Some People Just Don’t Understand.

December 6, 2012 By 3 Comments

To the parent who called my son a “little gay fairy boy” tonight at his middle school basketball game:

The word “gay” is not an insult in our house. It’s not used as a weapon, a casual insult or a way to describe something you really don’t care for.

Gay is just what some people are. Gay is Rain’s two moms or Jesse’s two dads. Gay is a lot of our roller derby friends. Gay looks pretty much the same as straight or bi or asexual. Gay is people you know.

If my son is gay, I hope he’s not as afraid to be gay as you seem to want to shame him into being. If he is and one day comes to me and tells me so, I will be just as proud of him that day as I am today. He is my son and no matter what, I will always adore the shit out of that kid.

My son, gay or not, is kind to everyone (even his sister who can be really annoying sometimes), polite, helpful, incredibly intelligent, modest, funny, sensitive and most of all, he is himself. I work very hard to allow him the environment to express himself in whatever way he chooses, be that in bright pink letters or green or blue or orange.

My son is amazing and not just because he is my son. Because he opens doors for everyone. Because sometimes his socks don’t match and he doesn’t care. Because he sings a little off key and dances like there is nobody watching. Because he eats like no other. Because, given the choice, he would choose a book over television.

So if he’s gay, he is still my son. He is the baby that slept through the night on day five. He is still the little boy who hated to get his hair cut, or take a bath. He is the young man who takes the longest.showers.ever.

He is my baby, my firstborn, and I love him even if he dyes his hair green or pierces his nose or….GASP….likes guys.

So you calling him a fairy boy could be true, or it could not. Doesn’t matter.

You said it as an insult, and as his mother, when I told you:

“shut your mouth, that’s my son“,

what I meant was:

“that’s my boy and I am proud of him no matter what and you trying to insult him that way is degrading, and just shows that you’re an ignorant assmonkey who has such low self esteem that he needs to pick on seventh graders to make himself feel better.”

Please watch what you say in front of children. I would hate for your son to turn out as damaged as you.

Xoxoxo,

Mia

Ps: your wife heard you say that.

Filed Under: Boy Wonder, I am pouty and I want to tell you all about it, Letters that will never get mailed

A letter about my ladyparts.

September 14, 2012 By 3 Comments

Please take note: this is probably a post you are going to want to skip if you don’t want to hear about feminine hygiene products, vaginas and other personal things.

Proceed accordingly.

 

[Read more...]

Filed Under: Letters that will never get mailed, Nothing to See Here.

It’s Friday night, and I do not feel alright.

April 27, 2012 By Leave a Comment

Note: apologies to R Kelly.

Note #2: and then apologies to Montell Jordan for mixing him up with R Kelly. I obviously do not get mine in a six-four.

Dear future self:

This is the day. This is the day you got sick of it all and decided to repaint your picture. You decided to stop being the old you and start whole hog in being the new you.

You had been dabbling in it for a while, dipping a toe in here and there and changing one or two things at a time.

But enough is enough.

This is the day you shed your sheltering cocoon and spread your wings and flew. It’s the day you said to yourself “I’m better than the games and the crazy and I am ready to change my destiny instead of waiting for fate”.

Because fate is stupid sometimes. And slow as hell.

Today is the turning point. The fork stuck in the road. Life does not grab you by the wrist and direct you where to go. (Green Day used to be punk, remember that.)

Shit happens sometimes. And you can either get over it or wallow and sob and be all pathetic. Guess which one is more fun.

So! In addition to the day an awesome person had an awesome baby (congrats to my mom hero Autumn and her awesome hubbo Charlie and new big sis Nolie), this is the day you decided to be reborn.

Own it. Love it. Live it.

Go forth and conquer,

The Old You

Ps, I’ll be over here in the corner feeling sorry for myself.

PPS: you’re welcome.

Filed Under: I am pouty and I want to tell you all about it, Letters that will never get mailed

Auld Lang Syne

December 31, 2011 By 65 Comments

Dear 2011,

No offense, but don’t let the door hit you in the tail on your way out at midnight.

It’s been a rough year for not only me, but a lot of my near and dears. We had deaths in the family, cancer scares, surgeries, job losses, too many court dates, loved ones moving away and people we thought loved us hurting us deeply.

But we also had a lot of good times.

Babies were born, career paths chosen, engagements announced, houses bought, weight lost, friends made and roller derby played.

We made the best of the crap hand you dealt us and we had a good time in spite of you, 2011.

So for 2012, here is what I am putting on my resolution list:

Save money (we have a large debt we need to pay down. LARGE.)

Build doula business (babies are awesome.)

Lose weight (I’m down 30 pounds from this time last year. I want to lose AT LEAST another 30 by bikini season! Not that I’ll be wearing a bikini….)

Skate hard (now that i am on a derby team, I have to bust my tail to keep up!)

Be a better person (our family wants to do some volunteering and random acts of kindness)

So 2011, suck it. We are not sorry to see you go.

Xoxox,

Mia

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Chuck resolves to look 109% cuter in 2012.

What’s your resolution for 2012?

Filed Under: Letters that will never get mailed, Nothing to See Here. Tagged With:

Happy Birthday, Baby

December 15, 2011 By 75 Comments

Dear Boy Wonder:

Today is your twelfth birthday, and after all that has happened in the past few months (though you are blissfully unaware of any of it), I am happy to be the one to do ridiculous things like stay up until midnight baking cookies with spelling words on them and then wake up at 6am to make homemade Egg McMuffins (all in the name of pleasing the birthday boy.)

When you were born, as you probably know, I was very young. I had no idea how to be a mom, but I tried very hard in my own adolescent way. Thank you for being patient with me, as I learned to be a mom on the fly, while teaching you how to be a big human being.

I remember quite a few birthdays (and birthday parties) when you were very little, and you hated to have anyone sing you “Happy birthday”! You still do, you’re just not as vehemently opposed as you were at 3.

You have always been an incredibly intelligent child, and I can never keep the books out of your hand (not that I’d want to). No more books at the dinner table, btw.

Your math skills are approaching the top realm of my capabilities, I’m afraid….and there will come a point when I cannot assist you with your math/science homework anymore.

And as you careen towards the teenage years, I’m afraid my math skills will run out right as you need to learn things like shaving and what to say to girls. (I can kind of help with that last one.)

I fortunately have your rad dad and your awesome stepdad to help you with these things, but as you turn twelve on this day, I can’t help but reminisce about the sweet, tiny (but LONG) baby you were and the quiet & curious toddler you became and the smart, funny, caring adolescent you’ve become.

I can’t wait to see how your teenage years pan out, but for now, you’ll have to humor your “old mom”, when I hug you a bit tighter or stare at you (but not in a creepy way) and think of how, in just a few short years, you’ll be off on an adventure, and I won’t need to hold your hand so you can cross the street.

Happy Twelve, baby. Your dad, Chef and I are lucky to know you and your brand of awesome.

Xoxox,
Mom

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Ps, you’re pretty much the best big brother ever, per Chuck.

Filed Under: Boy Wonder, Kids, Letters that will never get mailed Tagged With: , ,
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