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There’s no such thing as a free lunch.

March 3, 2017 · by: amyjacobs

Let me make this abundantly clear:  children do not deserve to suffer.  Not for any reason.  I don’t mean your kid goes without an iPhone while “everyone” has one.  I mean legitimate suffering.  Like stuff that makes other people cry when they hear about it.  You hear about a child with cancer?  Yep, instant waterworks.  Let’s establish that I mean real suffering.

When DeVos recently joked about students receiving free and reduced lunches, I was so deeply saddened, and also angry.  When I was younger, I was on the free and reduced lunch program at my public school.

See, my father is deaf.  Born deaf, always been deaf, even with his hearing aids.  He now has a Cochlear implant, but it really isn’t working any miracles.  He’s super smart, too.  My dad is a mechanical engineer, and has designed some really impressive stuff.  Every place he’s ever worked (as far as my memory reaches), he’s been looked down upon and taken advantage of because of his disability (read: crap pay).  He’s always struggled to provide for his family, even with a bachelor degree and working in his field of expertise.  This led to my mother also needing to work to support the family – again, a college degree, credentials, working in her field of expertise.  She’s been working for the same guy for 29 years!  At times, my mom was the breadwinner and Dad worked part time, or vice versa.  They’ve always done what it took to provide for us.

Then came the twins.  These two messed everything up. Mom and Dad could afford one more kiddo… not two.  But the thing is, you gotta keep both.  Go figure.  Mom and Dad’s work schedules had to adapt to having two newborns at home, myself in 2nd grade, and another in kindergarten.  This meant that collectively, fewer hours could be worked.  Ultimately, my parents signed up for the WIC program to begin receiving benefits to support our family.  If you’re unfamiliar with WIC, it provides food and nutritional benefits to children aged four and under.  This meant Mom could receive specific food items that only applied to the category that the twins fell under – us older two were too old for the program, so benefits would not apply to us.  It applied to items like milk, bread, peanut butter, bricks of cheese (but none of that fancy sliced stuff), eggs, et cetera.  REAL FOOD, not Doritos and Oreos.

Because we were in the income demographic that qualified for WIC, my younger sister and myself qualified for free and reduced lunch at school.  Do you have ANY IDEA how terribly embarrassing it is to get to the cash register at the end of the line and tell the lunch lady to look you up on the list because you only owed $0.40?  It was bad enough that we had the visual cues of the poor kids – no trendy backpacks, my clothes were worn-out hand-me-downs from my cousin in New York, I never had name brand shoes, my folders were solid colors without any designs on them.  Now I had to open my mouth and say loud enough for someone to hear me -including the kid behind me in line- that I’m a poor kid.

Now, I’ve heard this argument.  A crappy one, but let’s pretend for a minute.  “If you can’t afford kids, you shouldn’t have them.”  I believe that it is fiscally irresponsible to bring a child into this world that you’re unable to provide for.  In this scenario… my parents weren’t trying to double the number of kids in their household, but they had to make do.  So they did.  But let’s just continue to pretend; we’re all creative people here.  Do you REALLY want that child to go without?  You believe the parents made an irresponsible decision, so you’d rather have that child go hungry?  Do you know how many children don’t have food at home?  Do you know who eats as much as they can on Friday lunch because it’s the last meal they’ll have until they get to school again on Monday?  And you want to punish that child because you think the parents are irresponsible?

The National School Lunch program definitely needs tweaking.  If I were a student on the reduced program today, I’d still be paying $0.40 for my lunch, twenty years later.  But taking away these meals from children, I mean KIDS, SERIOUSLY PEOPLE, FIVE YEARS OLD, GUYS, seems pretty ruthless.

Please don’t make a joke of these students.  I swear to you, they’ve been through enough.  Let them eat.  I’m sure we can find another place to cut taxes that doesn’t affect the health and welfare of children.

Category: lifestyle

I wasn’t prepared for a boy.

March 1, 2017 · by: amyjacobs

I grew up as the oldest of four girls.  Anytime I used the words, “there’s four of us,” the guaranteed reply was, “oh, your poor dad!  Does he have a dog, at least?”  Clearly, girls suck.  Or, that’s what society taught the four of us.

When we got pregnant quite easily, I FELT in my heart that we were having a girl, and so did my husband.  We were both shocked when the ultrasound technician told us she spotted a twig and berries on the sonogram.

Guys, if you don’t know it, I’ll drop some knowledge on ya – Moms and sons have a special bond.  Just like when you say someone is a Daddy’s girl, ya know?  I cry when my son tells me he loves me over and over, but has never said it to my husband.  He hops off Daddy’s lap and brings his blanket to me when he needs a “snuggle.”  We play so hard together, but he is content playing alone when Mama is at work, rather than playing with Daddy.

But for real… this kid is different than the little sisters I remember.  We played Barbies, tea parties, Hot Wheels, LOTS of Legos, went on bike rides, played in the sandbox.  I remember a lot of the twins being tiny, including the day Mom went to get induced.  But I DO NOT remember a lot of what this kid is putting me through.

 

Things I didn’t know I’d have to say:

Stop tasting me, that’s weird.

Where are your pants?!

Why are your boogers so sticky?

Don’t honk my boobs.

Yeah, Mommy has a floppy belly.

You’re RIGHT, your feet ARE stinky!

DON’T PLAY IN THE TOILET.

NO NO NO NO NO NO, YUCKA!  YUCKA!  NO TOUCH!

You can’t store things inside my shirt.  No.

Why do you only have one shoe?

HOW DO YOU MAKE SO MUCH POOP?!

Don’t touch the poop!

*Insert any exclamatory about poop*

No, you can’t get naked here.  No.

You’ve already had 3 snacks since breakfast.  You can’t still be hungry.

Stop tickling the dog’s peepee.

No, your earwax is NOT yumyumyum, stop that.  Where did you even learn that?

Get out of the bathroom; it’s not okay to play IN the toilet.  You need a bath.

 

But now I’m a boy mom.  All the way.  Team boy.  My husband’s family makes LOTS of boys, so I’ve embraced the fact that my bathrooms will never smell clean again, that “feet” is an odor that lingers in the air, and that peepees are funny when you stretch them out.  God bless America, maybe I won’t understand that one.  Max can tell you about it.

Crap, he’ll hate me when he’s old enough to know I wrote this.  Oh, well.  He’ll forgive me; we have a special bond.

Category: humor

Drywall anchors are for drywall, hence the name.

February 14, 2017 · by: amyjacobs

‘Twas the night before Valentine’s Day, and my less-than-handy husband is locked in the garage, and I’ve been given strict orders not to peek.  If you’re not worried, you don’t know him.

Once upon a time, our second house had solid wood paneling in the finished basement.  This basement had a wet bar, and being the young idiots that we were, we decided to make it a working wet bar.  That did not happen, but we sure had enthusiasm in the beginning.  Mark’s enthusiasm was certainly endearing, but endearing does not get you very far in the way of home improvement.

Guys… I am the oldest of four girls, and my father leaned on all of us for help at home.  We all did our fair share, and I learned a good bit along the way.  Plus, I am… oh, I’ll admit, I’m a know-it-all.  If I don’t know something, I gotta learn it, because I certainly can’t have others knowing more than me.  So, I’m a bit handy.

Alright, back to Mark…. he was mounting that ultra-cool, early 2000’s rope light that everyone had, ya know?  I had this crap in my room when I thought I was cutting edge, and also 13.  Okay, ugly bright blue rope light… Mark with a drill… I figured he could handle his life.  I left the basement to go unpack some more boxes, but quickly returned to the lightning-fast storm of cuss words flowing from his lips.  Y’all… he was so mad.  You know why?  Because my “drywall anchors are broken.”  Yup.  My drywall anchors for my solid wood paneling don’t jive.

He once tried mounting an enormous portrait of Billie Holiday in our first house by just tapping a nail into the drywall and hanging the giant 24″ x 36″ frame on a lonely nail.  I had to show him how to use a drywall anchor when hanging something in drywall, and he was boggled.  Like… y’all, I swear, I did some Houdini shit and he never knew the way of the world.  Little did I know, I instilled in this man that you need drywall anchors for hanging pictures.  ALWAYS.   Whodathunkit, right?  Didn’t think to mention that drywall anchors are just for drywall.

Alright, back to the second house with the solid wood… he drilled holes into the solid wood so he could bang the drywall anchors into the holes… and then screw in a screw…. to mount the rinky-dink 2 pounds of rope light around a door frame.

Time out:  I love my husband.  He is an amazing man who provides endlessly for this family, an active and loving father to our son, he treats me like a queen, and would sacrifice his self for us countless times.  But God does not give with both hands.  He did not inherit the smarts.

I had to explain to this poor man that HOUSES are held together with wood and nails.  Surely, a nail into some wood can hold 12 feet of hideous rope light without the assistance of a drywall anchor, which belongs in… DRYWALL.

So now… Mark is in the garage creating me a special Valentine’s Day gift… and I am nervous.  I’m sure it will be perfect, but… you know.

Category: humor, lifestyle, Uncategorized

I guess it’s time to do the damn thing…

January 31, 2017 · by: amyjacobs

Guys.  I’ve been told I need a blog.  So this is it.  I’ve been fortunate enough to have help figuring this out, because in general, I’m clueless.

I have a beautiful son whom is almost 2, a hard-working husband, and a lot of family who love me more than I deserve.

I don’t really know what to write here, but rest assured, it will include when my husband makes me lose my mind (trash in the sink really does it).

I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, and eventually I’ll go nuts.  Until then… shoot.  I don’t even know.  I NEED A TAG LINE, GUYS!  Ugh, I need to think.  Crap.

 

Category: Uncategorized

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