If I knit fast enough, does it count as aerobic exercise?

Hello, I'm Greer and I'm a knit-a-holic.

After a year of literal tears I have learned to manage dpns. This of course means socks. Socks are as close to instant gratification with knitting as I can get. Granted I've only made 2 pairs - I believe I did say I had learned to manage dpns, not master them - but I MADE them.

For me knitting is about being practical. I make things that can be worn by myself or someone else. Sweaters take a lot of time, but in the end they're USEFUL. Same with socks.

Knitting also keeps me occupied. Constructively occupied. Hence the reason I haven't posted on here in over a month. Of course, it also allows you to meditate on life and the universe. It's taken the place of my actual meditation practice.

The downside of course is I've become even more sedentary. Couple this with a freakish fascination with Rice Krispie Treats (I've made 9 batches since the weekend before xmas) and hey, I can actually see my ass growing. I haven't gotten to the point where I need to go up a size, but that possibility - like my ass - is looming on the horizon.

So now I'm trying to figure out how I can combine walking with knitting. I say this as I can't imagine NOT knitting during downtime. Downtime is rather expansive as I utilize a lot of child labor. Other than work, doing my laundry and making the occasional dinner the boyz have to pay their way around here with housework.

I'm thinking some sort of shoulder bag for the yarn and limiting my walking to the track up at the high school. At least then I don't have to worry about getting hit by a car. We'll see.

I made the Butterfly a sweater for xmas. I was a bit taken aback that he was so thrilled with it. Maybe no one has ever made him anything. I don't know if he actually took it home, he may be hard pressed to explain it to the wife, but it looks very, very good on him. And whether he ever wears it or not, I still feel really good about having made it for him. It was a labor of love.

LCpl Tyler has now decided that I can make him a sweater. This is after months of telling me he would never wear anything I made. (Yes, 16 is still a shitty, shitty age.) So I let him pick out the color and ordered the yarn. He'll get it by next fall, LOL.

On raising a Black male in Amerikkka

Today...I'm going on a race rant.

There are 4 days left in the school year. I got a call from the principal at LCpl Tyler's school to come get him. He's been suspended for 5 days. (Really? 5 days and there are only 4 left?)

Apparently LCpl Tyler used the word FUCK (as in "Who the fuck cares") while being chewed out by a teacher. Apparently some little chick in his class was putting out cupcakes (this is High School fer chrissakes!), LCpl Tyler stood up to see what kind they were, said chick told him "Sit the fuck down and shut up, we're not ready", to which LCpl Tyler responded "Ok, calm down, no problem". His pinky-dicked teacher proceeded to send LCpl Tyler out to the hall to chew him a new asshole for DARING to talk back to someone who cursed at HIM first. (Note that LCpl Tyler did not curse at this chick and kept his cool. He knows the dealie with girls, they get a pass for being bitches.) Said dickless wonder teacher then proceeds to chew LCpl Tyler out, at which point LCpl Tyler said "Who the fuck cares?" Well, apparently the dickless wonder did (note, LCpl Tyler did NOT direct the word fuck AT his teacher personally.)

So I had to leave work to go pick him up. This is where the shit hit the fan for me.

The principal, Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You proceeded to suggest that I may want to consider putting LCpl Tyler in a "special school" in VA Beach where he would get his GED in 5 months as school "isn't for everyone".

WHAT. THE. FUCK??????

Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You then suggested that, "If he has anger management issues perhaps medication would be appropriate."

WHAT. THE. FUCK?????

Now let me point out a few things here. First, I may write like a fucking Shaneequa on here sometimes, but IRL in these situations and at work I am the very definition of professionalism and poise. (I vent here so the inner Shaneequa DOES come out sometimes.) Second, LCpl Tyler has not been in trouble at school for ANYTHING serious in 2 yrs.

SO HOW THE MOTHER FUCK DO YOU DETERMINE THAT ONE INCIDENT JUSTIFIES PUTTING MY FUCKING SON ON THE TRACK TO LOSER BLACK MALE????

I explained to Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You that: a) I may have issues with LCpl Tyler's behavior, but he is neither a failure nor a juvenile delinquent; b) he is healthy, has been tested for every disability out there and it has been determined he HAS NO LEARNING/BEHAVIORIAL issues that require MEDICATION; c) I take full responsibility for getting LCpl Tyler to the age of 18 with a high school diploma; and d) I am not the type of parent that is looking for an "out" with my child due to the normal flow of growing up by tossing him away or sedating him into obedience.

I then told Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You that I would like to have LCpl Tyler's Gunney Sgt present. So we went down there. OH YEAH Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You - LCpl Tyler has been a CLASS LEADER ALL YEAR, HE'S VERY RESPONSIBLE, VERY SELF-CONFIDENT AND IS RESPECTED BY HIS SGT AND HIS CLASSMATES. "It must have been an abberation, but I'm sure LCpl Tyler will learn from this." (Go Gunney, Go Gunney, It's your birfday!) So FUCK YOU. Of course Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You was shocked, shocked I tell ya.

I also informed Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You that LCpl Tyler would attend summer school for the next 2 years to ensure he graduates in 2011. LCpl Tyler expressed his dislike for this arrangement and Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You had THE NERVE to ask me why I would put him in summer school when he seemed so against it. I then informed Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You that last time I checked, LCpl Tyler was a MINOR, that I was his PARENT and as such I had EVERY LEGAL RIGHT TO MAKE THIS DECISION REGARDLESS OF HIS OPINION.

On our way back to his office, Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You lost a lot of his 'tude with me. "It's not usual to meet a parent who is so determined, informed and invested in their child's success" (no shit motherfucker, but I'm not your usual parent). By the time we got to his office he was doing everything he could to meet several of my requests regarding LCpl Tyler.

In other words..DON'T FUCK WITH ME BITCHES, GREER WILL CHEW YOU UP, SPIT YOU THE FUCK OUT AND YOU WILL LIKE IT AND BEG FOR MORE.

Now to my point.

I left there feeling extremely angry that my child - a black male - was IMMEDIATELY being put on a track for failure. That he was considered an AT RISK student that the system should just THROW AWAY.

Fuck these people. LCpl Tyler IS an asshole. But he's MY asshole. Yes, he's had issues, problems, done stupid shit that got him in trouble. But he's not in jail, isn't being picked up by the police every other week, doesn't do drugs (I had him tested, he's clean) and hasn't gotten some chick pregnant. On the whole, HE'S A PRETTY GOOD KID who just needs to control his temper, watch his mouth and put a little more effort into his schoolwork.

KINDA LIKE EVERY OTHER FUCKING TEENAGER IN AMERICA - BLACK, WHITE OR INDIFFERENT.

Just because he's black, comes from a broken home, has a single mom does NOT mean he is EXPENDABLE.

I'm pissed. I'm pissed BEYOND WORDS that MY CHILD is being labeled. That the fucking assholes that ARE expendable have set the standard by which MY KID is being judged and sentenced.

Fuck this racist bullshit. Just FUCK IT IN THE ASS. For the next two years I am going to be SO FAR UP THEIR ASSES they will be THRILLED LCpl Tyler is graduating and maybe, just maybe they won't be so fucking quick to judge the next black male as EXPENDABLE.

Survival of the less seditty

I got into a convo with Mr. Davis sometime back about how today's young people - specifically those under 25 have no concept of "making do". They have that whole entitlement/name-brand/gimme NAO attitude. He made the point that if either of us were left with $5 to live off of for the week - housing/food not an issue - we could do it. Today's youth however would LOSE THEIR MINDS.

Well this comes to mind today because of the attitude my kids have due to the need to put a complete freeze on spending these 2 weeks. I'm not talking just cutting back on shit, I'm talking an all out not spending a damn dime for 2 weeks. Drink all the milk and eat all the cereal? Tough shit, no more coming in til payday. No tea, juice, etc after the last gallon is gone. Drink water. Food? Better go dig in the deep freeze and see what I've squirreled away.

My car, which hasn't needed anything major for the 8 yrs I've owned it needed $400 more work than I budgeted for. That brought it to a migrane-inducing $900 that negated all of my side job money for stuff like, oh, FOOD. (Yes, that sorta influenced my previous pessimistic whiney post.)

Now they're also lazy fucks, so despite the fact that they are 22 and 16 respectively, are home FAR MORE than me (cuz like, I work?), are both extremely good cooks, they make no effort to take anything out to defrost so everyone can eat. Of course when I get home it's "what's for dinner?" and the daily response is, "I dunno, I was at work all day, what did you take out/cook?" (No, I don't play that June Cleaver bullshit anymore, they're grown men fer chrissakes.) Usually on the weekends I'll go on a cooking frenzy and make several days worth of meals, or make giganto pots of chili, stew or soup that I freeze.

So now we're on financial lockdown and these "people" are turning up their noses at all the stuff that's in the freezer. Already cooked. In individual serving sizes. Tonight I'm enjoying navy beans with ham. Mmmm. The other people here are laying about looking hungry.

ATTITUDE DON'T FILL YOUR STOMACH, SON.

I've had a total of $15 to live off of these 2 wks. I still have $10, payday is Friday and the Butterfly has fucked me bowlegged. Yeah, I am CRUISIN' to the home stretch.

Monkey Boy

Well today #3 son LCpl Tyler is 16.

This has been a LONG time coming. I only have 2 years left on my mom sentence.

If ever there was an accidental baby, Tyler would be it. For all intents and purposes my marriage was over, I hated my husband with the heat of a billion suns and was desperately looking for a way out. Of course he wasn't aware of any of this as I played the perfect wife. Like pregnancy #1, the asshole abused me while I was pregnant. When I went to the doctor and found out I was pregnant, I begged them to do the test over - I would have preferred cancer to a baby. Another child only lowered my chances of ever getting out of the hell I was in. But it wasn't to be, and I had what became the most controversial child yet.

Tyler is light enough to pass for white and has blonde hair and green eyes.

Yeah, I got an ass kicking for that one. My ex couldn't accept Tyler's coloring. His parents couldn't accept his coloring. The first time my former father-in-law held him, Tyler had his eyes closed. He said "Ah, look at the little redbone". Tyler opened his eyes and he said "Oh, my. His eyes." (What the fuck kind of statement is that? He isn't fucking Rosemary's Baby!) So for the first couple of years they all kept a close eye on Tyler to see if he looked like anyone else. They weren't shy about their "concerns" and I got so mad once I told them I'd be more than happy to have a paternity test done if they were so certain I was pawning off another man's kid on them. That pretty much shut them up, along with certain physical traits that manifested in Tyler that they all share. Fuckers.

Well things were so tense and so bad that I had a series of 2 nervous breakdowns right after he was born. Checked myself into a nuthouse, checked myself out after 24 hours (I realized I wasn't nutcakes, just fucking tired). I did go into therapy and went on Prozac. Tyler was 2 when the marriage fell completely apart and we divorced.

Blah, blah - joint custody. Blah, blah - no child support. Blah, blah - ex moved back to Ohio with his girlfriend. Blah, blah - oldest 2 went to live with the asshole cuz mom had to move us all to the 'hood and they were no longer suburbanites. But I kept Tyler. He's MY child.

The rest I've told at some point or another. We moved here to VA with the dead husband. Dead husband was the only father Tyler knew. Dead husband died. Tyler lost his mind for awhile. The Marines have knocked some sense into him. Things are markedly better.

I guess most of what I want to say is that Tyler is mine. 100% without question MY CHILD. I've made some horrible mistakes with him, but there are moments when I see the things I've tried to instill in him shine through. He has a very dry, very sharp sense of humor that comes from me. He can be very kind, generous and loving when the teenage angst is on the back burner. He doesn't have any prejudices that I can see. He's extremely competitive (another of my traits) especially if it's something he really likes. Most of all, and what I'm most proud of, is that Tyler is a feminist. Over the years he has said several times that "girls can do anything I can do except pee standing up, and I guess they can do that but their aim wouldn't be the same". Take THAT bitches!

Unfortunately, he has a temper that he can't control as well as he needs to in order to succeed in life. MCJROTC has helped some, but it's still there simmering under the surface. If there is one thing I wish for my son, it's that he learns to control that temper. I see difficult times for him if he doesn't.

So Happy Birthday Monkey Boy! Mommy loves you so much!

On peanuts, birthdays and regrets

22 years ago today I gave birth to #2 son, Sean.

I think I've said before that he's my favorite, if parents are allowed to have favorites. During the period of my horrendous first marriage there was a lull in the drama when I loved my husband. There was little abuse, he was the charming, funny, sexy, fun man I thought I had married 6 yrs prior. Out of that brief oasis Sean was conceived and came into this world very much loved.

He's the most sensitive of my boys. He's also very quiet, very observant. He's most like me truth be told. He also looks like me. He's the one I bestowed my Irish heritage on with his name. Like his mother, he also holds his anger in and let's it seethe until it comes rolling out like thunder. He also holds and nurses resentment and revenge until the point he can unleash it on whoever has wronged him.

Sean has had the roughest go as well. In 1998 he chose to move with his older brother back to Ohio with their father. Suffice it to say his father did nothing remotely responsible as a parent, culminating in his getting drunk, taking a loaded 45 and threatening Sean with it. A month before the dead husband died I got a call out of the blue from Sean saying he had been placed in a halfway house because his father had been arrested for attempted murder. The dead husband and I prepared for Sean's arrival (he wasn't quite 18), the dead husband died and Sean came to live with me and LCpl Tyler.

Sadly, the time he spent with his father nurtured a heart wrenching laziness in Sean that I can't shake him out of. I don't subscribe to admitting regrets in life like many people do. However, not being there to raise my son during the important years of his life IS a regret I admit to.

My wish for my favored son is that he finds his place in life and puts all his effort into making the most of it. I wish that he would ask questions more and not continue to internalize the fuck-all shit his father filled him with. Of all 3, Sean is the oldest soul.

Happy Birthday, Peanut. Mommy loves you.

Short-timer's disease

This morning is a sort of premonition morning for me. It's one of those rare mornings when I wake up and I'm the only person in the house. Have been all night. Sean's out who-knows-where and PFC Tyler is spending the night at a friend's. I'm all alone except for the cats.

It's a strange feeling.

I've been someone's wife or mother for over 25 years - actual aloneness doesn't compute. There's always been someone there who needed something, wanted something or just had to be looked out for. Right now there's only me to worry about. How weird.

Last night wasn't as strange, I've gotten used to the boys being out for the evening and being here alone. So I kicked back with a movie, a joint (not a cigarette) and a glass of wine. Of course the trained domestic servant in me also managed to cook a pot of red beans, a pot of chili and roast a chicken so I would have most of next week's dinner's already done. All while starting on my kitchen reorganization.

I'll admit I did most of that because I was all excited about getting my first free piece of cookware from the local grocery store. You get stamps for every $10 purchase and I FINALLY had enough to get the casserole I wanted. Yes, I'm a dweeb but you gotta grab your happiness wherever you can get it. Besides, I need new cookware.

Anywho, at one point I looked over at the livingroom and mentally began redecorating it to MY personal taste - sans anyone. Basically it involved all existing furniture except the electronics - gotta keep my stereo and surround sound - being burned in a bonfire while the new paint dried on the walls. (I'm nothing if not detailed in my fantasies.) Yes, I was temporarily transported out of this time and into a future that required no immediate responsibilites from me.

And I fucking LOVED IT.

Now that's the weirdest part. Sorta. I dunno. I started feeling the empty nest thing about 2 yrs ago when I realized my sentence as a parent would be over before I was 50. Now I will be free in 2.5 years when PFC Tyler turns 18 and graduates from high school. And I think I'm beginning to get the I'M FREE vibe. Like short-timer's disease when you give your 2 wks notice at work.

Unfortunately, these next 2.5 years will be the hardest. I have to keep PFC Tyler off drugs (and he's clean as the tests from the doctor showed), I have to keep him from getting some girl pregnant, keep him out of jail and graduate him from high school. That's a LOT of shit to manage when you only have peripheral control. But when it's all over, I can put his shit out of my house and change the locks and be FREE of day-to-day parentude. You're never free of motherhood, but it's easier when they're grown and it's done from a distance.

Once all this is over I'm going to treat myself to a trip to Ireland. I can use the money I'm saving from quitting smoking to fund it.

Life will be good.

This, that and hitting the pause button

So I've decided to put off the whole "influential people in my life" theme until I get over Kimmie's and scan some pics. Any other way will annoy me.

Dinner! After dinner festivities! Yay! The Butterfly and I went to dinner last night and had a fuckin' ball. I enjoy the hell out of the conversations we have and he keeps me laughing non-stop. Nothing like an intelligent man. And no cockblocking this time! Woot!

PFC Tyler has taken a slight detour in the "admirable kid" category the past few days. I've had to put him on lockdown for willfully disobeying a direct order and being less than respectful in his tone to me. Sucks to be him.

My circle of chicks seems completely incapable of finalizing our Samhain ritual. Well this year has seen all of us completely out of whack so I'm not surprised, but c'mon - Samhain is freakin' FRIDAY! I really don't wanna go all crone on them and lay down the law, but it's moving in that direction. Damn whippersnappers!

So on Thursday I have my first REAL doctor appt in oh let's see, 12 years. Yeah. I'm SO not excited. I'm sure she'll require I set up a mammogram (my first) and I'm not looking forward to that AT ALL.

I got some new books the other day - well not so much new as they are old but I don't have them in my personal collection. "Black Feminist Thought" by Patricia Hill Collins, "The Feminine Mystique" by Betty Friedan, "Full Frontal Feminism, A Young Woman's Guide to Why Feminism Matters" by Jessica Valenti (founder of feministing.com) and "Women Who Run With the Wolves, Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype" by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. Hangin' out with all these young feminist chickies (who are fucking AMAZING btw) at Uppity Women Forum (get thee THERE dammit!) made me realize I needed to RE-READ some of the original stuff I read a gazillion years ago, and I needed them in my personal stash, so. I also wanted to read some of the new stuff, hence the "Full Frontal Feminism" which I'm also making PFC Tyler read.

And oh yeah - IT'S FUCKING COLD HERE

Assmitten over at I, Asshole made me feel all guilty about my recent lack of June Cleaverdom so we're baking sugar cookies tonight. Mmmm..

And life grinds ever onward.

now playing on my iPod "What's New Pussycat?", Tom Jones

Who the hell are you and what did you do with my kid?

I have NO FUCKING CLUE what happened to my juvenile delinquent. He's like - gone.

In his place is the newly promoted Private First Class Tyler. Who is up for yet ANOTHER promotion to Lance Corporal and is currently the squad leader.

I'm not a military-minded kind of person. However, I do respect those that choose it as a career path. I have two very good friends my age who are veterans of the Gulf War. They both chose the military to get out of their small towns and see the world and get an education.

But I DO admire the way the military can instill respect and order in a person. My former brother in law was a total fuckwad until he joined the Navy. He's still a fuckwad and sadist, but after he left the Navy he got his shit together and is a successful, productive member of society. I've had cousins who joined the military to get out of the ghetto trap and get an education. Most of them went on to carve out a decent chunk of the American Dream. Only one came back from 'Nam strung out on heroin and eventually blew his brains out.

So when I had had ENOUGH of the juvenile delinquent, putting him in MCJROTC was his (and my) last chance for him to GET HIS SHIT TOGETHER.

And it appears to be working. I really think he's taken to it like a fish to water. I also know that my son is by nature a very structured, orderly person - almost borderline OCD. The Marines seem to have tapped into that part of him and helped him manifest it in his daily life.

Now he swears he isn't going to be in MCJROTC for the rest of high school. But I'm here to tell you - HE WILL BE BECAUSE I SAID SO.

That is all.

now playing on my iPod "Properties of Propaganda (Fuk This Shit On Up)", Fishbone