Springer's Final Thoughts

Parents Behaving Badly During A Split: Some 'Springer's Final Thoughts' on Olivia Wilde's Crap at Cinema-Con 

I got in a Facebook fight with someone over some internet noise about a celebrity, because that’s definitely what I should be doing late on a Friday night instead of sleeping—or at the very least, watching Inkmasters. 

Scary Mommy had this sloppy piece on poor, hapless Olivia Wilde, who was apparently minding her own business while talking to some nerds at CinemaCon when a wild process server appeared.  As the story goes she was suddenly served with some custody papers in public.  And although celebrities have been known to professionally embarrass themselves for hours at a time (read: hanging out at a comic book convention for people who own theaters), this may have been a little jarring for Ms. Wilde. 

But Scary Mommy sympathized with her and it was triggering as sh*t. And I’m having a hard time sitting on my keyboard hands with this one. 

The major parental dumbassery in the news these days actually has more to do with parents of a couple of grown children. But both Johnny Depp and Amber Heard’s respective kids are gonna be pretty wigged out when they inevitably hear about their mom and dad laying Cleveland steamers in each other’s beds and stuff like that. So maybe I shouldn’t worry too much (duh) about this. 

But as someone who suddenly had to be both mommed and dadded by my dad when I was a kid, I have thoughts. 

Don’t wanna feel awkward about custody stuff, celebrities?  This isn’t rocket surgery—don’t leave your kids. 

Celebrity news is often curated by PR peeps when their charges aren’t doing well.  It’s no surprise to many that it’s actually someone’s job to fire people up about things relating to a famous person.  This might make people care enough to see their movie.  These are reps, bloggers, and who-have-you.  But I’m taking the bait.  You see, I was a child of an ugly divorce and its customary custody brawl, and as such I'm familiar with what happens to minor kids when one of their parents decides to leave. 

I’m just a mom and a wannabe internet pundit, but here’s my deep thought. Don’t leave your f*cking kids. Just don’t. Don’t do it. 

Don’t do it unless you are quite literally a real-life version of Monica from Shameless, with intractable addiction issues and wildly untreated psychiatric sequelae.  And even then?  Don't leave permanently and take up with someone else; take a time-out and get your sh*t together.

I am almost certain I am getting some of the details wrong here, but unless I’m completely mistaken, Ms. Wilde is a parent who peaced out.  But just because you wanted to play the skin trombone with a new dude’s peen doesn’t mean you should like run off with Justin Bieber or whoever.  And if you do, your little kids shouldn’t have to take a spin on Mr. Toad’s Wild (Custody) Ride every however-often with a visitation agreement that's particularly generous to you. Even if somebody's separated parents live close to one another, that's still some exhausting sh*t. 

There are good reasons that courts don’t look as kindly on the parent that moves out. Studies have recently confirmed that it’s actually worse for you to be abandoned by your parent than to be HIT BY THEM with a high-heeled shoe, Eddie-Murphy’s-mom style in Raw.  I don’t want to make light of child abuse or relationship violence in any way (especially with terrible puns). But it is truly striking how harmful it can be for a kid to not be around their parent very much anymore. 

When you leave, you forfeit more than just a logistical upper hand in custody stuff or the low-hanging fruit that makes up an easy PR plug.  You lose any moral relatability, too.  Something was awkward for you?  Too bad; you left your kids and people can't relate to that.  You tripped over a concrete median and knocked your two front teeth in while spilling a crackhead's cup of p*ss all over your Louboutins?  Too bad!  You f*cking left your kids.  And a lot of moms can't relate to that.

Most importantly, your kids lose the innocence of when they used to have a parent who wouldn't ever harm them for selfish reasons.  So the parent who stuck around is the one they inevitably trust more.

For all parties involved, get over yourself and understand that when you birth some other humans into the world (or just bring them into your orbit, as with fostering and adoption), that world is no longer just about you. Would I still be saying this if Olivia Wilde were being kind of a lame MALE (or non-binary) parent instead of a female one?  Yep.  People don’t exactly love Dean McDermott—he left his wife and the mom of his first kid for the mother of all superfluous reasons (Donna on 90210), so now he gets to lie in a bed he made with her badly-done boob pillows. 

Absolutely no sympathy from me. 

Before you say, "Hey, some people leave and don't even want to hang out with their kids anymore!", wait a damn minute.  This is 2022, not 1962.  Golf claps are in order for you if you think it's reasonable these days for someone to set the bar so pathetically low in parenting a houseplant, much less a human.

So be a hard-charging, modern, millennial-@ss parent.  Suck it up and go to hella amounts of therapy if you’re really that unhappy in a romantic partnership that involves minor children.  Should you stay in an unhealthy relationship for the sake of your kids?  Hell no—fix that sh*t with years and years and years spent with a fleet of family, individual, and couple's therapists. Therapy isn’t magic but these people are pros. If you try hard enough and for long enough, you will eventually stop thinking it’s cool to bust nut with someone who was only seven months old when your babies’ daddy hit the legal age of consent.

Therapy’s expensive. But don’t tell me OW doesn’t have the money.  If you have a PR person and a stylist you can find a professional person to talk with about your life.

You may also be wondering why, if therapy’s so good, why do I still have obvious capital-M Mommy Issues?  Because, while you can accept your parents’ limitations as humans and even get to a place of forgiveness as a grown woman with children of her own, oftentimes that intense mom-daughter bond never quite makes a comeback.  I wrote about this (scroll down for the tangentially related story of how I finally broke up with my mom).

Also. This may sound judgy but I strongly believe that if I were a celebrity I would pick a more believable stage name for myself.  I'm looking straight at you, Ms. Wilde. 

Come at me, bruh. 

And “till next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.”

Memeworthy: The Postpartum Mom

Jenna Joseph’s exhausted face is all of us right after having a second child.

Holy sh*t am I tired.

Source: https://people.com/parents/tyler-joseph-welcomes-second-baby-girl-with-wife-jenna/

The Names That Got Away

He’s got a daughter he calls Easter;
She was born on a Tuesday night 

-Sheryl Crow; Everyday is a Winding Road

I am super done making and naming babies.  I've said that and lied at least three times--hell, we've even been through a vasectomy and a vasectomy reversal--but this time it's for real.  

I have to admit that my naming obsession might have been involved in my wanting to bring so many children into this world.  So I'm letting them go (the names, not the children!).  These are the names that got away; I’d love it if my brother or cousins had more kids and used some of these, and so should everyone else.

Girls:

Tabitha Easter—I love Tabitha and sometimes think I should’ve named Elise that.  But she laughs at that name for some reason.  And she doesn’t look like a Tabitha at all.  Tabitha Eve is another combination I like, though both combos are a little biblical for my taste.

Rose Audrey

Linnea Catherine

Anna Kathleen (Kathleen is my grandma’s first name)

Constance “Connie” Lark (Joe would’ve shot that one down after making a joke about oral sex—you know the one I’m talking about.  At my high school there was a diver named Brian Lingus and people thought it was the absolute height of cleverness to ask him if his mom’s name was Connie.  The swim team was a lot more educational than Sex Ed.)  

Or something with Kay or Julienne (my late grandma’s name) as a middle name.

Boys:

Desmond (yes, of the “moon bear” meme)

Linus

Clement

Separated at birth, Perez Hilton Style

Georgezilla--

and Tabitha Stevens from Bewitched.

I definitely pined for a little Tabitha. But I wouldn’t trade my Georgie—or any others of ours—for ten Tabithas.

Separated at Birth

 Separated at Birth, Perez Hilton Style

#001.

Arthur at 20 months old:

And Side Eyeing Chloe:

All I Need to Know: Flatulence

 Everything I Need to Know in Life I Learned From My Family of Farters

A corporeal weapon is one of the most readily available means of revenge.

Some people should never, ever consume pulled pork with beer. 

Someone who eats a pound of dried apricots in one sitting before boarding an airplane is up to something sinister and should be reported to TSA.

It’s a good idea to hold your breath for about twenty-five seconds when someone suddenly rolls down the car window. 

An unborn child is almost fully responsible for his pregnant mother’s gas and thus provides a perfect scapegoat.

Some of the worst stank imaginable can come from a kitten or a breastfed two-month-old.

When your Danish swim coach shakes his head scornfully and says, “you make the bad air”, very little is lost in the translation. 

The human anus has an impressive repertoire of sounds—a towel ripping in half, someone dropping a cup of Jell-o pudding, or the violent squeezing of an angry cat, to name a few.

Your relationship has reached the next level of intimacy when your SO comes over and you no longer bother to cropdust your downstairs roommates before getting it on.

In the flatulence industry, nobody labors harder than six college boys doing abdominal exercises in Speedos.

Establish dominance by sitting in your spouse’s lap and releasing the hounds.

He who smelt it dealt it is mathematically improbable in a household with six males.

The best way to make a classroom full of children scream with delighted laughter is to back yourself through the doorway while dragging an AV cart and loudly rip ass.

There’s a simple fix for when one of you isn’t totally in the mood—one that doesn’t invoke Kathy Bates’s hot tub scene in About Schmidt.

There’s insidious danger in being the big spoon.

The surest way to get your first black eye is to squat over your sleeping brother’s face, yell WAKE UP CALL and let one fly*.

Give a child bean burritos, make him laugh for an evening; teach him to read Walter the Farting Dog and he’ll laugh for a lifetime.

*I should know. I did this to Max in ‘93 and am still laughing about it. 

All I Need to Know: Teenager Edition

Everything I Need to Know in Life I Learned From Parenting my Teenager

Stony silence is not acquiescence.

Don’t post somebody on social media without their consent, even if it’s a f***ing hilarious clip of her doing that Alanis Morisette impression with the yodeling. 

Life is tough, but it’s tougher when you’re at the mercy of someone who makes you listen to her ‘90’s Battle of the Boybands playlist while driving you to practice. 

Interdependence makes the world go ‘round. 

It’s possible to love someone and loathe to be on the same planet as them in the same five minutes. 

The path to independence is in fact littered with decent report cards and minimum wage 1040-EZs. 

There’s a time to speak up and a time to shut up. 

There are certain tales that are best left untold. 

If you want to discourage your teen from piercing her navel, get your own navel pierced. 

Even flipping someone off in traffic can be uncool if your mom does it enough. 

Nobody likes it when their mom does ab exercises on the front lawn of the high school while waiting for dismissal. 

Conscripting your best friend as a de facto therapist might not work out very well. 

The way your parents respond to your first romantic heartbreak is related to the way you will, for better or worse, try to soothe yourself through disappointments in your young adult life. 

“Bros before h**s” stopped being a thing in the last century. 

Gender does not determine the extent of a person’s inner life.

The “cooler” a high school teacher seems to be, the bigger the red flag. 

You can never explain the concept of consent too many times to someone, especially those under a certain age. 

If you want to see how long you can hold your breath, watch a movie’s sex scene with your parents.

Throwback: Baby George Birth Plan

August 15, 2015

Dear Healthcare Providers,
As the induction date for our fifth child approaches, I have developed with the help of my husband some specific preferences about the birth. I trust that, as I have had a rather complicated and difficult pregnancy, my wishes will be adhered to explicitly and, if need be, at the expense of other patients on the floor.

Part I: Lighting and Private Birth Suite Logistics

Although early to mid-September is a high-traffic time in the labor and delivery department of [Large Academic Medical Center], due to other people being totally f***ing annoying the general vicinity of L&D will be cleared of all other actively-laboring patients for the duration of my stay. Patients may be admitted and discharged in other wings of the same floor, however.
I will also require dim lighting in the event that any medical personnel look at me or any part of my person for any reason. A special interior light dimmer switch may need to be installed, but these can be found inexpensively at Lowe's for $12.87 as of this writing.


Part II: Ambient Music

The following four songs will be played on loop (in the following order), at approximately 80 decibels so that the baby can effectively differentiate the lyrics in utero:

-Ramblin' Man (The Allman Brothers Band)
-Every Breath You Take (The Police)
-Hey Ya! (Outkast)
-Wrecking Ball (Miley Cyrus)

If at any time the above music loop is interrupted, my cousin Doug Chaffee will need to be reached immediately via Skype for a live, A Capella rendition of Heat of the Moment by ASIA.

If for some reason Doug is unable or unwilling to assist, my Uncle Glenn Miller's {preferably pre-recorded) voice singing Lawyers, Guns, and Money by Warren Zevon will suffice.

Part III: Pudding

Pudding (chocolate) and crushed ice (the cylindrical kind that is easy to chew) will be freely available at all times.


Part IV: Modified Lotus Birth
My husband will sever the umbilical cord NO SOONER than 36 hours following the birth, using a series of well-placed aerospace-grade zip ties and an heirloom samurai sword. At that point, the detached umbilical tissue will be collected, combined with herbs in a gallon-sized Ziplock-type bag, and sealed in order to make umbilical cord jerky that we will enjoy on the baby's 3rd birthday.

The circumcision will be performed to the particulars of the 10-page addendum (see attached).

All I Need to Know: Brother Edition

Everything I Need to Know in Life I Learned From Having a Brother

Love is biting your popsicle in half and sharing it with someone who just rollerbladed over your bare toes by mistake.

You can be mad as hell at someone and still want to sleep in the same bed.

Bathroom humor is the glue that binds us all.

Ownership is a relative and fleeting thing.


There can be such a thing as "community" underwear.

Brotherly goodwill is more important than avoiding backwash in your Sprite.

There's a special place in hell for he who purposely occupies your favorite chair at the dinner table.

Peace on Earth begins in the home.

Existential FOMO takes root when someone close to you uses the red swing, the top bunk, and that one coveted pair of socks with the avocados on them.

Some people get away with everything.

The more older brothers you have, the greater the chances that your first spoken phrase will be, "the snake bited the man's penis!"

The only sanctioned type of bullying is of the (mild) sibling-on-sibling kind.

Leading by example means teaching someone all of your favorite swears.

An eye for an eye; a punch in the solar plexus for a balltap.

To err is human; to forgive is for the sister in Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

A brother is a first friend, a best friend, and one of the few people who will take the time to wake up early with you to watch the trash truck.

All I Need To Know: Tween Girl Edition

All I Need To Know in Life I Learned From My Tween Daughter

When life gives you lemons, make lemon-zest slime.

Dance parties with friends should be a weekly affair.

It's okay to be sad that your friend voted for somebody gross, and that the two of you might never see eye-to-eye regarding politics.

If a boy is messing with you, ignore him. If that doesn't work, an elbow to the ribs may be called for.

Mean girls stink. Be compassionate and inclusive.

Climb every mountain; ride every roller coaster.

The sweetest Girl Scout cookie is the last one in the sleeve, the one you outran your brother for.

A girl with five brothers doesn't necessarily like being called a princess.

Jealousy and comparisons are a waste of everyone's energy; the time to love you for you is right now.

Smart is beautiful.

No matter how grown she gets, a girl needs her mom (or mom-figure) to be there for her.

All I Need to Know: Toddlers

All I Need to Know in Life I Learned From Parenting my Toddler Son

Ask before giving someone a wet, sloppy kiss.

Happiness is a toy train in each hand.

When life gets intense, close your eyes, drop to the floor, and roll around like a log to confuse the offending party.

Being older doesn’t always mean that somebody is wiser or more mature.

Sharing is the most crucial social skill.

A sibling is a friend for life, but there is nothing worse than being chased by one.

Moms who pretend not to need naps are either lying about it or taking stimulants.

Everything is worse when you’re tired.

Everything is better when you're in a Batman costume and a pair of rain boots.

No matter how good the soap smells, it still tastes like soap.

You can never really make anyone do anything. (Well, you might be able to, but it probably won’t be pretty.)

Celebrity Babies Renamed, Part Four

I think this is the fourth installment of this post; Please forgive me if there were only two previous ones.

(Clears throat) Ok.

Valentina Angelina Angelina Valentine

Dream Renee Jeannie Renee

Dusty Rose Justine Rose

Onyx Solace Odessa Solace

More to come.

George of the Jungle

"Which game was it?" -Will, in response to a parental cautionary tale about someone actually dying of video game addiction

"Why is it so f***ing windy?" -Zach, innocently, on a windy evening

"Hey Georgie, you're my best friend." -Zach


George's baby portrait, looking exactly like Zach's at 6 months.

SoCal Baby Names

I live in a part of the country where "mother of five" is a pejorative to be said only while slamming on the brakes to avoid an accident on the 405. People don't tend to have big litters of kids around these parts, because if you are not a hardcore cheapskate like me you may find yourself spending a metric ton of money to house, feed, and raise them here.

So in Southern California, apparently even more so than in other parts of the U.S., each and every name you pick for your baby has got to really count--real people name their kids real aspirational things like Banjo Minnow (boy) and Babe-raham Lincoln (girl).

Baberham Lincoln in #waynesworld

I might be exaggerating about Lil' Banjo and Baberaham, but please bear with me as I suggest some...

***(Parody) Southern California-Inspired Names For Your Baby (You Won't Find On Nameberry)***

SoCal Real estate themed twins: Net Equity (boy) and Mello Roos (girl)

Hollywood names, taken one step further: Harlot; Schwarzenegger; Stefani; Blanket Statement; Bowie & Queen (twins)

Place names for those who have never been to SoCal: Elsinore; Hemet; Chulavista; Salton

For surfer babies: Aggro; Charger; Gidget

James From State Farm

So, we're still not over the never-ending stomach virus from Hell.

But.

We got to go to Family Rollout Day at Daddy's work on Saturday. Which means we got to expose a bunch of other unsuspecting folks to the virus from Hell hang out with real, live spaceships. It was cool.


Here it is, your aerospace-themed Christmas card picture.


Zach with a weird rash on his face.

We weren't actually sure we were even going to make it to the event, since Zachy had been sick and we the parental units were dragging @ss from cleaning up diarrhea and not sleeping. But we went. And the kids promptly resumed puking Sunday night/Monday morning, as if they'd barely missed a beat.

So...if you were there and we got you sick, I'm very sorry.

It's super exciting to get a picture of our whole family in which everybody's looking, and James is almost smiling a real smile rather than looking annoyed and almost-teenaged. Everybody was dressed REAL nice, too. Like, jeans and polo shirts and dresses. This is no small deal, because for some reason our eldest suffers from the irrational belief system that 1) pants are never necessary in Southern California and 2) wearing khakis or bluejeans makes him look like Jake From State Farm.

You know who I'm talking about.



Anyway, someday he may eventually recover from the embarrassment.

Heart Beating

George is sleeping on the bed next to me right now, and he is so beautiful. The pictures, they don't do justice to how beautiful he is.




Some more, for posterity and general double-rainbowing:



Let the record show that GT loves pureed pears; hates peas.




Let the record also show that Will gives very good DorkFace when he tries. #Dorkface, as he'd remark.




Let it show that James is outgrowing all his pants much too quickly,




that we let our two-year-old wear his sister's clothes on special occasions,




and that *this* took place (Big Tom holding GT in the NICU) only a few short months ago.

Dizzyland

"Dad, I have a question. Do you know Buzz Lightyear? Do you know Mr. Toad's Wild Ride? I want to go to Dizzyland, Dad. I want to drive the elephant." -Zach, asserting his nostalgia for our first visit to Disney (and especially the Dumbo ride)

"What's the point? When I grow up I want to be a dirty hobo!" -James, indignant over having to study for a math test

"That's not funny." -James, a few minutes later, when I showed him Chris Farley's "Livin' in a Van Down By the River" thing on YouTube

"I want to live in a van, down by the river." -Will

"What's 'rollin' doobies'? -Elise

Star Wars: The Name Nerd Awakens

So I saw the new Star Wars movie with the big kids last night. It was my second time (first was date night w/ the husband last Thursday night). And I could not wait to get home and search feverishly for a Kylo Ren Tantrum meme generator (so far I haven't found a good one, especially in gif form). Instead I made a Sad Stormtrooper.



Hashtag nerdy and obsessed with Nameberry.

Even More Celeb Babies Renamed

Maxima "Max" Maxine Eliana "Maxie" Zuckerberg

Saint Moral West, brother to North True

Marlowe Marlena Monroe, sister to Grey Rose Audrey

More Zach-Talk

"No. Swear words. I wanna use swear words!" -Zach, when Will gently corrected him ('gosh-darnit, Zach')

"Dad, will you sing "Hatty-Birthday-To-You?" -Zach

"Hannaburger" [hamburger] -Zach

"I wanna see the wopter-copter [helicopter]." -Zach

And Speaking of God

I went to a parent-teacher conference for Zach the other day, at his religiously-affiliated preschool. The conference was immensely gratifying, almost as much so as Elise's (in which her teacher reportedly said she wished she had a classroomful of Elises and compared her to J.K. Rowling! *Cough, cough,* genius daughter!).

Zach's teacher says he is doing wonderfully, talking up a proverbial storm, and generally getting along great. This is especially nice because I haven't even been the one responsible for bringing him to his school, packing his little lunch, or doing the majority of the Zach-upbringing, in months--except for schlepping him around to his siblings' after-school activities, and immersing him in the requisite swearing-while-driving.

Thank goodness for family, community support, and good help when a new baby is born.

So we're (Zach n' I) driving home from the conference and have the following exchange:

Zach: (singing, making preschool-sanctioned hand gestures) Open, shut them. Open, shut them. Give a little clap, clap, clap! Open, shut them. Open, shut them. Fold them just like that!

(bows head in prayer) God is great, God is good; let us thank Him for our food. A-MEN!

Me: Oh, you're praying before you eat your sandwich, just like you do in school.

Zach: Yeah!

Zach: Hey Mom.

Me: What.

Zach: (Shouting at top of lungs) G-D DAMMIT!



In retrospect, Zach's teacher seemed to be laughing about something and looking at me out of the corner of her eyes during the conference.

It's back to the Swear Jar for me.