The Touchy Feely n' Shit Series #1

Welcome friends. I'd like to introduce you to a new series I'll be working on for the foreseeable future called, "The Touchy Feely n' Shit Series." I've been thinking about doing something like this for a long time, but thanks to procrastination and being perpetually exhausted, I've brushed it off for months on end. Much like I'm ignoring working on the book. See... there's a truth right there. I'm already being honest with you guys, isn't that nice?

Each entry will feature some sort of meme, snippet, photo, whatever, that might seem somewhat meaningful. For whatever reason, the selected meme, etc. spoke to me somehow, so that particular post will prattle on about that. Basically, I don't always want to post mindless, mundane shit. I don't always want to post about my kid, despite the fact that he's a hilarious bad ass, I know you fine folks probably don't want to hear about someone else's kid all the time. I know I sure as hell don't. So welcome. I hope you enjoy the series. Maybe you'll learn something new, or you'll discover something that you'd sooner forget. Either way, it's going to be a great ride. Let's get started.


Now this, this is an absolute truth in my life. I've carried a book around with me ever since I could read. As a younger, grade school kid, it was The Babysitter's Club, then it was the Choose Your Own Adventure Books, then on to The Goosebumps series, from the Goosebumps I drifted toward the darker books taking a huge left turn when I started in on the Stephen King books in high school.

A book has always been a comfort in my life. Maybe that's why they're so important to me. I've had a book at my side sitting at the doctor's office, the dentist's office, on a long trip, when I couldn't sleep at night, when I've needed to think about something else. A book on the night table, a book in the car, a book in my bag, everywhere a book! I've panicked a time or a thousand when I've forgotten a book when I knew I'd be waiting somewhere. Idle hands lead to twiddling thumbs, idle minds lead to automatically thinking the worst in every situation. Or is that just me?

When e-Readers rose to prevalence in the early 00's, I scoffed. Naturally. How could some electronic device ever take the place of actual, physical, glorious books? I always swore to myself that I would never in a thousand years own one of those infernal machines. Technically, I now own three. Let me explain... nothing with ever take the place of a big, thick book. You can't sniff an e-Reader, not without looking like an absolute psycho anyway. You can't physically turn the page in a e-Reader, no matter how hard they tried with their little forward and backward buttons, or swiping the screen. It's not the same, dammit!

When these e-Readers had been out for a little while, mid 00's, I skulked around them. Researching them trying to justify purchasing one. What convinced me to jump on the bandwagon was that instead of lugging my huge hardbacks around and possibly turning the corners of the books down in transit, I could just carry all my favorite books around on this little thing and still have the comfort of my books without having to worry about harming my precious babies. So, when I say I technically own three e-Readers, what I mean is, the first one I bought doesn't work anymore, the second one I bought works just fine, and the third in an iPad, which is used exclusively for work, not for iBooks, thank you!

These days, I don't use my e-Reader very much. I still love the feel of carrying a big ol' book around. A book is a conversation piece. No one has ever asked me, "Oh, whatcha reading on your e-Reader there?" People see the spine of a book and immediately become interested. What's the book about, who's the author? When you start to tell them about the kinds of books you're reading, then they start to judge you a little, like... maybe I shouldn't mess with this chick, she seems like she might cut a bitch. Admittedly, I'll read books that I'm ashamed to be seen with on my e-Reader. You know the kind of books I'm talking about. The kind of books that you would absolutely judge other people for. Those are the kinds of books I keep secretly stashed away in my safe little e-Reader.

Just last week, I was sitting in the doctor's office with my current read, "The Fireman" by Joe Hill, who happens to be one of Stephen King's sons. This one is about a virus called Dragonscale and causes its victims to spontaneously combust. There is an actual "fireman" in the book who can control the Dragonscale to his advantage and create fiery illusions whenever he pleases. I'm about 300 pages deep with about 500 to go. Pretty great so far. So I'm sitting there hunched over my book in the waiting room, occasionally looking up to observe the other poor bastards sitting there wasting their life in a waiting room, and every single one of them is staring at their phone. No one had so much as a magazine, they were all just stared at their phone. To be fair, maybe they were reading e-Books on their phones, obviously, I have no idea, but I'm inclined to say that they were probably on the Facebook, or surfing the "web." When I got back into one of the rooms and sat for another hour, the doctor came in and noticed my book right away. He even remarked that he rarely saw anyone come in with a book. I was immediately proud of myself, and then a little sad.

Obviously, books aren't going anywhere. Book shops still remain. Those indie stores are fighting hard, and I always try to support them whenever I can. Granted, I'm guilty of buying books from the dreaded Amazon monster here and there because I can find certain hardcovers that I'm looking for, but whenever possible, I'm lurking through physical book shops for some obscure find.

Getting through this now, I realize this may not be classified as too touchy feely. I can't just jump in and give it all up in the first post. How else am I supposed to hook you people and bring you back for #2 and onward?

On The First EVER Day of School

Dude. I can't even handle the fact that G-Money is prepping for his first day of legit pre-school.

It's been an up hill battle thus far to even get him interested in participating in the system. Up until now, he and I have been homeschooling and learning about things in an unconventional way, you know, so he could like, use his imagination or something.

A few years ago he participated in a small pre-school type program which he hated for at least 5 weeks. He'd cry and tell me he never wanted to go back. Despite the fact that J and Grandma J were in the building, and sometimes in the classroom. Just as I was about to pull him out, he came home and said he actually liked it. Of course, when Fall rolled around again and it came time for him to move up a class (without J and Grandma J) he threw a hairy conniption and refused to step foot in the building ever again. Cool. So, we started with homeschooling, which has actually been pretty neat because every he's learned, he's learned from home.

I'd talk about getting him back into a real pre-school, not just school with Mom and he'd always tell me that he's not going, I can keep homeschooling him. He didn't want to be left alone in a classroom with a bunch of kids and a teacher he didn't know. Now, I can't exactly say that I disagree with him, it's a pretty daunting idea, four years old, being tossed into a place with a bunch of happy strangers, making you do crafts and shit. My own pre-school and kindergarten experiences are less than thrilling. I feel like I could have stayed home until 1st grade and turned out the same way. It definitely didn't leave lasting impression or mold me in any way. I was thinking, maybe, in a preschool atmosphere, he'd come into his own a little bit, maybe feel a bit more comfortable socially, but then I realized, I don't want to force him to open up socially either. Some people (ME) and several others out there in the world are a bit socially anxious. Shit, I'm 34 years old, and if I can dodge a social interaction with strangers, I make like a ghost and slink away.

Of course, all of a sudden within the last month or so, the boy has blossomed like a wild flower. He's talking to everyone. EVERYONE. Mostly about his ducks. First I had two ducks, and then I had four, but now I have five! I also have a cat, Leo, and a dog, Boogie. I have fish too. Oh, my mom drives red Jeep Patriot, and my dad drives a green Jeep Renegade, and my birthday is________, my address is:_____________. Seriously man... I need to carry around a roll of duct tape now to keep this kid from getting us robbed or something. I don't think I have to worry about how he'll do in a social situation at this point.

So... his first day of legit preschool is September 11th. This is a co-op preschool, meaning, the parents, grandparents, care givers, whatever, are heavily involved. They "work" in the classroom once or twice a month, they go on field trips with the kids, like straight up, you're a part of the teaching process. This is a huge comfort to G-Money because J is going to be there in the classroom with him. All of a sudden, he's totally stoked for school. Awesome.

Okay, the boy is four years old. FOUR! There is a laundry list of items that the parents have to bring to orientation to keep the school going. I get that it's a small co-op. We're all a team after all. We're talking about, markers, crayons, copy paper, plates, napkins, hand sanitizer, tissues, baby wipes, etc. They want each family to bring this shit. I'm fairly certain that my parents didn't have to stock my classroom when I was in preschool... of course, that was 30 years ago.  I can only imagine how much worse it's going to get as he gets older. I need a savings account to put the kid through the public school system.

You know what I'm not looking forward to with G's new adventure here? Filthy, disease ridden children coughing their malaria all over him, and him bringing that malaria home. Yes, I realize that malaria is not passed by coughing, it's just a thing we say in our house thanks to the fine film, Superbad. I now expect to be sick from September through May because of nasty little children. Another thing I'm not looking forward to is him making friends. Yes, yes, he's bound to make friends, and that's a good thing. What's not good is the fact that parents have to latch on to their child's social activities because there's so many scum bags in the world. I can't have my kid going over someone's house because their parents might be deviants, and I don't want kids over my house because I don't want to have to talk to them or entertain them. Of course, this is just my selfish introvert side coming out and I must reel it in at least a little bit because G is turning into his mother.

It's a pretty big deal that he's starting school. I can hardly believe it. Soon he'll be bringing chicks home, wanting to get his license, and then graduating high school. I choose to ignore this for now.

On Being an Introvert Mom

I'd totally be the man in this scenario.

I've taken G to enough things geared toward children to know deep down in my cockles that most kids are assholes. Now, it's not totally the kid's fault, I mean... they're kids. They have to learn that asshole behavior, right?

Also, please don't think that I feel like my kid isn't an asshole. Granted, for the most part, he's a well behaved little gentleman, thank you. However, the boy has his moments when he's an out of control drama queen, but you know what? He's three, shit happens. I've got it pinpointed almost down to a science, when the boy saves his drama for his mama, he's usually tired, hangry, or emotionally tore up from the floor up.

For example, we had to go a store two days in a row (food one day) and (items for his room) the next day. His sleep has been erratic, he's been a garbage disposal, he's got his man period, I'm pretty sure he's going to sprout, okay, so he's been a little cray. He likes to drive the shopping cart. Cool. Except, it was the weekend, there were a billion people at the store. I didn't want to have to talk to someone that he accidentally ran over with the cart. So, trying to be preemptive, I tried calmly telling him he had to sit in the cart and picking him up while explaining myself. The boy goes dead-weight, starts crying and hollering that he doesn't want to sit in the cart and makes damn sure I can't deposit him in the cart. Okay... now I'm that mother, wrestling her kid like a sea lion in public. Despite that, we moved on quickly, like 5 minutes later, he was cool and understood why he needed to sit in the cart, but still... it was an asshole kid moment. It happens.

However, I'm almost certain the boy has some of his mother's tendencies, such as loathing most other people. We talk about pre-school in the fall, and I'm all like, hey man, aren't you looking forward to maybe making a friend that you could play with? No mama. I don't need any friends. I'll play by myself. When I take him to the park or other places where there are children, he won't play with any of them. He'll stand in the background observing them. Maybe if there's one he likes the look of, he'll follow him/her around for a while, but he won't directly play with them. Recently though, he's played with some kids at the last few places he's been at with J.

He probably picks up on my vibes when he and I are together. I'm sure he knows that I'm not all about trying to make new friends. I don't like talking to people. I'm in my early thirties, what the hell am I going to do with new friends? I've tried to make new friends in my late twenties and even recently, that shit just doesn't work. I don't like to share, so it's not like I'm going to invite someone over to sample some of my super special "grape juice." That's for me! I don't like to borrow out my items, I don't like people touching my stuff. I'm a shitty new friend.

The best part of my kid not really wanting to hang out with other kids is that I don't have to talk to the other kid's parents. It's exhausting! (Yes this makes me selfish.) You have to make small talk.You have to try to find some common ground, but you really just end up talking about your kids. I'll be honest, Lester. I don't give a shit about your kid. He counted to ten today? Great. I only care about my own child. Don't get me wrong, if G ends up making friends sooner rather than later and they want to hang out at my house, it's not like I'm going to let the friend run out into traffic or anything. I'll give them snacks, make sure they don't get picked up by scum bags or anything. The friend in question will be safe at our pad. I just really do not want to be friends with some other kid's parents. The exception of course lies in whether or not these parents are awesome, which may or may not be the case.

I've never been one of those extroverted folks. I've never sought out people to talk to. I'm sure I come off as bitchy and snobbish, but the thing is, I'm just at a loss for words around most people. You might catch me blankly staring at you like a creeper, but I'm just trying to think of something to say. I'm a background dweller, an observer. I've always only had just a small handful of friends and two of those have made it the 20+ year club.

Kids are sponges. Mine is an observer. I sit and observe him observing. I know he picks up on what I've got going on in my head. I see his little personality and psyche being like mine when I was young, and even now. When he's got some social issues or anxiety about new things, like school, or trying to make friends, I like to think that I might be able to help him navigate because I've been there, shit, I'm still there, man.

On Adulting

Shit. Being an adult is hard work. I'm talking specifically about spending money. Us adults who own a home and drive a car, etc., have to spend a certain amount of money to even own these things. You've got utility bills, cable and/or Internet, if you're in to that sort of thing, car payments, car insurance, cell phone, buying food. It goes on and on. If you have a child... or children, then you're buying things for your kid(s). Baby shit for babies, never-ending clothes because they grow all the time, extra food that your toddler inhales on the daily because he's going to grow 3 feet over night, toys, educational activities, classes, school.

I've come to accept putting out the money that I do each month because it's usually about the same amount per month. I plan on it, I expect to kiss my hard earned money good bye just so I can have some lights and heat in my house and food in my belly. I have noticed however, that since G-Money has graced us with his presence, I'm finding it hard to buy things for myself. BG (before G-Money) I didn't have a problem throwing a little extra scratch at something I'd been longing for, or dropping in to the bookstore and spending $100 on a stack of books. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to come off as a materialistic little so and so, but every once in a while, I would splurge on something and feel no remorse. These days, I find it terribly hard to buy something for myself, and if I do get the inclination to buy something, I try to find it at the cheapest price possible. Clothes? I'm looking on clearance rack or thrift stores. Hand me downs are great too. Honestly, I really only buy myself clothes as I'm trying to phase out clothes that I've had since high school and wear clothes that a chick in her 30's might wear.

This internal struggle has reared its head as of late because of an item that I've been coveting since last year when it was announced and the its release happened only a few short weeks ago. This coveting goes back to a love affair that began in 1996 and despite some huge disappointments along the way, I still love it deep down in my pitch black cockles. However, to acquire this much anticipated item requires parting with some sizable (for me) chunk of change. Okay... 300 bones. Part me of me says: Spend it, bitch. You've been waiting patiently for over a year. It will be worth it. The other, more reasonable part of me says: Don't be a dumb bitch. Do you know what you could do with $300? You could buy something for your house, something for your kid, there are much better ways to spend that money. Or don't spend it. Let go of your youth, don't be so immature.

Another second guessing issue arises when thinking about when I could possibly participate in this activity that I'm considering dropping the bones on. BG, I had all the time in the world to waste or zone out. AG (after G-Money) time is a valuable commodity. I can't participate in this past-time while G is present, that's not cool. It would have to be after bed time, and let's be honest, I'm only good for a couple hours after he goes to sleep. Then there's other things that I could do after he goes to sleep. Maybe catch a movie, read a book, WRITE, binge watch the same show repeatedly. I could easily forgo watching the book tube, but I have a hard time giving up valuable reading time because I still have a giant "to-read" pile that I've been itching to burn through.

In retrospect, this is quite a silly little internal struggle. "First World Problems" some might call it. However, I feel like voicing my guilt over spending my own money on myself might make me come to some sort of "A-HA" moment. What about you guys? Do you ever have any guilt about buying something only for you?