web analytics
Author

Deborah Cruz

Ann Romney, Mitt Romney, miscarraige, grief,loss

Throat Punch Thursday~ ann romney, abortion, women's rights, mitt romney, miscarriage, loss, grief,votes

Ann Romney Over shares for Votes

Ann Romney today you are the recipient of the Throat Punch. I’ve made it very clear that I feel that the politicians should back the fuck out of my uterus.  Well, now they have their wives trying to sneak them in the back way and that really pisses me off. What’s worse is they have taken to using a personal tragedy to wiggle their way into our votes. Fuck that, I see you!

In an interview earlier this week, Ann Romney spontaneously and irrelevantly burst into a speech about a miscarriage that she went through when she was in her 40’s. It’s sad for sure. I hate that any woman ever has to go through that loss and experience such a huge devastation in life; for that, my heart breaks for the Romneys. The part that bugs the piss out of me is that in the video it seemed as if the entire thing were done to make the Romney’s more approachable; more relatable. Let me be blunt. Ann Romney and her spiel didn’t seem very authentic to me. It seemed like a ploy to get the female population’s vote and that, my friends, is disgusting and despicable.

I am not saying that she did not experience a miscarriage. I am not saying that her family was not devastated. I am not saying that I am not sorry for her loss. My heart breaks for any and every single woman, even if her husband is trying to rob the rest of us women of our reproductive rights, who has ever known this life altering pain but why now? Why disclose it now? Why is it relevant now? The only answer my mind can come up with is for the votes.

Ann Romney, Mitt Romney, miscarriage, grief,loss

Ann Romney is Mitt’s Biggest Fan

In the interview, she goes off on a Stepford wife like tangent about having the miscarriage and then telling her children before leaving to the hospital. She dropped a bomb and then left before it went off. That seems kind of like an asshole thing to do to me. Then she recounts how when her 10 or 11 year old son ( yes, she was not sure.Which I found bizarre as well. I remember the day my miscarriage happened vividly and I remember the year and how old my kids were and their reactions. How can you be confused about the year? My miscarriage is burned into my brain like a torturous scar earned from surviving the hardest day of my life this far) came home and collapsed on the floor with grief. I believe that. Telling my children about our miscarriage was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

His mother told him heartbreaking news and then sent him off to school to digest it, alone. I don’t know why Ann Romeny is telling people this. It only served to piss me off more. In the interview, Mitt Romney looked moved and said that Ann never told him about how his son reacted that day. Where the fuck was Mitt? Your wife just had a miscarriage. She should be in bed dealing with her own grief, Mitt should have been the one meeting the kids when they got home from school and comforting them. Where was he? It’s just one more example of how out of touch the Romney’s are with reality. Even when experiencing a universal tragedy, they react in a way that the average family would not.

In this case of exploiting your miscarriage for votes, I kinda can’t stand the sight of the Romney’s now. Heartstrings manipulation is a crap way to get votes. In any case, what kind of a husband would ask his wife to share such a personal and painful event in her life for votes? Or worse, what kind of woman would use such a painful experience to get votes? Ann Romney, what were you thinking?

Ann Romney Sorry You just Lost One More Vote

Photo

8 comments
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail
body image, eating disorders, my daughter thinks I'm ugly

Talk about your body image being crushed. My daughter thinks I’m ugly. She told me that I’m prettier on the “inside” than I am on the outside. She even qualified it by saying, “Mommy, I’ve lived on the inside, so I should know.” She told me this last week.

I won’t lie; I wasn’t looking particularly pretty on that day. If I remember correctly, I was wearing yoga pants, a tank top and my hair was pulled back in a disheveled ponytail. You know, the same thing I wore yesterday and the day before and probably today. Isn’t that the standard new Mommy uniform? It is in my house. Or maybe I’m just too tired to care lately. It’s been a hectic summer with lots of changes and little sleep.

84 comments
15 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail
kindergarten, dropp off,letting go

kindergarten, dropp off,letting go

Kindergarten is Kinda Killing Me

Kindergarten hasn’t gotten any better for me; it’s gotten worse. This morning was the first day that I dropped my five-year-old off at school and didn’t walk her to her kindergarten classroom. I know. She’s been a kindergartner for 8 whole days, as of today. I should be over it. But it’s different letting them walk in by themselves. That’s really letting them go to kindergarten without you. That’s relinquishing control. It’s trusting that they are okay without you, that they will make it safely to class from the drop off point, that they won’t get overwhelmed and reach out for you only for you to not be there. It’s admitting to kindergarten that my baby is now a big kid.

2 comments
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail
rape, women's reproductive rights, abortion, women's rights, Todd Akin, Mitt Romney, Paul Ryan

Throat Punch Thursday~ rape, todd akin, abortion, women's rights, reproductive rights, paul ryan

What constitutes a rape? Apparently, some politicians are confused about this term.

During an interview the congressman and U.S. Senate candidate, Todd Akin, was asked whether abortion should be allowed in the case of rape.

Akin’s response was that it was his understanding from doctors that it’s rare for someone to become pregnant from rape.  He said, “The female body has ways to try and shut that whole thing down.”

He went on to say that punishment should be on the rapist and not the child.

How about the punishment be on the rapist and NOT on the victim of his rape? How about that Mr. Akin?

‘But I believe deeply in the protection of all life and I do not believe that harming another innocent victim is the right course of action.’

“Governor Romney and Congressman Ryan disagree with Mr. Akin’s statement,” the campaign said. “A Romney-Ryan administration would not oppose abortion in instances of rape.”

You know what I hear? Blah, blah, blah let’s backpedal ourselves away from this one as fast as we can. Are we changing our way of thinking? Hell no! Are we stupid enough to say we support this now? Hell no! We’ll put those bitches in their place after we are elected.

rape, women's reproductive rights, abortion, women's rights, Todd Akin, Mitt Romney, Paul Ryan

What gives a politician the right to pass judgment and decide when a woman can or cannot get an abortion? It’s legal. We don’t need your fucking permission. Good for you that you don’t openly oppose it but it’s not your business to oppose. I think it’s ridiculous that a bunch of old, fat, white men get the power to determine what all the women of the country get to do with their bodies.

When did it become government’s business to differentiate whether or not a rape is “legitimate” or not? “Forcible” or not? What the fuck does that even mean? Rape is rape, you asshole.

The definition of rape:

A criminal offense defined in most states as forcible sexual relations with a person against that person’s will.

That means someone had sex with a woman (I know it happens to men too but for the sake of this argument, I am going to refer to the victim as a woman) and she didn’t consent. She could have screamed bloody murder and yelled no as loud as her voice would allow. She could have fought and scratched and gouged his eyes out. Or she could have been on a date with a cute boy that she liked and said no but her date decided to go on any ways. She could be married and told her drunk husband no and he forcibly had sex with her. She could have been at a frat party for the first time, drank too much and been left behind by her friends, passed out and been taken advantage of. Or she could have been with her boyfriend of 5 years and said she didn’t want to have sex and he tied her up and did it anyways. She could have been in her home, minding her own business when an intruder broke in, grabbed her walking up the stairs, walking to the university library or on her way to class and forcibly had sexual relations with her. She could be a little girl who has a perverted uncle. If a man forces a woman to have sex against her will…that is rape.

Rape is not love. Rape is not sex. Rape is not something that she asked for. Rape is not something that she deserves. Rape is a weak person doing an angry thing to hurt an innocent person. I don’t give a shit if she was dancing on tables, walking around with her vagina hanging out of the bottom of her skirt, her breasts exposed and she was flirting with you. If we say no, it means no and if you have sex with us anyways, you have just committed rape.

Apparently, the male politicians in this country have taken it upon themselves to declare war on women’s reproductive rights.

Do they really believe that women can will their bodies to not be pregnant or be pregnant? What are we sorcerers? This isn’t a movie. Take a damn biology class boys. If that were a true statement, then we would not have so many women who desperately want children but can’t have them and we certainly wouldn’t have the multitudes of women who are destroyed by the loss of their babies. But apparently if it’s a “Legitimate” rape our body knows to shut it down. Fuck you Mr. Akin!

I know Romney and Ryan are distancing themselves from Akin but the problem is that his opinion is not the minority in the Republican house. He just happens to be the moron who said it out loud in an interview.  The government, democrat and republicans alike, have made it their mission to tell us women what we can and cannot do with our bodies.

Now, they are going so far to try to tell women whether or not the rape they survived was actually rape at all.

Need I remind you of  the trans-vaginal ultrasounds in the case of all abortions, Georgia State Representative Terry England comparing women to farm animals and trying to pass legislation that is a baby dies in utero women should have to carry it to term or let it pass on its own, NYC’s Mayor Bloomberg mandating that women  get a “talking to” before they can choose formula over breastfeeding because obviously we need the guidance of a man to teach us what  is best for us.

Let me tell you what, I don’t even go to a male gynecologist because I believe that unless your legs have been in those cold stirrups and you’ve had the experience of a speculum being shoved uncomfortably into your cervix then you have no idea what that feels like. I don’t care how many damn books you’ve read about giving birth or how many babies you’ve delivered, if you have not pushed a 15-inch head from your uterus through the birth canal and out of your vagina then you don’t know what it feels like. Stop pretending you do. I don’t know what it feels like to be kicked in the balls and I don’t pretend to. I would never pass legislation that required men to suck it up, rub some dirt on it and carry on. Why? Because I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about because I don’t have a penis and balls.

It seems the United States government is making it’s disdain for abortions and those women who get them, for whatever reason, very clear. I am in no way pro-abortion. I could never get one myself, especially since having children but I am pro-choice. Every woman has the right to choose what is best for her and her body. We are not animals. We are not children. We don’t need your advice. We don’t need your punishment and we certainly do not need your permission.

Where does this stop? Today it’s abortions in the case of rape, next they will take D & C’s and D & E’s off the table. These are medically necessary extractions of fetal tissue from women who have lost their pregnancies but what’s to stop some random male politician who isn’t a doctor from deeming it unethical or immoral? Then what happens? Then women start dying in droves because contrary to Akin we can not dictate what our uterus will do with a pregnancy.

Women, this is your call to action. We have to vote to preserve our rights over our own bodies. We deserve the right to choose what happens with our own reproduction. Stand up and vote in November. Get up early before you take the kids to school. Do it while they are there. Do it on your lunch hour. Hire a babysitter. Do whatever you need to but vote because the alternative is to give your reproductive rights over to the Akin’s of the world. To not vote is to allow rape to be quantified.

 

rape, todd akin, paul ryan, abortion, women's rights

 

Rape is Rape



Also, I am guest posting at Scary Mommy today and would love if you would go check out Some Things Change Your Forever. You will understand why women’s reproductive rights are so very close to my heart.
Photo

21 comments
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail
dream, dog, loss, back-to-school

Last night’s dream has me perplexed. This morning has thrown me for a loop. I am a bit out of sorts. It’s only  my second day completely alone since the girls started school. This is weird for me. I’m not so sure that I like it. This is it. I will never have my sweet little girls home with me on the weekdays again. Is it wrong that I am actually looking forward to days off?

dream, dog, back-to-school, Saff, loss

Sunday night, I stayed up until 1 am. I blame HBO and insomnia. Anyways, when 6 am on Monday morning rolled around, I was pretty much feeling like death warmed over. Not just tired but sick to my stomach. My body was mutinying saying “BITCH, why don’t you give us more sleep and better food?” I splashed some cold water on my face, brushed my teeth and got everyone ready for school. I came home and cleaned like a crazy woman, trying to avoid looking in any direction because all I kept seeing was where my dog is supposed to be. The tired mind plays tricks on you. Needless to say, I spent most of the morning folding laundry through tear filled eyes; partly because I miss my dog and probably in part because I miss my Gabs being home with me during the day. It’s lonely when you’ve been used to a little side kick for the past 7 years. I’ve not been lonely because I am never alone until now. Yes, I stood around my house crying like a big baby all by myself. So last night, I did what any really tired, completely sane person would do. I went to bed when I put the girls to bed, at 7 pm.

Bad dream #1

Guess what happened? I woke up three times and I had a shitload of weird freaking dreams. The first dream was this; I was with my girls at what looked like a school of some sort. We were there to see some sort of pet show. Obviously, in this dream, Gabi, my 5-year-old, immediately runs toward the animals. This kid loves animals. I see veterinary medicine in her future. Quite honestly, I’m pretty convinced this kid prefers animals to people most days of the week.  The entire time that she ran ahead, I had her in my sight because I am terrified of stranger danger and I’m pretty sure that I would die if something really bad ever happened to the girls. Suddenly, the dogs became roving exhibit and those bitches were being moved to another location. Gabi was not stopping. She ran after them, out of my line of sight. I am running down the longest corridors I’ve ever had the misfortune of running with her sister in tow. We run down the retractable bleachers and at the bottom they were not pulled all the way out. I jump about 6 feet to the ground. I am not stopping. I. MUST. CATCH.GABI. My 7-year-old refuses to jump.

I beg and plead with her. Gabi is disappearing into the venue and I can’t even hear the stampede of children anymore. This is my nightmare. Bella looks at me and shakes her head with that “not gonna happen” smirk that infuriates every mother. We’ve all seen it. And then she turns and runs in the opposite direction. I am simultaneously terrified and pissed off. Who do I follow? Who do I save? What if something bad happens to them? Then. I . Wake. Up in a cold sweat.

Commence Bad dream #2

I lay awake for 2 hours in the middle of night trying to figure out this riddle of a nightmare. Here’s what I came up with; it obviously has something to do with the fact that we just lost the dog and Gabi is having such a bad time of it. It also speaks volumes to the fact that Gabi always runs off without thinking (not listening to me) and Bella has recently started defying me, to test boundaries.

Then I tried to go back to bed and had another nightmare. What? Forget this. I’ll just be tired and stay an insomniac. Sleep is brutal, not for the weak.

When I went back to sleep, I dreamed that I was at a hotel with the Big Guy when we spotted an elderly woman who could not walk and had been stranded in the lobby by her people. She gave us some story about feeling really dizzy and needing to get up to her room. The Big Guy, being the nice guy he is, picks the elderly woman up and carries her up to her room. We were waiting for the valet to bring our car so her told me to wait while he took her up. Then he never came back. I spent what felt like forever searching the hotel for my husband. He had been kidnapped. It was a scam to get him upstairs. Eventually, after much freaking out, questioning hotel patrons and workers alike and crying on my part, we found him locked in a dog cage, which is totally bizarre because the Big Guy is 6’5″ and would never actually fit in one of those cages. Even more bizarre was that when we arrived at the room and found him locked in the dog cage, our deceased dog was walking around the outside of the cage.

So what the fuck does all this mean? I’m serious anybody have any good theories? Obviously, it has something to do with losing the dog and fearing losing the people I love but it was one of the weirdest dreams that I have ever had. I may be off sleep completely after last night’s dream.

dream, dog, loss, back-to-school

What do you think this dream means?

2 comments
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail
family pet, dog, death of a pet, family, children

family pet, dog, death of a pet, family, children

She was never just a dog

It’s been a really hard weekend, we’ve lost a member of the family, our sweet dog Saffaron. I still can’t believe she is gone. Everywhere I look, I see her. Every time I look at her spot on the tile in the kitchen where she used to lay while we ate dinner or in the hallway in front of our bedroom door or on the floor in front of the television in the living room where she spent her last days, my heart hurts a little. The girls are trying to be strong but it’s still too soon for any of us to suffer another loss. It’s all too fresh, couple that with the first week of kindergarten and my 5-year-old is a complete wreck.

Our Saffaron died on August 17, 2012 at 8:37 pm. She was 2 days shy of being 13 years old and 1 month. She lived a very full & happy life and was loved by everyone she ever met, especially the Big Guy and myself and our little girls. The Big Guy and I have loved her since the first time she looked up at us with her gorgeous big brown eyes, she was 6 weeks old. She was no accident. We specifically sought her out from a breeder. She was all we ever wanted in a pet.
When looking over the litter, upon picking up a fresh newly born Saffaron, whose eyes were barely open, Saffaron promptly shat on me and the Big Guy fell in love with the runt of the pack. We could hold her in the palm of our hands. She was so tiny that we could lose her in the deep blades of autumn grass. No dog has ever been more wanted or loved. The Big Guy and I were newly married and little Saffaron was our first baby girl. She taught us to be parents. She taught us to unconditionally and selflessly love a helpless little girl. There is nothing we wouldn’t do for that girl and she loved us so fiercely that she would protect us with her life.
No matter where we moved, or how our lives changed, Saffaron was always by our side, in our bed snuggled in the blankets and curled right between us. When I was sad, Saffaron came and sat by my side while I mourned. When I’ve been sick she’d walk in and climb on the bed & lick my face with all the love she can muster.

No Dog was ever more loved

Later, when we had the girls, each time the Big Guy would bring the baby’s blanket home so that Saffaron could smell our sweet baby’s scent. Every time, Saffaron tenderly welcomed our newest additions with no jealousy only love. As I breast fed my babies in the middle of the night, Saffaron was at my feet. Sure, the attention and playtime suffered but Saffaron didn’t seem to mind making way for each of her sisters. As the girls grew, Saffaron loved them as if they were her own; ever protective and always loving. The girls used her as teething toys and jungles gyms, pulling on her ears and tail, headbunting her when she least expected it and not once did she ever snip, bark or show her teeth. She simply waited for them to tire of playing and then she moseyed off to another childfree room. She knew our girls loved her and that she was a part of our family. Saffaron was an amazing dog but she was so much more than just that, she was our first baby and we loved her unconditionally and we miss her awfully.
Friday night, our beautiful brindle boxer went to heaven. It was not peacefully or in her sleep as we had hoped, she was in excruciating pain in spite of her pain pills. She had, what appeared to be, a heart attack in my in laws living room floor, surrounded by the people who loved her for so many years. We tried to resuscitate her and performed CPR but it was all just too much for our sweet, sweet Saffaron. She went on to heaven to wait for us.
We are all devastated; completely heartbroken. My 5-year-old is having a really hard time with it. She woke up Saturday morning, after saying good-bye to Saffaron the previous night, and asked where Saffaron was. We explained again that our beloved friend has gone on to Heaven to be with God. She seemed satisfied until an hour ago, while her and I sat quietly in her room, she asked me what happened to her Saffaron. I said again that she’s gone to heaven to wait for us and she’s with God. Gabi looked at me & said I know that but what did they do with her body. My heart is exploding. I told her that her soul is in heaven and her body is being prepped for cremation. I didn’t explain cremation. Then she said, ” Mommy, I hope Saffaron is with our baby and there is a Mommy up on heaven to love our baby and our Saffaron until we get there.”

Me too baby, me too.

family pet, dog, death of a pet, family, children

Our Sweet Girl

Saffaron Zeta Beck
7/19/99- 8/17/12
Beloved girl
You will always be in our heart
May you be eating bacon and chasing rabbits in heaven waiting for us
You will be forever missed sweet baby

Have you ever had to explain death to your child? How do you tell your child the dog they loved has went to heaven and isn’t coming back?

 

21 comments
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail
kindergarten, back-to-school, first day of kindergarten 2012

It’s the night before kindergarten again and I am not ready for this. UGH! I am dreading it now. I’ve been breaking down all day because my dog’s very sick and we’re not sure if she’s going to make it and now, I am sure tomorrow the crying will be of inappropriate proportions. As I sit here typing, the thought of reading that damn book “The Night before kindergarten” has me choking on tears and knowing what the kindergarten hallway looks like, think a mine field with mothers crying like they are Mary and their kindergartener is Christ on the Cross. It’s every thing I can do NOT to turn around and say fuck it. Never mind, I will home-school; thank you very much.

Oh yeah, I fell prey to this menagerie of crying Mommies last year when I had to tiptoe over their strewn carcasses as I made my way to the 1st grade corridor. It was brutal. I was holding it in and squeezing my Bella’s hand to reassure her. Damn the letting go. It hurts so bad. I hate the first day of kindergarten. I’d like to throat punch the first day of kindergarten or maybe even roundhouse kick it in the nuts.

kindergarten, first day of kindergarten, back to school

The First Day of Kindergarten

I started this post yesterday when I was filled with trepidation and bursting at the seams with nauseating nostalgia.  I was up most of the night unable to sleep. Gabs woke me up twice and the dog woke me up about three times. There was not much sleep to be had anyways. This morning I woke the girls up and the Big Guy too. The Big Guy made pancakes while I got the girls dressed, one by one, in a haze of no sleep and a fog of can I really do this? Let my baby start the leaving process. I don’t think I am built to let my children go.

If it were up to me, I would keep them snuggled up in my arms for all eternity. I know it’s crazy. Babies are born to grow up and become adults and go off on their own but why does the letting go have to start just when they are really starting to be interesting? I dressed both girls to perfection in their cute little navy uniforms with the hairstyle of their choice and we were off. Me with the camera on hand and the Big Guy under strict instructions to video tape everything.

As we drove along the same route we have driven so many times before to drop off her sister, I looked to the backseat and saw the baby I loved so much beaming with excitement and fidgeting with nervousness. I pretended not to notice the trepidation. She caught me staring at her and smiled just a little bit bigger. My heart, my mommy heart was starting to quiver. Silently I command myself, “ Don’t ugly cry, lady. You have to wait until you get outside of the building. Never let them see you cry.” Yes, my inner monologue is a pretty bossy bitch.

She has no compassion for me or the first day of kindergarten.

When we arrived at school, she was the first one out of the car. “Mommy, take my picture!” as she posed in front of the welcome sign. I followed silently snapping photos, committing every second of the letting go to memory. Smiling my nervous smile that only my husband recognizes. Gabs and her sister bounced through the hallways, sprinting towards the new year of new experiences; toward growing up. I could feel the pull at my heart as I watched their tiny bodies walking away from me.

After a photo or two beside the “KINDERGARTEN “ sign, it was time to let her go and trust someone else in the world with my most prized possessions; my children. This is the hard part. This is where I swallow hard and hug tight and slowly watch helplessly as I do the right thing and encourage her to go. Oh, how it hurts my heart and stings my eyes. Swallow that lump lady! I swallow so hard that I almost choke on this familiar lump. She runs back for one last hug and whispers, “I love you, Mommy. I’ll be okay.”

I slowly turn and walk away. I sneak one last backward glance she is smiling and coloring with new friends. As I walk away, I can hear her giggle and engage in excited conversation and I remember the words she just spoke to me, “I’ll be okay.” I know she’ll be okay and I trust that she’ll be safe there because of how commended this kindergarten is just like https://www.paulofreirezapopan.edu.mx/.

I know she will. Will I? I didn’t cry, though I really wanted to. I loosen my white knuckled grip on my little girl’s childhood and I look forward to afternoon pick up when I can once again fill my arms with my little girls and my heart can be happy. How did you deal with the first day of school, daycare or kindergarten?

I know eventually this won’t be so hard but today, on the first day of kindergarten, letting go hurts like a motherfucker.

9 comments
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail
dog, daughter, kindergarten, back-to-school, first day of school, letting go

The first day of kindergarten and a sick dog. This week is emotionally chaotic. Too much change at once. This week is supposed to be hard. It’s the first week of school for my girls. Gabs is starting kindergarten, so obviously I am all verklempt. I am trying to hold my shit together because there is nothing worse than a 5 year old seeing her Mommy act like she’s sending her baby off to war. Oh, but my mommy heart. It hurts.

dog, daughter, kindergarten, back-to-school, first day of school, letting go

Meet the Kindergarten Teacher Day

I’m trying to be proactive and make it easier. Yesterday, I took her to school to meet the teacher and showed her around the room and the school.  We investigated every nook and cranny of that Kindergarten class. She was a bit overwhelmed but I kept telling her how awesome it was going to be and her big sister was there to reassure her. I just kept swallowing the lump in my throat. Pushing it down, down, down; where it will stay until I am safely outside the building on the first day of school this Thursday. THEN, I will collapse in a heaving, hyperventilating  pool of snot and tears.Yes, my heart is going to break. I know this. I’ve been here before with my first but this is different, this is my last baby.

My sweet little shy girl who embarrasses easily and who wears her heart on her sleeve. But like her sister before her, she will suck it up and make that funny little smile that tells me that she is feeling unsure and a little bit scared inside but she won’t let anyone else know, just her and I, it’s our secret. I’ll want to make it all better but the only way to make it better is to let her experience it and know that it is okay. This is one thing the girls have definitely inherited from me, they need to feel their feelings and survive them to know they can. We are “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger girls” and we are firmly set in our beliefs that, “Failure is not an option” even when it may seem like the only choice there is. We keep on trying. Both my girls are like that; stoic to the bitter end, almost to a fault. I wish she could just cry and get it all out but she’s too much like me. We do cry but first we push stuff down, way down and we carry on no matter how much it eats at us on the inside and necrotizes that spot we push it down to.

But the crap just keeps piling on. The same week that my baby starts kindergarten and my Bella has moved up to 2nd grade, my oldest and furriest girl (our 13 year old boxer, Saffaron) is sick. She’s old and we know that every day is a gift with this girl. Saffaron was the first baby the Big Guy and I had together. We brought her home in September, 4 months after we were married and she has been by our side since. I love this dog like only a Mommy can. My girls adore her. I’ve been trying to explain that sometimes people and animals get REALLY old (I’m trying to convince them that me being 39 is NOT really old) or sick and they go to sleep and then they go to be with God and wait for us. This is what I told them about their baby and now I am telling them this about their dog.

kindergarten, dog, letting go, growing up, getting old

This is how the dog marked meet the kindergarten teacher day

Today, the dog was really not feeling well. She was lying around not moving (she was breathing, I checked) but she just seemed done. Yes, I’ve seen this look before and we had a conversation last year. She owes me 5 more years, because my heart is not ready to say good-bye again so soon. I just had to say good-bye in May and I think there should be at least a year in between good-byes to people and things you love. Last year, she almost died from an acute case of pancreatitis. My grandmother died from pancreatic cancer about a month before my dog was afflicted. No, I am not saying that my Grandma gave my dog pancreatitis but my year in between good-byes rule came to mind this morning.

I grabbed my girls; sleepy (because she’s trying to adjust to the school sleep schedule), nervous (because she has been sporting her nervous “Help me mom” smile since she realized that this was the week she started BIG school) and Grandma Moses (because my once spry puppy is now an elderly 91) and off to the veterinarian hospital we went. As I looked in the rearview, I saw both of my daughters sporting the “Oh Jesus, please don’t today be the day our dog dies!”  TO my right, the dog is giving me the,”Please don’t hit any bumps. Dear Jesus, take me quick!” Me, I am torn. On one selfish hand, I don’t ever want that beautiful bitch to die. I just love her too damn much and our family will be incomplete without her walking around looking at us all like we are all a bunch of assholes before giving us lots of love out of pity for our stupidity. She thinks we are big dumb animals; it’s obvious to us.  But on the other hand, I don’t want her living in pain. Her body is not what it used to be. Her arthritis is awful in the mornings, she’s got glaucoma, and benign tumors pop up all over her body at random times for no apparent reason. She’s tired and I’m pretty sure that soon she will be ready to go and we will have to let her go.

The letting go sucks. I just hope it’s not this week. This week, I have that beautiful and sweet bitch pumped full of antibiotics and pain pills. We are all giving her a little more love and attention than usual. I’m hoping she will grace us with her big heart and floppy ears for at least another year. This week I have to start the letting go of my 5 year old and I just don’t think that my Mommy heart can handle losing my furry daughter. I don’t think any of us can, least of all the 5 year old. Please don’t turn the first week of kindergarten at my house into a country song.

How did you mark the first day of kindergarten?

kindergarten, dog, letting go, back-to-school

Kindergarten has got nothing on this dog

10 comments
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail
marvin wilson, lethal injection, execution Texas, diminished mental capacity

Throat Punch Thursday,Texas, execution, low IQ, Marvin Wilson, diminished mental capacity

Texas Executed Marvin Wilson, a man with a 61 IQ

Marvin Wilson was executed for his actions, diminished mental capacity be damned. Making news headlines this week is the fact that in Texas they believe it’s okay to execute and carry out the death penalty on mentally impaired people. Honestly, shouldn’t we all be hanging our heads in shame that Marvin Wilson’s execution by legal injection was ever allowed to be carried out? I am outraged and saddened. Did Marvin Wilson even understand what was happening to him when he was taken into the death chamber where his lethal injection would be administered?

On Tuesday night, Texas executed Marvin Wilson, whose IQ score was 61 — low enough that it should have met any standard for “diminished mental capacity.” Shockingly, the court did not intervene to stop the execution despite its 2002 decision in Atkins v. Virginia barring the execution of the “mentally retarded” as “cruel and unusual punishment” in violation of the Eighth Amendment.

Wilson played a role in the murder of Jerry Williams in 1992. He needed to be held accountable for his actions, even with diminished mental capacity. But he had the mental capacity of a first-grader, could barely match his socks and was fired from a car wash job for being too slow at drying cars. A clinical neuropsychologist with 22 years of experience concluded Wilson was intellectually disabled.

Texas got away with executing an intellectually disabled person because the Supreme Court allows states to determine their own standards of “mental retardation” and hasn’t bothered to push back when states clearly ignore its ruling.

marvin wilson, lethal injection, execution Texas, diminished mental capacity

Marvin Wilson was Executed without having the capability to understand why

What the fuck? In my mind, this is bullshit. We have mean, premeditated murderers who we allow the opportunity to live out their days in prison but we execute criminals who do not have the mental capacity to understand what they are being executed for and do not have the capability to reason. Did Marvin Wilson even know what he did was wrong? Was he able to reason why he was being executed? It’s like executing a small child.

This world has monsters like James Holmes who are PhD students, with what I am sure is an advanced intellectual quotient score, and he will spend his life in prison because after all of the appeals, we will never be able to execute him. He murdered 12 people in premeditated, cold blood. Where is the justice?

Granted if your IQ is 61 and you murder someone, you are still a murderer. I get that. I’m sure if Marvin Wilson murdered someone I loved, I’d want justice too but is executing someone who is of diminished mental capacity fair? If the criminal doesn’t understand the concept of right and wrong, should they be punished by death? It seems like cruel and unusual punishment to me. Can you imagine a 6-year-old murdering someone and then being executed because that is the mental capacity that Marvin Wilson had? A child’s mind would not be capable of understanding what was going on. They would not be able to reason and understand that the execution is a direct result of their own bad behavior. In the end, the execution will only serve to frighten the mentally impaired individual. They would not understand that they were being punished for a crime. They will only know that they are scared and alone and that is cruel and unusual punishment.

Throat Punch goes to Texas for it’s sliding scale of execution. By allowing the states to determine their own standards of “mental retardation” we are allowing them too much power to choose who gets executed and who doesn’t. There is no way that Marvin Wilson should have been punished by death without the understanding and reasoning to fully comprehend what was going on. Doesn’t this sliding scale lend itself to becoming a vehicle for genocide for the Marvin Wilson of the world?

Marvin Wilson may your execution save others




Photo

1 comment
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail
writer, blog, through it all I blog

writer, blog, through it all I blog

I blog, therefore I am

Through it all, I blog. There is honor and integrity in a blogger who writes in real time, through the pain and the joy, in the face of the most uncomfortable times in her life. This is the blogging standard that I have set for myself since I began blogging. If you are afraid to hit the publish button, you know that you are being true to yourself. Because, lets face it, there is nothing quite as scary as telling the world your deepest, darkest secrets or exposing your weaknesses only to have those very experiences thrown back in your face and used as a weapon against you.

When you are raw and vulnerable, this is when you are at your best. This is when you are genuine. This is when you are relate-able and real. This is when you are your most human. If I wanted sunshine and rainbows blown up my ass, I would read fairy tales. I read blogs. Don’t get me wrong, fairy tales have there place but honest, raw, gut wrenching flawed life is what gets me through the days. I have blogged through some of the worst days of my life. This is where I find support and genuine connections. Who can find a connection if it’s draped in superficiality and bullshit?

I am afraid of perfection. I certainly don’t know it well. It is out of my depth. Quite frankly, if you are always rainbows and unicorns I feel like you are not being honest with yourself and you are definitely not being honest with me. I want understanding and commiseration, not judgment and aloofness. I want to see a part of myself in you and I want to recognize you in me. I want to connect not be talked at. I want to be talked to and more important, I want to be listened to.

I blog because I am a writer.

I survive experiences by writing them down and wading through the thick of it. I use those same experiences to look back and get perspective. I use my words to get to know myself on a deeper level. My words help me to expose myself in a way that I may otherwise be too afraid to share. My words can scream words that my mouth is too terrified to whisper. The judgment and condemnation of my words is not immediate. I don’t have to see your face or disapproval. I can just tell my story to the world and hope that somewhere, someone else can relate. Every thought I have may not be earth shattering, whose is? But my words may be just the thing that is so relate-able that it saves someone else who’s suffering. My words are a life preserver. Someday they may comfort my children when my voice can no longer speak to them.

Writing is as crucial to my survival as breathing. Writing is my safe place. Writing has saved my life. Without it, all the feelings of helplessness, anger, vulnerability, sadness and confusion would’ve eaten me alive. Writing, for me, is about more than words on paper and never about writing just what others want to hear. Anyone who has ever read my blog can attest to that. Sometimes my truth is so brutally honest that I offend myself. I cringe, I blog my truth and hit publish anyway.

Why do you blog?

Through it all, I blog

 

 

Photo
9 comments
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail

This website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish. Accept Read More