with Karli Larson
The transition from stay-at-home mom to divorced-and-working-full-time mom can be challenging, and sometimes very lonely. Throw in a few cats, an ancient dog and one very brave boyfriend, and life gets downright crazy. Join me as I talk through my thoughts and struggles, my miscalculations and my triumphs. We're in this together, you and I.
When I'm not writing here you can find me over at work on the TisBest Philanthropy blog.
Oh, the hell with it. Let’s talk politics, and why I don’t feel like talking politics anymore.
I watched the Presidential debate for all of three and a half minutes. That’s all I needed to see. Mitt was going hard, and Obama was doing his low-key thing—death in a debate.
Got it. Click.
Of course I’ll vote. But it’s increasingly hard to care.
[Personal disclaimer: Hey, this post? In no way reflects the opinions or views of any other soul at Work It, Mom, unless, you know, somebody here feels the same way and tells you over drinks.]
I’m not a fan of Mitt. Which should really come as no shock. If you read this from time to time, you know my demographic: the 47%, struggling, socialist-leaning single mama who got through an awful patch solely due to unemployment, a woman not eager to have a political agenda wedged into her va-jay-jay. No prob if you’re a Mitt supporter. You’ve got your reasons, and that’s cool by me. I’ve got my reasons, too, and one is the simple fact that I can’t get behind a dude who straps a dog to the top of a car for a twelve-hour journey at a speed of 70 mph. I don’t care if it happened yesterday or 25 years ago. For me, it’s that old wisdom about the true test of a person’s character: how do they treat the waitress or the dry cleaner…or an animal?
What I’m saying is that, for me, it’s down to the personal stuff, when I can get up the energy to care at all. The personal, at least, gives me a handhold, something to grip. The policies? They don’t trickle down. They never even get a chance.
The thing is, I don’t see myself and my kids anywhere in the usual discussion. It’s turned into a show, a Cirque du Soleil of HE’S A LIAR NO HE’S A LIAR and dazzling feats equal parts idiocy and illusion. I stare at it, and I don’t see my girls. And my kids are my everything, like yours are to you. It’s hard to care who’s elected when it feels like the election is just a big dirty circus tent with two ringmasters fighting over the spotlight.
The VP debate I couldn’t stomach either. I knew I’d get the gist the next day, when GIFs of Biden’s smirk were all over the web. I can’t even bring myself to care about it. I’m not proud of that. But I’m tired of politics in my inbox. I’m tired of being asked to give money. It’s a constant drone of PICK ME PICK ME SHOW YOUR LOYALTY DON’T LET THE BAD GUY WIN WE NEED YOUR SUPPORT OR WE’LL DIE.
Politicians, we need your loyalty. We need YOUR support. We’re dying here. I’ve donated. I’ve written letters. It’s an investment of time, money and energy that I’d love to see pay off. But I just feel more and more removed from all of you, all the time.
I’ll watch the debates when they hire a moderator with a whip. I want the moderator to crack the whip when either candidate says anything resembling a sound bite. CRACK! I want no notes, no makeup, no b.s.
I think I’m going to be waiting for a long, long time.
Tell me: As a parent, what frustrates you about the election process?
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