Fed Up Friday - Everyday Life

Oh, it has been a LONG time, but here it is Friday and I have a long list of grievances waiting to be typed out. This blog has turned into a political forum because we are living in a clusterfuck of craziness, led by the orange clown and his cronies but, surprisingly, this Fed Up Friday is not about them. It is shocking... I know. On top of the dumpster fire that we see on the news every day, I have even MORE nut-tastic behavior to highlight, so here we go.

My kid is a night owl and has attempted to stop napping during the day. Oh, I am not ready for that bullshit, so the (not nice) sign (which clearly says NOT to ring my doorbell) I put on our front door before she was born is still up there (and will remain there for the foreseeable future). So imagine my surprise when someone rang my doorbell - TWICE - and knocked on the door like the police... after Kensie FINALLY laid her little ass down for a nap. I have a crying baby, barking dogs and some moron banging on my door. I opened the door with what could only described as the "I am totally going to fuck up whoever is on the other side of this door" face. Let me just say- I live in my childhood home. I know my neighbors (and their kids). This shit BETTER be an emergency... because I have a toddler screaming in my ear. But guess what? It wasn't. This muthafucka said "do you have a lawnmower I can borrow?" Now I should have prefaced this with... I DO NOT KNOW THIS MAN. And he wasn't coming with a "hey, I'm your new neighbor from down the street" or "what's up, my name is____ and I live down the street." Nah, he just asked to use my mower. Bitch, what? When I tell you that I cut my eyes at him so hard... I have been trying to not say curse words (out loud) because my miniature person running around here is an impeccable mimic, so I kept the "fuck you" look all over my face, yelled "no" and slammed the door. Then I spent 15 minutes bribing the kid with pasta and red sauce so she would stop crying.

This week I read a story about a clerk at CVS in Chicago calling the cops on a Black lady trying to use a coupon. That dude needs his ass beat. I mean, honestly. If you employ the police for non-emergency, nonsensical matters on purpose you deserve a fine at the very least... and your ass served to you on a platter at the very most. Get your whole life together. I do know that all the managers involved were fired from CVS - rightfully so. If you are that scared of People of Color, you need to keep your ass in the house, at all times. What makes the situation worse? The dude that called the police is running for an Alderman position (city council). You want to represent a constituency that scares you? Pathetic asshole.

The last story I have for y'all is supposed to be a feel good story. Supposed to be. There is a media blitz circulating a story that a woman was able to take a proper maternity leave because her co-workers banded together and donated their vacation time to her. First of all: good for that new mama. Her co-workers are stellar. I don't know what I would have done if I HAD to get back to work two weeks after Kensie was born. I mean... I would HAVE to go back to work, but I really feel like it would have been detrimental to both me AND her. So, I have nothing but love for her co-workers. What they did was extraordinary. My issue is: what if her co-workers were not so generous? They should not HAVE to donate their vacation time so a co-worker can have time off to bond with their new baby. The United States is an amazing country (most of time) but the fact that extended maternity/paternity leave is almost non-existent amazes me. The reasons for paid leave have been spelled out several times: cost of child care is astronomical; kids get sick easily; postpartum depression is real; your body isn't the only thing that needs to bounce back after you birth a kid. We want our new mama's to breastfeed-- and low key shame them if they don't-- but we also want their asses to return to work ASAP. We want new parents to raise productive, good citizens but we don't make it easy for families to spend time together during very crucial times (like right after the child is born). There have been several articles written about the slowing birth rate in America-- uh, yeah. Students graduate with extremely high debt. Folks, on average, are buying houses later in life, if at all. And even if they have kids, companies are not making it easy to bond with those children. Does that make sense? Of course it doesn't.

This is it for this week's Fed Up Friday. I am sure I will find something else to bitch about next weekend! LOL Happy Weekend, y'all.

My Own Private Idaho

I am sure that the majority of people who still read my blog remember the movie "My Own Private Idaho." It was one of the last movies that dreamy looking River Phoenix starred in before his untimely death. The title of the movie has often been used to describe ongoing craziness/self discovery in one's life. For example, you meet up with a girlfriend for brunch, she tells you all about corporate life, her rise and grind, the fantastically expensive vacation she finally went on. Then she asks you how things are going with you and your response? "Girl, I am having my Own Private Idaho over here." For me, that description does not mean that life is good or bad. It means that I am surviving, rolling with the punches... shit, it means I am making it (even if I am BARELY making it). 

So, that is what has been going on over here-- I have been having my Own Private Idaho. I have been surviving. We are (kinda) making it through toddlerhood-- I will be posting more about that slice of crazy on my mommy blog. We got a new puppy, because I clearly am a glutton for punishment. I (mentally) celebrated the anniversary of my sixth year back in Ohio. Most of life has been good. And then some of it, has been awful. Just today I found out that one of my girlfriends in Chicago passed away. Just today. And while I am making it through my tasks for the day, I am utterly heartbroken. She was a good chick-- in a world where folks generally don't care about one another. She was quick with a smile, a good word, a night of dancing invite. And now cancer has taken her away from this world. From diagnosis to death was quick and trust me, we all got cheated. I will miss her, our conversations and our laughs. 

Life is... hard. At times, it is so happy-- like when my kid sings You Are My Sunshine back to me. And dammit, at times, it is devastatingly sad-- like when cancer steals people that you love, like a thief in the night. In the last three years I have lost a friend in her 30s, a friend in her 40s and a friend in her 50s. After each loss, my heart is a little less full. In between these two extremes- these polar opposites- there is the every day. The nap time battles, the potty training (baby and puppy), the making a dinner everyone will eat, the personal growth... the setbacks. Will you make it to the gym or will you be chunky forever? Will you ever have a normal social life again? Will you get that new job? That raise? A date with that hottie you saw at the grocery store? Shit, will you ever have ten minutes to update your blog-- to document this crazy thing called life? Life. The good, the bad, the in between. Our Own Private Idaho.  

April Showers

Welcome to April, folks!! There is so much on deck for this month. We will be celebrating one whole year of parenthood-- and it seems like this year has flown by. In an effort to continue to write down all the feels/frustrations/celebrations/milestones that we will see or have seen, I have joined the A to Z challenge for the month of April. The rules are simple: Every day of the month (except the first 4 Sundays) is a letter in the alphabet, April 1st = A, April 3rd = B, etc. Because April starts on a Saturday, the last Sunday will be the Z entry. Twenty six letters, twenty six entries. Both blogs. Should be a lot of work... but also fun and exciting. I am going to HAVE to schedule most of these posts in advance because toddler life is unpredictable, but I am excited to write more-- even if that means missing out on some nap time. Hopefully all these posts will be up before 8 pm, but no promises on that because, again, toddler life is traumatic for the mama! So, stay tuned... I think we are going to get to know each other well. 

King of the Castle

It has been a while. I have absolutely no excuse. Ok, I do. If you have been watching he Hot, Black and Bitter Facebook page, you know that Lefty and I are expecting what will undoubtedly be a super smartass in baby form. So, I have been sacrificing all my writing duties (and some household duties) to practice my superpower of growing a little human. Essentially, I nap... a bunch. I (generally) don't feel bad about that either. Tums have become my best friend. Tums and fiber pills. Yep, just in case you are wondering, I am tripping the life fantastic over here. But no worries-- this will not turn into a baby blog, mostly because even the title Hot, Black and Bitter is not the first thing you think of when talking about a loving mother. Right?! Also, this was never meant to be a baby blog. Or nice. Or a reference for coochie coos, baby milestones and lost teeth. This is where I come to drop words and phrases that I don't even say in front of MY mom. I have decided to keep this blog, because Lord knows having a baby is only going to make me MORE opinionated on some subjects AND start a baby blog that people can read... just in case that is your thing. So, yeah. I'll let y'all know when that goes all the way live. We can meet on the inter webs for play dates and shit. I'm pumped. So, before I start blogging here again-- because SO much shit has happened that I feel the need to share my fantastic sarcasm for ALL to see-- I want to send out a special thanks. Didn't I just say this was not the place for touchy feely bullshit? Eh, I blame it on the pregnancy hormones, so sue me. When I tell y'all that my husband is a saint... ok, he might not be a saint yet, but after a lifetime with me, he should be up for sainthood. On my best, non-pregnant, day I am a handful and a half. Seriously. I know it. Breaking into year 38 of life, I doubt that it is going to change much. Add to that some *slight* mood changes, swollen toes, needed naps and, in general, my uterus being on fire with a growing alien and that handful and a half quickly multiplies. Through it all, though Lefty has been a dream. He doesn't always know the right thing to say when I am having some dramatic meltdown, he just kind of lets me have my moment and then asks me if I need anything. He is just so chill-- a natural deterrent to my brand of crazy. Woo Hoo!! So, before I re-engage in this blogging thing I want to take a little time to say thanks to Lefty for getting cheese fries at 2:30 in the morning, listening to me whistle from my nose because of early morning congestion, letting me take naps when we are supposed to be having productive Saturday afternoons, rubbing my swollen feet when you come in from work, text messaging me to check in on my crazy ass, transporting the laundry baskets downstairs, letting these nutball canines in and out of the house and having very frank discussions about pooping... you know, total party conversations. I would not want to venture out on this limb with anyone else. Let's pray it doesn't kill us! LOL