: the work, the blood, the gore. Much like everything else in life, it’s more rewarding when you work for it. After hours of painful non-epidural labor, you meet this thing that’s been growing in you for what seems like forever. That’s the biggest reward of all, when you hear the first screams and finally meet it.

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Things I Learned at the OB/GYN

Yes, another installment of my “Things I learned”. I know, you’re excited to see what happened.

The first thing I learned at the OB/GYN is that apparently I have to wait because someone decides that they should get a test that’s been scheduled for a week done right before their appointment. I’m all for a little procrastination, but I’m not for making someone wait an hour for their appointment because I was too lazy to do something a week ago. Which makes no sense, because generally they schedule them after the appointment, so you could’ve just went there on your way out. My theory is they put the lab there for that single reason of “oh I should get this done before I go”. Don’t worry, I had my Droid crossword puzzles and idiots in the waiting room to inspire this post, so I forgive you.

The next thing I learned, I should mention that I learned from a nice and intelligent group of teenagers. One was pregnant, and she decided it’d be a fun field trip for her and her friends. I know when I think of a fun day out with my friends, it’s having everyone together with me, while I’m covered in nothing but sheets while my female parts are on display. Sadly that’s not the reason I mentioned it, and I’ll ask you to prepare a /facepalm. The pregnant one says “I wonder if I can get them to C-Section this thing out of me 3 months early. I mean, its brains fully developed so it should be fine.” Her friend responded, “I’m sure it’ll be OK, you should ask while we’re there.” If you’re going to talk in the waiting room, don’t speak loud enough the entire place hears you say something stupid. Secondly, maybe being pregnant you should probably learn something about fetal development. I actually wish I was her friend in that moment to see how the exam with the midwife or doctor went. Oh, I laughed imagining what the medical practitioner’s face would look like in that moment.

The last thing I learned is that mothers don’t always know best. While sitting outside, reading the information packet my midwife gave me, a woman is walking by with her male partner and an infant in her arms. While holding her child, she has a lit cigarette hanging out of her mouth, with ashes dropping on the child’s clothes. The infant coughs, and she said “I wonder why he isn’t breathing well?” She tosses the baby to her partner, and drops the lit cigarette to the ground and walks in while her partner says “that’s why we’re here. He’s not doing so well.” It’s always sad to see a sick baby, those poor helpless beings. I might not be an expert in the medical field, but something tells me that carrying a child while smoking in their face probably isn’t helping them breathe any better. I’d also gather that smoking in a child’s face during the cold and flu season isn’t the best thing to do either. In fact, I think I’d go out on a limb and say just maybe, this is a long shot though, that blowing smoke in a baby’s face is causing them not to breathe well. Just tossing some free and unlicensed medical advice there.

And with that, I conclude what I learned. I hope any of this information is useful to you.

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Parenting 101

There are probably thousands or millions of parenting books on the market, and they make money as flocks of people go to read them. Chapters upon chapters that share what it means to be a parent and what you can do to improve on that. I think they are a sham; parents don’t need a book to tell them how to be a parent. If you need a book, you have more problems than you think.

This isn’t a knock on people who feel a little self-help is in order; I’m all for people improving because no one is perfect. That’s not the point of what I’m trying to say, the point is that basically being a parent isn’t something you can read in a book. Kids aren’t looking for a perfect parent; they are looking for “a” parent.

Now this brings us a question: What is a parent? I can tell you that donating genetics to create a human life doesn’t make you a parent; it makes you a genetic donor. I can tell you that a parent shows up to baseball games or at least just shows up when they tell you they will. A parent cuddles you in blankets with waters when you’re sick, and brags about you to their friends. A parent is simply someone who is there and loves you, and your child isn’t left wondering if you care or even remember they exist. I just told you what a parent is in a paragraph. I told you that you didn’t need any overpriced books to learn how to be a parent. You just need to show that you care.

I don’t think that being a parent is a right that anyone can give you. If you don’t stand up and take any responsibility, I don’t think you have any right to your child or to call even claim them as your child. A child is a precious gift, not one that should be tossed aside until it’s convenient. You don’t need to have that child be genetically yours, as long as you love it like it is. If you can’t appreciate your child, I don’t even know where to begin how incredibly awful people should think of you. With the thousands of people who struggle with infertility, you deserve the looks of shame you get from people who are dying for the chance to have a child to love. It saddens me to see parents take it for granted, sickens me almost, that a parent wouldn’t want to be involved. But since I hate ending posts on a sad note, I’d also love to take this moment to applaud adoptive and step-parents for loving and raising these children as their own. It takes special people to step up like that.

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My New Nemesis

At a point in a parent’s life, you come across a decision that makes you question your life as a person responsible for another life. They tell you to learn to pick your battles wisely. How do you know if the battles you let slide should be the ones you fight? It all starts with one decision that leads your child down a slippery path or a path of triumph. It is with my hands in my hair, that this time has come for me. I wonder if I should’ve fought a little harder to avoid it, but here I am today.

The nemesis: Skinny jeans. I cringe every time I’m at the store with him, and that’s what he likes. I want to tell him “no way in hell”, but I nod faking any excitement he sees. The most important thing to me is allow freedom to make decisions like wardrobe, and every trip to the store I wonder if I should fight him on the point. I suppose the problem could be a lot worse, he could prefer to only wear the same pair of black jeans every day with a dirty shirt. I should consider myself lucky that he prefers to be a fashion plate to being a “dirty looking scrubby boy”. Skinny jeans should be reserved for hipsters or girls, not for my little angel. No, this is what I face.

That was a battle I chose to back off from, there are things in his future I’m sure I’d rather waste my breath on than whether or not boys should wear skinny jeans. This doesn’t make me feel any less dirty buying them for him. I should start a group for “Say No to Skinny Jeans”, change the world one pair of pants at a time.

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Why We Don’t (Or Shouldn’t) Trust the News

I’ll start this post with a simple note: I’m not saying that one news organization is worse than any other news organization. As a general rule, I don’t trust any of them. They are a business more than an informative source that appeals solely to the audience that watches them rather than educating the viewers of what is actually going on. By keeping their own angles and biases, they keep their audiences which allow for them to make more money. It’s no different from watching anything else on television. Personally, I feel that any American should be appalled that we need to read ten different articles and watch 3 different stories on the television on the same topic to get a feel for some sort of truth. We the viewers are not well-informed, and we should be angered that these organizations allow us to follow brainlessly. Democrat or Republican or the people who are too ill-informed to decide what they are should figure out a better solution, because the businesses won’t.

With that entirely separate rant completed, I hope the point gets across what I’m about to write isn’t there to “pick on” Fox News, it’s just the news that is watched in my household and watched in awe that I saw incorrect “facts” said aloud and passed off as correct. Nothing seems to infuriate me more than watching people who are looked to for information spout out information that isn’t quite true, or even in one case is viewed as ignorant and hateful. I don’t know what’s worse, the idea the governmental organizations reciting propaganda on both sides so we trust neither or a person on a news organization people trust saying something that could easily be construed as hate propaganda.

The first issue I had occurred last week, when a guest stated that it was unfair for Catholics to pay into insurance companies that practice against their beliefs and especially the abortion pill. My first issue with this statement was he was referring to the Plan B pill, which isn’t an abortion pill, as last I checked abortion occurred after conception where the Plan B is used before conception to prevent it. I suppose that’s a minor mistake, but one that could matter when inciting the masses. The other issue was more minor, when he was saying how Catholics shouldn’t have to be forced to pay into insurance plans that offer services that they are morally opposed. I’m pretty sure Catholics help pay into my health plan, and I get all those services they are offended by. I fail to see the difference, but I suppose you could just say I’m a blind, uneducated liberal.

That wasn’t what I took the greatest offense in. Last night, I saw a member on a panel say that Islam and the Qur’an doesn’t promote peace in their religion. The quote was something along the lines of “The Qur’an doesn’t mention peace”. My religion professor at my Catholic College would be proud of my listening in anger at this. I had a flashback to his classes on Islam, and now regret not talking the field trip to the mosque, because I would’ve been able to instantly say with certainty that this was a false statement. Luckily I’m a dork that kept all my college text books, including my books on religion. These books are The World’s Religions by Huston Smith and The Major Religions by T. Patrick Burke. In reading those texts and browsing the internet (Homeland Security, I’m not a terrorist, I just wanted to be informed.), I discovered that I was right. There are several mentions of not only peace, but tolerance of others who believe in different religions. This commentator’s flaw was not only did she lack information before spreading them to the masses, she allowed herself to fall victim to stereotyping a religion based on extremists. Someone of her standing, who has a power to influence others, should have thought before saying something that I, an American who grew up Catholic, even found in poor taste and hateful. I grew up with a strong belief that I instill in my son: people shouldn’t be judged based on their differences, whether it be religious or lifestyle or race. To classify a whole religion as violent terrorist organization is what is ruining American ideals. If a Muslim had said the same about the Christians, this wouldn’t have been allowed to be said and there would be a tremendous outrage.

I apologize for a post longer and more serious than my others. I lack any patience with people in a strong position of influence to use it for their own agendas. I reiterate my point that this wasn’t an attack on Fox News as I’m sure if I watched any of the other news channels, I would find similarly false and biased agendas. Maybe I should, to prove a point that journalists need to go back to the days when journalistic integrity mattered, not how many people can we get to shovel money at us. I will admit, part of me takes the most offense of this coming from a channel that touts a “Fair and Balanced” agenda. This saddens me, since once I used to want to be a journalist. I learned quickly that I’m too opinionated to give a fair opinion on a topic, so I felt that it was against the morals of journalism to go into with a biased point of view. Maybe we need more people like me that realized if I couldn’t be fair; to find something that suits us more.

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A Day of Ups and Downs

On Friday, I woke up nervous to go to the doctors. At the last visit, she was hopeful to hear a heartbeat of the little Ginger Asian, but assured us that it was nothing but her trying to get a head start and it was too early for it anyways. Naturally, anyone would be nervous for the next appointment so my husband and I took a deep breath and went to the doctors assured that everything was going to go perfectly fine. To deny there was a pit in my stomach, I’d be lying. Luckily, the rational part of me overcame the hormonal part with my husband’s usual optimism.

My midwife is an incredibly nice and bubbly person, and greets us with a loud hello as she prepares my fat stomach for the “heartbeat” machine. Somehow naming it in my head made me feel a little more comfortable, until we heard silence when she searched for our little fetus. “At 13 weeks, we’d expect to hear something. Off to Ultrasound you go. I wouldn’t want you to wait a weekend to find out what’s wrong.”

I was shocked, completely scared and if my husband wasn’t there I probably would’ve snapped. He was there, walking me down assuring me that it was because the baby was a pain in the butt and everything was fine. “It has to be a girl, if it’s being this difficult”, he mused. I tried to laugh, but I was too scared to and fighting any normal person urge to start crying. We made it there and they didn’t make us wait long to be seen. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that grateful to someone in the medical field that wasn’t a friend.

To make this long-winded story short, she found the heartbeat very easily. It was also a good source of laughs for all of us because the little Ginger-Asian is apparently the little acrobat refusing to stay still for the technician. Leave it to me to have a baby that somersaults in the womb, and did I mention it waved to us? Yeah, that’s my future kid… the gymnastic ham. It all thankfully worked out in the end. And I wasn’t 13 weeks, I was just about 11, which explained everything. I bet it is a girl, because only a girl would give you that much of a heart attack and be that crazy.

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Things I Learned at the ER

The post is late due to a family member being sent to the ER and me waiting there for them. Luckily, inspiration can strike anywhere and there’s always a lesson to be learned when you’re out and about. That made this post a perfect opportunity for a “Things Learned” post. With a bit of luck and good faith, my family member will be better but send out some love to him anyways. And without any further delay…. what I learned today at the ER.

First thing I learned at the ER is there is no such thing as “privacy”. Sure, they put a sheet thin divider that looks just like a simple sheet to shield you from spying eyes… if you’re lucky enough to even be in a room and not sitting in a bed covered up in the hallway. As if it wasn’t enough that the hallways were filled of people in gowns looking completely degraded, I realized very quickly that not only was it possible to see more things than you’d like, you heard everything. It has nothing to do with being nosy, it has everything to do with speaking loud enough that a sheet doesn’t keep the sound in. Yes, I did hear the psych consult, and I fully believe that it was none of my business and I shouldn’t have. At least take them into a private room. They wonder why people dislike hospital, that’s why. I could probably tell you the name and diagnosis and birthday of everyone in that triage area, and I don’t feel comfortable knowing that if it were me, they’d know everything about me too.

There was only one other lesson I learned today, and it’s why I dislike people. This could happen anywhere… and it does: those people that you can’t decide if they are a) illiterate, b) ignorant, or c) just asses. I think this person was all of the above. I was sitting at the bench, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, minding my business. Then a woman from the ER waiting room wheels herself to right in front of me and the nonsmoking sign and proceeds to smoke in my face. In my pregnant state, my temper is very short, and to put me in a position that is harmful not just to me but my fetus, pisses me off. First of all lady, you were sitting in front of a “No smoking sign”, learn to read or not be an ass on your own time. As if this display of inconsideration wasn’t annoying enough, after smoking in my face, she asks me to wheel her back into the ER. If only looks could kill and be legal. She was helped, and I’m not ashamed to admit it wasn’t by me.

I hope this is a lesson out there to my readers and hopefully a hospital staffer or ten. I know you guys are understaffed and overworked and have an overload of people, but something needs to change. I also hope this is a lesson for asses, someday you will get punched for it and it will be deserved.

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The Big Game (pt.2)

Yesterday was the Super Bowl, and vengeance was not ours. Our team made very costly and stupid mistake, and the Giants were able to win again. Don’t worry, we can’t blame one person they all made stupid mistakes. Good thing I’m a Boston fan and remember when we never even made it to championship games, let alone win any of them. There’s always next year.

There was a bright side to the evening. If nothing else, I got to see Madonna nearly fall during her performance and laugh at some pretty funny commercials. The Naked M&M commercial and the Doritos commercials were my favorites. Tied at a close second, the ETrade speed dating commercials and the Skechers dog racing commercial. I will give a nice honorable mention to Betty White, who seems ageless and is always hilarious. I hope that woman never dies.

To keep this short and sweet, I’ll end it with this. While New England quietly drudges through their day, heads lowered as if our dignity died with our Super Bowl dreams. We need to remember one thing: For fans of the Boston teams that never won in our youth, we’ve been spoiled in recent times with each of our big sports teams coming home with championship titles. Winning seems to have spoiled us, and made us forget the lessons we grew up with: there’s always next year. That’s what we told ourselves constantly before, and that’s what should comfort us now.

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The Big Game (Part One)

As you could easily gather about the title, today’s blog is part of a 2 part special dedicated to the Super Bowl. On Sunday my favorite team, the New England Patriots, get to replay the New York Giants for the very shiny Lombardi Trophy. Oh I can’t wait, though this game brings me sadness realizing the football season is over. That doesn’t make me very happy at all. This part is mainly focused on the game itself, while Part 2 (which will be on Monday) will take care of the silly stuff like hopefully bragging about a Patriots win and most importantly the commercials.

I’m not scared about losing because I think the Patriots are incapable of winning, but I am a little nervous going into this game. Firstly, they’ve been making really stupid mistakes. Such stupid mistakes that it took the Raven’s kicker failing to give us a win, and the same mistakes that let the Giants win last time we faced in a Super Bowl. The Giants defense scares me more than Manning does, by a lot. Our defense scares me too, but not in the “they’re going to crush someone” sense, but the “we’re going to make a few dumb penalties and give away the game” sense.

Maybe this was all part of a bigger plan they had. The optimist in me hopes that just maybe Belichick had this in his plan the whole time. “Okay guys, let’s make them think we’re good, just not that good. Then we eke out wins to make it to the Super Bowl. Then we can really actually play football!” Wishful thinking, I know but you can’t blame a girl for trying.

In the end, anything can happen at game time and the better team always prevails. The Boston fan community has been spoiled with all the wins our teams have given us, let’s be greedy and keep it up. I’d like little George or Lenore to be born into a Patriots Championship season. Do you magic boys, we’re crossing our fingers in between eating pizza cheering for you.