You don’t sit down for what you believe in, you stand up.

imageOh man. I said I would never do this again. I said I would never blog about anything controversial ever, ever again. Yet here I am, looking at a picture of Colin Kaepernick and getting all sorts of flustered and agitated and taking it out on my poor keyboard.

I got called ‘just another ignorant white girl’ for not caring that there were no black nominations at the Oscars this year. The mother who ‘looked away for two seconds’ and her kid managed to scramble his way into a silverback gorilla pit – I was told not to judge her. And I was told it was probably best to keep my opinion about transgender bathrooms to myself even though no one even knows where I stand on the matter. Just don’t talk about it. Shh.

So now I ask, am I allowed to talk about this douche nozzle, 3rd string quarterback loser Colin Kaepernick who refuses to stand for the National Anthem? Can I talk about this without being blasted as a racist? I think I can…but can you?

I am so sick of people ditching their patriotism in the name of doing something “noble” or “brave”

There is nothing noble or brave about intentionally sitting for our Nation’s Anthem. They say actions speak louder than words, Kaepernick did both. And his action spoke louder than his words.

His words say that he is tired of our country “oppressing black people and people of color”

His actions say he doesn’t give a shit about our country’s sacrifices. His actions say he is entitled. Spoiled. Unappreciative.

Strong words need to be accompanied by appropriate action if you want them to actually mean something to someone. How he could have handled this situation – is he could have actually done something to help the situation. He did nothing. Absolutely nothing. He drew attention to an already hot-topic in the most disrespectful way possible.

No one saw him as a representation of an oppressed black man sitting proud for what he believed in while thousands of others stood with their hands over their hearts and sang about the land of the free and the home of the brave. All they saw was a boy sitting in his timeout chair and holding his breath because mommy wasn’t paying enough attention to him.

He could have done so many things. So many. And this is what he chose?

And let’s forget that he is black and his parents are white. Let’s forget that he has millions of dollars at his disposal to do with that he pleases. Let’s forget about him being an NFL football player and that he proved to be a hypocrite of the greatest kind when he was fined $11,000 for calling a fellow player a f*****g N****r. Let’s file all of that worthless information deep in the back of our brains because none of it matters. None. Of. That. Shit. Matters.

I’ve tried saying this before, and the message didn’t get through to some. So let’s try it again…

It does not matter if you are white or black – you alone control yourself and your actions, these actions are 100% a reflection of yourself. It does not matter if you are rich or poor – money does not and cannot buy character. It does not matter if you were bullied or if your parents were big piles of shit and neglected you or worse. Sure, these could be explanations for the way you live your life, the choices you make – but they are not acceptable excuses for poor and ignorant behavior. The real problem with our country right now is that there are too many grown-ups (of all ages and ethnicities) acting like grown-ups instead of actually being grown-ups.

Eighteen-year-olds are fighting in wars. Soldiers are kissing their husbands and wives and children goodbye not knowing if they will ever see them again. That’s brave. That’s being.

And this millionaire pussy is safely sitting on an NFL bench crying about how life isn’t fair? That’s acting.

You can choose to be brave like a soldier. You can choose to be ungrateful like Kaepernick. You can choose to live a noble life with a 9-5er. You can choose to be a good person, a kind person and a respectful one. You can choose to be in any political party you want. You can choose to vote Trump or Hilary. You can choose to agree with the war, or not.

But what you cannot do, under any circumstances, is choose to not support our troops and our country.

Standing with our hands over our hearts and looking at the American Flag while we take a few minutes to reflect, to be humble, to be proud, to be appreciative and thankful for our country and those who are keeping it safe and secure is one of the easiest ways to show your support – to show that you care.

Shame on anyone who chooses to twist it into something else. Shame on anyone who dangles our flag in front of your face and tells you that it owes you something, that it needs to prove its worth before you can stand for it.

“When there is significant change – and I feel like that flag represents what it is supposed to represent, and this country is representing people the way it’s supposed to – I’ll stand” – Colin Kaepernick

image

Don’t worry Col, no one is waiting for you to stand. No one wants to stand with someone who picks and chooses when it’s the right time to support our country anyway. You keep sitting on your ass waiting for things to happen and the rest of us will forge ahead as good Americans, we’ll fight for change in the racial divide and try to come out on top as it’s what we all want. We’ll stand up for what’s right without you. You could have done something great on your big fancy platform, and instead you chose to be inconsequential. Such a shame.image

Rest your legs young man, get comfy on that bench, because no one cares if you sit or stand Kaepernick…no one cares.

 

Thanks for visting MadStella <3

Is The Bus Here Yet????

Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.

image

Its not that I hate summer, I love summer. I’m good at summer – I fucking rocked this summer. I took my kids on 15 camping trips. And no, that wasn’t a typo – I went on FIFTEEN camping trips with my children. Fourteen of them were done via tent, and oh how I enjoyed that one weekend in a camper.

“Why did you go on fifteen camping trips, Ashley?”

...Because these guys are fun.
…Because these guys are fun.

Well, it actually starts off as kind of a sad story so I’m going to spare you the depressing details – For now.

Just know that there was a purpose, the ending is happy and I don’t just have an obsession with sleeping on a blow-up mattress.

So anyway, why am I so happy that summer is over?

Because I’ve bonded to my children too much – or they’ve bonded to me too much. Either way, we’ve bonded and now mama needs some personal space.

Summers with children are not for the faint of heart. You know all of those little battles you fought all school year? Homework, bed times, soccer practices, time schedules…it was all in preparation for the war.

Summer Vacation.

And there are no winners.image

Boredom. Heat. Sand in places there shouldn’t be sand. Packing to go…everywhere, because everywhere you go in the summer you have to pack dry clothes, food, drinks, bug spray, sunscreen…

Parents stop being their children’s happy place and become their dumping ground. A place to plop their big steamy piles of boredom, whining and annoyances.image

Bed times get hazy. You can try to stick with the school-time bed-time, but this doesn’t always work. As in…it doesn’t ever work.

Why? Because the sun is still fucking ablaze at 9:30PM and no matter what level of darkening blinds you buy for their bedrooms – they still know the truth.

“Mommy, why am I going to bed when it’s still light out?”

Because mommy wants time away from you and your questions.

“Because its summer”

“Why?”

“Why is it summer or why is the sun out late in summer?

“Why both”

“Uh…because that’s the season we’re in and the sun doesn’t understand bed time”

“Why?”

“Because God hates mommy”

“WHAT!?!??!?!”

“I’m just kidding. It’s a joke. Stop crying. There, There. Go to bed”

Seriously though, why the hell is the sun out so late when I want my little angels to go the eff to sleep?

And why is it impossible for my daughter to make a s’more without getting melted marshmallow in my hair, her hair and on the screen door of the tent?

I’ve made too many damn s’mores this summer. They say you are what you eat – if that’s true then my daughter is a s’more, my son is a hotdog, my husband is potato salad and I’m a peach mango vodka on the rocks with a splash of cranberry.image

(You didn’t think I did 15 camping trips sober, did you?)

“What are we going to do today?

“I’m bored”

“Can we go play with….”

“Can *insert name of child you’ve never heard of before* come over and spend the night?”

“Can we go to the zoo”

“The beach?”

“Fishing?”

…Jesus Christ. Leave. Me. Alone.

Most of these questions were asked two inches from my face at 6:45 in the morning with only one of my eyes open and the morning breath of two children wafting in my face.

If they weren’t 100% entertained, they were 100% miserable.

My kids loved to hate each other this summer. And when they did play together, nicely, and for any length of time….my husband and I were too stunned to use the time wisely (like refilling our drinks) we just sat and stared with our mouths agape until someone touched someone and that someone didn’t want to be touched and the bitching ensued.image

Fifteen camping trips.

Fifteen times I packed, unpacked, set up, took down.

The trip to Lake George was great, mostly because it was this particular trip that we discovered children’s Dramamine. My 6-year-old gets really car sick so we figured for our longest trip we’d give it a try. And since we’re big on sharing, I decided to slip my 4-year-old a little somethin-somethin too. It was the best car ride ever.

Pharmacist: “Given his age, its perfectly safe for him to take 1-2 tablets but its going to make him very drowsy, so I’d start with ½ a tablet”

Yeah. Sure lady.image

“Ash, look at them – I feel a little bad”

“Don’t feel bad! Look how happy they are!”

*Pan to back seat* …….smiling, googly eyed, slow blinking, fast blinking, silence…

“They’re stoned”

“They’re happy”

*Looks in rearview mirror again*

“They do seem pretty happy”

“See? They’re fine. Just turn up the music and drive”

Before you go judging my judgment…anything after 20 minutes of driving and my son requires all four windows down, the AC cranked and a puke bucket in his lap. I wasn’t about to travel 4 hours into the twisty-twirly mountains with him completely lucid. And my daughter, well…like I said, she was a bonus.

What? Is that bad parenting or something? C’mon – like you’ve never slipped your kid Benadryl before bed to help them with their “night-time allergies”

No?

Yeah, me either.

I’m telling you – Summer Vacation, the heat, the whining – it makes bad things happen.

For instance, this summer we learned that my son loves anything sung by Miley Cyrus, and my daughter loves rap music. Bad things happen in high heat. Poor choices are made.

Is it my fault Stella knows the words to ‘Grillz’ better than Nelly? Or is it summer vacations fault??

image

Yeah, yeah ok…that ones on me.

But this heat, man. It was brutal this summer. And no rain?? Da Fuq!

We made the best of it though. I crammed my big pasty ass into a make-shift bathing suit and splashed in the water with the gremlins. I blew up hundreds of water balloons (no seriously, in one of our many water balloon fights there were actually 500 water balloons) My kids could kick your ass in cornhole and could give you a run for your money in a game of fris-beer.

I held both my daughter’s hands while she shit in the woods.

“I thought you said you only had to pee???”

“Me changed me mind”

While my parenting was on par, I still had apologies to make when mama got a little too aggressive with the water hose. He’s 6 years old, not a toddler – I thought he could handle a little water to the face.

Whatever.

I’m done.

I’m so done.

Time to slap their backpacks on and put them in the driveway. I’m counting down to the first day of school the same way my kids do for Christmas.

I even have an advent calendar.

It’s made of Jell-O.

It’s in my freezer.

Sometimes my treats are lime flavored with a kick of tequila, sometimes they are watermelon with a hint of rum. The big one though, you know…the one I’m opening on September 7th…that one tastes like fire and balls.

image

Sure there were good memories, fun times, precious family moments, big laughs…but I won’t bore you with those.

Just know that I did my job. I ditched social media, I never once looked down at my phone and I lived in the moment. I gave my kids a summer that most can only dream of. It was spent in the water, in the woods, on bicycles, 4-wheelers, around campfires and in tents. It was spent with sparklers and boat rides and telling spooky stories on the fly with a flashlight under my face.

I spent 8 hours (EIGHT HOURS) in a swamp searching for two friggen painted turtles for them to enter in a turtle race. The turtle race took 3 hours. Yes…3 hours. I invested 11 hours into a fucking turtle race. Not only that, but I’m the moron that caught the turtles 4 days before the race. They were lucky to be alive when it came time to race in their heat.

image

Next year we’re catching snapping turtles weeks in advance and feeding them nothing but painted turtles beforehand…that should liven things up on race day. *My brother in laws idea*

Now it’s time for these kids to get the hell out of my house. Peace out, children. Hope you enjoy the lunch I made you, crust cut off and everything. Just the way you fucking like it.

image

“But mommy, school doesn’t start for a couple more weeks – why are we waiting for the bus?”

*slurps advent calendar*

 

Thanks for visiting MadStella!! <3