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

Throat Punch Thursday~Texas Executes man,Marvin Wilson, with 61 IQ

by Deborah Cruz 2012/08/09

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 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

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2012/08/09 1 comment

loving yourself, self-esteem, self-image, eating disorder, body dysmorphic disorder

Mental Health

Finally, I Don’t Hate my Body

by Deborah Cruz 2012/08/07

written by Deborah Cruz

Today, I don’t hate my body. I can’t even remember the last time I could say this and not be being sarcastic. It may be the first time since I was about 6-years-old that I didn’t look into the mirror and wish that what I saw reflected back at me was something/ someone else. It’s been happening gradually over the past few years. Don’t get me wrong, this body is not the end result that I am looking for but I am losing that all-consuming uncomfortable in my skin feeling. I don’t loathe the skin I am in today. I don’t feel disgusted by the gentle curves and sway of my body. I feel protective and loving towards it.

I’m not sure what changed in my way of thinking or shifted in my perspective but I do know that the other day as I was changing my clothes, I caught sight of my naked body. I stopped and looked at myself; really looked at my body. I’ve been too afraid to do that for many years because it always ended in disappointment and dissatisfaction culminating in anger and frustration. I was never happy with what I saw staring back at me. It made me feel small and defeated because I just couldn’t get it right. I preferred to look in mirrors the least amount possible because it only served as a reminder of my physical shortcomings. Remember, my seething case of body dysmorphic disorder?

But the other day when I saw myself in the mirror, I saw a woman who doesn’t have any wrinkles, only a couple gray hairs and though I am a few sizes larger than I want to be, this body still has some appeal to it. My legs look good, they carry me to all the places I need to be. My arms may have residual wave because I am sporting a slight case of bat wings from weight but these are the arms that allow me to hug and cuddle those people in my life that mean the most; the family I love and the friends I adore. My hips and waist are bigger than I would have ever wanted but they have also carried my babies. These are the parts that my children hold tightly to when they hug me. My breasts are further south than I thought it possible for breasts to go but they have breastfed my daughters; these low hanging breasts have given my girls nourishment and a healthy start in life. I am not my parts. I am the woman who lives behind the mask of my body. I am the great and powerful OZ of myself.

I’m not saying that I am a reformed body dysmorphic disordered woman or that I can just wish away the years of eating disorders but after 15 years of being recovered I am finally saying that what I see in the mirror doesn’t make me want to starve myself, vomit or punish my body into submission anymore. I know that I want to be healthier and I know there are the right ways to do it and I know those options are available to me. If I want it, all I have to do is work hard for it; slow and steady by not giving up, not getting discouraged and not thinking that I don’t deserve the success. I’ve hidden behind the curtains of excuse too long. The body that I have isn’t so bad. My body just needs a little TLC and my heart needs to exercise a little more forgiveness towards my body. I am worthy of love and I deserve happiness. What’s the point of all this misery, anyway? Who is it appeasing? This struggle with my body and my mind is self-inflicted. No one else thinks that the size of my body determines my worth. It’s me. It’s always been me.

You can’t force acceptance. It has to come naturally or it isn’t acceptance at all. Like love, when you are not looking is when you will find self-acceptance and learn to truly love yourself. I am on the precipice of changing my life forever by changing my perspective. I don’t know how this happened or what changed my way of thinking.

I do know that I will not be who I am today for much longer. I am metamorphosing my life from the inside out. I am not giving up my dreams of long lean legs and non-flapping arms (a girl’s gotta dream) but I am giving in to loving myself as I am because just because my body doesn’t fit a mold doesn’t mean that it is not amazing. There is beauty on the inside that surpasses any superficial beauty I could ever imagine. I don’t judge the people I surround myself with by their appearance and I don’t imagine they do me either. We love the substance, the meat of the person, not the make-up, clothes and hair. It’s time I allow myself the same unconditional love that I would extend to anyone else in the world.

What do you love about yourself?

2012/08/07 11 comments

Chcik-Fil-A, gay marriage, First Amendment, Mike Huckabee, Dan Cathy, culture wars

Throat Punch Thursday

Throat Punch Thursday ~ Chick-Fil-A Bigots of the World Unite Edition

by Deborah Cruz 2012/08/02

written by Deborah Cruz

Chick-Fil-A You Deserve A Throat Punch

We’ve all heard about the Chick-Fil-A fiasco with their COO Dan Cathy telling the world that he is in opposition to same-sex marriage. On Wednesday, dubbed “Chick-fil-A Appreciation Day” by former presidential candidate Mike Huckabee lines were stretching out front doors and around the parking lots; packed with customers coming out to support company chief executive Dan Cathy, who recently came out against gay marriage with statements that have polarized lovers of the Chick-Fil-A. I used to love Chick-Fil-A but I refuse to eat at a company that has such disdain for part of the population.

I had no idea what Chick-Fil-A Appreciation day was or that it was taking place yesterday. Imagine my surprise when I took my little girls out to lunch at the mall and the line circled the entire food court. Surely, this was more than just a lunchtime rush especially since local police was working the crowd and beefed up mall security.

Waiting for Throat Punches at Chick-Fil-A?

My girls were eyeballing Panda Express but I didn’t know where this line led; Panda Express is located directly next to Chick-Fil-A. I walked up to the ever-growing line and asked one of the patrons in the line, “Excuse me, what is this line for?” To which they proudly answered with a big smile (chest puffed out and all) “ This is Chick-Fil-A Appreciation day. We support Dan Cathy and do not support gay marriage.” Where the hell is the ACLU when you need them?

I was appalled and disgusted because this is not about God this is about intolerance. These bigots are using God as an excuse to be intolerant of others. As the story goes, God made everyone and God makes no mistakes so explain to me how same sex marriage is wrong? Are we saying that God makes mistakes? Why is it our business who anyone loves? Isn’t God the only one who can make that judgment? Who are we to speak for God?

I am not a theologian or a homosexual, nor am I God so I can’t pretend to know their hearts and minds. I am a human and as a human being, it doesn’t feel right to judge a person for who they love or who they are born to be in this world. I am religious but I am not a bigot and I don’t think the two go hand in hand. I believe that all humans deserve the rights to freedom of choice, freedom of thought and freedom of love.

Chick-Fil-A summit for intolerant people

I was sickened by the pride with which the customers I spoke with flaunted their disdain for same sex marriage. They spoke of it as if the very thought made them physically ill and, in my book, that is intolerance. Intolerance to that degree scares me for those who are not being tolerated. My mind goes to places like the KKK, Nazi Germany and other scenarios that ended in genocide.

I will no longer be eating at Chick-Fil-A because I refuse to give money to bigots. I understand that we are all entitled to our beliefs and freedom of speech. Dan Cathy can believe whatever he wants but he also has to accept the cost of his actions. He’s told the world of his intolerance and now Chick-Fil-A is ground zero for the culture war. This is why Chick-Fil-A Appreciation day supporters are receiving my throat punch today.

What do you think of hating a person because of who they choose to love? Did you choose whom you loved or did love choose you? The heart wants what the heart wants.

Do you support the Chick-Fil-A kiss in that will be taking place tomorrow?

2012/08/02 11 comments

Confessions

I Swore I Wouldn’t be This Person

by Deborah Cruz 2012/07/31

written by Deborah Cruz

I swore that I wouldn’t be this person. The woman who lost a child and then feels like she gets kicked in the gut every single time someone she knows announces their pregnancy. Fuck. I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to suck all of the joy out of the room. I want to be happy and excited. I really do. I tell myself that I am and then it hits me like a sledgehammer, right in the heart. A painful reminder of what I can’t have, of what I’m too afraid to ever let myself want again, of what I will never get to experience again because I won’t. I can’t. I am too afraid to go through that pain again. Once almost killed me. It changed me. I don’t know if I can handle another shift like that. I might become unrecognizable, even to myself.

I remember that morning at the hospital, seeing a small child, not even a year old, sitting with her parents in the waiting room; waiting to be called back for her surgery. I remember sitting there, with my silent womb, not a stirring, thinking to myself, I am glad I am not those parents because there is nothing worse than having a sick baby and feeling helpless. I know that doesn’t make a lot of sense. Maybe it does to someone who has been through it or maybe the pain was just too much and I had to detach myself from what was really happening to me.

I saw that same little girl in the back when they were prepping us for surgery and I was again overwhelmed with gratitude that I was not sitting there as the parent of a child who was sick. I looked at my husband and I said (out loud), “It could be worse, we could be here with one of our girls who was sick.” He looked at me sort of bewildered. I guess he thought I was crazy because our baby was as sick as a baby could get, our baby no longer had a heartbeat. I was grateful that I could not hold my baby, see its eyes looking to me to save it, it’s cry begging me for relief; it was not tangible. My hurt was underlying. My baby was a promise that had been broken before I ever had the chance to fully appreciate it. In the first days, I wanted nothing more than to have had the chance to hold my baby but now, I know that if I had, the pain of the loss might have killed me on the spot.

Now that broken promise haunts me. I can’t stop it from infiltrating my thoughts. I can’t stop being this fucking person who feels empty and a little bitter. I’m pissed. Pissed at the situation. Pissed at myself for still feeling so vulnerable. Pissed at myself for still getting so pissed. I fucking want to punch somebody. I’m envious of other people’s happiness and I don’t want to be that person. I want to be able to genuinely feel happy without the happiness carrying with it a tinge of pain; the reminder of my loss. I’m afraid to be around my friends who are pregnant because I’m afraid I will spontaneously burst into tears and ruin their happiness. Every first of the month, I mark the day that my baby died. It coincides with my period just to remind me that my womb is in fact empty.

I know this sounds morbid and maybe a little crazy. I am so sick of pretending that everything is normal. I’m sick of pretending that I am all right. I’m not. All. Right. I am all wrong and I am afraid that I will not find my way back to my normal and that’s all that I want. Is normal so much to ask for? I am slowly beginning to live again but there is this damn underlying anger that I can’t shake. How does one shake the anger caused by a promise that can never be fulfilled? How do you fix a problem with no solution?

Linking up this morning with Just Write because sometimes you just need to write it out to move through it.

2012/07/31 8 comments

Confessions

It’s Official, I am a Helicopter Parent

by Deborah Cruz 2012/07/30

written by Deborah Cruz

I’m a helicopter parent because free range scares me

It’s official I am a helicopter parent. I know the exact moment it happened. I’ve been dipping my toe in the helicopter parenting pool for about 8 years now but I’ve tried to keep from jumping into the deep end. I tried to fool myself into thinking, I had a little bit of free range in me but I was wrong.

2012/07/30 12 comments

James Holmes, Aurora, Colorado, Movie Massacre, Shootings

Throat Punch Thursday

Throat Punch Thursday~ James Holmes Public Enemy #1 Edition

by Deborah Cruz 2012/07/26

written by Deborah Cruz

James Holmes; A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

James Holmes, what’s left to be said about you that has not already been said? James Holmes it’s been speculated that you are a psychotic or a sociopath. But I think you know exactly what you are doing, just like you knew what you were doing when you walked into that crowded theater in Aurora, Colorado and started shooting people like fish in a barrel calling yourself the Joker. You are not the Dark Knight.You are not crazy. You are just an asshole who needs a psychiatric evaluation to prove it once and for all. Pretending evidence bags wrapped on your hands are sock puppets is not funny. You are not criminally insane and you should be held accountable for the pain you have caused; the lives you have taken and the collective innocence you have violated.

James Holmes, you do have a problem, you are a narcissist with a God complex. You think you are untouchable and above reproach. The sad thing is that for you, James Holmes, there is no punishment that will ever punish you as you deserve to be punished. That punishment will come in good time. As for now, there is no satisfaction for the victims and the family and friends of the victims. As you sit in jail, with your Joker hair and spitting at guards, making a spectacle of yourself, the rest of the world mourns for your victims. There is no sympathy to be had for you; no matter what issues your defense team may concoct to save you from the death penalty. To the world, you are already dead.

You are a monster; a plague on society, the likes of the monster Osama Bin Laden. You came into a place we all felt safe by cover of night and you attacked like a coward. You saw our vulnerability and you came in the night like a thief with your bright cartoon orange hair and your semi-automatic weapons and you robbed us of our security forever. The killings can never be undone. Your horror story will haunt us long after you are gone.

That night in Aurora, Colorado your behavior took children from their mothers, parents from children, husbands from wives, lovers, friends and family from one another. James Holmes you have caused destruction that will be felt for years to come. You will be the cautionary tale that parents tell their children before sending them to the movies on their own for the very first time. You will be the cause for contingency plans and metal detectors in all public places. The media has sensationalized a lone gunman, but you are really nothing more than a wounded and weak man.

James Holmes You are Not Above the Law

I can tell by your nonchalant regard for the law and the destruction that you have caused that you have no value for human life. You didn’t run when you were caught because you didn’t care what they thought of your actions. You surrendering was a giant “Fuck you, you can’t touch me. The damage is done.” You had somewhat accomplished what you came to do and you felt that no one can hurt you because you are above reproach. In your mind, everyone else is nobody. You had the audacity to boobie trap your entire apartment to the extent that the intention was to cut the first person in half who walked through the door, adding one more victim to your tally.

I’m not sure why you warned the authorities about the explosives in your apartment; were you bragging in your narcissistic delusion? Or, perhaps, your last shred of humanity was peaking through. You are dangerous, James Holmes, because you have nothing left to lose. Did your parents not show you enough attention? Were the girls mean to you? Did you have no friends growing up? Well, guess what? We all have fucking problems. No one’s life is perfect but we don’t all go buy semi-automatic weapons and kill people because we feel mistreated. If that were the case, the entire species would have been eliminated centuries ago.

I don’t know what went wrong in your life to cause you to have no respect for the human race, life in general or your own future but it must be awful living with yourself now. Knowing all the pain and destruction that you have caused, and spending the rest of your life in jail while receiving death threats won’t be any fun. No one tolerates a murderer of kids, not even other murderers. You will always be in danger and always be hated by the public.

You, James Holmes, the Joker, Dark Knight, you get my throat punch this week. May God have mercy on your soul because no one else will. May you live a long life behind bars and may the guilt and fear that will eventually be your constant companion keep you in its bosom and hold you tightly. May you know the fear that you caused those 70 people in that Aurora, Colorado Theater at the midnight screening of the Dark Knight.

What are your thoughts on James Holmes and the Aurora, Colorado theater massacre?

Photo: RJ Sangosti/Denver Post/AP Photo

2012/07/26 6 comments

loss, miscarriage, stream of consciousness, pain, pregnancy

Confessions

Stream of Consciousness ~Lingering in Loss

by Deborah Cruz 2012/07/22

written by Deborah Cruz

Loss~ Sometimes it crashes over me like a giant wave; swallowing me up and drowning me.

I am all alone with this secret sadness.

Everyone thinks I’ve forgotten & that I’ve gotten over my miscarriage.

My pregnancy that I never got to share with the people I love.

My baby who I never got to welcome into the world; into our family.

Life carries on but I can’t forget. It’s always right here with me.

It’s in my heart and bubbles to the surface and almost chokes me on certain occasions.

When I see a pregnant woman who is about as far along in her pregnancy as I should be; my heart silently breaks.

I am not bitter. I am envious that she does not know the pain of loss.

I would not wish the loss of a pregnancy or a child on my worst enemy.

I am sad for my baby that I will never know. I feel cheated.

I am pissed that this happened to me.

I long for what I should be experiencing too.

No one hears me. When I lie awake at night unable to sleep & one of my daughters comes into get me, I lie there looking at my 2 beautiful babies and I yearn for something I’ll never know, someone I’ll never meet: my baby.

The little life that lived inside me for only 10 weeks, who I loved more than words can ever convey.

Loss is not fair.

Why did this happen to me?

Everyone gets to move on with their life but I can’t. I’m stuck in my loss being swallowed whole and I don’t think I’ll ever break free.

I feel like everyone has forgotten; no one remembers or cares to remember the little life that almost was but my heart breaks and yearns daily to feel my baby in my arms and at my bosom. I never will.

I try to carry on & be strong because that’s my nature. I’m not the victim who sits around and lets life happen to her.

Though my miscarriage immobilized me completely for a month.

Loss has crippled me emotionally.

I pack my pain up in a tiny box & push it way, way down.

I try not to drone on or linger too long. No one likes a Debi Downer but I’m down, down in the pits of hell alone.

Not every day or constantly but the pain of loss lingers just beneath the surface; haunting me from within.

Crying into my pillow in the middle of the night. Screaming, yelling hating the pain, wishing I didn’t know this pain so intimately.

I don’t know how people carry on normally after their loss.

I don’t know how or when life feels normal again. When does my heart stop aching?

When can I stop pretending to be okay and actually be okay?

There will always be a hole in my arms where my baby should be.

There will always be a part of our family missing in my heart.

I will never be the same.

I will never be okay.

My loss is my constant companion.

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2012/07/22 16 comments

Throat Punch Thursday

Insurance Scam has Doctors Performing Unnecessary Hysterectomies on Poor Women

by Deborah Cruz 2012/07/19

written by Deborah Cruz

Unneeded Hysterectomies Change a Woman’s Life forever

When have unneeded hysterectomies being performed ever been moral? When did the world become so full of morally bankrupt men? If you have ever had a hair up your ass about women’s reproductive rights in the world, this is the time to really get mad. We need to get full on pissed off and say no more. We are women not animals or property, we don’t belong to men. Government has no business getting between our legs. For once and for all, stay out of our vaginas!

In India, less than respectable, doctors are performing illegal and unneeded hysterectomies on the poor women of India. I don’t mean “poor” as those poor women, I mean “poor” as in financially downtrodden. I mean poor as in they don’t have the means to refuse any medical treatment offered to them by a doctor, even if the solution to his made up problem is a complete removal of their uterus and ovaries. Who are these animals to do this to women? Why are they performing unneeded hysterectomies like they are going out of style, shirking their Hippocratic oath and removing the very essence of what makes most of us feel like women? For money!

Yes, India, the country who has already received multiple throat punches from me for aborting and killing their female babies simply due to the fact that they have vaginas versus a penis. The same country who has ultrasounds strategically placed on every corner so that perspective parents can get a refund if their unborn child has not won the Indian genetics lottery which means they are a boy. The same country who has men who still think it’s okay to mutilate the genitalia of it’s women and shackle them into chastity belts. Now, the doctors are taking it upon themselves to remove the women of rural India’s wombs by giving them completely unneeded hysterectomies because the hospital can claim the hysterectomies under a national insurance scheme. Even going so far to remove the ovaries which increases the risk for early onset of osteoporosis.

Doctors in the Indian state of Chhattisgarh performed hysterectomies on poor village women without a valid medical reason in order to claim money from a national insurance scheme, the state’s health minister said on Wednesday.
Under the program launched in 2008, doctors can claim up to 30,000 rupees ($540) to treat poor families, providing a safety net to help pay for expensive hospital surgeries. But critics say the program was exploited by unscrupulous doctors.
“The women were deliberately ill-advised by doctors who removed their uterus to get money,” Amar Agrawal, Chhattisgarh’s health minister told Reuters.
“As per my information the doctors have so far managed to make roughly 2 crore (10 million) rupees ($360,000) in recent months by removing uteruses without any valid medical reasons.”
The state government examined 1,800 hysterectomies performed in the impoverished state as part of an investigation into the alleged scam. Many of the operations were suspected to have been performed illegally, government sources told Reuters.

Does India hate it’s women? Or is this a growing trend in the world, where men hate the female population, or at the very least have no respect for women as being human? The world is going backwards my friends. Don’t think this just happens in third world countries someplace across the world. Make no mistake, it happens right here in the United States as well. Maybe no unneeded hysterectomies are being performed as an insurance scheme, but women are under attack. Our reproductive rights are being stripped away, piece by piece and our human worth has been compared to animals. We are in a day and time in history, when women are having the male agenda shoved down our throats and thrust into our vaginas.I am sad and sickened by the state of the world and women’s rights. We need to stand up and stop allowing ourselves to be abused by the male governing powers. We need to fight back and say no more.

India’s Unneeded Hysterectomies violates Women’s Rights

Today it’s India, performing unneeded hysterectomies, purposely aborting female babies and abandoning of killing those who survive birth. Tomorrow, it’s here…women being compared to swine, government sticking their nose into our vaginal business; how we should reproduce, when we should reproduce, if we should reproduce. This is between a couple and God. Government has no fucking business in our reproductive rights. Give women our full human rights first and then we can talk about government having any input on reproductive rights.

Throat Punch to the unscrupulous doctors in India who are performing these unneeded hysterectomies for money. May their license be stripped and may they be castrated by the women whom they have reproducibly hobbled for the rest of their life.May you be put in jail and may all of your reproductive tools be removed while you sleep, unsuspectingly. May you know the pain of having no control over the choices made on your behalf.

Just because a woman is poor financially does not give any man the right to take away her choice to have children and become a mother or determine when, why or how she has the children. Men, it’s not your fucking business. We are not children, you have no right to make choices on our behalf. You have no right to punish us because you feel that our choices don’t live up to your expectations. A woman’s reproductive parts are something that we hold as dear to who we are as men do their reproductive parts. Boo on you for thinking you know what is better for women than we do for ourselves. You have no right to end abortion or give unneeded hysterectomies for money.

Unneeded Hysterectomies is a Violation of Human Rights

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2012/07/19 3 comments

Women's Issues

Whole House Inspection

by Deborah Cruz 2012/07/17

written by Deborah Cruz

This is not the actual door in question

This is just 1 thing a whole house inspection might reveal

Whole House Inspection is stressing me out. So we are closing on the house we sold Friday and we have an offer on a house. We do not mess around. We‘ve been living with my in laws for almost a year and I think it’s safe to say that we are all ready for this time in our life to come to a close. We are all ready to move on. Like so ready to move on that, right now, any house that is slightly more secure than a cardboard box and on the other side of town from my in laws sounds suitable. Which brings us to our whole house inspection.

Last Wednesday, we had the whole house inspection on the house we are going to purchase. We expected a couple minor issues. What we found were a few major issues and a plethora of minor issues. In total, about $20,000 worth of repairs.

I know what you are thinking; walk away. Hell, RUN AWAY! Run fast b*tch in the opposite direction, back to your in laws if you have to. And you are completely correct. That is exactly what we did when we got our 32-page report from the home inspection. Yes, 32 pages. It took 5 hours. I know because we had to be there for the entire thing. We’ve purchased 3 houses and this is the first one that we ever had to be present for the inspection. Boy, am I glad we did. The inspector walked us through and explained all the issues to us, in real time. The main issue is that the foundation has a crack, make that two cracks in it, and the entire back of the house needs to be lifted to fix it. It’s not like the house is falling down but there is a ¾ inch difference in the level of the room within a 5 foot span. There is a definite slope. That is not a cheap fix. That was enough for us to walk away. A foundation repair to fix the cracks and Earthquake Retrofitting Services are recommended to improve the overall structural integrity and seismic resistance of the house. If you are looking for an expert for stonework masonry repair or restoration, the expert masonry contractors from Depend Exteriors can help with their professional services for residential and commercial sectors, learn more at Depend Exteriors website.

Whole House Inspections Never Lie

Then, we found a leak between the upstairs bathroom and the kitchen window below it. We don’t know which bathroom is leaking, as they share a wall, and we don’t know how extensive the leak is, how long it’s been going on or if there is mold in the walls. There is also another leak in the front of the house from the roof gutter. So, we’re looking to contact a roof repair in Shelby Township to fix that. Did I mention that as a result of the foundation issue, the door jams are sloped (not completely noticeable) but if you try to shut some of the doors it’s like PeeWee Herman’s fun house? So our offer was contingent upon the whole house inspection. We said thank you but no thank you; we don’t want a sloping fun house that is going to be a money pit. We would please like our earnest money back, thank you and have a nice life.

The seller’s agent came back with a “ We’re not going to roll over. We will fix everything!” Everything! Now, this was exhilarating news until we realized what must be wrong with this house that this dude is willing to spend $20,000 to fix it just to unload it. Is there a dead body in the wall? I don’t need another ghost. Is there some Amityville Horror going on in that house? I don’t want to find out. Or is he just desperate enough to pay to fix it because he is sick of paying for it and wants to move forward with his life? I mean, we are taking a $20,000 check to the closing of the house we sold because we just needed to move on. We don’t live there anymore and there is nothing wrong with our house, well, there may or may not be the issue of Casper. Either way, we are paying someone $20,000 to take our house. Why wouldn’t this guy?

Still. I am leery. The contract stipulates that all repairs have to be to our satisfaction so there is no room for cutting corners because then we can still walk away or does this dude just really need that earnest money of ours? I’m torn. I want to move and logic tells me that if he fixes everything by professionals, then the house is fine. Right? Well, there is still the possible issue of the dead body in the wall or the Amityville Horror scenario, either way, I will be having this house blessed and priest tested before signing the closing documents.

Have you ever had this happen? What would you do if your whole house inspection gave a lot of negative feedback but the seller agreed to pay for the repairs?

Be Sure to Get a Whole House Inspection

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2012/07/17 3 comments

mommy blogger, blogging, motherhood, blog, social media

Blogging Throat Punch Thursday

Anatomy of a Mommy Blogger

by Deborah Cruz 2012/07/12

written by Deborah Cruz

Mommy Blogger Means Mommy who Blogs

When did Mommy Blogger become a bad word? The other day, I was accused by one of my readers at another site I write for ( not you ladies, you rock), who apparently doesn’t know me like you all do, of sitting around in my robe all day and thinking up these “ridiculous” articles. I wish! I believe the article was one in which I compared “real” (meaning those of us who are not celebrities. Not meaning to imply that Beyoncé is not a “real” mom because obviously if she has a baby and is taking care of it, she is “real” not imaginary.) Well, apparently Beyoncé reads that website because someone certainly attacked me for that remark and the only person who I can think of that should get that defensive about Beyoncé would be Beyoncé herself or her mama.

Then it hit me, this is what people think of mommy bloggers. They think we sit around in our pajamas all day, eating bon bons and pecking away at the keyboard while we ignore our kids and live in perpetual squalor. It is no wonder, women writers are so afraid of that title. I assure you that I do not fit any of the stereotypes that people think of when they think of “mommy blogger”. In fact, I’m pretty sure most mommy bloggers don’t.

This illusion of a mommy blogger is not feasible if you think about it because by the very definition of “mommy blogger” we have children, have given birth and/or are pregnant. This does not allow much time for sitting on our asses and eating bon bons though I wish it did. I have never eaten or seen a bon bon in my life because I have kids. Bon bons would never last in my house. As soon as I would try to put one in my mouth some little person would be in my ear asking for a bite and just as suddenly in my mouth snatching it away.

If anything, a Mommy blogger should be defined as a wonder woman like creature who has given birth, is raising children, has the balls and presumably some talent to write about it openly. I also happen to live like a functioning yet severely affected ADHD patient.

[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”] You can grab your own Proud Mommy Blogger button under the “about” tab.

A Mommy Blogger is a Multitasker Extraordinare

I sit down to write during naps.Five minutes in someone usually yells out for me. I walk past a toy in the hallway and pick it up. Then I walk into the bedroom to be told that little Suzy needs a drink of water. I grab her hamper and carry the clothes to the laundry room and start the washer. While the washer is filling, I walk to the cupboard to grab a cup. I fill the cup and then I wash the few dishes that are in the sink. I load the washer, walk back to the child’s bedroom and hand her the water. She asks for a tissue. I walk into the bathroom to grab a tissue. Clean the sink and make it free of toothpaste. I pick up the wet towels from this morning. I walk back across the hall, hand Suzy a tissue, give her a kiss and walk towards the laundry room. Out the corner of my eye, I see that the living room coffee table is covered in puzzles and coloring books and the cushions need to be fluffed. I take the laundry to the laundry room. As I walk through the kitchen towards the living room, I see that there are crumbs from breakfast on the table. I grab the sponge and begin to wipe the table. My phone dings. I have a text message from my husband. I call the insurance company to ask about a statement. While I listen to musak, I fluff pillows and put away puzzles. The living room is tidy. I take the pillow the girls drug from my bedroom back to my bed. Musak continues. I notice I still need to fix my bed. I fluff the comforter and realize there are loveys in my bed. More musak. I finish fluffing my pillows and straightening my bed then I walk across the hall to put the lovey on my youngest daughters shelf. Musak is still playing. She stirs and I have to stop what I am doing and soothe her back to sleep. Tip toeing out of the room, the musak suddenly stops and a very loud insurance agent yells, “Mary Jane Magilicutty, How may I help you?” Startled, I run out of the room. 20 minutes later, I am done being transferred, pressing one and explaining to this agent the extent of my stress incontinence. I am about to lose my mind. I walk to my desk to continue writing my article that I started an hour ago when the kids first went down for their nap. Shit! I forgot I need a cup of coffee. I walk to the coffee maker and begin the process of making a cup. I can’t find the creamer. I go in search of the creamer. It’s at the very back of the refrigerator behind the apple juice, organic milk and leftovers. I finally get to it and the apple juice, whose lid was apparently not closed, falls out of the refrigerator and spills on the ground. 20 minutes and a lot of cussing later I am headed back to my desk with tepid coffee after mopping up the juice. I walk over to my desk, sit down and type one sentence and a little one walks up to me and tells me they are awake. Breathe. Wait. Repeat. That, my friends, is the day in the life of a Mommy blogger.

This is my day, every day. I work in 5-minute increments and then I stay up until the wee hours of the night to make up the difference. Bon bons? I can barely sneak in a minute to eat a piece of stale cold toast. So don’t tell me that Beyoncé does more than me before 8 am because I am still asleep and then I sit in my robe all day. Hey fuck you! I run circles around Beyoncé. She has a team of people to do what she does. I am a team of one for most of the day. It’s just short people, who I can barely understand, and me. Being a Mommy blogger means I not only do all the Mommy duties of my day, I throw in researching, writing and thinking up interesting things to say.Well, things to say. Do you have any idea how hard that is when I have a raging case of Mommy brain, 2 little ones in my ear talking about everything that has ever happened to them and anyone they know and trying to remember birthdays, anniversaries, appointments, meetings and deadlines?

It’s hard but I do it because I LOVE it. I love my girls, I love my husband, I love my job and I want it all. Am I exhausted? Yes. Do I say some things that are irreverent? Yes, I am too tired to over think it. Do I make mistakes? Hell, yeah. Do I feel mental? Yes. So throat punch to anyone who thinks mommy bloggers sit around in their robes all day. Now, pass the fucking bon bons, I’m hungry, exhausted and I have a deadline and I’ve only got 5 minutes before the kids wake up again.

What do you think when you hear the word Mommy blogger?

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2012/07/12 39 comments

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