She's having a baby

“For the love of God, will you settle the fuck down?” I think to myself. “Why can’t you be a good fetus and just let me get a good night’s sleep?  I give into your cravings, I sing to you and play that fucking ridiculous, Baby Einstein music for you; in the hopes that you won’t turn out like your ungrateful siblings.”

 It’s my fault I know. Dr Mendez told me to make sure we use a condom, until the birth control pills have a chance to get into my system. I should have kept the IUD instead. An unexpected anniversary gift you are. You can thank your Daddy little one.  

“Downtown, no kids, a concert, and a fancy hotel room… c’mon Danielle, it’ll be fun” he said. It was fun. The concert was awesome. Hanging out with Tiffany and her new boyfriend after the concert was great too. It’s so nice to be with friends and just talk and not to have to worry about the time and getting home. The hotel room… fucking expensive but worth it. Sometimes you just have to spend on yourselves. The huge, King sized bed; the marble bath and shower and a beautiful view of the skyline. It was definitely romantic. Too bad all the margaritas I drank turned me into Lindsay Lohan’s long lost sister and I went all Girl’s Gone Wild.  Obviously your Daddy enjoyed the show I gave, because here we are now with you playing soccer in my uterus. “Finally”, I say to myself a half hour later. David Beckham has gone to sleep.

I’m never getting pregnant, again.

Now I can go to sleep too...hmmm, David Beckham. I wonder if likes full term, pregnant gals. As many times that he’s knocked up that skinny bitch, Posh… I bet he does. Yeah, I bet he get on some of this. What the hell am I thinking about…? I look like a bloated anaconda. I feel like road kill. I just need sleep. Me, my happy thoughts and a few hours of uninterrupted blissful sleep. Yay, I’ve even managed to get myself into a semi-comfortable position. Wait… are you kidding me? I have to pee, now? C’mon, give a girl a break. “Fine!” I scream in my head. “I’m going”. I sit up and look over at my husband…. David NOT Beckham.  “Comfortable much, you asshole?”, I ask his snoring carcass. He farts and giggles in his sleep as a response.  Just kill me now.  Seriously, I’m not going to get any sleep tonight. Maybe I should smother him. It’s his fault, why I’m in this state. Plus there are mitigating factors here, such as cruel and unusual punishment.  Will a jury really convict a pregnant woman ,who was being tortured by her husband with bodily noises and the a refusal to turn on the A/C in May? So what if I can see his breath when he is sleeping? It’s  fucking stifling up here. Oh… I’m supposed to be peeing. I can’t wait until I have a normally functioning, non- preggo brain again.

Okay, I’m getting up. I swear to god I can’t wait until this thing is out of me…. Two more weeks. That’s it. God I hope this one is smaller than the last two. I can’t push out another 9 lb kid again. I swear his ass better let me sleep in tomorrow. It’s Sunday. Nobody better bother me. Something else is tomorrow too. I can’t remember. All I know is this baby is due in a week and a half. This kid can’t come quick enough.

 I’m never getting pregnant again.

I start walking to the bathroom… oh shit. Why are my panties wet? Something is trickling down my leg. Fuck, my water is breaking . No… I just want to sleep.  I’m not ready for contractions and pushing and fuck... my legs aren’t shaved and my hooch hasn’t been trimmed in months.  

“David!!! Get up!”  I yell, “My water just broke”!  No answer. I flip the light switch on and throw the nearest object to me at him: What To Expect When You’re Expecting… ironic, I bet he wasn’t expecting that.  Anyway, where is my suitcase?  Finally, he’s up. Good. I tell him “Call my parents and have them come over to be with the kids. I need to change before we go” He sleepily nods and I set out to quickly change my clothes. Being huge however negates the physics of speed and I’m still putting on my shoes when my parents arrive. I kiss them on their cheeks quickly and David is quickly herding me out the door to the car. “Relax”, I say “I haven’t even had my first…. ARRRRHHHH” My first contraction comes hard and painfully.

I’m never getting pregnant again.

“Slow down, you’re going to kill us”, I say and then turn to David. “What the fuck is wrong with men?”, I ask. “You all need to be Mario Andretti when driving your wives to the hospital and damn near killing us in the process. Oh shit, another contraction. Fuck that hurts “Well what are you waiting for? GO!!”

I’m sitting in a triage room of the emergency department. “Do I look like I have a fucking insurance card? I’m sorry that I forgot my purse. My priority was on getting my baby and me to the ahhhhhhh…”, another  contraction. “Just breathe, honey” says David. Oh sweet Jesus. That breathing shit didn’t work with the first two and it won’t this time either.  Just get me a room and a fucking epidural”

“Will you stop touching every damn thing in the room … you’re not a doctor!”  I say. “Wanna play doctor?” he asks. “Yes asshole… at this minute, at this second I want to play doctor with you. Please give me a chance to hold your balls in my hand” I reply and glare at him. “I think I’m going to get something to drink. I’ll be back”, he says. Tight jeans or not I vow to myself… his dick is never coming near my vagina again. I’m tired of runny noses, wiping asses and fucking play dates.

I’m never getting pregnant again

“What do you mean I can’t have an epidural? Are you out of you mind?”, I scream at my nurse. “Where is Dr Mendez?”  “He is en route ma’am, please try to settle down. We are going to try and make you as comfortable as possible. Please remember your breathing techniques” Before I get the chance to tell my nurse that  breathing won’t be necessary if she gets me a fucking epidural…. David walks back in smiling, with coffee in hand. I’m regretting the earlier decision not to smother him when I had the chance. “Guess what?” he asks. “I saw your blogger friend Stacie leaving with her  husband and new baby. Did you know she was pregnant?” “No asshole, I don’t keep up with my friends” I think to myself and He continues,  “Yeah apparently she just gave birth a few days ago… baby boy”. “I know David, remember when I told you that the other day?” “Oh yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. Well, she told me to tell you good luck and that she’ll text you in a couple of days. Kid was a big boy. I can’t believe she was wearing her jeans already. Can’t tell she just had a kid” As I look around for something to stab him with,  Dr Mendez steps in to the room. He reaches my bed, smiles down on me and asks “How are we feeling today?” Uh we? Do you have a parasite trying to fight its way out of your vagina too? Being a woman… I lie. I smile at him and say I’m okay. I’m just ready to get this baby into the world. “Good”, he says. “Let’s see where you’re at. Looks like you’re  fully dilated, Danielle. I think it’s time. Nurse Kelly, can you please help me get her prepared?” Kelly, huh? She looks like a Kelly. With her dark hair and beautiful smile. Probably thinks she’s Wonder Woman too… whatev.

I’m never getting pregnant again.

Fuck… Why won’t you come out? I’ve been pushing for two hours. For the love of God, just give me the episiotomy. V-bac… why are sticking a plunger up my hooch? One thing, I asked for one thing: a small baby. I’m two weeks early and this kid is still huge. “Here we go”, says Dr. Mendez. “One last time, Danielle. I need you to bear down hard” I do and relief. I hear a baby’s cry. “It’s a girl. Dad would you like to do the honors?” asks Dr Mendez. I’m exhausted and can’t keep my eyes open as Dr Mendez delivers the afterbirth. I keep my eyes closed I just want to sleep. I hear the nurse “Lil Miss Efficiency” Kelly, scurrying about with my daughter. Oh shit, the baby book… did I pack it? I hear my husband say “Can you add do some of the foot prints here too?” Finally, he is doing something useful. Nurse Kelly asks me “Would you like to hold him now?” and starts to lay him in my arms. I momentarily think to myself you’ve seen one newborn, you seen em’ all, but I don’t. I open my eyes and I’m staring down at my new daughter’s wrinkled pink newborn face. I see her father’s lips and mouth and my nose. I memorize the details of her face. She wrapped up tight and warm and is content against my chest. I can feel her warm breath on me as she sleeps. I hear my husband say “She is beautiful, just like her mommy”.

My eyes are growing heavy, when my husband leans over, kisses my forehead and whispers softly, “Happy Mother’s Day”. In this moment, I’m lost in love with my child. I remember this is a love I’ve felt with all my children. This feeling of pure love between a child and mother… that no matter what pains motherhood brings me.

I will do this again

 

To all my Mom fans out there… I hope you enjoyed D’s motherhood story and it made you giggle at some points and smile knowingly at others. All you Moms are amazing treasures. You give life and nurture it, rarely getting all the credit and appreciation you deserve.

Please don’t ever doubt for a minute you aren’t appreciated. We spouses and kids may not say it enough, but we do love and appreciate you... everyday.

We know our lives would not be complete without you.

From me, to all of you…  Happy Mother’s Day

 Munch

 

 

EXTRA! EXTRA! Special Edition of Summer's Eve Saturday D Bag O' the Week!

Still the preferred douche of the Musings of Munch

This is a special edition of my Summer Eve's Saturday D bag O' the Week Award! Why not wait until Saturday? Because sometimes a douchebag is so spectacular in their doucheness that I can't wait to hand them their award! 

This week's D Bag is Abercrombie and Fitch CEO, Mike Jeffries.

Does Gary Busey know that he has a
long lost and dipshit brother?

A direct quote is below from this D Bag, in a 2006 article from Salon. Seriously, go read that shit... this guy is... he just leaves you scratching your head and saying "Can someone really be this narcissistic and out of touch with let's say, oh I don't know... FUCKING REALITY?" The answer is a resounding: YES!

“In every school there are the cool and popular kids, and then there are the not-so-cool kids,” he said. “Candidly, we go after the cool kids. We go after the attractive all-American kid with a great attitude and a lot of friends. A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely." He continued: "Those companies that are in trouble are trying to target everybody: young, old, fat, skinny. But then you become totally vanilla. You don’t alienate anybody, but you don’t excite anybody, either.”

WOW... where the fuck to begin? The Munchies are a A&F family. Shorts, t-shirts, hoodies... We're friends with a couple of former employees, who were fairly high up on the food chain at A&F. (A&F is based out of Columbus, OH) They've both moved on, but never in a million years did they give any indication of the CEO's vision of the company. As much as I love being one of the cool kids... I may have to donate my clothing to good will, just in order to have a clear conscious.

Clothing... the largest size jeans/shorts that it sells to women is a size 10. Yes, a size fucking ten. Way to alienate potential customers by saying "You're too fat for our clothing" Dear D Bag, a size 10 is not large...in fact it's healthy. So is a size 12, which in the past was a desirable size for a woman to be.

With the boys however, Mr. Jeffries is a bit more generous. Men's sizes go up to XL & XXL. Those are geared towards the beefier, athletic boys. Btw... at 5'9ish and 145 lbs... I wear an XL in A&F shirts and hoodies. With no other manufacturer would I be considered an XL. Maybe I'm a collegiate XL... which truth be told is who A&F's demographic is. Hollister, which is owned by A&F is geared towards high schools students. I imagine that "big", size 11 Junior size girls aren't welcome there.

Cheese & Rice you asshole... today's youth, especially females, have enough to worry about with social media, cell phone videos and cyber bullying, without having to also worry about not being able to fit into the "Cool clothes" of your company.

Another troubling gem of a quote from Mr. Jeffries in the article, since you dear reader probably haven't read it yet, was over the 2002 uproar of the company’s thongs for middle-school girls campaign, which had “Eye Candy” and “Wink Wink” printed on their fronts.

 “That was a bunch of bullshit,” he said, sweating profusely. “People said we were cynical, that we were sexualizing little girls. But you know what? I still think those are cute underwear for little girls. And I think anybody who gets on a bandwagon about thongs for little girls is crazy. Just crazy! There’s so much craziness about sex in this country. It’s nuts! I can see getting upset about letting your girl hang out with a bunch of old pervs, but why would you let your girl hang out with a bunch of old pervs?”      

I've gone on record about my feelings about Tweens and Middle School Girls having embroidered sayings on their underwear on a previous post: the-panty-debate. This however takes the motherfucking cake.

Dear Asshat, (that's you Mr. Jeffries)

     11-14 year old girls DO NOT need cutsie sayings such as "Wink Wink" on their underwear. We get what you're saying "Why would you let you girl hang out with old pervs?" Why the fuck don't you get what we parents are saying about our daughters and having to worry about young pervs?

Sincerely yours,
Concerned Parents Everywhere

I could go on and on here about how bat shit fucking crazy or eccentric this dude is... but read the article from 2006. You'll see for yourself. Why then is he still CEO? Because in today's world... money talks and talk... well talk is great and all, but hail to that green! The shareholders of this company stock are very happy people. They're not about to let go of the guy that took them to the land of milk and honey.   

In any event, the winner has been chosen for this week's award.

 

MIKE JEFFRIES!!!



MUNCH


 

Hero...

1. a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities.
2. a person who, in the opinion of others, has heroic qualities or has performed a heroic act and is regarded as a model or ideal

As some of you may be aware.... Last week on the Facebook pages, I was involved in a spat with a good friend(s). Things were said like:

"You're better than that"
"I expect more of you"
"I don't understand your need to defend your opinion, which I feel is insensitive"

As I was writing this, my friend and I had some back and forth via IM. She continues to say I missed her point, which was that I was wrong for saying one person was more heroic than the other. I told her she missed my point, which was that I felt one was a hero and one was not. We're still at an impasse on this issue and I don't forsee that changing. That being said... I respect her, care about her and always will.

The result, was me nearly taking down the page... Out of frustration of not being able to the please everyone all the time.... most especially because I felt I had irreparably damaged a friendship that I care a lot about. Some say I care too much about what others think. Truth be told, I do. I worry far too often about what people think of me. It's a huge character flaw.  
 
The topic at hand was of a meme I had shared from a friend's page. To me... the picture was reflective of how the President choose to recognize heroism. The President choose to recognize publicly the action of Jason Collins. You all know by now I'm sure, unless you live under a fucking rock, that he is the "first openly gay athlete in a major, American team sport"

Sidebar - Who gives a fuck that it's a team sport? Greg Louganis? Martina Navratilova? Scott Hamilton? All gay. All at the top of their game, when they were playing it. But allowing for gay, "team" players only... There have been several former, retired NFL players and a former, non-active US soccer player who came out as gay before Jason Collins. Apparently your gayness is only a phone call from the President or tweet worthy from FLOTUS if you're an active player?

The other man in question was Chief Petty Officer, Christopher Scott (Chris) Kyle. A US Navy SEAL and known as the most lethal sniper in American Military History with 160 confirmed kills (out of 255 claimed kills), although these statistics have not been released by the Pentagon. Kyle served four tours in the second Iraq war, and was awarded the Bronze and Silver Star medals multiple times. Iraqi insurgents dubbed him the "Devil of Ramadi" and offered an increasing bounty for his head. He was shot twice, and was involved in six IED attacks. Kyle decided to spend time with his family and was honorably discharged from the U.S. Navy in 2009. He remained in the spotlight after leaving the Navy and wrote a NY Times bestselling autobiography, American Sniper. Kyle left the U.S. Navy in 2009, and moved to Midlothian, TX, with his wife, Taya, and two children. He was President of Craft International until his death. Craft is a tactical training company for the US military and Law Enforcement communities. In 2012, Harper Collins released Kyle's autobiographical book American Sniper. Kyle also paired with FITCO Cares Foundation, a non-profit organization which created the Heroes Project to provide free in-home fitness equipment, individualized programs, personal training, and life-coaching to in-need veterans with disabilities, Gold Star families, or those suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Kyle was shot and killed at a shooting range by a fellow veteran, suffering from PTSD on February 2, 2013. <<< Per Wikipedia

So my opinion, that I shared after seeing the meme in question... was that President Obama made an error. (And I guarantee you that the President does not give two fucks about my opinion) It also doesn't mean that I think the President is a jerk. I respect him and the office he holds. I may disagree with some of his policies, but I still respect he is the elected leader.
Any who, I stated that the President needed to learn the difference between bravery and heroism. My belief is that Chris Kyle, through his actions saving lives on the battlefield, made him a hero. My belief is that Jason Collins is a brave man. Had he been alive in the 50s & 60s and came out like this... then yes, I would be more prone to hail him as a hero. Right now, in an age where gay acceptance gains more momentum everyday... coming out may not be quite as hard to do, as it was then. That doesn't mean I believe it's easy for anyone to come out, I do believe however, it's easier now to do so now, than it was for those in generations past. 

I see Jason as a brave, role model for ALL youth... gay or straight. I respect him and will publicly give him support... always, because the only way we move forward is to acknowledge that all people are deserving of love, acceptance and equal rights.

 

Why so Racist?

Coming under fire this week are Brad Paisley and LL Cool J. Two artists I both admire. Two artists that have collaborated on a subject that too many are afraid to touch. 

I've seen arguments and criticisms that this is a horrible song. I don't get why.

I'm standing up with Brad Paisley and LL Cool J, because I believe in the message they are trying to send. It's time past fucking time for racism and mistrust between blacks and whites to be over. PERIOD 

The song isn't about Slavery. It isn't about stereotypes, although there are some generalities in there. I think that's more about illustrating and painting a picture most have or misunderstand about the other.

It's about understanding and believing we can trust each other, no matter what our appearances are. We need to move forward, not forgetting mind you, but just moving forward. We need to be leaving what's in the past... in the past. In the history books Wikipedia.

The lyrics:

To the man that waited on me at the Starbucks down on Main, I hope you understand
When I put on that t-shirt, the only thing I meant to say is I'm a Skynyrd fan
Pretty simple. The guy is a Leonard Skynard fan.
The red flag on my chest somehow is like the elephant in the corner of the south
And I just walked him right in the room
Just a proud rebel son with an 'ol can of worms
Lookin' like I got a lot to learn but from my point of view

I'm just a white man comin' to you from the southland
Tryin' to understand what it's like not to be
I'm proud of where I'm from but not everything we've done
Southerners aren't stupid. Laid back yes, but not stupid. They know the history of the South. Probably better than any Yankee does
And it ain't like you and me can re-write history
We can't ignore it either. Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.
Our generation didn't start this nation
We're still pickin' up the pieces, walkin' on eggshells, fightin' over yesterday
And caught between southern pride and southern blame

They called it Reconstruction, fixed the buildings, dried some tears
We're still siftin' through the rubble after a hundred-fifty years
I try to put myself in your shoes and that's a good place to begin
But it ain't like I can walk a mile in someone else's skin
We can't sympathise. We're not black and we'll never know the feelings they've felt at the events of the past 200+ years... Slavery, Emancipation, Segregation, a Civil Rights movement

'Cause I'm a white man livin' in the southland
Just like you I'm more than what you see
Exactly. it's not about a hat or a red flag on a shirt. Clothes don't define us. Actions define us.
I'm proud of where I'm from but not everything we've done
And it ain't like you and me can re-write history
Our generation didn't start this nation
And we're still paying for the mistakes
That a bunch of folks made long before we came
Very true. Where does the payment end?
And caught between southern pride and southern blame

Dear Mr. White Man, I wish you understood
What the world is really like when you're livin' in the hood
I don't understand. More of us whites should understand, but we can't do that without dialogue. 
Just because my pants are saggin' doesn't mean I'm up to no good
Exactly. See beyond that. See the 4.0 student those pants belong too.
You should try to get to know me, I really wish you would
Now my chains are gold but I'm still misunderstood
I wasn't there when Sherman's March turned the south into firewood
I want you to get paid but be a slave I never could
Feel like a new fangled Django, dodgin' invisible white hoods
So when I see that white cowboy hat, I'm thinkin' it's not all good
I guess we're both guilty of judgin' the cover not the book
Yes, we both are
 I'd love to buy you a beer, conversate and clear the air
Free beer? Cool. Let's do this
 But I see that red flag and I think you wish I wasn't here

I'm just a white man
(If you don't judge my do-rag)
Comin' to you from the southland
(I won't judge your red flag)
Tryin' to understand what it's like not to be
I'm proud of where I'm from
(If you don't judge my gold chains)
But not everything we've done
(I'll forget the iron chains)
It ain't like you and me can re-write history
(Can't re-write history baby)

Oh, Dixieland
(The relationship between the Mason-Dixon needs some fixin')
I hope you understand what this is all about
(Quite frankly I'm a black Yankee but I've been thinkin' about this lately)
I'm a son of the new south
(The past is the past, you feel me)
And I just want to make things right
(Let bygones be bygones)
Where all that's left is southern pride
(RIP Robert E. Lee but I've gotta thank Abraham Lincoln for freeing me, know what I mean)
It's real, it's real
It's truth

While I've not seen the video... the lyrics are pretty clear to me. I see two men... one black, one white. They've started a dialogue about the unresolved race issues in this country. They are doing so musically in song. People are questioning why... Ummm, cause they're singer/songwriters. Music is powerful and is something that binds us all. Every culture has music. 

These two had something to say and I think we need to listen and discuss, because "It's truth"

Munch

The Panty Debate

Do you wear panties? Do you know someone who wears panties? I bet you do! There are all kinds you know... bikini, brief, thong, hipster, cheekster, boy-short and even grannies! 

Well Hello!



#Ageappropriatefail

The issue at hand is Victoria's Secret "Bright Young Things" panty collection being marketed under the Pink Line. There are some panties in a bunch over the new line. Opponents (parents) taking offense that their tweens will flock to VS to spend money on the brightly colored undies, which are emblazoned with slogans such as "Wild Thing" or "Kiss Me" across the bottom. The VS company and it's Pink representatives say this is not the case. That the Pink line has always been targeted towards college aged young women. This collection is geared towards collegiate age spring breakers. I think that's true. HOWEVER, what I also think is more true, is that young girls want to emulate older girls. The issue with that? More than ever... younger girls (tweens) are looking to emulate and take after their older counterparts or sisters. Girls want to grow up to quickly... peers, TV & magazine ads, and social media telling them that dressing scantily is the fashionable thing to! (I'm not even going to tackle the "this is how you need to look when wearing them" angle and the self esteem issues it causes) In a nutshell... young girls and ladies are being sexualized way to early in the name of fashion.






The only surf that better be up is the "Crimson" tide.
In which case... these panties are wholly inappropriate. 

I'd be a horrible father and I'd be lying if I said I'm not horrified at the thought of my daughter, in a few years, sporting the Pink line undies and having suggestive phrases emblazoned on the butt.

With that being said... do I have the right to try and shut down VS or bad mouth them? No. They have the right to make money, if someone buys their product. Do we as parents have the right to worry? Of course we do, we're parents. THAT IS OUR JOB. We need to worry, we need to be responsible, we need to explain to our Tweens why certain clothing choices are not for them. That's the key. Be a parent. Parents should know what kind of knickers their daughters are wearing. It's our jobs to teach our daughters to respect themselves and their bodies.


To teach them about responsible sex... to teach them they need to stay virgins until they are thirty, errr, I mean "ready"

If we do that... I don't have to worry about anyone but her mother and I, seeing her panties.    





It's our job... so let's get it done
say NO to retailers who
would sexualize your Tween daughter



Munch

In the end...

MUNDSCHENK Kurtis J. Mundschenk, 60, of North Fort Myers, Fla. and formerly of Gahanna, Friday, March 4, 2005 at Cape Coral Hospital. Served as a member of the law enforcement community and the Corporate Security Industry for over 30 years. Member of the American Society for Industrial Security, International Foundation of Protection Officers, Security Management Information Network of Ohio, Founding President; Wyoming Law Enforcement Firearms Instructors Association, International Association of Law Enforcement Firearms Instructors, Ohio Identification Officers Association and a Life Member of the International Association for Identification. Member of the Gulf Shore Mustang Club and former member of the Ohio Mustang Club. Survived by wife, Denise and brother, Jim (Margo) Muth; two daughters, Krista (Shane) Pearson and Kamie (Tom) Guzy; one son, David (Jessica) Mundschenk, and a step-daughter, Terra (Danny) Ernsberger; grandchildren, Drew, Luke, Alex, Kaitlyn, Zack, Derrick, and Sydney; Friends may call Tuesday 6-8 p.m. EVANS FUNERAL HOME, 4171 E. Livingston Ave., where service will be held Wednesday 11 a.m., Pastor Paul Gateman officiating. Interment will be at Highland Cemetery, Glenford, Oh. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made in Kurt's name to the American Heart Association or the Cape Coral Auxiliary, 625 Del Prado Blvd., Cape Coral, Fla. 33990.

Obituaries... a final essay if you will. A short paragraph that grieving survivors piece together to notify others of their loss. A short paragraph in which we try to convey to others who the deceased was. An essay which rarely does justice or explains who the person really was or why they were special. As you can see from the obit above, my Dad passed away seven years ago today. All the obit shows however, is a few of the places he lived, some of his accomplishments and who he was survived by. 

WTF?!?!?!?

As I stated above.... it didn't really do him justice. It doesn't show who he was or how he lived. He was born to Elmer John J "Al" Mundschenk and Gertrude Elizabeth (Trudy) Mundschenk (Heery) My grandfather was a successful and to be honest, a pretty damn bright engineer. He worked for North American Aviation and was involved with the Mercury spacecraft program and the X-15 jet to name a few. As was custom back in those days, Grandma Honey was a stay at home Mom, although I believe she had been a hand model at one time. (Cool, no?) Although my grandfather had a relatively, as far as I know, happy childhood... my grandmother did not. She had a hard life growing up, which translated into undiagnosed mental health issues going into her adulthood. Her tool of choice when it came to discipline for my Dad, was a cat of nine tails. A stick with a knotted leather strands. No fucking lie. I actually have the damn thing laying around here somewhere. It was used mainly once he was to big for her to handle... like when he was ten. I'm not judging her. I can't imagine the number of women, or men for that matter, who had to live with mental health issues prior to the invention of drugs like Prozac, Paxil or Zoloft to name a few. He did get his revenge. When he was sixteen and she was trying to unsuccessfully hit him for some breach of conduct, (boys will be boys) he took the damn thing from her and tied all the strands into an combobulated mess of leather and knots. Later on in life they would make light of it and joke about it. 

Still, the fact that my Dad actually grew up to be happy and pretty adjusted is a miracle. He grew up and went on to study religion, at his parents' urging, at Capital University, which back in the day was pretty well known for it's education of Lutheran ministers. Dad ended up failing or leaving with a D average. I don't believe it was due to a lack of faith, he would later become heavily involved in our Church when we were growing up and he was always a man of faith.... I think rather it's because he found someone he cared for, fell in love with and his grades suffered. Also, I think he subconsciously knew it wasn't his true calling. 

Although he left the university, he was there long enough to meet one of his lifelong friends and us childrens' Godfather: Paul, who continued on and became a Lutheran minister. They were birds of a feather and enjoyed the college life. Amongst their experiences at college, was a White Castle eating competition, which is the stuff of legend. I think they both made into well into the forties, before Dad got sick.

Being lifelong friends... Paul ultimately delivered my Dad's eulogy... Something he had previously retired from doing. He didn't tell me until after the fact. True friends are like that and I'm glad to know Dad had someone like that. I cannot express my gratitude to Paul, on behalf of our family, for doing so. The funniest part of the eulogy... Paul making reference to my Dad's well known habit of sleeping in the buff. I don't know when this started, but apparently... it was as early as college. Paul related a story of an early morning, when he, Dad and their roommate were still sleeping and received an early morning visitor. Dad having the bed closest to the door answered... naked. As Paul recounted, Dad opened the door, had a few words with the visitor, slammed the door and advised his other roommate that the roommate's Mom was  there to see him. The things we discover about our parents and their youth. How they are unlike the people we know growing up. I laughed about that memory for weeks after the funeral.

Dad was a joker and a prankster. He loved to tell a good joke and to get people on a prank. He was good at it too. His sense of timing and delivery was impeccable. Making people laugh and smile was one of his joys. I think that's where I get it. Although I'm far more out there than he ever was... the end result is the same. Make people laugh. Make them feel good. We all need more laughter, joy and friendship in our lives. Thank you Dad, for making sure that was the one lesson I learned above all else. 

In the interests of full disclosure... I have to be honest. Dad was no Saint. He had a temper. He was a yeller, much like me. He didn't hit and he rarely drank. One or two at most. I never saw him drunk. He hated to lose control of himself, as he was very much a "controller" of all things. Not in a domineering way, but in a way so that there was no situation that he couldn't control or step in if necessary, to protect us or from making mistakes. While that's not horrible, kids and spouses have to learn and grow from the mistakes they make.

There have been many things I've learned abut my Dad in the years since his death. Some funny, some good, and some bad. What's most important is that I've been fortunate to understand him in a different light. A light that still gives me wonderment and makes me believe he was the superhero from my youth. He was flawed certainly, but we all are. We each have dreams, fears and hopes. Mostly his dreams and hopes were that his kids would be happy and successful and that we would always love him.

Dear Dad... In this, as you did many things, you overachieved. WE MISS YOU AND LOVE YOU EVERYDAY.


Sincerely,
Munch
Cool Ass Big Sis
My Twin
The Girl Who Be Mom
and the Grandbabies  


Post Script:
An interesting item to note, to me anyway, is that my half brother Sean and and my half sister Lissa's Mom, Kathy, passed away on the same day as my Dad. I had not yet met either of them or ever spoken with them when we experienced our loss. I knew nothing of their lives. I also had not met or spoken with my biological father, Pat; whom I knew of, but had not ever been in contact with.

It was 2 years before that would happen. Truth be told, that was due to my grandmother, Sue, on my biological father's side. She found my mother and myself (Goggle! A stalker's tool!) after seeing my Dad's obituary.  While that's a story for a different day... it's hard to dismiss that as a cowinkiedink or if I would know any of these amazing people now, had it not been for our losses.

To everything there is a purpose   

Notes from an Abuser

Bourbon - I once drank almost an entire bottle in 6 hours.
Not cool or good for you.



Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism.... topics I'm familiar with, but have remained tight lipped about. Until now and I don't know why I feeling the need to share, but I am. I know I usually "wow" you with funny stuff and couture opinions, but today I'm going deeper... much deeper. Bear with me or move on to something more "light". It's okay and I understand. Some days I want nothing but funny, as there is way to much Negative Nelly in the world.

Not negative, but awfully uppity for someone growing up on the Prairie

I think it may have been prompted by an upcoming, proposed change in the DSM-V release.  It includes merging alcohol abuse and alcohol dependence into a single new entry labeled "alcohol-use disorder". It struck a nerve with me. Not a bad nerve, but not a real good nerve either. It took me back to a dingy and poorly lit office... 18 years ago. Back to when I was 21 / 22 yrs of age and still in the USMC. I had just been diagnosed per the DSM-IV as an "alcohol abuser". The criteria listed in said manual is:

Alcohol Abuse:

A. maladaptive pattern of alcohol use leading to clinically significant impairment or distress, as manifested by one (or more) of the following, occurring within a 12-month period:

(1) recurrent alcohol use resulting in a failure to fulfill major role obligations at work, school, or home (e.g., repeated absences or poor work performance related to alcohol use; alcohol-related absences, suspensions, or expulsions from school; neglect of children or household) Nailed this one consistently. I was always late... despite that I was usually running to work.  In fact, I passed a company formation PT run one morning. Can't imagine what the C.O. of the company thought.

(2) recurrent alcohol use in situations in which it is physically hazardous (e.g., driving an automobile or operating a machine when impaired by alcohol use) I can honestly say that I wasn't guilty of this, as I didn't have a car. That was not alcohol related... just poor financial decisions made on my part, due to a huge ignorance of personal finance and credit matters. 


(3) recurrent alcohol-related legal problems (e.g., arrests for alcohol-related disorderly conduct) I didn't get arrested by the Po-Po, but I had gotten into trouble for my tardiness once to often. The official charge was AWOL. Absent without Leave. I was 5 minutes late to work, but multiply that by 60 and you will be made an example of. I went before the company commander and received non-judicial punishment. (NJP) The punishment accorded to me?

 45 days Restriction  - The Marine Corps version of "grounding". You have to stay in your room unless you're working or eating. It didn't work, but that's another story.

45 days EPD - Cleaning transient rooms in the barracks and such.

2 months forfeiture of half my pay - My pay wasn't that much AND I still had a free roof over my head with three squares a day.

Mandatory Alcoholism Consult - Interview With the Vampire. Just kidding. It was an interview with a Staff Sergeant who was hungover. The result of that interview being diagnosed and a two week treatment outpatient program.

(4) continued alcohol use despite having persistent or recurrent social or interpersonal problems caused or exacerbated by the effects of the alcohol (e.g., arguments with spouse about consequences of Intoxication, physical fights) Certainly re-current due to re-occurring problems with supervisors and the Staff Judge Advocate.

B. The symptoms have never met the criteria for Alcohol Dependence - I won't bore you with a response to each of those bullet points, but I did not meet the criteria.

In all honesty, alcoholism and alcohol abuse was the norm in the Marine Corps. Much like the other service branches... it's a club of mostly young people, with stressful jobs who need an outlet. Often times, it is found in alcohol. (I.e. Work hard, play hard) At the time I was in, the accepted mindset was largely: Drinking hard is upholding tradition. In hindsight, it's easy to see how damaging it was... the failure to educate young Marines, men and women alike, about the dangers of alcoholism and abuse.

Especially a Marine like me, who was/is genetically predisposed to alcoholism and started drinking at age 14.... I'm now 39, a month removed from 40. That's 25+ years of not just drinking, but often times abusing. Fortunately, in the 18 years that have passed since being diagnosed, my drinking pattern has changed. It's no longer a case of the "Get drunk or go home" mentality that I subscribed to in the Marine Corps. Now... it's more along the lines of "Do I want a beer? I do, so I'm going to drink a beer" I don't drink everyday and I go days in between. I don't have to drink, but I just like to do so. It's that simple. Sometimes I over drink though and that is what scares me.I'm with friends or in a drinking setting and all of a sudden, I turn into Kesha. I'm like "No, the party don't start until I walk in"

It's troubling because more often than not, my kids see it. What message am I sending, in addition to the alcohol ads that proliferate the television airwaves coaxial cable/satellite signals, to my children. Drinking is what adults do? It's cool?

Have never encountered this situation
when drinking a Bud Light

The answer is a resounding: NO. Dad is an alcohol abuser at times and this is exactly what you have to avoid; experimenting with and drinking young... because of our genetics.

Use of alcohol is okay. WHEN YOU"RE OF LEGAL AGE and in moderation. You don't have to kill a 6 pack or 12 pack because it's in the fridge and you can get more. Be smart. Have a plan when you drink and never get behind the wheel, ever. Pick up the phone and call a sober driver.

These are the things I am vowing to tell my children. To make sure they understand. Cycles have endings and my family's cycle needs to end now.

Munch