Let’s just hug it out b/c spanking could soon become illegal

Have you ever spanked your child?  Take a second to tell me what you think.

 

I know some parents do and some don’t, but in South Africa it could be illegal to spank your child.

That’s right – legislation is currently being drafted by the Children’s Rights Project to make it corporal punishment if a parent spanks their child in their own home:

“If a husband beats a wife it’s a crime, but if a parents hits a child who is helpless, it’s not illegal,” Social Development Minister Bathabile Dlamini told the Sunday Times. Under the draft law, parents would be charged with assault if, at home, they used a flat hand on a child’s bottom or enacted other forms of corporal punishment.

Read more: http://newsfeed.time.com/2013/07/30/south-africa-may-outlaw-spanking-at-home/#ixzz2aXmcwY90

Can you imagine…

“What are you in for?” the inmate asked.

“Little Jr. took a sharpie to my couch so I spanked him. Now I’m serving 5-10 years.” said defeated parent.

As most of you know I have a 6-year-old daughter.  My parenting discipline mostly been about time-outs or the very 2013 way of hugging it out.  (insert eye roll from people without children).  “Sweetie I know you are behaving this way, because you want my attention.  How about if we hug and make it better instead?” Two snaps up and throw some confetti for my very constructive parenting style.  Yes, I know my child will be a bear to work with when she expects to “hug it out” when things go bad in the workplace.  Future employers – you’re welcome.

Confession – I did spank ONCE.  It was more like a thud than a spanking.  Needless to say, it traumatized me MUCH more than my sassy six-year-old.

What do you think?  Do you think it should be illegal to spank a child?

I guess we will have to watch South Africa to see how/if this law ends up becoming law and how they plan on enforcing it.

More later…

 

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An Open Letter to the Senior Lifestyle Editor at the Huffington Post

Dear Ms. Franklin:

I was reading the Huffington Post and came across your article, “30 things I hope to do after 30″.  I love to read lists like this.  I have made some lists like these in my life.  Since you are the Senior Lifestyle Editor at the Huffington Post and you are just turning thirty, I was intrigued to see what other things you hope to do AFTER you turn thirty.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lori-fradkin/30-things-i-hope-to-do-after-30_b_3130951.html?utm_hp_ref=healthy-living&ir=Healthy%20Living

After reading your list, I felt like I needed to respond.  I am 40ish (cough, cough) and nowhere near as important as you.  In fact the likelihood that this letter will even find you is next to zero.  I will admit that my responses stem mostly from deep seeded jealousy of your youth, your optimism and your position as Senior Lifestyle Editor for the Huffington Post.   Now I can’t respond to everything on your list.  Unlike you, I have kids, laundry piling up and a very serious case of ADD.

Here we go…

30 Things I Hope To Do After 301. Write a book. I don’t know if it will be the collection of essays I envisioned or a different type of book entirely. What I do know is that Helen Gurley Brown published “Sex and the Single Girl” at 40.

You and me sister!

2. Travel to Australia and New Zealand. 

Been there.  Went on a trip claiming I needed to “find myself”.  Never “found myself” but the trip was a-ma-zing.  Give me a ring on places to stay/things to do/etc.

3. Wear a leather dress. It’s stylish and sexy with a “Do you dare?” quality. It’s also not reserved for 20-somethings and Jennifer Aniston.

Really?  Leather?  Maybe it’s because I’m 40, but all I can think of is..oy the chafing.  You know that line from Steel Magnolias,  “It looks like two pigs fighting under a blanket.”  Maybe you are tall and gorgeous  but for a Jewish girl who is short and curvy, leather ONLY belongs on my feet.

8. Read Dorothy Parker and Flannery O’Connor. I read “The Bell Jar” for the first time last year. [Pauses for gasps.] It was one of those books I knew I should have read before, and I would grow silent when my peers discussed it. Now that I’ve crossed Plath off my list, I’m ready to tackle the other iconic female writers I somehow missed.

I’m pausing, but not because I’m gasping.  I’m pausing, because I’m trying to figure out what you’re talking about.  Who the hell are your peers?  My peers, all college educated, are discussing what Honey Boo Boo was doing on the last episode.

9. Get invited to a Big Event. The White House Correspondents’ dinner or the TIME 100 gala seem most likely, given that they bring together people from multiple industries, including my own, but just putting it out there that I would be absolutely fine with the Oscars.

OMG I’m waiting on my invitation to the White House Correspondence dinner also!  Maybe we can sit together?  I think it’s more likely is that I will be invited to a Bunco party or one of those screw-your-friends parties like Pampered Chef.  Promise to send me pics from the TIME 100 gala.

10. Learn to put on makeup properly. Oh, sure, I do something to my eyes in the morning and there’s a loose powder that gets all over the bathroom sink, but really, I have no idea what I’m doing. I look at myself in the mirror later in the day, and all my work seems to have disappeared. I need to learn some actual techniques.

Psst…little secret – take yourself to Macy’s and go to any make-up counter.  They will show you how to “properly” put on eye makeup.  BTW – no woman has eye makeup  on by the end of the day, unless you are Tammy Faye or a transvestite.

12. Become more financially independent. This is hard to admit, but here goes: I’m not there yet. I pay my rent and my bills, but look in my closet and you’ll see abundant evidence of the help I still get from my family. While I wouldn’t exactly go naked without their support, the specific items in my wardrobe would be different. (Well, not this one.) My parents and grandparents say they would take me shopping regardless of my salary, insisting they get joy out of the experience. But it still bothers me that I am not at a point where I could use my own credit card to buy the things I love.

Sweetie, you are the SENIOR Lifestyles Editor of Huffington Post. It’s not like you are a shift manager at the McDonalds.  There is a difference between “help” and “gifts”.  What the hell do you love exactly?

13. Have and raise children.

You do realize that most of this list, like all of the trips, are null and void once you have kids?  Note my comments to follow.

14. Take a cross-country road trip. Though road trips are usually associated with college, there’s really no age limit. My fiancé has driven across the country twice and has been talking about doing it a third time. Whenever that happens, I plan to join him. I’d like to see the places I’ve only flown over in the past.

You aren’t going anywhere once you have little Isabelle and Jackson.  If you do, you will become intimately familiar with every McDonalds along the all American interstate.  Bring the hand sanitizer, because the McDonald’s playlands and McNuggets are in your future!

15. Take notes. Even the moments and details we swear we’ll never forget often fade in our memories. By typing things up as they happen, I’ll ensure that I have a record later on, both for myself and for my kids and grandkids.

Trust me, by the time you reach 40, you will be taking notes and leaving notes EVERYWHERE, because if you don’t you won’t be able to find things.  It isn’t so that you can “reflect” on your life, it is because without them, you will not be able to find your keys, remember snacks for the soccer game, etc.  Some call it early onset Alzheimers.

18. Run a half-marathon in a foreign country. While I will continue to do laps in Central Park, it would be thrilling to take in, say, London or Paris in this way. And I won’t pretend I’m not thinking of victory scones and chocolate croissants.

Unless you are going to strap little Madison and Noah to your back, you aren’t going anywhere once you have kiddos.

19. Learn to edit video. If my 75-year-old great-aunt can join Facebook and get an email account to keep in touch with her grandkids, I don’t think it’s too late for me to learn to make a mash-up or cut a clip. Video is the future. Time to step it up.

zzzz…sorry where was I?

21. Take a trip with my sister. She lives in Los Angeles and I’m in New York, and though our family is close as a whole, she and I get most of our updates about each other from our parents. I’d like to think that we might communicate more directly as we get older (and not just through Facebook and Instagram). Even a short vacation could be a good first step.

Awesome idea.  You will remember after a few days why you stopped taking vacations with each other in the first place.  My brother and I have taken a few vacations with our parents as adults.  We almost always instantly start up our 30 year, ongoing argument of him saying,”Stop telling me what to do,” and I respond, “I’m not telling you what to do.” It’s amazing R&R.

 

24. Establish a skin-care regimen. My grandmother and I were at Bloomingdale’s last year when a saleswoman referred to her as my mother. I wasn’t surprised: She’s been telling me since I was little how important it is to take care of your skin, advice she got from her mother and follows dutifully. I, on the other hand, don’t really go beyond washing and moisturizing, despite the fact that I should apparently already have a system in place. Oops.

Once you have little Skylar and Jace, your skin care regimen may turn into taking a handful of Johnson and Johnson, soaping up your face while the bath water is running and sticking your face under the faucet.  

27. Visit the South of France, the Greek isles and the Amalfi Coast. Do I really need to explain? Have you not seen photos?

Unless you are going to strap Moses and Apple to your back, you may accomplish this in the year 2035.

30. Finally feel like a grown-up.

Totally overrated.  

See you at the White House Correspondents Dinner.  I’ll be the one wearing the leather dress.

Warmly,

Aimee

A letter to my daughter – doing what is right doesn’t always feel great.

Dear Amelia,

I know you are only six, but I feel like someday you might read this.  After you stop rolling your eyes about my political posts, hopefully you will find this post.  I want to tell you honestly how it feels to stand up for something you believe in.

I know there probably have been a lot of people, myself included, that have told you that standing up for what is right always feels great.  You will feel great, you will influence people around you and they will feel great – everyone around you will rally with you and all will leave feeling so amazing that you all did the right thing in voicing what you felt was wrong, unjust or unfair.

Sometimes that’s correct and you will get a lot of support from those around you.

However, here is the honest truth – it doesn’t always feel great.  In fact sometimes you can end up feeling pretty lousy.

You might be thinking, “What do you mean it doesn’t feel great?  In the Lorax, the kid did what was right by planting a tree and the whole town came together with a big song and dance number in the end validating his feelings and actions.”

Dr-Seuss-The-Lorax-Movie-Poster

Here is why…

Doing what you believe is right doesn’t mean everyone around you thinks it’s right.  Sometimes you won’t persuade people to see your side of it.  You may voice your concerns and nobody may agree.

Then there is this…

I wish I could tell you that the desire to be liked and included goes away.  I wish I could tell you that once you leave the school playground or the halls of high school that suddenly the burning desire to be invited to parties and have lots of friends goes away.

The desire to be liked and included never goes away. No matter how old you are or where you are in life, everyone wants to be liked and included.

However, standing up for something or voicing support for someone who is being treated unfairly is a lot harder than clicking the “like” button on Facebook post.  Hopefully you will still know what I’m talking about when you read this, meaning if there is still Facebook – the pictures on Facebook showing a child who has been bullied or who looks different and to show support everyone clicks “like”.  That is an instant, feel-good moment where you can see the results of your actions – usually there are thousands of “likes” to show that everyone feels that child shouldn’t be bullied.  I call these “collective, warm fuzzies”.

I’m not saying that those Facebook posts don’t serve a good purpose, but the results of this are instant, usually number in the thousands in support with like-minded people and then after the click you move on.   The flip-side of this is if you don’t click “like”, no one will know.

Looking someone in the eye and voicing your opinion over something you feel isn’t right is hard and unfortunately can end without a big song and dance number with everyone celebrating your courage.   In fact, you may feel like you are alone on an island.

Here’s the deal – I wish there was a “like” button on this blog post, because I know there are a lot of people out there who have felt just like you will.  I am sure there are others who have voiced their concerns when it wasn’t popular, when the group didn’t agree and when they also felt alone.

I raised you so I know there will be many times when you will voice your opinion.  Now, I am hoping as your mom, and an optimist,that you will never be alone when you voice your concerns.    I am hoping that in your life you will always find a big song and dance number every time you stand up for what you feel is right with all of those around you joining in the finale.

If that’s not the case, remember you will never be alone, if you do what you feel is right, I will be there on this island along with all the people who read this and know that same feeling.  Together we can make up our own amazing song and dance number just like the movies.

 

Love,

Mom

 

Everyone ready, aim, fire – the Mommy Wars!

Quick somebody wake Oprah!  Get her back to Harpo studios STAT!  The mommy wars have just erupted again.  It’s on like Donkey Kong people, that’s right..flash back to 1985 when this whole thing started.  It’s just like that same zit on my cheek that keeps reappearing and won’t go away (also started I believe in 1985), do stay at home mom’s work?  OMG! 

Why are we still talking about this?  Why does twitter have its panties in a wad over this one today?  Turns out Hilary Rosen, a democratic political strategist was on AC360 and made a statement that Mitt Romney should stop looking to his wife to guide him on women’s economic struggles because she hasn’t worked a day in her life.  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-rosen/ann-romney-women_b_1419480.html

Oh no she didn’t!  Hil, honey.  Ms. Romney raised 5 boys.  5, J Crew photo shoot ready keeping them out of trouble for political family reasons, boys.  I’m sure it was very difficult raising 5 boys, shuttling them in different cadilacs from one country club to another for a golf lesson, football practice, tennis lessons, water polo lessons,  crew team practice, pep club, Morman choir practice, student senate election, debate club, boy scout sleep overs, etc. etc.  It had to be difficult telling the maids how to iron each Ralph Lauren button down in all the variety of sherbert colors correctly and make sure each boy had the correct Gap khaki pants in the right dresser drawer. 

Ok, ok…rich SAHMs. Calm down.  I’m making fun.  I know moms work hard.  All mom’s work hard.  Stay at home moms, working moms, part time working moms, welfare moms, military moms, married moms, single moms, teenage moms, adoptive moms, stay at home dads, gay moms, gay dads married to moms. 

If you think I should be struck down for making fun of Ms. Romney – don’t worry your pretty little head.  That’s been taken care of.  Here’s how my morning started.

Running late to work and had darling daughter in the car.  Drove through McDonalds for breakfast, because I’m the kind of mom who gets my daughter’s day going with a nutritious breakfast of a sausage biscuit and chocolate milk (large diet coke for working mom).  Driving like a bat out of hell for the highway, daughter manages to drop chocolate milk all over her Hippo pillow pet on the floor of the backseat of my mom car.  (insert major crying)  Turn car around and head for home to give favorite hippo pillow a bath in the washing machine.  Grab “new” hippo (darling daughter never accepted “new” hippo – only allows “new” hippo in case of emergencies with “old” hippo like chocolate milk baths).  We purchased “new” hippo because “old” hippo has been with daughter for 4 years.  Yank my floor mat out of the car before the sour milk smell kicks in.  Along with floor mat covered in milk, a headband, some loose change and her Moses action figure – they were selling them at the Dollar Store!  Moses may have successfully parted the Red Sea, but he wasn’t able to survive the milk bath.

Back in the car with Darling Daughter now drinking water.  Still driving like a crazy woman so not to be more than an hour late for work.  Arrive at preschool and enter to find out….it’s PAJAMA DAY!  Totally forgot to read the email that it is PAJAMA DAY!  Damn it.  Out pops daughter’s bottom lip and the tears start.  Daughter is one of the only kids not in her pajamas.  I can calculate the mental damage being done all before 9 am.  I can’t remember my exact pep talk, but I think it had something to do with me buying her a pony.

I hand her off to her preschool teachers to deal with.  I promise to pay my bill and thank them a million times for raising my daughter.  For the future therapist who counsels her through her difficult teen years…I’m so happy I’ve provided you with things to talk about. 

To the SAHMs and the working moms, let’s just agree that raising children is the hardest job in the entire world.  We are all frazzeled, exhausted and just hoping we’re doing it while inflicting as little damaging to these poor souls as possible.  As another Hil once said, “it takes a village.” In my case, my village has a chocolate milk covered Hippo.

I have uncovered why moms are so exhausted! Read it right here.

I started listening to myself this morning as I was getting myself ready for work and my daughter ready for school.  Harry is our cat.   I thought this would make a funny one woman play starring someone like Debra Messing or Kate Walsh as me. Here is what came out of my mouth this morning in a one hour time span from 6:30 am – 7:30 am:

Good morning sweetie.  Time to get up.  Are you up?  Come on, I said get up.  Go on.  It’s time to start your day.  Get dressed.  Hurry up and get dressed.  (15 minutes pass) Did you brush your teeth?  Brush your teeth?  Did you brush your hair?  Get out of the sink Harry.  Get down.  I said get down.  Get your socks on.  Where are your shoes.  Get out of the cabinets, Harry.  Go on, get out.  I said, get your shoes on.  I don’t want to see you again until you have shoes on your feet.  No, goldfish are not for breakfast.  Yes, you can have a glass of milk.  Get the cat off the table.  Harry, get off the table.  Do you have your shoes on?  No, you don’t need a bra you are only 5.  Yes, you will grow boobies when you get older.  Yes, that is funny.  Now go get your shoes on.  Get the cat out of the sink on your way upstairs.  Harry, get out of the sink. Did you brush your teeth like I said?  I’m serious.  No, I’m not angry just frustrated because my daughter won’t listen.  No I won’t “simmer down”.  Where did you learn “simmer down”?  Back to the point, brush your teeth.  I’ve got 5 minutes and then I’m out the door.  Did I say five?  I meant two.  Hurry up.  I said you are eating breakfast at school.  Grab a juice box for the car.  Stop singing “simmer down”.  It’s not a song and it’s not funny.  No I’m not laughing.  Let’s go.  I’m leaving right now.

Out the door…

Get in the car and get buckled in.  Are you buckled in?  I said, get buckled in.  I’m not talking to you until you are buckled in.  Didn’t I say goldfish aren’t for breakfast?  How did you get the goldfish?  Where is your coat?  Did you bring your coat?  Yes, I have the Mama Mia CD.  I know, Sophie didn’t get married because she didn’t go to college first.  Yes, all girls should go to college first before getting married.  Remember, no getting married until you are at least 30.  No, I won’t stop singing because it hurts your ears.  We’re here.  Get out of the car please.  Put your coat on.  No, it’s not warm enough to go without a coat.  Put your coat on.  I don’t care that you think it’s too hot.  Put your coat on.  Now.  Put your coat on now.  It’s really not the end of the world.  When you are a mom, you can make the rules.

This is dedicated to all the moms out there who wonder why one simple task has them so exhausted.  To mom’s with more than one child, I honestly don’t know how you do it.  To those who read this and think they could do it better than I can, please judge me.  I judge you all the time.  It’s only fair.  Anyway, I’m too exhausted to defend myself.

Love,

A suburban mom of one

Why the American consumer is in debt: my outing to purchase goggles- $101

It’s a normal Sunday. Just a little family fun, swimming at the community pool. The plan is simple. We drive up to the local community center for 2 hours of swimming. It’s $7 each for a grand total of $14 for 2 hours of fun. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday on a tight budget. My 5 year old ends up exhausted, I get a little workout and everyone is happy. In reality: almost 4 hours, $101 and I am the one exhausted and scarred from the experience.

We are in our bathing suits and warm clothes over them on our way out the door.

“Where are your goggles?” I ask darling 5 year old daughter.

No answer.

“Where are your goggles?”

“I don’t know.” Darling daughter answers.

I can see the little pink goggles in my mind, but I have no idea where those little suckers are. The awesomeness of aging is the ability to see things clearly in our minds, but not to actually translate that into reality. This leads to an extra 20 minutes of going through her room, unpacking the backpack with our change of clothes and digging in the back seat of my car. New rule: no more apple juice boxes in the back seat of my car. Apple juice boxes do not go directly from box to mouth. Insertion of the straw into the box almost always has an in between step of juice exploding out of the top of the straw before it enters my child’s mouth. The back seat of my car is a sticky mess that has collected cracker crumbs, small toy parts and pieces of Kleenex in the apple juice residue. After all of this, I’m sweating and we are still goggless.

“We will make a quick stop at Target.” I said.

Here is how the scenario played out peacefully in my mind. I drove in to the parking lot of Target. Park my car at one of three open spots right by the front door. My daughter and I jump out of the car and run into Target, smiling ear to ear as we do it. I head right to the goggle section of the store. We grab the goggles, go to the checkout lane, pay for the goggles and are back in the car. Total Target time: 10 minutes and the cost is approximately $8.00.

Here is what actually happened.

I get to the parking lot of Target and it is a nightmare. I find a parking spot at Target in the back section. The back section is the dividing line where people just give up and stop driving around. We get in the front door and I grab a cart. Goggles don’t need a cart. This was big mistake number one. I think I subconsciously knew I was not just running in. We are on the opposite side of the store from the goggles, the side by the groceries. I picked the wrong door. This is self sabotage.

“Don’t we need juice?” I say.

“Apple juice,” darling daughter answers.

“Hold it, not the boxes.” Those little shits I think to myself as I pry the boxes out of my daughter’s hand and place them back on the shelf.

I grab a bottle of juice, not goggles. As long as it says 100% juice in big, bold letters on the label, not juice cocktail, I figure I am good in the nutrition department. Score one juice marketing department for large bubble letters deciding my choice in juice. Next, we find ourselves in the Children’s allergy medicine section. Last time darling daughter went swimming her eyes were irritated from the chlorine. This is why we needed these damn goggles in the first place. Well, while we are here, I might as well get the allergy medicine in case she has a reaction. Meltaways or liquid? Those meltaways are so cool. Meltaways it is, even though they are more expensive. The coolness factor wins out. God forbid I should measure something. I mean I am a very important professional mom and something very important might come up where I may not have an extra five seconds to measure the liquid.

On to the goggle section, wait a minute, cart slowing to a stop, swimsuits. We are in the girls section and I am surrounded by cute swimsuits. Darling daughter is growing like crazy and all of her swimming suits are just small enough that every time she gets out of the water, the poor suit is up her tushie. I hate it when that happens, so I can’t have my baby suffering. New swimsuit it is. There must have been 20 swimsuits and out of 20 there were maybe four that were one piece swimsuits. Note to Target: my child swims. She doesn’t pose, she swims. When children stop swimming and start just lying on towels like bathing beauties then you can have this many bikinis. Until then, offer one pieces. Seriously!

Dang it! I forgot the towels. Detour to the bath section of Target. We need beach towels. Target may have 20 different swimsuits, but they do not have any beach towels to go with them. This makes no logical sense to me. It would be like selling hot dogs with no buns. Target this is Johnson County, KS. There are many wealthy families supporting the hospitality industry. If you are offering up an entire section of swimsuits in February, you are in on this secret. Offer matching beach towels next time. I am trying to find the largest bath sheets I can find. I envision myself trying to wrap the bath sheet around myself at the public pool to hide my pale white, non-pilated thighs on my 10 foot walk from the pool to the locker room. Maybe a bath sheet will not cut it, but they have yet to make bath quilts. Hot pink and hotter pink stripes should do the trick. No one will notice my thighs under this striped distraction AND on clearance for $2.50. I give myself an imaginary pat on the back for saving $2.00 per bath sheet. Some extreme couponer will be proud of me.

Now we are close to the goggle section. I pass the 12 pack of Diet Coke. Don’t do it Aimee. You gave up Diet Coke. You read the yahoo article on six bad things soda is doing to your body. Remember, the fat particles are collecting around your lungs or something like that. The article said you were a human science experiment. Oh screw it. A lab rat I shall be. I stop and add it to my cart. This week was a bad week to try to give up Diet Coke. I’m too stressed out about this little community pool outing. I need Diet Coke like a junkie needs crack. I know it isn’t cold and frankly I could care less. I’m tempted to rip open the box right there in the store. Again, I’m sweating.

It is at this point my child decides it is an awesome idea to walk backwards in her Crocs down an aisle.

“Honey, you are going to hit something or fall down.”

“No, mom, mom, just watch.” she says.

Crying….

We make it to the goggle section. My daughter is carefully making this selection with the same level of caution like I chose my car.

“I like these. They’re pretty.”

Yep, that’s about the same way I chose my car. I like this one, it’s pretty.

Finally, goggles are in the cart and we are headed to the check out. After a few more things thrown in the cart on the way to the finish line, we make it. Grand total $87.00 and I am still sweating.

On the way out of the door, we walk by the Target mirrors that line the path on the way out. I am sure that is where the Target executives sit like we all sit at a movie theater enjoying the show of consumers like me with carts filled to the top with purchases that most of us do not need. All of us consumers heading for the exits with scowls on our faces because, like me, everyone just came in for one thing. I glance up to give these executives my “screw you” face and before I can curl my lip, I notice that hanging out of my sweat pants is my swimming suit mom skirt. Yes America, when I am not hiding my thighs with a bath sheet, I attempt to cover the damage with a mom swimskirt. It’s job is usually to distract from my backside. In this case, it was blowing in the wind like a flag from the back of a parade float. It was at this moment I tore open the box of Diet Cokes, grabbed one out of the box, and opened the warm drink and gulped it down in sheer delight.

Launching Pleasantly Eccentric

I have decided it’s time.  It’s time for me to launch another blog.  I’ve had a few blogs in the past.  I had a blog called the Road to Adoption about my journey in adopting my beautiful daughter.  I had another blog called Tush Face that I took down a few years ago.  Quick story behind that blog- I was tired of trying to find cute names for blogs that were all taken.  Everyone has a blog these days and that means that all the blog names that are clever are taken.  So in a fit of rage I decided to type a name that I knew no one had.  It was the pet name that my father gave me as child.  Tush face-explains a lot about me in just two words.  He never said it in a mean way.  It was meant the way other dads called their girls “Princess” or “Sweetie”.  Anyway, I typed Tush Face and sure enough that blog name wasn’t taken.

Well I named this one “Pleasantly Eccentric” and sure enough that one wasn’t taken either.  A guy I dated long ago once described me in this way.  I liked the description, not the guy, so I kept it.  I know to read between the lines it means nicely weird, but I’ll let you decide when you read my blog.

In full disclosure, this blog may be littered with grammatical errors.  Get over it.  I’m all about content and I wasn’t an English major.  I was a history major and it has taken me a long way to a life of riches.  (I’m living in my mother’s basement right now, in the middle of a divorce and trying to save my struggling business, but I am awesome at Jeopardy.)

This just in: Susan G Komen restores grant funding to Planned Parenthood!  Power to the People – the Pro-Choice People.  Finally we win one!  It is so rare these days that the pro-choice movement actually wins one that doesn’t involve many court proceedings and challenging the Constitution, but it looks like in the court of public opinion, the pro-choice movement won!  Congratulations and it has been a long time coming.

Anyway, I hope you comment on stuff you like and don’t like.  I’m sure there will be things up here that will satisfy both.  I am going to write about politics, foreign affairs and of course celebrities!  I read Radar Online with just as much interest as the Washington Post.  I watch Meet the Press and Keeping Up with the Kardashians.  I am a walking contradiction.  For those of you who roll your eyes and say, “How can you waste your time on that reality television?” Get over your intellectual selves.  I can make an interesting argument for invading Iran and bombing their nuclear sites just as easily as I can discuss why Kylie Jennar should not go to the Bahamas for her 16th birthday like Kris wanted. (more on Kylie later)

I hope you enjoy and more to come later!

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