Thursday, June 12, 2014

I Don't Care

My general life philosophy is that I don't particularly give a shit about what you do unless it affects me. That being said...

I don't care if you breastfeed your baby.
I don't care if you use formula your baby.
I don't care if you pump, or combo feed.
I don't care if you use cloth diapers.
I don't care if you use disposables.
I don't care if you baby wear.
I don't care if you use a stroller.
I don't care if you co-sleep.
I don't care if your baby is in the crib as soon as he/she comes home.
I don't care if you birthed in a hospital.
I don't care if you birthed at home.
I don't care if you had an epidural.
I don't care if you had a c-section.
I don't care if you had your baby naturally.
I don't care if you helicopter your kid.
I don't care if you free-range it.
I don't care if you feed your kid McDonalds.
I don't care if you feed your kid nothing but organics.
I don't care if you plop your kid in front of the tv all day.
I don't care if you don't let your child watch tv.
I don't care when you started solids.
I don't care if you believe in sleep training.
I don't care if you let your baby set his/her own schedule.
I don't care if you let your kid cry it out.
I don't care if you make your own baby food.
I don't care if you stay home.
I don't care if your kid is in daycare.

What I do care about is that your kid is happy, healthy, and loved. And that you're not generally an asshat who tries to enforce your parenting style on me.

My family is different than your family. What works for my family might be the worst idea ever for yours. What you think is the best way to do things might be horrible for us. We're all different. We all do things differently. My way is the best FOR ME, I don't care if you disagree with it because guess what?  You're not me and your kids aren't mine. I generally work off the assumption that people are doing what they think is best for them and their kids. I know I am.

You do what you gotta do, and I'm gonna do what I gotta do and how about this - instead of getting into stupid arguments on the internet of all places about our parenting choices, how about we let each other do our own things?

I'm not defending my choices to you because they're that - MY CHOICES. And I'm not going to ask you to defend yours to me - because I don't care.

You are more than your parenting choices.

Are you fun? Are you funny? Are you a loving parent? Are you going to be there for me when the shit hits the fan? Are you going to understand that what I'm doing is what's best for us? Do you enjoy sarcastic sweary people with a biting sense of humor? Yes? Cool. Let's be friends. I don't care what your parenting style is.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

One Man's Trash...

Here in the CH we have a time honored, annual tradition that is near and dear to all our hearts.

Garbage Amnesty Day.

On this most glorious of days, you can throw away whatever the hell you want (except electronics since that law passed that they're not allowed in landfills anymore - you still gotta haul that giantass tube tv to that recycling center fool) without stickers or size restrictions.

The CH is a fairly well off suburb, and in it live some strange folks who like to throw away perfectly good items for whatever reason. To be fair, I myself have done this as well but based on what ends up happening I consider it more of a charity donation than throwing it away. Our garbage day is Monday, which means that the Sunday before this holy day (GAD as we like to abbreviate it) people start schlepping the crap they want to rid themselves of to the curb. Then the chaos begins.

Years ago Scavenging Sunday was a small time event. My husband and I went out picking through other people's garbage and found some lovely items making the saying true - one man's trash was indeed our treasure. We found a chair that we replaced the cushions on, several filing cabinets, some paintings, and a myriad of other items that we still use today. There weren't too many people who were into going through what others had thrown away (weirdos), but because my husband is a gypsy at heart we were out there loading up my SUV with trash.

The last couple years have been insane though. Word has gotten out that some crazy ass rich people are throwing away perfectly good shit and folks come from all over to pick through items left on the curb. I've actually not been able to carry my own shit to the curb - people have stopped and told me they'd take it before I could even set it down. It's crazy.

The streets are filled with every walk of life - you'll see a rusted pickup truck filled with anything metal for scrap followed by an Escalade, both driving slowly down the street, stopping to peer out the windows at what's been put out and stopping to pick up items of interest.

Free shit - the great class equalizer.

I find it hilarious what people will throw away. And I'm curious about the stories behind it all. And yes, I'm judging your garbage, deal with it.

We saw some dude with piles of pallets and wood about 4-5 feet tall at the end of his driveway. What the hell? What were you doing that you got those? Where did you put them all year? How long did it take you to get them stacked so neatly?

Toilets. So many toilets thrown away. Did you just keep the old one while waiting for GAD to arrive to carry it out? Where? Where does one keep a broken toilet for months at a time?

Some of the ugliest couches I have ever laid eyes. Dude, was that fabric complementary to your home aesthetic? Really? That much floral? I shudder to think what the inside of your house looks like.

This year was a decent haul for us. After the last couple of years of coming up empty handed my gypsy husband rejoiced when we found good stuff to bring home with us.

Two highlights of our scavenging:

Storage AND workspace? Hellz yes.

We scavenged the playhouse, not the boy. We already owned the boy.

I also managed to throw away a nasty-ass loveseat that I've been trying to dispose of for years. My hoarding gypsy husband had been refusing to let it go, but finally agreed that its time had come. As he put it, it was time to "honorably discharge" the couch. Meaning we hauled outside and threw it down on the curb and let it sit outside in a thunderstorm that night. Honorable. Sure.

Now we sit back and bask in the glow of our newly acquired garbage and wait until next year for the most beloved day in the CH.