Motherhood and the Adventurer

I'm in an incredible state of rebellion against the idea that mothers can't have adventures. I know that it's very common for people to say things along the lines of, "Oh, yeah, moms can still have fun!" That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about, you have a kid, and all of the sudden people expect you to immediately end all crazy behavior in your life. Ridiculous!

DISCLAIMER: Some people just aren't naturally crazy or adventurous. Nothing wrong with that. In fact, we NEED those people, because doing crazy shit just isn't as fun unless you have to convince some reluctant individual to join you in your endeavor, or at least watch in part awe, part annoyance. And, there are definitely some things you shouldn't do as a mother. You can't do things that have a high probability of causing death, imprisonment, or total disability, because who the hell is going to take care of your kids in one of those situations? (If something happens to you, someone will take care of your kids, I'm just saying, you shouldn't be inviting those kinds of disasters as a parent.)

Now that we have that out of the way, I would like to address the actual point(s) of the blog, which is basically to make an extended statement to all of the seven billion people of the world. I will be lucky if two people actually read it. I'll faint if they get to the end.

I'm not going to stop partying with my friends until the sun comes up! I'm a mom, so I'm not going to practice that sort of thing on a nightly basis, but it's still going to happen! (But not until I get off probation.) (I don't know if you're reading this Christine, but I'm serious! PISS TEST ME!) it's going to take some more planning than it would have before I had my kid, yes. I'm going to have to make sure that he has someone to care for him all throughout that night. I'm going to have to moderate my alcohol consumption so that if a life threatening event happened to my son I could CALL A TAXI (you love this, Christine?) and be there in at least a reasonable state of mind to deal with what happened. I'm going to make sure someone will be there to care for him in the morning, so that I can get a few hours of sleep. But regardless, I will party until the break of dawn with my buds, at least every now and then.

I feel that this ability is going to be a great asset in my later parenting life. Slumber parties will go on and on throughout the night, and I'll be up. Listening. Watching. Waiting. And as soon as those little boogers try to sneak out the back door, I'm going to be there with a flashlight, like, "What's up, bro? Been there. Done that. Knew you were faking sleep an hour ago when I came to check on you. You're grounded." Boom goes the dynamite.

I'm not going to stop taking random road trips! If I want to up and head to Kansas City for really absolutely no reason for just one night, guess what suckers? I'm going to do it! (But not without checking with Christine at least two weeks in advance, at least for the next few months.) I'm going to drive with no destination, stay at whatever cheap hotel I find wherever I end up, make friends with some random people, and do whatever is awesome to do in that town. Because that's awesome.

Guess what? Give it a couple years. My kid's going to be coming with. Seeing the world, one random, overnight road trip at a time. Talk about well-rounded, well traveled. He's going to be in fifth grade and be like, "Yeah? You went on a Disney cruise? I've been to 78 small towns in the greater Midwest area. We slept in cornfields."

Speaking of fields, do you ever just drive past a field and think, man that would be a great field to do some cartwheels in? Me too. Except, if I've got the time, I'm going to get out and do them.

I love dancing in the rain! Give me a fantastic downpour, and you will see me outside, spinning around, people stare at me and I don't care. It's great. Most refreshing feeling you'll ever have.

I've already shared that with my son. He's two years old, it starts raining, my roommate isn't home. I'm like, "Ok, no one to watch the kid. Do I sacrifice this beautiful gift from the sky?" I think you already know the answer, but I'll say it anyways. NO! I grab him from his bed, take him outside, and introduced him to the glory that is rain. Slowly, because he's only two and he gets scared easily and I didn't want the poor kid to hate the rain forever because of some psychological scar I gave him throwing him in too soon. First, we stood under the overhang, and we just stuck our hands out into the rain. Step by step, while holding him, I walked farther and father into the rain, and once we got comfortable, we spun, and laughed, and hugged, and kissed. (We love hugs and kisses, he's young, I'm enjoying it while I have it.)

You know what really just gets my goat? Nobody thinks fathers should stop living an adventurous, crazy life. The things I mentioned, or the male equivalent since cartwheels and dancing in the rain might be weird for a guy, would MAYBE be worth a little shake of the head, or a tsk tsk. No one would sit there and question the ability of that father to be a good parent. SEXISM.

So basically, mothers can still be adventurous. If you have more adventure stories, I totally want to hear them.

Why I Have a Problem Writing Papers

So I haven't written in a while but it's not like anyone reads it anyways.

The reason I hate writing papers, particularly papers in classes, is because I believe writing is an art form. If I'm putting a lot of time and effort into an essay, I want it to be personal, I want it to cause an emotional response in my reader.  I don't want to simply write plain, boring words about a plain, boring subject. The cookie cutter form of today's acceptable essay leaves little room for expansion. (You all know what I'm talking about, attention grabber, filler, thesis, body body body-following the layout of the thesis, summary, call to action, restatement of thesis.)


That's all.