Monthly Archives: January 2012

I can hear you sighing from your office.  You know, the one right next to my desk (ok, fine, my cubicle).  I can hear you from your office –the one with a door.  I don’t know what is going on with you today, but from the level of sighing (which I suppose I have to admit is low this week – last week was much worse), I’d assume you are dealing with single, childless woman problems. 

To be perfectly honest, I am not sure exactly what that means.  

You see, for the last 20 years I have not ever really been “single.” I have had a single relationship status, true, but I have been a mom for the last 20 years.  Most of the time, in fact the overwhelming majority of the time, I have either been a single working mother or (worse) a working mother in a relationship. Thank God I am finally married to a man who gets it, so I have help and support. And someone to have fun with… and awesome sex with.  But I digress…

This means that in the last 20 years I have not not had someone (a someone who I love more than my own life, and now 3 of them) completely dependent on me.  There really isn’t an adequate way to describe to you what that means.  Not having kids, there really is no way you can understand. 

This morning alone I woke in the bed with 3 other people.  The 4th person in my particular equation was not present and just about my first thought upon waking was, “Have I heard from Greta yet?” [my real first thought, by the way, was actually, “what part of Ezra IS that poking into me?  Oh, God! Am I lying on the baby?! No.  Ok, he’s all the way over there – and breathing.  Whew .  Move. Ezra. NOW.”]  After making a little time to assess, I decided I couldn’t wait any longer and went and started my coffee.  Of course, “my coffee” is not just mine, like yours is.  “My coffee” is mine and Jay’s.  Anyway, I also made a bottle for the baby and got Ezra’s breakfast.  I took a cup of coffee and bottle to Jay so he could feed Sawyer.  [He is awesome!]

I then got a shower.  Well, I got a shower after getting Ezra up, giving him said breakfast and showing him his laid out clothes. And explaining to him that I was getting in the shower and that while I was, he needed to get dressed.  And reminding him to keep his underwear on.  I then showed him his socks and shoes and made him repeat it all back to me because he was half paying attention to me and really was watching Curious George.  I then explained that if he wanted to do it himself and watch TV, he had to do it while I was in the shower, because if he was not dressed when I got out, I was going to turn off the TV and Jay or I would do it. There were then protests from Ezra, but he moved and began taking off his jammies.

THEN I got in the shower.  I noticed that I was running a bit behind from the clock in the bathroom and realized I may have to skip shaving.  At least with shaving cream. Maybe I could just run the razor over my legs and pits real quick.  Damn.  I really should have gotten a shower last night.  But I was too tired to even clean the kitchen after cooking enchiladas, Spanish rice and guacamole for everyone last night. 

Oh, you got take-out and didn’t dirty a dish?  And caught up on episodes of Dexter?  Three of them?  And then The Daily Show.  Yeah.  I bet you were too tired to stay up and watch Colbert.  And then that alarm clock didn’t go off properly again?  Really, I think you should invest in a better one.  A 4 year-old really works, but I’d recommend you go to Best Buy. You were only 10 minutes late, though, so that is totally within reason, I know

Anyway, while I got dressed after my shower, I briefed Jay on where Ezra was and reminded him that Ezra’s dad was coming to get him at 9a for the dentist.  I realized I did not have time to pack up leftovers for my lunch and figured I’d have snack stuff at my desk instead.   I cursed myself again for not packing things up last night and came to the conclusion that I would just warm leftovers tonight and clean the kitchen and make cookies this evening.  Then I remembered I have roasted vegetables in the frige at work and felt better about my lack of planning. 

I kissed everyone good bye, threw out a few reminders and dashed out the door.  And I thanked my lucky stars as I turned out of my neighborhood that I was not taking Ezra to daycare this morning, which adds an extra 40 minutes to my commute. 

I know!  Yours is only 20 minutes without a trip to daycare.  That is awesome. And still only 10 minutes late this morning! Impressive.

So, when I walked into the kitchen this morning and started fixing my breakfast while you were fixing yours, and when I hear such sighs coming from your office, I just cannot figure out how you do it all. And I have to ask – what exactly it is that you and the friends who call your work line all day long talk about?  Yeah, did you forget I can see your calls so have a decent idea of how many personal calls you get every day?  What exactly does that one chick who calls 5 times a day have to talk about?  Oh, that’s right, she doesn’t have any kids either.

How do you wake up alone every morning?  I suppose I’d over sleep as well if I were in bed alone.  Of course, it would be a mystery as to why I could not hear an alarm clock and simply fix coffee, get showered and dressed and out the door at the same time every day, too.  I mean, if you only have yourself and traffic to worry about, at the very least there should not be any surprises unless they were traffic related.  And I deal with those, too.  But if I am very honest, I have to admit that even in Atlanta traffic you are really ever that surprised. Traffic sucks.  You know it sucks.  So does everyone else.  You also know that if you live 15 miles from work, it is going to take 30-45 minutes to get in (news flash, not 20).  So, really, there aren’t many surprises from traffic – maybe once a month a really good wreck or something, but generally not. 

You want to know the definition of a surprise is in the morning? A surprise is when you look back to cattle prod your 4 year old down the front steps and notice that his pants are on backwards.  And then you go to fix that and realize that his underwear is inside out.  And then you look at your watch and realize that, if you fix this, you are going to be at least 15 minutes late which might warrant a text to your boss.  And then you literally stand in the driveway and WEIGH how bad you don’t want to text your boss against how bad you don’t want to take your kid to daycare with their pants on backwards and inside out.  That is a surprise.  I am guessing you don’t have those. 

So.  I would recommend you not send me texts suggesting that on your “late day” I not be late. Or get a grip on those emotional outbursts when you are “trying to get your dosage just right” [what’s that medication for? Oh.  Stress-induced irritable bowel syndrome.  Yeah.  That must not be pleasant. But “stress-induced” really??]  Trust me, I am on top of it – along with everything else for everyone else this morning.  Here.  This is a link for a new alarm clock that wakes you by screaming and rolling off the table and under the bed.  I hear they tried to mimic the morning actions of a 2 year old.  Good luck!

Disclaimer: I realize this sounds horribly bitchy, self-serving and contemptuous.  I take full responsibility for it.  I made choices to have kids and I am positive that was the correct choice, so there is a bit of validity in criticizing me for sometimes complaining that additional responsibility is difficult to shoulder.  My problem, and the reason for the level of venom in this, is not because I want to make excuses for me being late or tired or running a bit ragged, it is because someone acts as if they are shouldering as much responsibility as I am and being judgmental about it, when that is nowhere near the case.  I realize that I made the choice to complicate my life with children, but you made the choice not to. So don’t roll your eyes when I am not here because of one of my kids.  I do my job… and without the melodramatic sighing and two-hour shopping lunches you apparently need for coping with your job stress. I also think one day off with my husband and kids is way cooler than your week in Cabo. My only suggestion, other than remembering we are responsible for our choices, is that you not have kids.  You’d never be able to hang.

Further Disclaimer: this co-worker is fictional and a conglomeration of some of the single office co-workers I have encountered over the years as a paralegal.  I am in no way referring to any one individual. 


I started out writing this post describing some of what I did this weekend.  And then I stopped.  Because I don’t think the focus should be on what list of things I accomplished (there are always something – I have check lists of stuff that has to be done on the weekends to prep for my work week).  But the real important part of this post has nothing to do with exactly what we did this weekend. 

Friday I was worn out.  The week had contained time off work for appointments for Sawyer (one of which was missed because of scheduling problems and another of which involved shots); a Board Meeting I was in charge of setting up and responsible for it coming off without a hitch (any hitches, my fault or not, would be blamed squarely on me); Greta chauffeuring me back and forth to work; Ezra being 4 and working that defiant streak (one morning pitching a bloody fit bad enough that, when Greta dropped me off, I could hear him screaming my name as she turned off onto Peachtree Street – lovely); Jay having a mad, full week of work; and, certainly not least, a long catch-up chat with April, which was sorely needed. 

By the end of the week, even though not all of my week had been negative, I was drained.  I had been running like mad from one “must-do” to the next, accomplishing everything but barely finding time to catch my breath.  I was managing to stay on top of all my mom and employee duties, but I was frazzeling. 

But when I got home on Friday evening it was instantly better.

I did not go on a vacation this weekend.  I did not go out of town or do anything special.  I did not go out on a “date night” or even out to dinner. 

I did not have fabulous plans like some people I know who are childless and without a steady relationship so they fill their time with girlfriends, shopping and drinks. 

I still had to clean house, do laundry, menu plan and grocery shop, all of which I managed to fit in. 

But from Friday evening when I got home from work to the last sip of wine Saturday night after Jay and I cooked ourselves a fabulous dinner, there was no stress, no difficulties and no aggravations.  Sure, things happened.  But by then I had been in my Laughing Place for a while and was impervious to drama and aggravation. 

You know what made it so powerful?  Why, even as I sit here now on a Monday afternoon when I should be a bit frayed around the edges, I am still bathed in relaxation and calm assurance?

I did crawl into my bed and pull the covers over my head.  I did spend almost a solid 24 hours in that bed.

But I was not alone.  Jay was with me. 

He understood my need to hibernate, even if only for a day.  And he knew exactly what I needed and gave that to me without hesitation, whether it was a few hours of tv, sleep, talking, silence, wine or anything else comforting and relaxing.   I had a place, withdrawn from the world where there was only the two of us – without expectations, without judgment – only understanding and acceptance sprinkled with contentment and laughter. It was divine.

I hope to carry that feeling with me all week.

This morning I sit here with my Trader Joe’s coffee in my travel mug with nice Gap and Old Navy clothes on.  I have on cute little knee high striped socks a showing off my whimsical side and new Naturalizer fashionable mom shoes to be practical.

I have on my Mema’s earrings to remind me of her and ground me to my roots.

I am sitting in an office on Peachtree Street in downtown Atlanta with a steady job that both allows me freedom and provides structure. My boss is happy with my work.

My bills are paid. 

I have healthy food in my frige for my family to eat.  

Even my ex-husband is being nice and is no longer an active source of stress. 

Above all else, I have 3 amazing kids and a wonderful husband who loves and supports me.  We are working together to build a safe and comfortable life for our family.

I am on top of things.  I really am.

And I sit here scared out of my mind. 

I have never felt more together and lucky… and more completely phony in my entire life. 

I also feel bad for feeling that way.  I am trying to cope in the best way I know how and I think it looks like I am doing a good job of it.  But I feel the overwhelming pressure of responsibility and the fear it brings like some monster lurking in the closet. 

It is not the fear of something specific.  I never had the kind of imagination that gave a form to the monster in the closet or under the bed, even as a child. Oh, there was certainly a monster. However, the far more terrifying aspect of my monster was that it had no form at all.  And in not having a form it was even more horrifying because I was certain that it was worse than anything I can imagine. 

And I could imagine some pretty bad things.

At Rants from Mommyland they call the sometimes irrational (but mostly totally rational because, as a parent, you spend a good deal of time trying just to keep kids alive, despite their best efforts to kill themselves) fear that something horrible and unknowable is going to happen to your children The Fear

My Fear is a little different.  It is tinged with the knowledge that when that one horrible thing does happen, it will be my fault.  A bit dramatic, I know, but I come from a long line of drama queens, so it is completely understandable.  [It always has to be about me, right?  After all, I am the center of my universe.  Yeah, give me a break, uh?]

I have young children who I have to vigilantly watch – and sometimes I forget that they are watching me just as much, maybe even more.  How about that for a monster?  Scary enough for you?

I used to want to crawl into my bed and pull the soft, sheltering blankets over my head and not emerge until the storm of fear had passed and the day (and my mood) was once again calm and refreshed.  I think I am going to actually do a version of it this weekend. 

But the difference will be simple – and beyond important.  I will have Jay and Sawyer with me.  I will have Sawyer to hold in my arms and teach me about what is really important in this life.  And I will have Jay to hold me in his arms and make me feel safe and loved and protected and encouraged. 

I will order take out tonight and we will get into our bed together and spend hours playing and talking and watching tv.  I will not be lonely.  I will not be afraid.  There, in the literal nucleus of my home and family, I will find my solace. I will banish my fear.

Please, please can I go home now?

I think I may have posted something that really sent me for a psychological loop.  I have been off in my head and not writing about the stuff whirling around up here.  I go through stages where I cannot stop writing and my fingers seem to fly across the keyboard…and others where I feel like a rusty well pump that hasn’t been primed in years. 

I suppose you can figure out which state I am currently in from my lack of posts.

After I wrote the post about 10 things I would not change about myself, I had to take a step back.  Somehow I had validated myself, which you would think would be a good thing.  At first it was.  I felt all good and confident.  But in providing myself with that validation, I inadvertently woke the Craken.  The maladjusted voices in my head keeping track of all the things I don’t like about myself went into overdrive.  It’s been a constant barrage.

“How dare I think positively about that?! That’s some political-class spinning, right there.  You should work for Congress.  HA hahaha.”

“Who do I think I am kidding?”          

“Yeah.  You are really put together, now aren’t you? Check out the crows feet.  Bitchin.” (this one as I look in the mirror and hear it in an especially nasty sarcastic tone)

“Look at this. Outfit? That is what you call it?  How about a bunch of semi-matched clothes that saw their best years a while back and you don’t have the money to replace them.  Why?  Because you are a LOSER.”

“Don’t worry, you can throw it out.  After all, you will never fit into it again.”

“You will never get it together, so stop acting like it is even a possibility.”

“Everyone sees through you.  You are the mess you’re expected to be.” 

“Yep.  You look 40. Over 40, actually. Too bad you don’t have any wisdom to show for the wrinkles.”

Maybe it is because I have been sick and taking Mucinex DM, and that stuff always makes me feel a bit off. But I think it is more than that.  I have been trying to get it to stop, but so far I have not been able to.  Lately I have been thinking I need to give them personalities. Kind of a twist on “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.” Of course, that may be how some people go insane, but then I don’t think I will be able to do a good enough job with it to actually lose reality.  Although, it would be kinda cool to be that creative.   

So I think I may do a little exercise naming the negative voices in my head and giving them personalities and back stories.  For some reason, I am pretty sure one of them will be named Emily.

In my phone I have seven pictures.  I was looking at them today and thinking about when they were taken.  As I looked at the detailed information on them, I noticed they were taken at 5am exactly three months ago. October 6, 2011 – the morning after Sawyer was born.  I took them while I lay awake in the hospital crying in the wee hours of the morning. I was hoping that they would not show the Downs Syndrome traits I could not help but see in my baby laying skin-to-skin on my chest. Every time I would take a picture, I’d look at it, cry… and wait another minute and take another one, praying that from a different angle I would not see the obvious. But every one of them showed me the slanted eyes of a newborn with Downs.  After six of them, I just gave up and held him and cried.

No one had told me Sawyer had Downs.  As a matter of fact, Jay asked the OB when she delivered him and she told him, “There is nothing wrong with this baby.  It would be obvious if he had Downs.  His ears would be lower and his tone would be obviously bad.  You don’t have anything to worry about.”  But by the time Ezra had come to visit a couple of hours later, I was sure she was wrong. 

I kept telling myself that I was not a doctor. How could I diagnose Downs? My doctor had said the baby was fine and she knew how worried we were about Downs.  I should just relax and enjoy this.  Jay was thrilled.  I didn’t want to be responsible for crushing his joy – and if I told him, I would have had to explain why I was so sure and that would make it real.  It would be real if I said it out loud.  And no one was saying it so, as long as no one said it, it was possible I was wrong. 

While Jay was there I was fine.  I could hold myself together and tell myself I was over reacting and the baby’s eyes were probably just swollen from just being born.

But Jay took his mother and went back to our house for the night later after I’d gotten into a regular room.  I was alone with the baby watching him sleep on my chest.  I was on Percocet.  I dozed and cried and hoped that I was wrong.  At one point late in the night, I told my nurse I was worried about it.  She just told me to get some rest.   When she walked out I sobbed and started taking the pictures.  I kept thinking, “she didn’t say I was wrong.”  She didn’t confirm what the OB said when she delivered him, even though I told her about it.  I knew she at least suspected. The more I thought about it, the more I cried.

By the time the sun came up I was positive.  I waited as long as I could and then texted Jay and told him that the pediatrician was coming by and I needed him or his mother to be there with me for that.  There was only one thing I knew for sure and it was that I could not be the one to tell them.  I held on to the slim hope that I was wrong and that the pediatrician would come in and she would never say the words Downs Syndrome.  But in my heart I knew that she would.

While I laid there and waited for Jay and his mother, my two best friends in the world texted me to check on us.  Outside of our immediate families and these two friends, Jay and I had told no one that we had been told the baby could have Downs.  I told them both by text message that I was sure the baby had it. One of my friends started asking about the markers I had seen. For some reason it was not the same texting about it as saying it out loud.  And I cannot tell you how much I appreciated my friends’ reactions – not offering condolences or flipping out, but being matter of fact and helpful.  The seventhpicture in my phone is of Sawyer’s palm.  My friend and I were trying to figure out if there was a single palmar crease. I cannot tell you how helpful those matter-of-fact text conversations were. I don’t know if I will ever be able to tell them how much it meant to me.

Jay and his mother did get to the hospital before the pediatrician came. And I sat there and waited hoping we would get through the exam without her saying Downs Syndrome.  She was kind and gentle, but she was blunt.  He had enough markers that he needed to have genetic testing for Downs Syndrome.

It is amazing how time and acceptance works.  Thinking back three months to the night I lay awake high as a kite on Percocet crying holding my new baby, I don’t feel the deep heart-wrenching sadness I did that night and the two days that followed.  I have never cried like I did over those couple of days. There were periods of time where I could not imagine being at the point I am now.  My heart ached.  I felt such guilt and sorrow. I could not believe it. This had actually happened to us.  I mourned the loss of the baby I hoped we would have.  I felt such heartache that Jay had lost the baby he should have had because of me. 

But today, just 90 days later, we are ok.  There have been times over the last 3 months that I have cried some thinking and worrying about Sawyer’s future and what it will be like.  I cannot tell you that I am not a little scared, some days more than others.  But I feel normal. I have reached a point where I don’t “see Downs Syndrome” when I look at Sawyer, as bad as it may be to admit that I used to do just that. 

I have come far enough to be able to write this without shedding a tear, not even getting a bit choked up as I write, even.  I didn’t plan to write this post today, even though it has been exactly 3 months since we were told.  As a matter of fact, I had not even realized it until I looked at those pictures I’d taken while I was bored during a meeting today.  And then I saw this article.  And that is what pushed me to write this. 

I took seven pictures in tears 3 months ago hoping against hope that my baby was fine.  And you know what I have learned in those 3 months?  He is.  He really is just fine.  And Downs Syndrome or not he is the cutest little baby you will ever see! 

I cannot wait to get home and spend the weekend with all my guys!

[Here is my first post about Sawyer and Downs]

Alright.  I will concede that maybe I should not post when I both read something that disturbs me and, at that time, also have PMS.  I may tend to be more abrasive and caustic in both my analysis and explanation of my point of view. 

Here is my basic question: why is it that the party who believes in small government as one of its main tenets also thinks that the same small government should have in its limited powers the ability to tell me what to do with my body from the type of sex I can have to medical procedures (or the ability to refuse them) based on their religious beliefs? How is that not a contradiction in terms?? The purist among them would do away with whole departments of government arguing that, not only are they not needed, but they infringe on personal choice and liberty and it is not the role of government to do such things, yet it IS somehow the role of government to make the MOST personal choices in this life for me because a religion sets forth a dogma you would like to impose on me.  That goes against the very basic ideals on which this country is founded.  

It would not be so bad if I had a choice to separate the two, but I don’t.  To vote my conscious on fiscal and small government issues, I have to vote Republican.  To vote my conscious on social issues – especially the right to privacy – I have to vote Democratic.  There is no third option.  If I vote Republican, I get the kind of economic policy that I think is best for our country.  But I run a HUGE risk. The Republicans who can be nominated by the party have to be so socially conservative that I have to fear what they would do to the right to privacy if given half a chance.  So I have to decide which is more important – the economy or personal liberty.  On the flip side, the Democrats generally hold that the right to privacy is sacrosanct in medical and sexual cases, yet they put forth other social and fiscal policies that I feel are outside the realm of government, which is insulting. 

So which principles do I compromise? Which is more important, my pocketbook or my body?

Well, most people I know will go with what is most likely to impact their day-to-day life.  Which means if you are straight, even if the Republicans manage to ban gay marriage and, if you are married, and they manage to pass laws restricting contraception, you aren’t really that effected.  And your personal wealth may increase, so while you disagree with those things, you would rather trample the right to privacy of others and line your pockets than stand by personal privacy issues and have a more socialistic government. 

What the hell kind of choice is that in a free society? I have to compromise my principles either way!

It is wrong.

The reason I get so mad and riled up against the Republicans is because I am most familiar with them and on a lot of things, I relate to them more.  I have voted Republican most times I have ever voted in my life.  And I would be lumped in with these people who somehow feel they have the right to tell other people what they can do with their own BODY. I am beyond offended by this. 

It is the same principle as to why I so vehemently detest racists.  I am Southern. I love being Southern.  I love everything about the South.  With one glaring exception.  I detest our history when it comes to civil rights.  And when the guy down the street starts talking about how glad he is we are white, or other such nonsense I get really, really pissed.  Because HE is the guy who makes other people think I am racist because I am Southern.  He makes all of the rest of us look bad. 

And these right wing evangelicals sicken me for the same reason. If I am a believer and go to church and want to vote Republican, I get lumped in with those who want to trample rights in a misguided attempt to “protect the family.”  They somehow think that because the majority of the country is both Christian and straight, they can get away with pushing their religious beliefs off on the rest of us because they are in the majority.  Even though the most BASIC right that we hold most dear as Americans above all else is the freedom from religious persecution and the separation of church and state. 

This country was founded on the very principle that NO religion should be able to dictate to another because it was the majority belief of the people.  Hell, most of the pilgrims who first came here came to escape that very thing.  But 200 years later we would allow a majority religion to say that since it teaches that certain sexual acts are wrong, they should be banned.  That is the very definition of a slippery slope. 

You may think that it doesn’t affect you since you are straight. But I tell you that if you allow the government to tell you that there are sexual acts two men cannot engage in, then it won’t be long before there are sexual acts that you cannot engage in with your own husband or wife.  How does that sit with you?  You want the sex police telling you what is natural and what is deviant? You want to hand over your ability to make that decision for yourself to some government entity based on someone else’s interpretation of a 2000 year old book, whether you believe it is divinely inspired or not?  You know where they do that?  Iran.  Saudi Arabia.  Afghanistan.  Is this the direction you want your country to go in? 

And I will tell you right now, that no matter how bad you think Obama is and what socialist agenda you think he is pushing that will infringe on your personal rights and liberties, there is NOTHING in his social policy as dangerous as telling you who you can love, marry or sexually express yourself with or in what way. There is no policy of his saying I cannot make medical decisions with my doctor because a religion may disagree with that decision. 

I don’t care whether or not you think homosexuality is a sin and an abomination. In a free society it is not government’s right or jurisdiction to interfere in my most personal decisions. I don’t personally agree with abortion and I don’t think I could ever do it myself.  I also think that once a fetus is viable it should be illegal because you are then interfering with another person’s right to live (and you have had plenty of time to have an abortion before viability), but I cannot agree to across the board outlaw abortion because each woman has to make and live with that choice.  I would  not ever want someone else dictating something so personal to me, so I cannot agree with dictating to others, even if I may personally agree with it. To have a choice myself, I must agree to allow someone to make a different choice than I would make.  That is freedom.  Even evangelicals know that God gives a choice whether to follow Him or not. As the all powerful God, he could just Make It So, could He not?  But He doesn’t.  If He did, freedom and choice would not exist. 

At least I know that when Obama leaves the White House, my paycheck may be smaller and government may have grown, but my ability to be a self determining individual in the most basic and important way possible – whether it be sexual or medical – will still be fully in tact and will not be undermined by a specific religion’s interpretation of what those rights should be. 

Government’s duty is only to protect individuals from others, not ideas, and not from ourselves.  We don’t have the Thought Police here.  At least not yet.  But if you allow the Sex Police or the Morality Police, you are just one step closer every single time. 

Does this not disturb you? How is it that in a society who holds personal and religious freedom so very dear is it possible that a Rick Santorum can possibly rise to prominence with ideas like this?  And conservatives think Obama is more dangerous??  It is horrible socialism to come and raid your paycheck, but perfectly fine for the government to be in your bedroom or doctor’s office?  Which is more important to you?

The economy is so very important, but it pales in comparison to my right to my body as an individual.

For another post on this subject, go here.

This is a bit harsh, but I feel it needs to be said.  Read at your own risk. 

I would like someone to explain to me just where the religious right gets off?  What exactly is it about this group of people who for some reason seem to think that they are so fucking superior that they can tell the rest of us how to live, worship, spend our money and everything else that they think they can get away with regulating in a supposedly free society???

I suppose they think that they have such a strong grasp on morality that they have not only the authority but the God given right to dictate their version of morality to the rest of us because they are somehow given this right by God Himself.  Funny, but I am pretty damn sure that is the EXACT reasoning Bin Laden and the 9/11 hijackers used to kill more than 3000 Americans. 

There are over 6.9 BILLION people in this world.  Only 2.3 billion of those are Christians.  About the same amount are Muslim.  That means that each religion is only a third of the world’s population, but for some reason both these minorities think they are divinely granted the right to force their belief system on the rest of us.  What gall!

Now, I am not Muslim.  I cannot begin to understand that religion.  Generally speaking, unless you are one of those who want to destroy me and my way of life as a part of your faith, I have no problem with you. 

I do, however, take issue with the Christians who want to impose their version of morality on me by passing laws that would infringe on my rights to do what I want with my body in the privacy of my own home and what my doctor and family deem to be medically necessary for me. 

The first reason I have a problem with it is because it is insulting.  I was raised a Christian.  But my beliefs are NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.  It is between me and God and I will thank you to keep your high minded nose out of my business.  If I want to give my husband a blow job, have anal sex or invite another person into our bedroom it is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.  You have no more right to know what goes on it the privacy of my home than I can decide what goes on in yours.  I will not tell you what kind of sex you can have with your husband or what you can teach your children about that sexual relationship.  The idea that I would presume to do so would surely be offensive to you, so where do you get off thinking that you are so morally superior that you can dictate my relationship to me??  Fuck you.

And Fuck all of you who think that you may disagree with passing laws against or abolishing the right to privacy, “but after all, I am not gay, I am never going to be gay so it does not effect me.” You think it is not important to you? Then you’d better think again, you cowards.  Because if you allow someone to pass laws in our society because they just don’t effect you, give it time.  Eventually it will effect you. And then where will you be???  If Rick Perry, Michelle Bachmann, Rick Santorum and their ilk had their way, then you would not be able to go on birth control, have sex while your wife is on her period, have oral or anal sex or decide and have to give birth to a child who would not only kill you to have, but who would then die a horrible death itself because you would not be able to make that awful decision yourself without risking jail. Hell, as a woman you may not be able to be on top.  If you can out law this sexual act, then there is a whole host of others that may be deemed “deviant.” And who gets to be the arbiter of what is deviant and what is not????

Is this a free society?? No! It sounds like the morality police to me.  And where do they have those??? Oh, yeah.  In societies where women are segregated for their “respectful protection” and where they have to have “guardians.” Where men and women can be sentenced to public lashing and such things.  Is this the direction we want our society to go in?? Under the guise of “protecting the family?” Yeah, and they just want to “protect” women in Saudi Arabia and Afghanistan, too. 

Whatever happened to the idea that “I may disagree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it?” This is the kind of ideal that a free society is based on.  And I would argue that the right to physically demonstrate love and desire is even more basic than the right to say what I want short of yelling “Fire” in a theater. 

Rick Santorum says he wants to stay out of my wallet. Well, you know what, Rick?  Why don’t you get the fuck out of my bedroom first?  Because that is even more personal, private and none of your business.