pillow protector All I can say folks is that my spring break did not go as planned. As the weekend neared and mid-terms were handed in, all I could envision was folded laundry, a clean pantry, and clutter free countertops. In reality, I was met with a horrendous migraine, which felt as though somebody had shoved an ice pick into my temple while my head was simultaneously being ran over by a freight train, six children home on three separate snow days, a leaky sink, a dishwasher that refuses to work, and a man at the mall who refused to sell me the pillow of my dreams. Don’t clean your glasses, you read that correctly: a man who worked as a salesman at a kiosk refused to sell me a pillow. I’m going to pause while you sit and reread that last sentence while thinking, “what the hell,” (I sure did). … … Enough, As my pain medication wore off, my husband and I found ourselves at the local mall. We happened upon a kiosk that sold pillows made of memory foam that claimed to help with migraines, allergies, and… you get the picture. Anyhoo, I put my head down on the first model and it was too soft; on a whim, I tried the next model and found it to be firm and exactly what I needed. Like the time I laid eyes on cake made of triple chocolate with chocolate icing and sprinkles (worry not, this cake did not last long), it was love at first sight; that pillow needed me. The salesman came rushing over to the kiosk (as though my husband and I were motivated enough to actually run off with one of these pillows, we’re both way too lazy to run) and asked if he could help us. I gladly told him that I would like to buy the pillow that I had just tried out, to which he replied that he would not sell me. Quite vexed, I asked, “why?” His reply, “Oh no– no, no no. This pillow is too hard for a lady. You’ll wake up with a migraine, you’ll be sore in the morning. I cannot sell this to you. Now this pillow (going to the first model I had tried), this pillow is better for you.” What the–? How do I get into these situations? How does this guy sell anything? Resisting the urge to scream at this fool about the fact that I am a paying customer who is willing to spend my money on a product that he is trying to sell and that any repercussions I faced, in terms of the pillow being too hard, would be a result of my personal choice, I asked him again to sell me this pillow. After triple-checking and asking him again to sell me the pillow and after his continued refusal, I finally gave up. I am resigned to accept that I will never find a comfortable pillow and when I do the salesperson will not allow me to buy it.  I am questioning many things now; I mean, should it be difficult to purchase a pillow? What other menial tasks will be met with such hardship? The next time I try to purchase my weekly Quarter Pounder with cheese, no onions, at the local McDonald’s, will they refuse to sell it to me because they are concerned for my cholesterol? What about buying that navy tank top that I have been eye-balling at the Belk? Perhaps a concerned sales associate would prevent me from making said purchase because it emphasizes my muffin top.  Just sayin’–

domestic

It’s the start of a new month and I think that I have finally figured out how to customize my blog. That needed to happen. If there’s anything difficult to read, aside from my horrid attempts at writing engaging material, let me know as I was not sure about the colors.

After a tedious Sunday morning of trying to get the children ready to go out and about, I slipped on the ice outside and decided that I was simply not that motivated.

I did, however, manage to get called lazy; after making a post about how a woman should never be made to feel as though she should be a domestic slave because her husband or significant other has decided that a “man” shouldn’t do chores, I was chided because how dare I assume that a hard working man should participate in household chores. I mean, I am the one who is home all day long, (except for when I leave at 7:45 A.M. and don’t get home until 6:00 P.M.) but all of those loooooong hours at home should be spent with me in domestic shackles happily dusting and humming show tunes because I have a big, strong man out working hard to take care of me.

…Please? Can we untangle those puppet strings?

Now, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that my husband is hard-working; but so am I and there is absolutely no common sense in the idea that because he works he is incapable of changing a diaper or switching out a load of laundry.

It was also asserted that my husband just must come home and do all the work that I have not done that day. If that were true that means that he comes home, bathes all of the children, coordinates their outfits, does their homework with them, swims through the stacks of fundraising slips balled up in their backpacks, wrestles them down to brush their teeth, feeds them breakfast, carpools them to school, does the dishes, drops the younger two off at the babysitter’s, picks the younger kids up from the baby sitter’s, picks the older ones up from school, drives to Tae Kwon Do lessons, wrestles with them to get them dressed and ready, fights with the baby to keep her off of the Tae Kwon Do mat, busses them all back home, cooks them dinner, does more dishes, switches laundry, cleans the floor, and puts away the dishes.

*whew* He does a lot, if anyone sees my husband, please commend him on his ability to hold down a full-time job and manage all of the rest as well.

Some men, and note the word some need to not interject commentary into issues that they simply cannot relate to. In other words, I pity this man’s wife. It really blows to have a husband who objectifies you and treats you as though you have no other abilities but to hum songs from Annie while you get down on your knees and scrub the floor by hand.

Men: You ALL need to realize that some women enjoy household work and others do not take a natural interest in it. We have other talents. This does not mean that we are lazy.

Montana-contour-map-950

So here I am, Lil’ Ol’ me crunching on a bag of popcorn with extra butter while wearing a pair of navy blue yoga pants and a grey sweatshirt when I come upon an article that informs me, to my astonishment, that soon I could be a hardened criminal in the state of Montana.

Republican David Moore has submitted a bill that will make it illegal to wear yoga pants and speedos in public in the state of Montana on the grounds that it is indecent exposure. I had to smack my hand into my forehead because all these years I have been so confused, I always thought that indecent exposure was the guy with the hairy butt crack sticking out at the local KFC buffet or maybe those young folk who wear their breeches down to the top of their tennis shoes.

I am so relieved to know that there is one state out of fifty that has it so together that it can focus on guiding its citizens through their daily choice of fashion. In fact, I am going to assume that Montana has no homeless population, no poverty, a 0% crime rate…

OMG! We need to move to Montana: Utopia, folks! Right here in our humble clump of land, where one’s biggest preoccupation is, “what am I going to wear today?” and soon that won’t even be a problem because Montana’s government is going to tell us what we should wear.

I just have a few tiny concerns as to how far this law will go; in all fairness, are they going to also be policing the entrances of local Wal-Marts where one can basque amongst myriad offenders? What about string bikinis at swimming pools and lakes? Will one still have the ability to procure a copy of “Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition”?

What if I am caught wearing yoga pants because I am actually participating in a local yoga class? Will I then become an offender? On that point, does the practice of yoga become illegal?

These are incredibly important concerns regarding this law and since the legislature lacks more pressing concerns, I hope that they take the time to clarify these points for all of us folks ready to pack up and move!

4

I never meant to sit down tonight and write a new post; however with over 300 pages of reading looming over my shoulder, my only choice was procrastination.

Soooo….

I was reading in the news last night that Virginia, my state of residence, legalized public breastfeeding. Before this law was passed, if a mother was nursing in a public place and making patrons or staff uncomfortable, they could ask that she leave and with this law in place, they cannot do so or it is discrimination.

Some people say that this should never have to be a law in the first place because the simple act of eating should not need to be legislated.

Others contend that this law does not necessarily legislate the ability to breastfeed in public, but works to protect the nursing mother from discrimination.

So, if you’ve read any of my other posts you will know what I did next:

Of course– I read the comment section ( The comment sections of news stories are like indulging in hot apple pie right after you had to make a mortgage/rent payment.)

While many were debating the aforementioned issues concerning this law, others were more preoccupied with the fact that women should be required to be discreet about nursing. One lady in particular was very worried that she might be dining out with her husband and a breastfeeding mother at another table could just whip out her boob, begin breastfeeding, and her husband would be staring at the breastfeeding mother for the duration of the evening. She was not the only woman with these concerns.

While I do not take issue on whether there should be a law or not concerning breastfeeding, I am perplexed by the idea of using breastfeeding to find a man!

Having breastfed all six of my children and being faced with myriad scenarios where I had no alternative but to nurse them in public, I have never had the experience of being hit on while I was in the act. Which begs the question:

Are any mothers being approached by these lustful men who apparently have some fetish with lactation while breastfeeding in public?

Is it possible that these men are simply too shy to approach me?

At any rate, here is my apology to all of the women who are in a committed relationship or married whose husbands I have distracted while feeding my baby. It was never my intention to seduce men with my mad lactation skills, I simply wanted to make it through a meal in public without a hungry, screaming baby spitting up peas in a scenario reminiscent of “The Exorcist” and I was not aware that I was being so seductive in the process. I am sorry.

On the other hand, I sit here reflecting on all of the times I have been breastfeeding in public and it makes me feel a bit vulnerable. How many of these men were watching me? Were they hiding? Have I went viral on some sleazy low-budget peep show website and don’t even know it?!?

The possibilities are as endless as my hunger for chocolate. Unfortunately for all of you married or committed women out there, I will not be swearing off breastfeeding any time soon, so buy me a breast pump and call me Jezebel!