Truth, Justice and the American Way

I wandered through "The Children's Place" and sighed a long quiet sigh. The kids followed me up to the counter again, knowing that mommy was going to ask for the manager. Yet again, the damn racks were too close, leaving no room for a wheelchair to navigate through the store. Damn straight if there wasn't an adorable preteen in a wheelchair trying to check out a stripped hoodie...but no go, since she couldn't.f-ing.get.to.it.

This is my thing. I stalk shitheads who put racks too close to each other. Christmas is a real pain the ass, since I'm perpetually asking for some manager or another to move their frigging racks 30 inches apart to allow for a wheelchair to pass through. It happens to be the same size as my stroller, so it's easy to prove my point while ramming my kids' arms and legs through a space meant for one-single-able-bodied anorexic.

It occurred to me that this is my Thing. I like Justice. I believe in Guns. I like the idea of an eye for an eye. I call 911 for the asshole who was running folks off the road with the "How am I Driving?" bumper sticker (then I called his boss, that MO-FO freak going over 110 MPH). I believe that illegal immigration should be handled by who is best to serve our country (yeah that means kick the shitheads out). I HATE liars. I think rapist should have their balls ripped off (um, I actually mean it) and that anyone who harms a child should d.i.e.

My standards are high, I know. But here is what I know: Justice is my calling. Truth is my baseline and the American Way is a vehicle to get me there.

This Little Light of Mine!

At the top of his lungs, Thing 1 picked up this song singing it loud and with both verses. All day today he grooved and rocked like he was jamming to Zepplin.

Then Thing 1 turned around and started singing in 3rd person to the baby in La-La's belly. "This little light of YOURS, you're gonna let it shine!" So proud he told me he could see the light in his heart and it only glows when no one is looking.

I didn't tell him that little light of his lights up my whole world.

La Luna

Every night I can look out our new bedroom window and see the moon this week. I swear it wasn't there before inbetween the panes, lowering slowly as the DVR ticks on past 10 p.m.

I mention it every night to La Gringa, but tired as she is, she phews a nod and mumbles something random as she turns over to bed. In Palmilla, that same moon was magic and as it lights our bedroom at home, I wonder how it lost its light for La Gringa.

The BabyCatcher

My dear friend La-La is pregnant. It's been a long hard haul for her. La-la started out as Thing 1 and Thing 2's nanny when they were 5 months old and instantly became family to me.

My dear La-la fell in love while on a student visa from an EU country and, well, ditched her visa and is here now illegally (nothing to be said for her double master degrees, tight-knit family, dear lifelong friends and two amazing parents) for her equally illegal boyfriend. I love my La-la like a sister, my children, like an Auntie.

La-la's got a baby in her tummy. Tonight my kids left this on the back step for her. They called it the BabyCatcher and want her to use it when the baby is ready to come out. They also left plastic kid scissors (to cut the baby out) and are convinced that the baby needs oatmeal ASAP. That little prima is going to need food!

Being illegal in America is no joke. It's on my mind almost constantly. How will I protect her from whatever fate God and Country have in store for her?

Spaghetti Legs

Big 5 is a right of passage as a kid. The day is completely etched into my memory. I can see my Big 5 store on the corner of Wilshire Blvd. and, I dunno, somewhere around 20th Street and my brother and I walking around with my mom collecting shin guards, soccer cleats and socks every single August for the start of AYSO.

I played soccer from the time I was tiny and played as a passion for years and years. My brother went onto play NCAA soccer at Cornell. Every single Saturday was soccer day and most Thursday nights, cold for L.A. standards, we'd huddle in practice drills at Will Rogers Park.

I stood in a surreal moment today at the counter of Big 5 paying for Thing 1's first ever soccer cleats, a shiny #3 ball and shin guards so tall that they went over his knee. He carried the bag out of the store -- Big 5 bags are always bigger than your gear -- dragging it all the way to the car. He had his cleats on before we got out of the parking lot and screaming "Gooooooooooaaaaal!!!!!!!" by the time I got him to his first ever soccer practice today.

My kid wobbled and bobbled around the field, the ball dribbling him, it seemed. He's speedy enough alright, just like I was. I could see his face flushed, concentrating so hard on that dang ball and loving every minute of freedom to fly and bump and roll on the grass that he could muster. In the end I asked him his coach's name. He bluntly told me, "Coach." It made me smile remembering that I still call my first soccer coach (Dick Earnest, my pal Eric's dad) "Coach" to this day and that moment for me was 30 years ago.

I think Thing 1 is gonna love soccer. Not nearly as much as I love watching my passion for it through him.

Me 101

I'm a freakish mommy kidaholic, work my ass off as a consultant, running a snall Internet company side-by-side with my partner in an office about 750 square feet. I've got a gaggle of extraordinary friends that mean the world to me and a mom that is my sunshine. I'm known for thrusting wine in your hand at the front door, and for giving a gazillion spontaneous dinner parties for whomever needs a good meal and a great hug.

I've got it really good.

Today's a bit of a shitty day as we just got home from a short 4-day holiday alone without the kids (four-year old twins, Thing 1 and Thing 2) and frankly it just was not long enough. I came home pissed off at our clients because the iPhone (amazing gadget) kept ringing with their calls the entire trip. One client in particular, I'm ready to punt. I've never punted a client...

In anycase, I've got a stomach virus that is putting my fatt tanned ass locked right in the toilet for the past two days. And today, when I finally went to get myself some soup, I got stung by a bee. Fucker. In the meantime, my partners are in L.A. for a new client meeting that seems to be going really well while I'm sitting here on the pot. At least the WiFi works.

Bastard of a Client

Shit. Fuck. Mother fuckers. I cannot stand this client. I seriously hope they go down in a blaze so small that my kid could pee on it and douse their lameass fire

I am so angry at this client I want to scream. But alas, instead I just blog. :)

Unprofessional, disorganized lying...run by a madman until a (very cool) ElCEO jumped in to save them. He damn well might do it too. He's had a bunch of good hires, phenomenal vision and passion. I believe the guy...his intensity is convincing.

One CEO is not enough to keep a gaggle of confused staffers from chomping on us like a pitbull on a baby. And we, for the first time as a company, are completely fucked. There is nothing positive we can do except wait it out...and get out.

We counted down the days until the end of the contract, then, five days after our contracted ended, they called us non-stop on our vacation with demanding, conflicting requests from various people, pissed enough to treat like their whipping bitches. We've never had a client that is so out of control.

It's over in nine days finally. I literally cannot wait and have removed myself the best I can. At some point we had to rock the boat and you never want the chick rocking your boat to stick around with an oar. I was furious today to find that they are looking for a different interactive agency. But I'm the fool: we are the ones who didn't renew the contract! It's like dumping a lame boyfriend and then getting upset when he dates someone else. Ah well. they are still a shipwreck waiting to happen unless ElCEO can pull it off.

Whew, rant done. I feel better and I have go to finish making dinner for the kids and La Gringa.

p.s. fuckers. mother fuckers rat bastard worst client in history dickwits.