"Been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding..."

I am fully aware that there are many people out there in the world, even in my own life, who are far more intelligent than I. I make no claims to being uber genius or intellectually superior to others. I want to make this clear up front, because I'm about to spout off about stupid people. What has inspired this latest rant is a post in a mommy board I belong to. Women were boasting about their 18 month olds' vocabulary. I can understand knowing the number of words your child can say if the number is around 10 or less. But these women were chiming in with 80! 100! My baby is up to 1000 words! Seriously? Come on. Who the hell keeps count after 3? You madam, are either full of shit, completely delusional, or just plain stupid. While I often refer to my son as "our little genius," I of course say it with tongue-in-cheek. I know he's average. I most certainly do not keep a running tally of all the words he has said. I don't believe this has any relevance to his intellect. What is far more important is his ability and attempts to communicate. What is both hilarious and infuriating is that these parents who claim to raise "super babies" are the same morons who get in fist fights at Little League games and think Disneyland is some special right of passage.

Is it really fair to dismiss these people as stupid? I think so. But maybe it isn't entirely their fault. We live in an age where hyperbole is not just accepted, but expected. As is lazy thinking. Adding to the hot mess, is that our culture has become so competitive with everything, our reputations especially, that we seem to be plagued by regular folks trying to bedazzle their personas both online and in real life.

While it can be entertaining at times, it makes breeding all the more complicated. Well, not the breeding part. The child rearing part. I don't want my son to be a lazy thinker. How do I provide balance when he's surrounded by people who focus on bullshit rather than critical thinking and being genuine? Parenting is challenging enough. Now I have to put up with other parents who fill their children full of audacious over-confidence and equip my son to hold his own without falling into the same delusional path.

I'm not better than these people. You may even find typographical errors and misspelled words in my writing. Why? Because I'm not that smart and sometimes forget to use the freakin spell check. I'm no genius, but I do make an attempt to be self-aware. It shouldn't be asking too much for others to follow suit. It's OK though. My baby can still kick your baby's ass.

Caught the Dragon

The one thing I didn't anticipate after just a few posts, is the flood of thoughts and theories suddenly racing through my crazed, disorganized mind and the resulting need to jot it all down like a panicked fiend. The fucked up thing about wanting a fix, is the connect never seems to sync with daily crap. So here I am, twitching with delight that I'm finally sitting down at my keyboard.

I'm trying desperately to stick to a topic or 3 so I don't lose you. But then again, this isn't about you, is it? I know I tend to drop quite a few "F" bombs and while my potty mouth is something I'm working on in real life, I find it cathartic to just be myself here. If people are turned off by my salty language (love that cliche), tough shit. Go away then. I suppose I should change my settings on Blogger to that "18 & over" warning but it's not like I'm posting dirty pictures or anything. Yes, I've thought of starting a swear jar, but who carries that kind of change on them?

Funny, when I don't have the time to write, er blog, I'm bursting with things to say. Now that I have some quiet time I'm at a loss. Back in the day, I just kept a little notebook in my backpack or scribbled on a napkin so I could come back to the thought later. It just doesn't work out that way anymore. Besides, ever try scribbling on a baby wipe? Lack of little notebooks isn't the problem either. I've got plenty of those if I could just remember where the hell in this cluttered mess I put them. The problem is that it just isn't reflex anymore. I know, we change as we get older blah blah blah...but you know what? It still blows. It blows that the things that made us swoon, that invoked some sense of passion, compassion, whatever - just something - somehow drifts off into an abyss of routine and obligation. We become convinced that it's some sign of maturity but deep down we know it's a goddamn lie to help us rationalize why we've sold out. So what now? Can't go back, can we? Can't just buy back in after selling out. That would really make us tools!

If you're still with me on this bullshit rant, I love you. I love you for indulging me in my nothingness, for validating my need to purge whatever the hell is brewing up here, even when there isn't much. Now the sound of a whiny, tired toddler beckon me. Good night.