Where My Girls At, DC Comics?

I like to post funny stuff because funny stuff is fun to write. This isn't funny and it wasn't fun to write. If you have a young lady in your life, you'll understand why I felt compelled to shed some attention on this.

I read an article this evening about a little girl that wrote to DC comics, questioning why there weren't more female superheroes.  Her letter is beautifully executed (her parents are college English professors), and she addresses the fact that she's watched comics since she was a little girl and knows that she's not the only little girl that ends up questioning why there are few superhero figures that are girls.  She goes on an explains that she received a set of Justice League figures for her birthday and of the 12, only 2 were female.

How sad that this 11 year old has already discovered that female superheroes are just not desirable enough for DC to market and make. Yep. It's not important to show little girls that they can aspire to be strong and save the day, because that's a boy's job.  Errrrrrrr. Which means that we are also subconsciously reinforcing this same message to little boys. Little girls don't need strong role models. Girls aren't strong enough to be considered superheroes. They're not as strong, and they aren't smart enough to save the day.

In case you didn't read about this article, DC comics did tweet back to Rowan and tell her that female superheroes and movies where female superheroes are the main character are in the works. Their artists also turned Rowan into a superhero and I think their response is cool for this little girl, and also continues to shed light on what Rowan has exposed as a problem.

And now it's time for a little story:
I am one of those moms that pretends to enjoy making my kids' Halloween costumes.  It's fun to get crafty, but I'd be lying if I said it WASN'T a major pain in the a$$ most of the time. Long story short, I ran out of time and energy a couple of years ago and I sat down at the laptop with my 6 year old BOY and said "let's find costumes for you and your (3 year old) sister."

Side by side on Amazon were Batman and Robin costumes. My handsome man flipped out and determined that he was going to be Robin and that his LITTLE SISTER HAD TO BE BATMAN.  I asked him if he was sure that I heard him correctly and that he didn't want to be Batman (shame on me). He confirmed his selection, and the purchase was made.

Boom....Halloween.  No sewing machine, coffee binges, and 4 hour Michael's and JoAnn Fabric trips.  My 3 year old, sassy, beautiful, strong, sensitive little miss ROCKED that costume while her much taller, handsome, confident, older brother stood proudly next to her as HER sidekick.  He even pulled the wagon with her in it from house to house, because that's what good sidekicks (and amazing brothers) do.  And there were comments about how cute it was that their roles were reversed, and how people couldn't believe that the older brother wanted to be Robin and that he "let" his sister be BatMAN.  We ignored them and continued to enjoy the fact that we gave the proverbial middle finger to traditional gender roles that night.

So to review and state the obvious, at six years old, my little guy saw nothing wrong with taking a sidekick role to his sister.  And my 3 year old was thrilled to be Batman. BatMAN...(and to get technical, she was Batman wearing a tutu...because that's how, as a culture, we deal with the fact that there aren't many female superheroes to pick from--we just throw tutus on the male superhero characters...#totallynormal).

Throw an equal number of empowering girl superheroes into the mix and we might encourage a generation of strong, empowered, advocating, save-the-day females.  They might grow up to be superheroes and have male sidekicks. Or they might grow up, completely smitten with the CHOICE to choose what and who they want to look up to. And the boys, well, they would be completely cool with the fact that girls are bumping elbows with them for leadership roles. Whoa.  Mind blown.

Girls are much stronger than they (and others) give them credit for.  I mean, so strong. Even when they don't mean to be:

Hey Rowan, you don't need a superhero to inspire you to be strong, but I appreciate the fact that you're advocating for little girls so they don't have to fight so hard to be considered as strong, as tough, and as deserving of a #1 spot.

So, thank you, Rowan.  Keep pushing for what you believe in.  Dedication and persistence are quite the superpower...

On the Next Dr. Phil, The Infrequently Intrigued: The Story of theMicromanaged Childhood

Teaching eleven year olds how to use combination lockers is like teaching a dog to shake with his right paw...but the dog is missing his right paw...

For the love of Sweet Baby Jesus (SBJ for short), please teach your children how to operate a combination lock before they come to middle school. Also, please monitor their ability to use a clock that has hands. 

Each year, I watch *adorable* sixth graders come into school unable to open a locker, organize their junk in their lockers, tell time, tie their shoes, write their assignments down without being reminded, bring their materials from class to class....etc... They are teachable, but have lost interest in becoming independent. I've noticed that they require more coaxing and more explanation as to why they MUST learn things, instead of just being naturally curious and motivated to do so.  

What have we done?

Well, IMHO, we've enabled. We've helicoptered. We've circled around them since they were itty bitty bambinos, preventing them from falling and eliminating every POTENTIAL danger, encapsulating them to PROVIDE the best life possible. And we've stunted the HELL out of their curiosity, requiring all of their life lessons to be meaningful and perfect, Pinterest-worthy, then Status update-worthy. They get older and then expect knowledge on a platter, plated like it's from a five-star effing restaurant. They don't know how to dig into something that intrigues them, because they are difficult to impress and therefore are infrequently intrigued! Oh, but it's "our fault, not theirs." 

You know what else we've done? We've done a lot of "meh. They'll learn that when they're ready..." and "oh, well, s/he doesn't understand that, because it's not her/his strength." Um, hello. Those are called excuses. Yep! And they start when we have toddlers that freak out in the grocery store, stripping random food products off the shelves and throwing them at innocent bystanders ("He's overtired. It's naptime!") and in middle school ("She can't memorize her multiplication facts, because she's just like me and WE struggle at math.") We make a shit-ton of excuses for our kids because we feel that their performance is directly tied to our success as parents. It's not. Granted, good parents have great probability of having awesome kids. But guess what, shitty parents have good kids too (fingers crossed for my two)!  It's our job to provide our kids with the ideas and principles of ownership and responsibility. We need to stop making excuses, and we need to stop accepting them to pad our impressions of ourselves as parents.  

I want my kids to be curious, and to find a passion that intrigues them. I want them to make mistakes, and learn from them. They can get hurt (please SBJ don't let it involve their teeth, though. Broken and mangled teeth freak me out. There, I said it. Can't happen to my two, now, can it?), but I hope if they get hurt they correct their error in judgement. A rice-cake life that is bland, but safe, is NOT what I want for my kids. They better be curious, they better WANT to conquer a combination lock because it's a rite of passage to being in junior high, and for Big Ben's sake, they better know how to read a damn analog clock by age 11. Or else....

I Need To Write

I need to write, like people (that shall remain nameless) need to drink. It's an outlet. It's a source of therapy, even when I'm not venting. When I craft these blog posts, or write emails (I was going to say letters, but who even does that anymore? How much are stamps these days?), I spell check, edit, and rewrite sentences with the attention that a new mother gives her first born. (Notice I didn't say second born. And God help all of you third-born children and beyond. You were probably raised by wolves or some other caring mammal that lived near your house, because your parents were probably *all done* with that thing called "parenting" by the you came around---#apologies #truthhurts).

Anyway, writing comes easy to me. When I am feeling angry, I want to write. When I am feeling happy, I want to write. Frustrated? Get me my laptop--I need to write. Interestingly enough, I don't have a journal. Journaling has always made me feel ridiculous. I mean, who am I, Anne Frank? What do I possibly have to write about that I'd want to read about in the future? Journaling: NOT FOR ME.  However, when I have something to say that I know is going to make someone laugh or smile, I'd rather write a witty Facebook status than call the 25 people that I know will get a kick out of it....and for you social media haters, that does NOT mean that I don't know how to communicate traditionally or that I am ADDICTED to social media, but it means that I recognize the therapeutic effect that Facebook has on us, and that I am happy to contribute to numbing someone's down time by writing something that might bring a laugh or two to a friend that needs it. We've all been down the road of Facebook scrolling without even reading the statuses that are in front of us...and if you haven't, I'm sorry that I just outed myself for possibly not reading your posts.....

Today, I need to write. I need to write because I really don't want to pick up my house. I'd rather be sitting right here, right now, crafting this post than spend this moment putting my dinner dishes in the dishwasher, putting away two loads of laundry, or even getting my kids ready for bedtime. Writing this, RIGHT NOW, is an intimate moment where I am digging in my own mind for just the right words about how I am feeling. So, just so we're clear: I'm feeling, hmm, lazy. I'm also feeling unmotivated. I do not feel like putting laundry away, while mentally preparing next week's grocery list (because multi-tasking and getting a little bit of everything done without focusing on one thing at a time--therefore, not completing anything is how I roll, anyone else with me?). So, while writing this, I am not answering the annoying adorable questions that my two little ones constantly ask me over and over again ("Can we have breakfast for dinner tomorrow?" "Did you find my purple dress up shoe?" "Can I buy this app for the iPad?" "Why does the dog poop there all the time?"). My focus, currently, is on my thoughts, and my feelings, because one cannot write while thinking of other things. You can try, but you'd end up with something like this:

What is life really about? Is it about damn, do we have italian dressing? Crap. Stay focused. Where was I? 

What is life really about? Is it about, finding ourselvWHY THE HELL IS THE WATER IN THE BATHROOM ON? *Girl child* SHUT THE WATER OFF IN THE BATHROOM. WHY MUST THAT BATHROOM ALWAYS LOOK LIKE A WATER MAIN BROKE IN THERE? please. tell. me. that. you. did. NOT. put. soap. in. your. dry. hair. UGH! STRIP DOWN. I GUESS IT'S BATH TIME.  

Yeah. That's pretty much what happens if you try to write while multi-tasking and not being committed to fifteen minutes of uninterrupted thought-processing.

Tonight, I needed to write. But, I think I'm ready to put the laundry away now, so I should probably go do that. Do we have italian dressing? No. We do not.... We also need bleach. That bathroom is gross....STAY FOCUSED. LAUNDRYLAUNDRYLAUNDRY.

If You Are That Mom, Please Stop.

If you are the mom that makes everything crafty that shows up on the kidspiration board on Pinterest, please stop. You are making your kid rely on you to entertain them and you are making the rest of us feel guilty about checking Facebook with our kids plopped in front of the TV. 

If you are the mom that makes bento-box lunches every.single.day for your kids, your husband, and your hamster and those lunches are healthy, colorful, and turn your kid’s lunch into an effin’ art project, please stop. Your kid is probably craving stale, frozen-in-the-middle chicken nuggets that have been MICROWAVED (*gasp!*). Besides, your kid probably steals the Cheetos out of the lunch of the kid sitting next to him/her, while your 45 minute Bento-box-Mona-Lisa gets chucked out with fifth grade retainers.

If you are the mom that says “Oh, excuse the mess” after cleaning the house for HOURS like Oprah was on her way over, please stop, and come over to my house and then continue.


If you are the mom that has a toddler yet leaves your table set all the time, please stop. Your kid needs a place to color, and quite honestly, that just tells me that you use paper plates all the time. (#youknowitstrue)

If you are the mom at the playground, judging the other moms at the playground (or the mom at the computer judging the moms that make bento-box lunches) please stop. We all feel inferior from time to time. That’s not the opportunity to pounce on another’s weakness. It’s the time to reflect and appreciate all that we have that is good in our lives and to be thankful.


Hey, “that mom,” thanks for trying so hard, but promise me you’ll only do those things above if you really want to, ok? Doing them because you think you should is not a good enough reason...and your kids will sense that. I suck at crafts, I pack lunches that have way too much sugar, my house is messy, and I tend to be a tichy-bit judgemental, however, I LOVE tucking my kids into bed, and eating dinner together as a family. I’m not perfect, but I admit that and I hope I pass on my tolerance of imperfection to my children. I do what I want with and for my kids, and not what I think I *should* be doing.


My motto: Eff Perfection. Now, let me check who’s pretending to be awesome on Facebook...

Rainbows and Lollipops

 My kids went to bed at a reasonable hour last night, and I woke up with my clothes ironed, my lunch packed, and a cup of coffee in hand...the result of this good fortune? A great start to my day which allowed me to see the rainbows and lollipops in my life....

Let's shine some of this happy light on my career: I love teaching. I really do. There is NOTHING like knowing that you hold some type of knowledge and are directly responsible for transferring it to someone that needs to understand it. And when you know you've NAILED a lesson, there is an energy that you and the kids have that is completely indescribable! True story!

I have one student in particular that LIGHTS UP MY LIFE every day. He tries SO hard and doesn't always understand things, which makes when he does "get it" SUPER special. If we were playing hide and go seek, I'd find him first just so he could help me find the others because THAT'S how much I enjoy his company. Actually, if he ever comes up missing, I may have taken him home with me. I won't write him off on my taxes, so it'll be totally legit. I promise. This one student reminds me that I need to be thankful for everything I have, because even though he comes from a supportive home, his family has extreme financial limitations. Yet, he comes in every day with a smile, and a positive attitude--which is more than most adults (umm, *raise hand* GUILTY) will give you these days. 

This specific student reinforces that it's not how much money we have, what we look like, or how smart we are--it's about how much effort we give things and how positive our attitude is. I hope that I've taught him a boatload this year, but I'm thankful for this eleven year old and the life lesson he's taught me. 

Holy effin' estrogen. Where is all this warm and fuzziness coming from? What the hell is that about?! Did someone slip some Oprah in my coffee? 

Teaching Is an Emotional Rollercoaster

I really do enjoy my job, but it is common for me to have a rough day where I question my purpose, my abilities, and quite honestly whether or not the emotional roller coaster of teaching is worth the pay.

Let's just say that the lesson delivery is the easy part of my job; the worry and concern I take home with me about what some of my students are going through, the future of education and what MY COLLEAGUES have to deal with (I'm talking about you, APPR, and common core) are the things that really makes my job difficult.

And for those of you that are reading this and saying "but you get more vacation time than any other profession," I say "yep. And I have a master's degree, ten years of experience, make (barely) 50k, can't pee at work unless someone tells me it's ok, AND am responsible for undoing the damage society (ahem, parents) have done to our children. We are actors, social workers, counselors, parents, and now statisticians.  We earn THAT time off, however, during summer months most of us are going into school, and developing plans, learning new content, or (sitting at our pools) PINNING (God bless Pinterest) ways to make ourselves better at our jobs," so it is really "time off"?

Whew, that vent was a little over due... now, yesterday was one of the days that I really envied the people that have jobs that they are able to walk away from at the end of the day, without worry and regard. As I mentioned in a previous post, I am having foot surgery today, which will keep me out of work until after the new year. I tried everything to NOT have the surgery, including calling my insurance company and trying to get them NOT to cover it. I am scared out of my wits about this, and honestly, the insurance company phone call was not my proudest moment. However, my last day of work prior to this surgery was so crazy that I have drafted a list of the things I would rather have done than worked yesterday:

1.) had foot surgery- yes, a day early...preventing me from walking, driving, working and caring for myself and my family a whole day earlier.

2.) gone to walmart with my dad...that man can make friends with ANYONE (and although we tease him relentlessly about this, it's the part of his personality that we love and admire the most!)

3.) stood in line at the DMV.

4.) had a pap smear.

5.) delivered a baby, without an epidural.

6.) had jury duty.

7.) rolled in poison ivy

8.) called the insurance company to listen to all of their menu options.

9.) shopped for a bathing suit.

I really was shooting for ten, but I JUST CAN'T GET PAST that I would have rather shopped for a bathing suit. I mean, when a girl says that she would have rather stood in front of a mirror in something spandex, trying to cover as much and as little of her body at the same time, you should pour her a TALL glass of something that isn't milk--because her day must have been pretty bad. For Realz.

I couldn't finish this without saying that I do appreciate the opportunity that teaching allows me. It allows me to filter all of the c-r-a-p that is negatively affecting education today, and put my kid-friendly spin on it. I may need reminders on bad days, but the opportunity that my job has allowed me and the impact that perhaps isn't always visible is WHY I teach.  I teach because I am committed to making the best out of the kids I work with, to focus on what is important in the LIVES of the kids, and to filter the stuff that isn't. Now, off to surgery, so I can walk normally while doing all of that. (Side note: I will surely enjoy peeing whenever I want for the next six weeks).  

Control Freak

Ready for this hook? I can be a bit of a controlling wench. There. I said it. And unfortunately for my friends and family, that's one of my better qualities. Let's all say a mini-prayer for my children and the future therapy they're more than likely destined to receive.

It has taken me 31 years to recognize that as much as I feel that I should be able to control things, including my rugrats children, I cannot. Letting go of the reins of that horse I DON'T ride (they kick and cowboy boots just don't fit my calves) is probably one of those life feats that I must conquer before I am whisked off this planet. Someone call my life coach and tell her she's fired.

And now, a little dissertation on the power of choice. I can choose to do certain things. I decide whether or not I do the laundry, and that choice relates the approval rating I give my bedroom when the hamper is empty or exploding and cascading into the middle of the room--leaving a less than fresh scent. Unfortunately, my laundry has RECENTLY spawned and multiplied, resulting in an approval rating of negative 2.5. I really need to invest in more underwear....it's getting too chilly to go without. KIDDING.

I need to understand that I cannot control others, their actions, past (poor) decisions I've made, the weather, or the current state of my career. Luckily, I OWN my perspective on these things, however, and I'm trying to choose that perspective wisely. Everyone has battles and a hill to climb, but the path up that hill looks different for everyone. Health, finances, companionship, careers, and raising children can present obstacles for us to work through, but without these struggles and others like it, life would be boring! And, really, let's be serious, EVERYONE can either be placed in the category of Complainer or Problem Solver. Without challenges, we wouldn't have or need either!

Me, well, I'm choosing (or at least trying) to live for the moment and appreciate the opportunity that I have to do so. With that, I am going to work on being okay with "going with flow" even if it sends me over Niagara Falls in a clean swimsuit that ISN'T in that cascading pile of laundry!

SPOILER ALERT: I'm a complainer (I mean, this site's name is EFFDIS). And you choose to read my rants.  Good choice.

Socializing at Walmart

What is it about Walmart that makes every person I know cringe at the thought of having to venture there?

Is it the less than stellar produce? The roll back (then up) prices? Is it the shopping carts that you are pretty sure you'll need a tetanus shot after using? Perhaps it's the customer that you're bound to run into going the opposite way in EVERY. DAMN. AISLE..

For me, it's running into at least fifteen people that I have to talk to, which is kind of funny because those fifteen people are equally annoyed that they have to talk to me. It should be a rule that if you run into someone in Walmart, the standard procedure is that you stay the eff away from them. A smile and a nod, or even a "hey there!" is ENOUGH so that everyone in that Godforsaken place can just get the crap they need and get the hell out of there.

And sweet Jesus, someone show my dad this post. That man knows everyone, and if he doesn't know someone, he is introducing himself to them. Walmart is not the Catalina Wine Mixer, Dad (whoa...I didn't think I'd ever need to reference the movie Stepbrothers). It's the place produce goes to die...

I am NOT a Negative Nancy

Do you know what a Negative Nancy is?  Oh yeah, it's an asshat of person that brings others down....LOW. Chances are, these people are sprinkled throughout your family, your friends, and your job.  They suck and you probably talk bad about them behind their back.  Oh, you don't?  Yeah, me either.

These people could bitch about winning the lottery. They probably complain about about packing for their vacation (if you are on vacation, just walk around naked...go ahead, every one is doing it. literally).  Anyways, these people are ungrateful and couldn't recognize happiness if it slapped them dead in the face.  Chances are, I'm one of these people... only I haven't won the lottery (yet! look at that optimism), and I'm not on vacation. Sigh. I did, recently, get slapped in the face, however.  hmmm. 

It's gorgeous out right now, and these people are bitching because they aren't outside. When it's effing raining, they're complaining about being stuck inside. Douches.

Anyways, if these people are ruining your positivity, get rid of them. Make them go away. Don't answer their texts, their phone calls, and certainly delete their asses from Facebook, because who wants to read about people bitching about their daily lives? EFF THAT!  Oh dear. I know I complain a lot, but I'm funny.  These Negative Nancies, they're just depressing. Awww, shit. I don't want to be grouped in with them....IT'S GORGEOUS OUT AND I'M HAPPY. Happy as hell. Smiling even!  See, I'm not like those bitches. I'm good.

When I Was A Kid...

The "when I was a kid" speel is pretty damn lame.  I, respectfully, DID NOT roll my eyes every time I heard a 5 minute hour life lesson that started off this way, although you can bet your ass I wanted to roll my eyes and bitch slap the offending party.  When I was a kid, we WALKED to the store to get penny candy, and if we had a penny or two, it was a treat... When I was a kid, we got ONE pair of shoes a year, and if our feet grew out them, we went barefoot, on glass covered streets (did my parents live in Kosovo or something? Glass covered streets?)...When I was a kid, we did chores because we were told, not because we wanted something or expected an allowance.... etc. etc. etc.

Well, I'm there.  I've caught myself saying things lately that question my credibility, and my "with it" factor.  I've started these 5 minute hour dissertations with the phrase "When I was a kid..."  What am I, like 55?  For the record, I am not. 

This got me thinking about all the things that are SOOO different for kids/teens/20 something idiots on Jersey Shore and the rest of the posers that act like them.  And I like lists....

Hence, the "Holy Crap, Things are Way Different Now Than They Were When I Was A Kid" list:

1.) Most kids do not know what a pen pal is, but they had a freekin' eMail address in utero.

2.) Texting has replaced the boy/girl crazy teenager staying up and talking on the phone all night.   

3.) Love notes?  Nope.  Sexts? Yup. Eww!

4.) Summer vacations with kids playing in the neighborhood, has really fallen to the wayside.  Us "soccer moms" schedule play dates, or our kids play video crack games while we get household chores done.

5.) One of my favorites: many kids/young adults have learned a very crappy lesson called: "I'm not responsible for any of my misbehavior"...why?  Because their parents are too busy making excuses for them, instead of teaching them from their mistakes.  When I was a kid, if I got in trouble at school, my parents corrected my behavior IMMEDIATELY and it didn't matter if I was at fault or not.  They made me accountable for my actions and any consequences that followed.  In turn, I respected the institution that deemed my actions unacceptable.  Period.  No excuses, no pussyfooting around the situation... (awww, damn, there goes another 5 minute dissertation...apologies).

6.) Back in the day, sportsmanship was taught at an effin' EARLY age.  Like pre-potty training...maybe not that early, BUT EARLY! It was not "a stage he/she is going through" and if it was a stage your bratty-ass child is going through, MAKE THAT STAGE END. now.  Better yet, LAST WEEK!

7.) Uhhh, wasn't telling time something that kids learned, like, prior to 21?   Don't even get my started on cursive handwriting....

8.) WHEN I WAS A KID, negotiations with my parents usually ended with me getting slapped....and the phrase "because I said so" was not my cue to say "why!?"  

9.) How many TVs are in a household these days?  Probably EXPONENTIALLY more than when you (gulp) were a kid....

10.)  I'm stopping my list now and going to buy some Ensure and perhaps I'll catch the early bird special at the local diner.....SMH (I guess, one more for good measure: Did we have all these effing acronyms? No, we didn't.  We said the whole damn phrase.  WTF actually meant something.  So did Oh Em Gee. Ridic.  How much time do kids really save by using the letters?  I mean, come on....most phones replace the words as they text....)

List complete.  Yeah, right.  This list doesn't even scrape the surface!