Ballad of a Ladyman: Hipster Hanky Codes

Ballad of a Ladyman: Hipster Hanky Codes     Im just gonna drop this here for everyone to read...Im loving it. Either/Or, whatever persuasion you ascribe to, when you see things that make you go,"Hmm?!"  Its nice to know you aren't the only one. So me an my black bandanna will just wander on off to sit and speculate and giggle.

Dear Roger: Guerrilla Parenting?

Sitting around this morning teasing a poor boy that is about to become a daddy for the first time about all the things he has to look forward to with a youngster underfoot, I have been reminiscing about all the things I experienced with my pack of young-uns and I have to wonder, how the hell I am sane at all, and if I am?
Kids do all kinds of things that your reaction to, while you are in the moment, really say a lot about you as a person and as a parent.  When I was a rookie at this whole situation, I used to want everything to be perfect. I wanted my eldest son to always be dressed like a little Lord Fauntleroy and I was always worried about what he ate and how he slept and if his poops were normal and all that great stuff. I didn't even have him snipped because I didn't have a pecker so I didn't know if it mattered or not and I couldn't bear the thought of one little ouchie ever happening to him ever! I carried him around in my arms so long that I swear the child probably thought he hadn't been born yet we were so attached.
I was insanely protective, didn't even cut his hair until he was nearly 2 and his little pink curls were getting him called 'Girly" by all my friends. Ahh yes, my "Friends", the ones who would do things like slip him sips of soda and other junk food when I wasn't looking or who found it highly amusing to teach him bad words like, "Asshole" and other such pleasantries. They especially found it amusing to teach him to use it to address strangers.
Kids are like that, they will pick up on the most inappropriate, foul word that you wish they had never heard and the will fixate on it and then, when you least expect it or want to even admit YOU know what it is, they will trot it out in public or around polite society and expose you for the true deviant that you are. Lately, my middle son, who has Downs Syndrome, has been obsessed with the phrases "Boner" and "Gay Sex" . He is in middle school. He comes home with the most charming things that he has been put up to by the lovely boys, (and girls) of the middle school world and he likes to share them with the world at large. The lady who runs the market we shop at on a regular basis now knows that, in addition to his mustache, he has pubes and that he finds her "Beautiful."  I wouldn't allow his older brother to kill him in the store, but his sister came pretty close. She shrieked in horror and said in a very loud and shrill voice, which carried all the way to the BACK of the store and down the sidewalk a bit,"CONNER!! WE DON'T SAY PUBES IN PUBLIC!"
I cant even pretend they aren't mine anymore. I cant outrun them. You will find as your kids get older, you are just too damn worn out to escape them. That has to be part of their grand scheme. They exhaust you by being so cute when they are babies that you lay there listening to them breathe and catering to their every sigh and whimper, and then when they are toddlers you cater to them to keep the temper tantrums down to a minimum so you don't get stared at like the rolling dog fight in the middle of a circus that you will feel like, and then when they are tweens, you start to realize that things are not what they seem, but by then, its too late! You are stuck! You are exhausted, often broke, and starved for sleep, sanity and decent, non-processed food and you cannot escape and you really wont want to anymore.
Once they are teens, you are totally screwed. I look over at my teen shaped lump that is laying on my couch, (even though he KNOWS I hate it when he sleeps on the couch because he sweats and funks it up), and I wonder, what happened to the little baby with the cute pink curls? Nowadays, he finds it funny to do things like blame his farts in public on me or his sister, and he burps so loud that people turn and stare, but hes looking at ME all scandalized like I did it instead. There are days I cant do a thing to please him, even though I try, and then days when I try to piss him off, that I seem to make him the happiest? Hes a guy now and he makes no sense to me.
Having kids is a crash course in the biological sciences and honestly, bio-hazards. I have had to clean things up and deal with things that have left me wondering just how in the hell its possible for me to ever want to eat food ever again. Children seem to believe that parents clothes are repository's for boogers and drool until they are well into their young adult years, and if you have a favorite t-shirt or what not, HIDE IT! they will find it and they will either paint it with barf, poop, pee or boogers or sharpie in some hideous manner and it wont even be salvageable or Hipster cool. Walls and your favorite art work also become favorite places to stash boogers for later consumption ,(I guess), I have had to gingerly scrape boogers off all kinds of surfaces in my house and I can only assume the child was trying to contribute to the overall theme?
They seem to believe that underwear is disposable and cheap for some reason and that actually pissing in the commode is only a suggestion, especially if they are boys, but when MOM gives them a lesson on aiming, that tends to correct that via traumatic mental scarring.
When you give them toys, forget about the instructions and the rules and the suggestions on how to play with it. Give them the box, get down on the floor with them and go nuts. They don't care about the rules. Kids aren't tiny little psychologists or focus groups, they are kids. Mine usually threw the toy in the commode, stuffed the cat in the box and had a blast beating on the wrapping as we chased each other around with it.
Be noisy and sing weird and inappropriate songs with them. We sang, and still sing "Keep Awake" all the damn time. Yes, people look at me funny for it. Yes, I have ended up in TWO principals offices for it,(so far), Yes! Its probably NOT intended for kids,(there is really no telling with that boy), but you know what? My kids LOVE that song. They KNOW it by heart, every single word to it and we can be walking down the sidewalk in the cold, miserable, Portland rain and my daughter will start singing it and the next thing you know we are ALL singing and laughing, (Even Stubby) and that is something.
Every kid and every family is different and they are all weird and embarrassing in their own way and kids thrive on doing things that make you want to cringe and hide, but some basic guidelines for survival are; keep the ADULT toys in a locked cabinet with the key either hidden or on your person at all times, always clear your cache and log off from your "Special" web sites, know that your friends are going to teach your kids words that you don't want them to say and know that they are going to say them in front of people to embarrass  you, blame your parents or your significant other or just pretend the person who heard it is hallucinating and crazy. Everything is surmountable, don't sweat the small stuff. Laugh at it. Material goods are just that, material goods. The only thing that matters in this life is your kid and what you mean to them and they to you. Love them and laugh with them they will remember that and love you for it.

Dear Roger: How To Be The Perfect Parent

When you find out you are going to be a parent, lots of people tend to offer you lots of advice about things from the ridiculous to the sublime. They will tell you to enjoy your last few days of sleep and sanity before your kid arrives,(that's actually pretty good advice), and they will tell you what to feed it, how to dress it, where to put it to bed and how to carry it, talk to it, and all kinds of crap.
They will judge you on what you eat and drink, how you act or look and all the crap you did before you found out you were going to be a parent, as well as all the stuff you do while you are waiting, (even if you follow all the rules to the letter), as the old saying goes,"You cant please everyone."
I am a firm believer that having a kid is a bit like a crap shoot. You can do everything right, be healthy, live healthy and still get a kid with an issue, or you can be a walking disaster of stress who drank the first few weeks you were pregnant because you HAD NO CLUE! you were knocked up, live like you are a refugee because you are hiding from a psycho, and you can have a totally healthy, textbook example of a perfect child born.
I've been a parent for over 20 years and im still learning new stuff everyday and saying things, doing things and dealing with crap that leaves me mind-boggled on a daily basis. Luckily, the flushing of weird/important stuff down the commode has mostly subsided, but we still keep a plunger and a snake in the bathroom because you NEVER FREAKING KNOW!
I have learned a few things over the years but I don't consider myself an expert by any means at all. My kids are kinda weird at times, a bit contrary and they have moments of sheer cussedness that make me forget I speak English.
I have learned that when a kid has a lovie/stuffy that they carry around and talk to and cling to like its the most important thing in the world, you always rescue it and you don't give it away. You respect that shit and you don't make fun of it. Everything has its time and its reason and if you don't make a huge deal of it, most of the time it will pass or settle out the way it needs to settle. Pick your battles and don't make the lovie one of them, you will lose.
Your kid isn't like everybody else s kid and they all do stuff at different times in different ways and it tends to work best for them. Your kid is also not you, so don't expect them to be,(this one has kicked my ass quite regularly and been the hardest thing for me to deal with), especially with my eldest two.
Your kid is not a poodle, you dont have to pimp and preen and groom to impress with them at the kid park like you do with your pooch at the dog park. Your kid will be happy naked with binky and snot in their hair, but polite society expects at least a diaper. This has also been a hard one for me and all of my sons still resent me for the sweater vests and penny loafers of their smaller days.
Talk to your kid. Not baby talk, though that is okay in small doses and if you are a dude it will totally win you points with women and get you all kinds of cred, but talk to them as they grow to. Also remember that your kids are LISTENING to you and WATCHING you all the damn time. You don't get a pass on any fuckery any more once you have kids. I get my nose rubbed in the fact almost daily that my daughter once saw me drink a beer and smoke a cigarette. "Thats really BAD mom! You could DIE and leave me an ORPHAN!"  Yeah...not cool. My cussing also gets thrown in my face almost daily. I cuss, I admit it. Im a freaking ex-cop! Im supposed to cuss! But I am strict on my kids about it and my eldest son is the strictest on the little kids.
My youngest daughter loves to sing a few songs and a couple of them have cuss words in them, including "Dinosaur" by the Mechanical People. We even remind her, "Stevie, don't forget to Graupner edit", but she usually does and then shes in time out for 10 minutes usually muttering on her way,"Dang it! Ben!"
Your kids listen and you are their first and most important and influential teacher. If you are racist and homophobic or just plain ignorant, you are going to make life hard for your kids while they grow out of it, I know, believe me, I KNOW.
The most vitally important thing that you need to absolutely know and have to be a parent though is this; you have to be ALL IN. You have to have complete and total, UNCONDITIONAL LOVE for your kid NO MATTER WHAT. If they are cute and perfect born to a life of privilege and joy, or damaged, homely, born in a ghetto, if you are all in and love that child with all your heart and soul and they KNOW that, then that child is golden. Never let them feel doubt for that for one minute, even if they test you and do things that break your damn heart and make you crazy, always, always, always tell them and let them know you love them and that you are there for them, because if you aren't, who will be? The difference between the broken and damaged people in the world and those who fly above it all, is that those who fly were loved.
If you are about to become a parent, you are already flying so its your turn to pass those wings on.

Dear Roger: This Wasn't Included The Mom Handbook

Today was a weird day around here, my eldest son had spent the night over at his buddies house again so I was home alone with the three youngest once again. My little girl got up early and took off to church as she usually does on Sunday, and then I was home with my two boys, who often miss out on church because there isn't room in the friends vehicle for them or Stubby just refuses to go because hes afraid I might have a spare moment to myself to find my sanity.
Anyway, the little boys slept in til fairly late and I rambled around the house cleaning and doing my regular stuff til they began to stir. I had everything put to rights and was looking forward to just relaxing away the afternoon and finishing up editing a few chapters of a story and maybe writing some more on a Serial Killer/Stalker story I have been researching for a few months.
Stubby and Sticky came wandering out at the same time, all bleary eyed and grubby boxer shorts hanging off their butts, scratching inappropriate places and whining about wanting things we didn't have in the house for breakfast.I told them to go wash their hands and faces and then have some breakfast while I went to make sure they had shut off their things in their room and left no evidence of anyone messing with or even looking at their big brothers stuff.
The room wasn't too bad, just socks on the floor along with blankets and a few books, but the bathroom...that was where it all went pear shaped.
I know those boys were potty trained when they first stayed with their father in Arizona, I know it because I trained them. I potty trained everyone when they were 18 months to close to 4 years old for Sticky,(Downs took him a little longer), I even taught them the,"Sink the Cheerios" technique of peeing. I had to teach them that because I am a neat freak and having boys who peed all over like elderly cats with bad attitudes would not be a good thing for my sanity. Sticky actually house broke before he potty trained. It took me forever to get him to stop peeing off the front porch and I was afraid he was going to keep getting in trouble at school for peeing on the playground. His father thought it was fine, after all, his main reason for us living so far out in the country was that he wanted a house he could pee off the back porch of without the neighbors calling the cops...charming fellow.
Anyway, my bathroom looked like they had gone in there and turned into wee boy pee helicopters. There was pee on the commode seat, which was DOWN, on the shower curtain, on the bath rug, on the tiles, on the BACK of the commode, and on the oak cabinet! I'm sure my neighbors think I slipped a few gears, but something had to be done, and bad cop came out to get the attention of the pee felons.
I marched them both into the bathroom and we had a refresher course in proper pee techniques, including stance and pecker handling(clothed and simulated), boys were mortified and embarrassed. Mom was mortified and disgusted that her sons were such disgusting little creatures. They were freaked out I KNEW such things,(I did spend a LOT of time around cops, Marines, Firefighters and just..guys), you pick up a few things. They helped CLEAN the ENTIRE bathroom and apologized profusely. Sticky made sure to announce to me each time he came out and peed afterwards, "I lifted the seat and held my pecker! I'm not a helicopter!" Stubby just blushed, but I know he got the point. When Chance got home later, the boys regaled him with their tales of woe, "Man, shes crazy!"
He shrugged at them, "Dudes, its easy, don't pee on the seat, don't mistake a dude for a chick, and just stay out of her way once a month and your life will not suck." We fist bumped. The eldest finally gets it.

Dear Roger: Its All In Your Head?

Being stalked is a horrible thing to experience, I should know, I have experienced it. My stalker was relentless and intelligent and he had help. He was also handsome and charming and well educated in the vernacular of law enforcement and he had friends who were manipulated into helping him continue stalking me for over a year. We had dated and it was a tumultuous relationship, he was and still is what is known as a psychopath and if you ever have the opportunity to read  Dr. Hares book "Without Conscience-The Disturbing World Of the Psychopath Among Us", You will find something called the "Psychopathy checklist", it is a screening tool for profilers looking for serial killers and the like. My stalker met 13 out of the 21 markers.
Back in 1994/95 the stalking laws were not as strict as they are now, though they did gain some teeth after the Rebecca Shaffer incident along with several other high profile stalker/murder cases, but proving you are being stalked is very hard.
I let people know I was no longer seeing him, I told him very clearly in front of people to leave me alone, and yet he would show up and demand to talk to me. He would treat me as if I was confused and he would show up at my work and act like I had called him for a lunch date and then become enraged when I would refuse to leave with him.
We worked with each other until he was advised to resign, and he made my life a living hell. He injured me several times, but they were all,"Accidental" including a broken tailbone, a severely dislocated shoulder, and multiple bruises and contusions.
I would get texts late at night when I was off duty,(before the days of good cell phones mind you) that were police code telling me that the man I was seeing had been shot in the line of duty. I was terrorized for months, followed and even though I was pregnant, he continued with the abuse and threats and assaults...yes, the assaults.
I moved. He found me. I changed phone numbers, he had it in days. I moved again, he found me again and left notes on my car. He denied the baby,(thank God), and threatened me and the child with death repeatedly, and then left flowers hanging on my door.
I moved to a security complex and things settled for a little bit. I had to hide from everyone. I had to cut of almost all contact with all friends, including the department I had started off with and I had to skulk into my own grandmothers house like a thief in the night.
I lost work, I tried restraining orders, protective orders, police escorts and when he tried to grab me at a college campus one night, coming out of the dark all clad in black with no warning, my shriek of terror had him surrounded by 10 very large and angry Tucson Fire Fighters who had been in the class with me and who already knew him from his past reputation, but it was the death knell of my career. I had to hide, so hide I did. I had my son very quietly with no fanfare or announcements and we moved to a place where we had over 150 very large and protective and armed brothers and sisters and for over 5 years we were safe. The state notified him about the birth he denied it, the state determined he was a very credible threat to our very lives and told me that no support or father would be forthcoming for my son, ever.
Before we moved to the far away place, he had tried to break into my apartment. He pointed a gun a me, he was a fan of the knife and razor as well, and the things he did to small creatures he caught on his property still leave me shuddering, so I count us lucky.
My stalker was very charming, he would tell me I didn't know what I needed, that I was,"Confused" and that he would take care of things.  He could be pleasant and fun to be around until that switch turned and then he was the most terrifying thing on the planet. His best friend was a Tucson PD officer who was giving him my personal information every time I updated my DMV records as required for my EMT license, so in essence, I was giving him my address each and every time. When that was discovered the officer was demoted and suspended, but I wish he had been fired because he cost me my credit, due to all the moves,(no allowance for that in most leases back then), and my career. There were days I literally thought I was going crazy and that maybe he was right, maybe I was imaging things, but then when he came to my door and tried to break in when my sister was there, I knew I wasn't and he would not stop until he was stopped or he killed me.
To this day I still twitch a little when I see a blue Toyota pickup truck or my son gives me an expression that looks just like him.
When I became a cop and focused my studies in Criminal Justice, I narrowed my focus to Serialized crimes and Sexually Motivated Homicides because I think I may have a very unique understanding of that line of insanity.
The state investigator who had questioned him and then later came out and spoke to me very candidly said that he was, in fact, quite clearly a psychopath and that I was probably very lucky to be alive and not dumped down some abandoned mine out in the west side of Pima County.
I've gotten pretty good at spotting folks like him and it worries me when I see they have resources like the internet to aide their insanity. I shudder to think what would have happened had my stalker had the net or phones with trackable Gps, or even worse, Google maps and public records databases on the web like those I have observed have to utilize at their fingertips.
I have advice for those being stalked, do not take it lightly, its a very serious matter. If a person has been by your house, that is a credible threat and you are in very real danger and if its happened more than once, they have met the California penal code requirements for Stalking (646.9) and if they have made threats, via electronic media, that is Criminal Threats  (422pc) and is a FELONY and they can go to prison for it and they SHOULD.
I quit worrying about what people thought about me when my kids safety came into play and I lived like a scrub for many years to keep him safe, 16 years later I have a healthy, happy and gifted son who knows what I went through and my stalker is a lonely and bitter man who is still just as scary.
The mental illness behind stalking is quite often Borderline Personality with Narcissistic tendencies, though I have seen what can only be some pretty significant schizo-affective disorder in those that I have observed of late. The interwebz is a scary place, and people send me the stuff of nightmares in what used to be a place of sunshine. God, I hope someone is paying attention.

Dear Roger: Miles To Go

Some times I get a reminder that I still have things to deal with, and I guess with all the stress and things I have been dealing with over the past few days, I was due a good one.
Nobody got hurt, but it took me a while to calm down and the person who was involved in the situation ended up standing on the sidewalk with me having to reassure himself that all was well.
Stevie and I took advantage of a break in the rain to walk to the market to get some milk and bread, as well as to just get the hell out of the apartment. I needed to walk off some of my frustration and work over some of my story idea. I had been talking to a friend on twitter, so I wasn't really paying close attention to things,(my bad), and I had Stevie talking to me and distracting me as we walked down the sidewalk.
I was comfortable, not too worried, a lot on my mind and not paying attention. A tweet came in and I slowed to look at my screen because its hard for me to read being its so small. All of the sudden a male voice said in my ear as they touched my shoulder, "Excuse me".
I yelled, shoved Stevie out of the way and turned to fight. Mind you, we were in an area that is where transients congregate for meal handouts, no one had been behind a few minutes prior and he startled the hell out of me.
He jumped back and immediately began apologizing. Stevie began laughing,(she wasn't hurt or even scared), it was an older man we see all the time walking the sidewalk with his wife.
He apologized and said,"I'm sorry, I was in Nam, I learned to walk light. I didn't mean to scare you, are you a Vet? You act like a Vet."
We stood on the sidewalk a few minutes, squared off while I calmed down, him reassuring me he meant no harm he was just trying to go around me, me apologizing for not paying better attention. We eventually nodded at each other and even fist bumped, and then he turned around and said,"It will get better, just give yourself time." Holy hell! I hope so.
Stevie is taking over some of the more stressful parts of getting my books out to the public eye. She is just more people friendly, and more pushy. She will tell people about my book and try to get them to at least give it a shot when I just want to write.
I am submitting my book to a few kickstarter style projects for authors to see if I can get any attention that way, and I'm trying to get the attention of some agents so maybe I can get it in the hands of someone who could do something with it. The less hollyweird set might see purity of the story so I am edging my way back into Cowboy Poetry and even dusting off some of my old works from those days.
I dont know if I will do a full-length audio recording of it, but Stevie sure wants it and she usually gets what she wants and I have no problem telling a story out loud that comes from my heart.

Dear Roger;Vacation? Riiight!

Its two weeks until the end of school. Oh God....Its TWO WEEKS UNTIL THE END OF SCHOOL! I am not particularly looking forward to this time. Yeah, if we had a way to get out and go do stuff, maybe, but with one kid that meanders, ambles and wanders more than he walks, another who has his own agenda that involves getting as far away from his,"Embarrassing" siblings as possible, and limited resources, I have a feeling its going to be a special kind of hell. I figure the eldest with stay gone as much as possible with his friends, returning home only to eat when we have a fully stocked larder, hit me up for cash, and clean laundry. The other two boys will complain constantly about having nothing to do. Walking to the park with them will result in complaints that its hot and there is still nothing to do.
Daughter will be gone for a week in July to church camp, I guess I am okay with that. last year it was only 3 days and I had a really hard time with it. This year its an entire week. I don't know. Her and one of her little church companions have been having issues and its going to reach a boiling point soon. She came home last night so angry that she kicked a chair and ranted about her for a good 5 minutes. Apparently the other little girl is a snobby little thing who likes to rub what she has in my daughters face and make fun of the fact we don't have much. Shes probably about to get popped in the nose. I've tried talking to Stevie, told her about how some people have to make up for a lack of everything else by showing off material things, and telling her to ignore the brat, but apparently the kid likes to follow Stevie around and get in her face about it.
Little girls are mean bitches. My daughter is a lot like me. If she pops the kid in the nose,(and I have told her violence is not the key), then she probably wont be going to church camp. If she doesn't go,ill have to find a way to keep her busy because when she isn't occupied, all hell breaks loose.
My stress stash is gone. A small bag of chocolates,a pack of cigaretts and 20 bucks, gone. I kept it hidden in the cabinet for those times when I was at the point where the amount of stress in my life had given me a case of  the twitches.The chocolate is self-explanatory, the smokes are a throwback to an old habit I had when I was a cop and I didn't smoke often or much, but it was a calming thing that also got the odor of human decomp out of your sinuses pretty effectively. The 20 was for a nice quality beer,(change to be had, of course), most likely a Guinness Stout. But the thing is, I can only indulge in my stress relief when kids are gone and I have the stash.
I have been really stressed out the past couple of days, its been one of those waiting game, gorilla in the room kind of things.
My book is out there, people have read it and no reviews have posted. The books in L.A. are missing or an unknown quantity. I am an obsessive compulsive personality with severe control freak tendencies. So I am in hell. I had planned to indulge in a bit of stress relief last night, I was going to send all the kids to church, and after munching on chocolate all day long, I was going to wait until they left then hot foot it down to the local market, buy my beer and then sit on my back porch, drink a beer and smoke until I either relaxed or my heart exploded.
Everything went pear shaped the moment I climbed up on top of the fridge. I found a trail of chocolate wrappers leading to the stash spot, they were cast about with an air of disdain as if to say,"Amateur". Reaching the stash spot, I prized it open to find not only the money gone, but the smokes gone as well. BUSTED.
My kids are all rabidly anti-tobacco. They wont care that they were expensive and hadn't even been opened, they probably did horrible things to them and then threw them in the trash or the commode as if they had found a junkies stash.
The 20? Yeah...it was gone too. I could ask about it, but we al know the truth, the little one who smiled at me soo innocently and said,"I don't know what you are talking about" that very morning probably didn't get to keep it and if I say anything to the big brother, then there will be the days long lecture about the evils of smoking.
I think I am just going to cut my losses, pretend it didn't happen and try to just distract myself with other things until all this passes. Its only the whole summer.