So there are friends, and then there are those friends.

There are childhood friends, who are pretty much sisters. And on the other end of the spectrum there are acquaintances, who you kind of know and kind of like…but then, then there those fascinating creatures right in the middle: FRIENDS. Those friends. The people who get you and you get them and it just works. There’s nothing forcing the relationship…you’re friends just because the two of you jive.

Ya feel me?

I have a few of these friends. And I heart them with all my heart.

Whoa. That was lame.

Yes, lame. But true. And the other day I was thinking about these friends and I realized that one of the things that make them so awesome is that we have some “understandings” – some unspoken ways of functioning with one another.

With these friends, I don’t have to worry about sounding good, looking good, being polite or scaring them. I can just be.

Mostly because we have these understandings, which I have summarized here:

1. If you call one of these women a name, say for example “slut,” they will respond with something way more offensive, such as “pirate hooker.”
2. This will not be offensive. This will be funny.
3. Sexual innuendo is a basic tenet of conversation. For example, one of the friends in question may respond to the aforementioned name calling with something along the lines of “I love it when you talk dirty to me.” or “you’re so hot when you’re mad.”
4. Not returning phone calls for a day or two or never is not rude, it is a reality of our lives and we all know it and we realize that soon, we will be the asshole who isn’t returning calls.
5. It is always the husband’s fault. And when you bitch about the bastard, you will not get sound advice, helpful suggestions or supportive pick-me-ups, rather, you will hear some totally unhelpful over-generalization such as “I fucking hate men.” or “God I wish I were a lesbian.”
6. A couple of the friends I’m referring to here are in fact lesbians, so in that case, we just talk shit about their partners and mumble things like “Let’s move to Vermont and get married and we can have lovers on the side. I’m okay with it.” In fact, that exact sentence occurred recently with a particular friend of mine.
7. The conversations in 5 and 6 will never be told to outsiders. In fact, if they occur on the day of your wedding anniversary, this friend will STILL congratulate you wholeheartedly on Facebook, acting as if you hadn’t just told her you’d like to kick your husband in the, ahem, face.
8. PMS is an excuse for all kinds of insanity and weeping and depression, but you will be taken seriously when you call in that state. No questions asked.
9. If you show up to dinner with one of these friends looking like a homeless person, they won’t even notice.
10. If you just had a baby, they’ll say you look amazing.
11. If you just had a baby, you’ll get to decide everything.
12. It is agreed that people who don’t understand sarcasm are suffering from some horrible mental deficiency and pretty much aren’t funny.
13. We, however, are universally hilarious.
14. Comments like “My demon spawn are ruining my life. This evening, instead of eating dinner, I plan on igniting myself and jumping off a building while playing ‘Blaze of Glory’ on a jukebox” are not alarming, wrong, or weird. Because these friends have been there and they’ll admit it.
15. Any of us can flake pretty much immediately before the event without anybody losing their minds, on account of the demon spawn mentioned above. Or PMS. Or the problematic partner.
16. None of us know a damn thing about parenting and express it openly, you know, like this for example:

Me: “Rocket’s doing [super annoying behavior]. Have your kids ever done that?”

Friend: “No, my kids are fucking perfect.”

Me: “So what did you do about it?”

Friend: “I drank a bottle of wine and left my house.”

And it’s understood that we aren’t those mothers who “know” and give wonderfully helpful advice and bask in the glory of our perfect children.

Rather, we are the mothers who do our best, clumsily and unglamorously, and often, slightly unwillingly, hoping for the best but often getting what appears to be the worst. And when that happens, we call each other and whine and commiserate, and call each other inappropriate names.

And somehow, I feel better every time.

By the way, at the risk of sounding like a lonely internet inhabitant with no real life, as I was writing this I realized that many of you are in this classification of friends. Though we may have never met in person, somehow, we jive, and sarcasm abounds, and clearly, we are the same mothers. And we are all, obviously, fucking hilarious.

So here’s to the understandings.

Between friends.

1. This week, the first week with our puppy, and the other dog and the two cats and guinea pigs, oh yeah, and the three regular animals (kids)…well, it was kind of an out-of-body experience. You know, like I barely knew where I was most of the time.
2. Basically it was just shocking that anything could be That.Much.Work. At least fifteen times this week you could have found me with a 17-pound squirmy puppy under one arm and a 27-pound flailing toddler under the other, trying to accomplish something. ANYTHING. Freaking anything.
3. I have not been the picture of efficiency this week. Basically I was excited if I showered or ate. I mean the house-training ALONE absorbed pretty much all my energy (watching him every moment), trying to keep him from killing himself by eating foreign objects, preventing him from destroying the cell phone charger, keeping him from mauling the toddler, keeping the older dog from ripping the puppy’s face off, getting the older kids to keep the damn baby gate shut so ANY of the aforementioned tasks can be accomplished, et cetera. Oh yeah. I’m tired.
4. The other good times we’ve been enjoying stem from the fact that the toddler and the puppy have pretty much the same level of patience and willingness to share. You know, so they both want the SAME BALL, and they want it NOW.
5. In other news, Georgia has totally learned to “fetch.” I think she may have a talent for it.
6. Are you tired yet? I am.
7. But I have to say, though this week has been insane and arduous, and there have been moments when I questioned my sanity for embarking on this particular journey, the truth is I am elated about this dog. Laser is an amazing canine. He is already pretty much house-trained. He’s learning his commands. He is super eager to please and we adore him. He does, however, like to eat EVERYTHING – I mean it’s freaking crazy how quick the little bastard is – which really complements Georgia’s habit of chucking all things across the room and Rocket’s penchant for dropping Legos EVERYWHERE HE GOES.
8. On another topic, tonight for dinner we ate beef from a cow my husband raised and killed, and squash from our garden. I felt like a homesteader and shit. Or something.
9.  Alright enough of this. Let’s look at some pretty pictures so I can be reminded of why the hell I added this furry beast to our family.
10. Okay, first I have to tell you about Georgie. A couple nights ago, Mac told her it was time for bed, so she says “nigh-nigh” and crawls into the dog’s crate, lies down and closes her eyes. Baby girl made a joke. We died. And took a picture…

Can you stand it?

Rocket lays there and WATCHES THE DOG SLEEP.

Dear Certain Childless People,

I like you, and I appreciate all you add to the world, and I even, sometimes, envy your condition (only sometimes don’t freak out), but

lemmetellyasomethin.

YOU MAY KNOW A LOT OF THINGS, BUT YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO BE A PARENT.

Not because you’re dumb, but rather, because you’ve never done it. It’s very simple.

What? What’s that you say? You had seven younger siblings? That must have been fun.

But it’s got nothing to do with parenting.

Oh, you’ve been a nanny for 10 years? Impressive. I’m sure you know how to babysit really well. But did you have vacations and get paid for taking care of those kids? Yes, yes you did. And were you the ONLY PERSON caring for them? No, no you were not.

And therefore, you don’t know what it’s like to be a parent. I realize I’m being repetitive here, but there seems to be just so much confusion with some of you.

Hmmmm? You work with kids every day? My condolences.

But you leave at the end of the day, right? And you can call in sick.

So yeah. You guessed it. Not a clue.

My goodness, you have a degree in child development? Excellent! I love degrees.

But having a degree in child development without having watched your own children develop is  like having a degree in aviation without flying a plane: you may know a lot in theory, but you don’t know shit in practice.

And don’t you agree that until you’ve flown the damn plane you really have no idea what you’re talking about?

Not that you don’t know how children develop. I’m sure you do. What you DON’T KNOW, however, is what it’s like to parent those children who inspired your textbooks. You don’t know what it’s like, every day, on the ground. In reality. In life. In the home in the car in fucking everywhere.

And to continue my little metaphor…if our friendly aviation student started running her mouth to actual pilots (you know, people who have flown a plane) – telling them how it is, instructing them, criticizing and critiquing them (based on all the facts she’s read in all those great books) – the pilots would just stare at her aghast, then possibly fall over laughing at her delusional ass.

How are you gonna tell me how to fly a plane when all you’ve done is READ about flying a plane?

Are you catching my metaphor here?

I hope so, because those of us with actual children are getting mighty tired of those certain members of the childless population

advising, criticizing, proselytizing, professing, ranting, raging, judging, lecturing

on a topic they know nothing about.

Giving helpful information about something you know about children is, well, helpful, but criticizing the way we parent as if you have actually done better is just wrong.

I know you think you know how to parent, and you see how we’re doing it all wrong, and how if you had kids they’d never be annoying or pee on the floor or fight with each other or spill shit in restaurants. And that’s cool. I’m sure that’s totally true.  But maybe you could save all that preaching for when you’re surrounded with a bunch of your childless friends. You can all sit and compare theories about parenting (because sweetie that’s all you’ve got at this point) and feel super impressed with yourselves for having formed a staunch opinion on an experience you’ve never had. And of course, congratulate yourselves for the theoretical [perfect] children you will someday theoretically have.

And you know, how you’re just generally so much better than the rest of us.

Do you realize how insane that is?

Well, we do.

Because until you have had a child in your home 24-hours a day, seven days a week for years on end, and you are THE ONLY person there (well, and maybe your partner) to discipline, nurture and care for that child – the only one responsible for ALL their food, clothing, health care, education, love, nourishment and general well-being – until you’ve got somebody calling you “mom” or “dad” or, in other words YOU ARE ALL THEY HAVE…

Until you’ve done that, you don’t know shit about parenting. You do not know what it’s like.

And so, we cordially ask you, from the bottom of our hearts, to please, for the love of God, just shutthefuckup.

If you’d like to join the ranks of “people who know something about parenthood,” perhaps you could try, oh I don’t know, becoming a parent.

I know. Crazy talk.

But just think how much more effective your judgments would be if they were rooted in actual experience!

Because now? Well, now you just look ridiculous.

Sincerely,

The rest of us.

P.S. Still not convinced? Alright. I’ll make you a promise: you stop telling me how to parent and I’ll stop telling you how to be an adult without kids. OH WAIT. I’ve never done that. Because that would be fucking craaaaaaaazy.

pretty much

Time for another installment of “Fun with Google Search Terms,” when we give a little recognition to the whackos who click through to my blog (present company excluded of course).

Here are the best ones in the past couple months. For those of you who haven’t played before, the terms below are the Google searches people enter to eventually find my blog. Since they probably didn’t find what they were looking for on my blog (with some of these, GOD HELP US if they did), I’d like to take a moment to respond to them. You know, like guidance.

Because everybody seeks my guidance.

As you can imagine.

So here we go.

1. “do crackheads fingers turn black” – Yes. Though my friend, I believe that may be the least of their problems. (AGAIN with the crackheads. We always end up with the crackheads.)
2. “are playdates necessary?” – If you are asking questions like that, then my dear, in this case, you have come to the right place. Here’s the quick answer: only if the parents are cool.
3. “jessica simpson’s feet are weird” – Not as weird as the fact that you just Googled that.
4. “how to stop writing on bathroom stalls” – Well, I would start by not taking a pen in there with ya. Also, you could just not do it. You know, try and stuff and see how that goes. Maybe there’s a 12-step group for people who can’t stop defacing public property.
5. “a hoarding to propagate a daily glass of milk is every child’s right” – I have no idea what that means but I know it needs to be on this list.
6. “what the fuck is a water table?” – I don’t know you, but I like you.
7. “do i yell at my kids because I’m angry at them?” – No, you yell at them because you are delighted with them, which is always why people yell at one another. Also, please don’t have any more kids. You’re kind of an idiot.
8. “fuck yo barbaric yawp” – Alright I’m serious. We need to be friends. Who are you? You quoted Walt Whitman and used the word “fuck” in the same sentence. WE ARE SOUL MATES.
9. “can i buy my kids way into gifted and talented education” – Let’s sure hope so, because that would be so helpful to them. I mean they’d really learn a LOT by having you buy their way into GATE. [P.S. Does it scare anybody else that asshats like this are walking around the world like it’s nothin’, quite possibly producing children who exist near our children?]
10. “i realized i like to be naked” – You’re just realizing that now? What the hell were you doing in your twenties?
11. “fuck you mean fitted sheet” – I want to write something but I’m laughing too damn hard. Win.
12. “Saturday message from Jesus” – Does it change on Saturdays? [Also, can we take a moment to appreciate that somebody looking for Jesus’s message came to MY blog?]
13. “Bible quotes against Facebook” – Yo, Einstein, Facebook wasn’t around when the Bible was written. Now go back to scouring the Bible for passages you can manipulate into anti-homosexual propaganda.
14. “why is my dog mothering a sock?” – No idea, but I’d give pretty much anything to see how that’s going down
15. “neon fucking green shorts bitch” – You tell ’em.
16. “my parents are unenlightened” -Are you sure?

And now we can all feel confident knowing that this blog is still pulling some of the brightest bulbs in the shed, as well as the crack heads, who are always welcome.

P.S. Fuck yo barbaric yawp.

I’m using that.

1. A few months ago, Mac and I started making noises about getting another dog – you know, a dog that actually plays, or moves, or likes kids. We decided on a Labrador. On Sunday, we got him. He is pictured below. Rocket named him Laser. Of course, that’s his name because it’s perfect.
2. We have had Laser for 24 hours. I love Laser. Laser is wonderful. Laser is really freaking busy.
3. Seriously people, what is WRONG WITH US? Our life was already insane. Chaos. Mayhem. Disorder. Noise. Pee. All of it reaching heights I never knew existed…and what do I do? “Honey, we need a family dog. We need one to go on trips with us and play catch and eat stuff it shouldn’t and bark.” Yes, clearly. That is what we need. Another mammal with toilet and obedience issues. Yay! And so my life is has reached a new pinnacle of crazy and I’m falling in deep love with this freaking dog, already. He’s bright, even-tempered, playful, engaged and eager to please. Not a spaz. He may actually be the least spastic member of this family.
4. By the way, he is not my “fur baby.” And he never will be. Full stop.
5. So the plan was that on Sunday we would drive up to Grass Valley to get the puppy from the breeder (no, we did not go to a shelter and we have our reasons and yes I am a terrible person and yes I should be shot. the end.). But on Tuesday, Mac texted me on his lunch break “Let’s camp in the foothills Saturday night.” And if there’s one thing I LOVE it’s impulsive decision-making and unplanned trips into the wilderness, so I said “hells yeah baby,” and found us a spot in a campground along the North Fork of the American River in the Tahoe National Forest. Incidentally, it was one of the best campgrounds I’ve ever been to and the trip was absolutely magical, probably because it was thrown together with very little thought or expectation, and we were all just glad to get the hell out of the Sac valley and its inferno ways.
6. The campground was small and remote, filled to the brim with spruce and pine trees. The water poured from a natural spring in the ground. At the end of it was a swimming hole in the river.  Above the pool was a gentle waterfall that poured across the rocks with just enough force the kids could safely ride their intertube down it, into the swimming hole. They did it about fifty times.
7. Mac and I sat on a nearby rock and watched them play. Georgia slept in her stroller. It was one of those afternoons when you’re sure there is not a single thing in the world you need beyond what you have, right here and right now.
8. And let me get all hippie on you for a minute. As I watched those kids play and laugh in that river, navigating rocks and slippery spots, pulling each other out of the water, scraping their feet on gravel, dunking unexpectedly under the water, getting cold, getting too much sun, getting filthy, I realized that THIS is the thing that allows kids to develop a love of the earth. They were playing with her. They were riding her waves, exploring her rocks, cooling themselves in her water. And I thought to myself, this is probably the most important thing I could ever teach my kids, because if you love the earth you always have a friend, a source of nourishment, a source of peace. A place to revive your spirits and clear your mind and wonder again, like when you were a kid and you spent 5 hours riding a little waterfall on the American River.
9.  My mom took us everywhere. We camped all the time. She always let me play in the river without the appropriate shoes. She always let me explore dunes and tide pools and rivers – alone and for hours and hours – and to this day, I feel in my bones that freedom, that joy and peace and wonder, and I feel a yearning for it sometimes. And I know where to go.

Wanna go sing kumbayah? Me too. But first, check out these pictures.

Have a great week, everybody.

navigating the river, without shoes (and in Rocket's case, without pants). totally unsafe.

the swimming hole

the swimming hole, see the little waterfall above it?

going down the little waterfall

gettin' stuck

and gettin down to the bottom, floating into the swimming hole

I have never seen them have so much fun together. pure joy.

he was so relaxed

so was he, on our rock above the waterfall

around the campfire. notice the shorts? yeah, it was like 74 degrees at 9pm

watching the campfire

we sang and played. I'm telling you it was magical.

filthy, barefoot, very happy toddler.

are you seeing those hands?

Rocket learned how to use a sling shot. Also very safe. PSHHHT.

And I took a picture with my kids.

And then, we added this guy to our family.

And Rocket found his new best friend.

XO