On Syrian Refugees.

I came across this tweet today and it really hit me in that place in my brain that triggered actual anger.

I’ve had so much that I’ve wanted to say about the entire Syrian refugee crisis but I’ve kept my mouth closed because I’ve found that there are people out there who are far more eloquent and properly equipped with that brain to mouth (or finger) filter than I am.

But I just can’t anymore. I don’t want to go into some long drawn out rant I just want people to realize that these are HUMAN BEINGS. HUMAN BEINGS that would rather get on a boat knowing they have a better chance of drowing than finding freedom. They are going to refugee camps where they live in a tent and shit in a hole and maybe get to eat sometime today, or maybe tomorrow, or maybe the next day? They are going to countries where they know they are not wanted, they are HATED, but being spit on and hated and possibly killed along the way? That’s all better than HOME.

Home is where little girls get kidnapped and married off to act as a glorified breeder at the age of 11. Where ENTIRE TOWNS get killed. A TOWN. Less than the amount of people that were killed in Paris except it happens ALL THE TIME.

The number of fatalities in the conflict, according to the Syrian opposition website Syrian Martyrs, is 138,858, updated to 30 September 2015.

Kids. Women. Men. Innocent HUMAN BEINGS. Killed because they refuse to BECOME EXTREMISTS.

So turning them away? Saying they aren’t welcome here in America? You might as well just put the gun to their head and pull the trigger yourself. If you’re a Christian that believes Syrian refugees should be turned away at the border, you’re shaming your religion as much as the extremist Islamic terrorists are the Muslim religion.

“The (true) servants of (God) the Most Gracious are those who walk on the earth in humility, and when the ignorant address them, reply with (words of) peace.”
——— The Holy Quran, 25:63.

“For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in;”
——— Matthew, 25:13.

And just to drive the point home…


And now I’m going to go color my stress away.

The Fit Tactic

Somebody posted this video on a parenting group I’m a part of on Facebook. Don’t worry, it’s actually a cool parenting group. We support each other by posting videos like this and harshly judging each other for not breastfeeding our kids till they leave for college.

It reminded me of a story that happened a long time ago that will really embarrass my little brother so it should be documented on the internet for everybody in the world to read and enjoy.

So Cameron was clearly the last child my mother was going to have. It could be that my older brother and I completely RUINED her to how perfect and lovely children are. It could be that she really just wanted to hang on to that last “baby” but she completely spoiled Cameron ROTTEN. Like, TO THE CORE. When they went to the store she’d let him hang out in the toy aisle (that used to be okay to do without somebody calling child protective services) and before they left he’d want a toy, of course. If she said no he’d throw a fit and she’d give in and buy the toy. She liked to blame this on his ADHD but I’ve read a lot of books about how to deal with ADHD and NONE of them suggest “buy them everything they want”.

One time I took him to Longs Drugs. I was pregnant at the time so that means Cameron had to have been either 7 or 8. I let him hang out in the toy aisle because shopping with a hyperactive 7 year old is… Well, it seemed better to let him make action figures and Barbies kiss than ask me a bunch of questions about why I was buying vaginal itch cream.

And, of course, when I went to get him from the toy aisle he wanted a toy. At the time I was nineteen and pregnant and had to buy the store brand cream with change I’d dug up from the back of my car. I was totally not buying him his 4th over priced fake G-I-Joe.

The next thing I knew he was on the floor screaming and kicking and pounding and writhing around. The two other parents in the aisle quickly shot me the death glare and shuffled their children out of there before their precious crotch fruit could learn any bad habits. I guess they were leaving that up to television or something.

I looked down at Cameron and very calmly said, “I am going to go pay for my stuff now. When I’m done I’m going to the car and I’m going to leave. If you are still here when I leave, call mom and she can come get you when she gets back in town.”

And I walked away. Before I had even handed the cashier my palm full of change, he was back by my side and acting like nothing had ever happened. While he continued to use The Fit Tactic to get toys from my mom, he never again threw a fit when I had him. EVER.

Looking back, the mom in the video looks like she had much more run teaching her son the same lesson. Cassidy never threw fits in stores or restaurants. She was the most mellow kid ever. I guess at this point I’ll just have to wait till Cameron gives me some nieces or nephews. Or better yet, I’ll just demonstrate The Fit Tactic to the next girl he brings home for a family dinner. I’ll wait till right AFTER he tells the story of that one time I scared him so bad he still hasn’t recovered TWENTY YEARS LATER.

But that’s another blog post for another day.

“Well, they’ll never lose sight of you!”

Those are the exact words spoken by a complete stranger as we walked down the beach with the dogs one day. What can I say, I love bright colored active wear! That day is was neon purple shorts with pink trim and a fluorescent yellow tank top and a bright pink headband.

Ben often makes fun of my multi colored neon running gear and I just smile proudly and then run upstairs and try to add one more color just for good measure. Unless he’s rolling his eyes at me, my outfit isn’t loud enough.

Yesterday I had a giddy extra pep in my step because it was finally cold enough to have to wear my most excellent splatter paint arm warmers for my evening run.

I could feel Ben’s eyes rolling all the way from Santa Clara.


Not at all Wordless Wednesday

Quiet Wednesday night. Ben isn’t home yet, Cassidy is at practice and the dogs are finally tired after I took them on a 1.6 mile run. So I’m sitting at the table eating dinner (spaghetti squash with chicken and spicy marinara sauce) while watching Grey’s Anatomy and planning tomorrow.

I can’t make all of these exciting, people. This is the first time I’ve been able to sit down since I got off work and I’m once again typing this out from my phone.

NaBloPoMo is a demanding little bitch. I have to say though that it feels GOOD to be here every day again. Inspiring. I missed it.

And now I’m off to cross more items off the list. Trying to get my house at least half way put together before my dad and step-mom get here Friday. Months of home improvement projects have it looking the opposite of inviting. We still don’t have couches! But we have weekend company coming! I’m not letting it stress me though because I’m just so very excited to have them here for the weekend. Couches don’t matter.

Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.

I get really annoyed by a lot of stuff on Facebook. I’ve used the “Hide All From” feature so much that probably half my friend’s posts don’t even show up in my feed anymore. I have a list of facebook posts that annoy me in my brain that I should probably share with you all at some point because everything in my brain is AWESOME.



The one post I HATE though, like REALLY HATE, are the “You don’t know struggle till…” type posts. Because I get it, you are at a low point right now, or were in the past. I totally feel you. You deserve to be proud that you pulled yourself out of that, or are trying to right now. And I affirm your feeling.

You can not, however, use YOUR struggle to diminish that of everybody else. There are people out there that are worse off. In the depths of your despair you may not feel like those people exist, BUT THEY DO. And for you to say that they CLEARLY can’t know what it’s like to REALLY struggle because you happen to be going through shit too makes you kind of an asshole.

We are all going through shit. Instead of invalidating my feelings by using your feelings, OFFER SUPPORT. Even if it’s just to let other people know that dude, I HEAR you. I HEAR your struggle.

I HEAR you.

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