Swearing

I have a sailor's mouth.  I am absolutely serious.  I have a horrible yet fully satisfying relationship with swear words.

Come on, who wouldn't want to be this guy?

I'll never remember the feeling of walking around with my second grade friends, having one of them "teach" us how to swear on the playground, during recess, at school (shout out to Hamlin Elementary!) Now, I am not sure how we got away with that.  I will say that it was the 80's and the point of recess was to let us run wild, twice a day, no less, for 15 minutes with little to no supervision...and we liked it that way!  My point is, I learned to swear at school, and I studied that shit like a motherfucking ninja.

Unfortunately, this was my idea of a Ninja at the time.

The first time that all of those hours of studying came in handy in my early life was about a year later, in the winter, when I was in 3rd grade.  I was being tortured by two boys in my class, who would wait for me by the side of the road on my walk home, and pelt me with ice and snow balls.  This happened day after day, until I snapped.  

I loaded up my backpack with every single textbook I had in my desk.  I walked home, unassumingly, playing Paula Abdul in my Walkman, and I let them pelt me with ice balls. 

Then, the revenge came.  I calmly took off my backpack, and attacked them with it, bludgeoning them mercilessly.  One of the boys ran off,presumably embarrassed that he had been outsmarted by a girl, and then there was only one left.  I took down that second boy with a quick backpack to the head, followed by my hysterical scream "You're a little BITCH!"  Then I laughed maniacally, left him in the snow bank and walked home.

Later, that night, my mom got a call from his mom, where she had to sit through his mother complaining about my foul language, and how I had attacked her son.  After I explained the situation to her, she told me that she supported my backpack revenge, but that the swearing was inappropriate.  I had to apologize.  

I am SO FUCKING SORRY you're a little Bitch.

 To this day, that was one of my more triumphant moments because I actually stood up to a bully.  And, because it's a fucking badass story.   And that, my friends, is why swearing is awesome.

Perfectly Imperfect Parenting

Yo, moms, let's have a little talk.  When I was a teenager and watching informational movies in school, the  cool guy would always turn a chair around, straddle it, and say:

"Let's Have a Rap Session"

No...not exactly what I had in mind.

Just for giggles, do an image search of "straddle chair."  Enjoy

Back to our little talk.  We are in a time and place where most moms come into motherhood after having been college students, then professionals.  We have approached our careers, both school and work, as a process, where you learn what to do, how to study, have a path and follow it.  You work hard.  You follow the rules and make the sacrifices and, eventually and most of the time, you are rewarded.  You now have a new position, a new career path, and people appreciate what you have accomplished.

It is my opinion (and therefore the truth) that this has completely screwed our generation when it comes to our expectations of ourselves when it comes to parenting.

 When you are a mom, you are on your own.  Yes.  On. Your. Own.

Let that sink in for a second.  All of the habits and skills you have worked so hard to hone your whole adult life will not matter at all.  This position is so different from anything you have ever done before that it will almost certainly send you into a tailspin-not necessarily into depression (although that is very serious, and you can find more information here) but into something that is also very troubling:  Severe Overeducation Syndrome.  I Just Made That Up!

You know what I mean, Hell, I am even guilty of it myself!  You decide that there will be the method to raise your children, you will not deviate, they will do what you want, and will be the perfect specimen that you work so hard to grow.  I had many ideas.  I was the one who had books galore.  I had my whole schedule, etc.  Then I had a baby.  Not only did I have a baby, but I had a C-section because she was Frank Breach.  I couldn't breastfeed.  I had postpartum depression.  I was miserable and felt like a complete and utter failure.  I didn't understand why this was so hard.  You know why it was so hard?  I was sabotaging myself with my own expectations.

I know how to recognize it.  I know how it's going to turn out.  I know now not to say anything.  Whenever I hear about people reading, highlighting, studying a "method" of parenting I cringe.  If you are a mostly functional individual, you can raise children.  Let me clarify that.  If you are generally responsible, kind, loving, have a sense of humor and know the difference between right and wrong, you can raise kind, functional, funny, sweet children who know the difference between right and wrong.  

You can see where this would scare most professional women, and why it would scare most people.  

That's okay.  This is scary shit!

There are a few things you need to know:

• If you are worried about doing it right, you're probably a good parent.
• If you spend all of your time worried that you're doing it wrong, then researching, blaming, being miserable, you've taken a wrong turn.
• You need to RELAX!  
• No one method is going to work for you.  No one answer is going to work for you.  Children are people, people are complicated.  Life is complicated.  Be consistent, but be just. 
•  However, at some point you will be unjust towards your children.  You will make the wrong call.  Forgive yourself.

Enjoy your children.  They are awesome.  They prove that you can make a little miracle, and that you are capable on unconditional love.  That is amazing.  They show you more reasons to succeed and provide for them than you could ever have before you were a parent.  They can make you smile from your heart-that's the only way I can describe they way those grubby, sweaty little kisses feel.  They can drive you absolutely crazy,   and they can make you laugh at the same time.  

And, you can be sure, that, no matter what you do, you will be considered (possibly at the same time) the coolest, stupidest, funniest, hardest working, craziest person they have ever met.  And, if you have been even moderately good at parenting, they will love you more than anything else.

Except if you do this to them. 

If you want more information on the basics of being a good parent, check out this article. 

Boxed Wine

First of all, is it Box wine or Boxed wine...does it really matter?  No.  It does not. 

You may ask:  How much do you love your boxed wine?  Enough to take a picture of it and make an Andy Warhol-esque portrait with it. 

So, why do I love my cheap, delicious boxed wine so much more than bottled wine?  Let me count the ways:

1. It is portable.  A bladder of wine in a cardboard box is virtually indestructible and in my world (where I am completely clumsy and butter fingered and constantly tripping over my children, dog, my kids toys and random pieces of junk) I need something that will not shatter into a million pieces and stab me in the toe or heart...
2. It lasts FOREVER!  First of all, one bottle of wine is just one bottle.  When you pour a glass of wine the way I do (see below), that sucker doesn't last very long at all.  A box of wine has a great little tap on it (always go for the push button tap-not the screw top tap) and doesn't go bad.  So, in between my wine tasting group's meetings, my $13 box of wine will stay just as delicious as the first day I opened it.
3. It tastes delicious.  I think that there is nothing better than a good, smooth glass of white zinfandel.  It is fruity, sweet, smooth and delicious.
4. They serve it at restaurants and bars.  Yup.  You read that right.  Last weekend my friends and I went to several bars and restaurants in one evening.  We went to 5 different places.  In each place, I ordered the same thing.  (Yes, white Zin).  In 4 out of 5 places...the wine I got was CLEARLY Franzia...FROM A BOX!  Yes, I paid $5 for a glass of boxed wine that was arguably crappier than my boxed wine at home.  So, if it's good enough for them to overcharge me for, it's good enough for me to buy.  And, in the event that it wasn't Franzia, it was not making the case for me to spend the extra money for bottled wine, as it tasted like ass, and my delicious Vella tastes like sweet manna from heaven.

If I just paid $5 for that amount of wine, the glass had better be as big as my head.

Now that's how you pour a glass of wine, bitches!

So there are many other articles extolling the value of bottled wine and there are many others talking about other things.  Obviously, I did a lot of research before I wrote this post-I pretty much googled "Boxed Wine" and then ignored the search and started looking at the pictures associated with boxed wine-which were much more entertaining. Then I started looking at Halloween costumes based on boxed wine-which were infinitely more entertaining.

That's how I came across this thing.  Um...isn't that just a box with legs?  What is the point of taking your wine bag out of one box and putting it into another box?  You can almost hear these two douchebags talking:

Hipster Girl 1:  You know what would be so funny and ironic?
Hipster Girl 2:  You mean besides my crazy stupid plaid lumberjack prostitute look?
Hipster Girl 1:  Yeah...to drink wine out of a box because...like...it's so not cool.
Hipster Girl 2:  But, that box is really ugly.  I want it in a different box so that it looks cool while we comment on how lame it is to drink a boxed wine.
Hipster Girl 1:  Yeah.  That is so ironic and lame.  It is cool because it's so lame. 
End scene.

I hope that illuminates some things for you.  Basically, I have no idea how to end this post, so that's it.  Move along, folks.  Good night and good luck.

My Name is Dave

Hi.  I have a new name now.  It's Dave.  You see, I am a boss.  I run a small business with my friend (shameless plug here).  We are new to being bosses, and finding it challenging and fun at the same time.  We are both Dave, and we refer to each other as such. 
What is the most challenging think about being the boss?  You are responsible for everything.  It is terrifying and liberating to think that if something doesn't get done, there is really no one else to take it over for you.  On one hand, you are able to do things the way you want.  On the other, you are the one responsible when things go wrong.   It's a lot like being a parent in that way, except no one expects you to make money being a mom.

This is what I thought it would look like to work from home with my children by my side.

So, what does a day look like for a small business owner?  We are finding that there is no typical day.  On any given day, we are working on promotions, advertising, pricing structures, web design, social media strategies, lesson planning, space/leasing issues, customer retention, teaching classes, and planning for the future among other things.  We are trying to manage finances, figure out how best to hire and pay employees It is a challenge to work in my normal load of housework, bill paying, grocery shopping and still find time for my other part time job.  That doesn't even include time for my family.  There is some time for my family, but it's built in between my business tasks.

This is what it actually looks like.

 Now, that is not to say that all is not well and that I don't enjoy my new position.   I think that I am getting more organized and am being forced to come up with more of a schedule for housework.  My daughters are having to be more patient, and are getting to see what it takes to build a business from the ground up.  They are getting to be a part of a really fun music and movement program, and are a great focus group.  My husband is being very helpful and supportive, and is there with an "'atta girl" when I need one. 

I guess I'll leave you with this thought.  Being a small business owner, especially being a new small business owner, is hard, confusing and scary.  It is also tons of fun, liberating and creates a sense of accomplishment.  We are building something new, necessary and helpful to people in our area, and we are having a blast doing it.  

Look out, world, the Daves are here and you are all going to have to walk a little faster to catch up. 

What About Me?

What is the biggest challenge for moms in the whole world? It is trying to figure out who you are, apart from your children. That is a crazy idea, but, even if you have a baby, it's something that we all have to think about. You know why? Some day, if we do our job the right way and circumstances allow it, they will be on their way, and we will be "us" again. Yes, we'll always be their moms, but we will once again be on our own, with free time, (hopefully) some extra money, and we will be of legal age to do almost anything!

                                                                  Yup, even that.

So, let's start making a list of the things that we want to do now, but we know that if we were caught it would look bad and you would probably be labeled as a degenerate by the Parent Teacher Council (unless,of course, you have them in on the activities with you).

So, what will we be able to do when we are able to be ourselves? We can travel to exotic, not necessarily kid friendly locations

 I hadn't noticed old people crossing the road with their hands up each other's asses before. I'll be sure to look for it now.






We can try new and exciting foods, we can listen to as much hardcore, Gangsta rap as we want with our windows down and our systems up because you know what? We won't give a ___sorry, can't say it. The kids are still in the room.

You get the general idea.

We'll be older, but not too old, and we'll be ready to reclaim some of the youth we were so eager to put on the back burner in order to raise our children responsibly. This doesn't mean, though, that we have to get stale, boring, bland and overly mature. We can still laugh at potty humor. We can still get a little wild with our friends, we can still be us because, in the end, that is what our kids are going to remember. They are going to remember our little idiosyncrasies and the things that made us special to them. They're also going to remember all of the things that you did to permanently scar your children (mine are going to remember because I am keeping a running log for them-so that they can just hand that sucker over to their therapist some day). Just be you. Don't worry about being a super parent. be the best parent you can be. Because, when they are grown and on their own some day, you are going to be left with yourself. Isn't it easier to act a little foolish if you've always been kind of a goof ball? I think there's less to explain that way. They'll just say "Oh, that's mom, she's a little crazy," instead of "Goodness, Muffy, Mother seems to have stepped off the deep end, perhaps we should have an intervention. She is eating her ice cream before her dinner!"

This picture has nothing to do with anything, but it makes me giggle. And that, my friends, is why I am a good, authentic parent.

Sibling Rivalry

So...it's been nearly a year since I have done anything with this blog, and I have missed it. However, life has been busy, I've been busy and I haven't been able to get going with my writing again...until now. You see, my sister started a really good blog. I mean really good. It's here. So, naturally, I had to start blogging again, because God Damn it, she CANNOT beat me at something else!

Me and my sister, before it all went to Hell.

You see, my sister, whom I love very much, is also my nemesis. She is my nemesister, if you will. I am older than her by 2 1/2 years, and ahead of her by one year in school. We are friends, we are sisters, and we HATED each other when we were growing up. Now, I hear you asking, "Why did you hate such a talented, smart, wonderful kid like Stephanie?" Do you really want to know why? We hated each other because we were always competing. Not only were we always competing, but she always won! In my eyes, that was just not right. I was older. I was tougher. But, somehow, she was smarter and just plain better at everything.
This wasn't like a friendly competition. Oh, no. This was a no holds-barred, balls out, two will enter and only one will leave type of competition.

Actual D'Orsay Family Christmas Photo

My favorite (translation: most mortifying) experience happened when she went to some math class in High School and her teacher (who had been my teacher the year before) told her that he didn't think that she belonged in that class, that it was too hard for her...because he thought she was me! It turns out that he would have been right. I can see that now. I laughed at the time but it wasn't that real laugh. Now I laugh about it for real...uh-huh... sure I do.

No, really, I do. You know why? A few years ago, I figured out that my sister wasn't the root of all evil. She wasn't even the root of a little bit of it. She was just a cute kid who worked a whole lot harder than I did on most things. She was always studying. She was always practicing. She was always working. I was not. I made a choice in school to do fine but not to really push myself because, honestly, my social life was much more important to me than anything else. It's just one of many lessons I wish I could go back and slap my stupid self silly in high school. I would say "Look, stupid, you have chosen to go out, have a lot of fun, goof off and do your best in school-as long as it doesn't interfere with your social life. That's okay. It's going to work out just fine for you. But don't get mad at your sister because she is willing to work harder. Be proud of her."

Now I am. I also have two children. Two little daughters who are 3 1/2 years apart. I see the seeds of sibling rivalry starting to germinate. I know that it's going to raise it's ugly head soon, and I hope that we can all make it without too many cage match type fights. Until then, I'll just prepare the cage, set admission prices, and get ready to RUMBLE!

Love you, Steph. And, since you love clowns so much, this one is for you.

I'm sorry I was such a bastard to you for so many years, but at least we can laugh about it. Now, look at those clown faces again.

Home Made Whole-Wheat Thin Crust Pizza-From Scratch- For LAZY People!

I love home made pizza. I love thin crust pizza. I hate recipes that require a lot of hard work.
That is where this recipe comes in. It is easy, tastes great and makes a great pizza. It is a basic KitchenAid pizza dough recipe but with a few additions.
You'll need:
2 1/4 tsp. yeast
1 cup warm water
2 1/2-3 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1-2 tbsp. Olive Oil
Garlic and Herb seasonings (or fresh, diced garlic and herbs if you prefer) to taste.
Possibly 1-2 tbsp. warm water if the dough looks too dry.

Let the Yeast "bloom" in the Cup of water (I usually warm up the mixing bowl a little bit by running it under the warm tap for a few seconds. Then I put the yeast in the bowl, add the warm water, and let it sit). Let it sit for 10 minutes.
Add 2 cups of whole wheat flour and mix on low (again, I use a Kitchenaid Mixer because I am lazy) but you can mix or knead by hand. Mix for a few minutes. Add in Garlic and Herb seasonings and olive oil. Mix until dough until the dough forms a ball around your dough hook. I generally have to add a tbsp. of warm water to make sure the dough is just sticky enough to form a nice ball but not too wet. 90% of your dough (at least) should be attached to the ball around your dough hook.
Voila! You have pizza dough! Let it rise in a greased bowl with a lint-free towel over the top for an hour or until doubled.
PUNCH THAT DOUGH after an hour. It feels good and my daughter loves helping me with this part. Coat your pizza pan or cookie sheet with a little bit of olive oil and some cornmeal. Roll your dough out as thin as you can. Top with sauce (or, my favorite, a little bit of olive oil and some finely chopped garlic) and cheese/other toppings to taste!