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growing up
Posts

  • Unleashing Your Inner Teen Girl

    I have a very mutable personality. It’s like my identity waxes and wanes depending on my audience. I can be the serious intellectual type, the conspiracy theorist nut job, the hard working artist, the responsible business owner, the esoteric psychic explorer, or that chick that makes a lot of pussy jokes. I wake up every morning wondering, “who the fuck am I going to be today?”

    I believe in flexible identities, and think we all should try on a variety of masks daily. The more open minded we can be for ourselves, that will translate into how we feel about others. Ultimately life is all about acceptance, so why not practice accepting every single facet of who you are?

    Maybe that sounds nutty to you, but if you think about it on a macro and micro level, everyone would benefit if we accepted each other fully. Families would get along better, marriages would last longer, and maybe there would be less mass murder… I mean religious war.

    I recognize that I may approach the world in a way not everyone can relate to – BUT YOU CAN BLAME MY PARENTS FOR THAT OKAY!? The way I was raised was much different than today’s standards where a kid has to be monitored while farting because god forbid their flatulence has too much velocity and they are blown out into the highway by their anal airstream. When I was 6- years old my family moved into a Harvard dormitory because my parents were the “house masters,” and that was pretty much the end of my being parented. My mom and dad were like “You’re grown right? Well we’re going to be busy running shit so good luck to you! The oven is over there.”

    Having a lot of independence at such a young age meant that I had to learn how to navigate the social stratosphere of Harvard college life. A lot of the kids missed their family, and I figured out how to fit in as de-facto kid sister. I would hang out in the girl’s rooms and keep them company while they stressed out over their love lives or getting an A-. (The kiss of death at Harvard). I would go through their stuff, find their diaphragms, and try to blow them up like balloons. I would eat dinner with the football team and tell them shit jokes to make them laugh. My childhood may have been unconventional, but it did teach me what beer tasted like at 11.

    Trying to understand social nuances at such a young age shaped me deeply. I realized that different people bring out different parts of myself, and part of the fun of being around a variety of humans is exploring the variety within me. I like losing myself in people, and allowing my identity to meld into their perception of me. When I’m with someone, I unconsciously figure out who they want me to be, and then become that part of myself. I am not committed to a one size fits all version of myself, because like wine, I am an acquired taste. Not everybody likes what I am throwing down, and there are going to be a LOT of moments where I should self-censor so as to not alienate myself… yet making people uncomfortable is also thrilling – so fuck it.

    As a grown up, I am constantly expected to conform to social norms of acceptable and responsible conduct. I know some people thrive under the pressure of adulthood, and enjoy the convention laid out before them. You know these types right? They don’t have any interest in pushing boundaries, or testing the waters of inflammatory behavior. They take life and themselves very seriously. I respect these archetypes because they are crucial to society functioning properly, yet like a teen girl, I want to rebel completely from those expectations.

    And that’s it you guys… My spirit will forever be a teen girl!

    We all have an age of our spirit – don’t you feel that? Some people are 3-years old forever, and others are 67. It just is!

    Because I am perpetually 16, my favorite people to be around are those that bring out my psyche’s true essence. At my dance studio I teach teen girls hip hop. Spending my afternoons twerking with them, talking about boys, and then more twerking is seriously the highlight of my day. The energy, enthusiasm, and sass of a bunch of teen girls is probably the most powerful force on the planet. If we could figure out how to channel that shit, it would solve the world’s energy crisis.

    I also have friends who bring out my inner teen. When we get together a manic giddiness takes over, and all we want to do is cause trouble. I love when I get into this headspace with someone because there is a specific intimacy that happens when you both are on the same page of “if it’s inappropriate, let’s do it.” I was just on vacation with my one friend, and got my period early. You’re welcome. We were at the beach and wanted to go swimming, but I hadn’t used a tampon in over 15 years.

    My friend: That’s so crazy to me that you don’t use tampons – you’re so vagina centric.
    Toni: I just don’t like plugging up my poon.
    My friend: Understandable.
    Toni: I seriously don’t know if I can do this.
    My friend: I’ll come with you in the bathroom and talk you through it.

    So there were, in a public bathroom stall, my friend looking at me like this was the most normal thing in the world.

    Toni: So I just shove it in there?
    My friend: More like press.
    Toni: Uhhhh okay… like this??
    My friend: GO SLOWER!!!

    Who the hell needs a tampon coach but a teen girl!!!???

    I get that it’s not legal or logical for everyone to hang out with teen girls for inspiration, but I highly suggest you finding your own inner teen girl. I’m talking about that part of you that doesn’t give a fuck about the future because you just KNOW everything is going to be amazing. That piece of you that is willing and unashamed to talk about everything and anything – whispering long into the night about nothing. The side of you that is bold and courageous because no one has told you to be otherwise. It is in there… I know it… and she will surprise you in the best way if you get in touch with her – BUT ONLY IF SHE IS 18!

    Then of course there is the depressed, moody, self-conscious, PMSy side of the teen girl that may not be as fun, but she also needs to be unleashed out into the world to show people what’s up.

    I don’t know what the hell is going on in this picture… but I do know that it’s so right.

    toni teenage bizba

    August 24, 2016 • Birth • Views: 1009

  • Can Grown Ups Still be Wild and Free?

    Technically I am wayyyyy far into my adult years, and no longer even considered a “young person” – yet I still don’t identify with my childhood perception of “grown ups.” My image of a real grown up involves helmet hair, pleated pants, and a deep commitment to Charlie Rose. Maybe that’s why I dress like a 12-year old boy that wears hoodies with sweatpants, and still use the word “dude” non-ironically.

    Part of my rebellion is because the conventional “mature” approach to life sometimes feels soul sucking. When people get older, they stop trying new things, and taking risks. They become complacent because they prioritize things like safety and rest.

    Of course this behavior is rooted in rationality. As your body ages, an all nighter will impact you for the next month, and you take longer to heal if you hurt yourself from jumping off a roof onto a trampoline. Yet, to have practical reasons for being responsible doesn’t mean we have to be that way all the time. A part of your spirit dies when you are always thinking of the consequences of your actions. There is something so freeing when you do something that is out of the ordinary and just plain wild. We need moments of madness just as much as we need to consider the impact of our decisions.

    When we are young, we are probably too reckless because we don’t have enough foresight of our impending mortality. But when we get old, we are probably too cautious. If you think about it, we spend most of our lives as adults. If we get to be old, a very small fraction of our existence would have been devoted to childhood, and an even smaller one to the infamous teenage years. That is a LOT of time to be sensible, and not that much time to be impulsive.

    Even though I want sometimes to feel the mental liberty of my younger years, it is hard to get into that headspace. The Jiminy Cricket of my consciousness is too damn loud. “Don’t eat that, Toni, too much sugar will give you a headache. You should probably go home Toni and not get into that pickup truck full of Abercrombie Models – you have to wake up early tomorrow to get all the laundry done.” Maybe what I crave most is the psychic space to scream “YOLO” and do whatever the fuck just because if could be fun!

    Then I had some insight into what could help me be more adventurous – drugs!! Duh!!!

    Not hard-core drugs obvi, I am still too reasonable for that – but taking ONE hit of weed will really bring me to a spontaneous psychic space!!

    So this is what happened. I was going out on Friday night… which was a BIG deal for me because otherwise I would be home staring out the window like a lost kitten. On the way my friend said, “Hey, do you want some pot,” to which I replied, “sure do!”

    While we were driving, I was suddenly brought back to all the times in my life when I was fancy free getting high, driving around, and listening to music. It was sooo fun, and lighthearted. I realized what distinguished those times from, say, driving to the store for some organic chicken broth – was that I was less concerned about anything else but that moment.

    Being stoned makes me more of a witness to my life, rather than a participant. It is like I was watching myself from the outside, and it didn’t occur to me that I would ever have to actually deal with whatever happened next. I didn’t care because everything that second was hilarious. The only thing going on in my mind was, “what is that crazy girl Toni going to do next? Who knows? But I can’t wait to find out!”

    weed-blog-(i)

    March 9, 2015 • Adventures, Musings, Old School Stories • Views: 1154

  • I am totally okay with you growing up

    When you first squirt out a precious baby, the prevailing advice people give is “savor every second – it goes by so fast.” Yeah kinda – but it also goes by really slow. Some days with my kid I look at my watch and think “oh wow… only 4 pm… so are you ready for bed or what?”

    It was cool when The Munch was a baby. I enjoyed that she didn’t talk. That was convenient because less negotiating. Her not walking meant she had to go wherever I carried her. These were all pluses. Buuuuut, there was also plenty of times having an infant sucked. She shat in the bath when I was in it (*twice), cried every time I tried to save her life by not allowing her to do things like stick her tongue in a wall socket, and she woke up 20 times a night to feed off my chest like a rabid chupacabra. These were all things I could do with out.

    The toddler stage was okay. Well, at least I have recovered. Sort of. A lot of the annoying baby stuff became a distant memory, and that felt hopeful. She stopped crapping her pants, so my relationship to her poop transferred from full visual and nasal exposure to simply wiping her butt. She slept through the night in her own bed, learned how to communicate her needs by requesting sweetly “get me out of this fucking bath,” and started picking up my mannerisms. But she would also would freak the fuck out every morning when deciding what to wear, and convincing her of the concept of lateness, or how time actually does exist, was like persuading you that unicorn farts smell like leprechaun burps.

    Every stage your kid goes through will present a variety of pluses and negatives. As they age, new problems emerge, but old ones disappear. A complex roller coaster of thank god she doesn’t cry about what socks to wear any more, but holy shit now she cries about what headband!

    Now that The Munch is 4 ½ she is becoming a semi reasonable human. She cleans her room, makes her bed, dresses her self, gets her own damn water, is more flexible about what tights she is wearing as long as they are not itchy, or too floppy, and just the right color. She can handle disappointment, understand that she doesn’t always get her way, and use her words to express discontent rather than flying into a fit of rage. Even though I will never get those years back where she was a young irrational being that would scream “I don’t love you anymore” because I wouldn’t let her have a 3rd cookie, I am actually totally okay with her growing up.

    If you are always hanging onto the past or anticipating the future, it is hard to value the present. Even though I want to honor these days with my young daughter, I am also super interested to get to know the person she is becoming. The type of girl that practices her cartwheels, loves music, thinks farts are hilarious, has an opinion about everything, is a great friend, and takes risks – like drinking bath water she has peed in.

    (Look at her washing dishes!!!)
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    February 4, 2015 • 4 years old, Behavior, Disciplining, Mommyhood, Parenting, Playing • Views: 1480

  • Don’t even think of leaving your kid alone… EVER

    I don’t know about you guys, but I had a lot of independence as a kid. Maybe my parents were quasi neglectful, or maybe I was just exceptionally mature. After all, I loved the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and believed marshmallow “Fluff” was a legitimate food source. So there you go.

    I started walking to school on my own in the first grade. The journey was about a mile and I embarked on this solitary excursion with my pride packed in my little backpack (which I ONLY ever wore on my right shoulder because I was NOT a NERD who wore their bag on BOTH shoulders….that would be CRAZY!!!!!) After school let out, I walked back to our empty house, put on my roller-skates, and glided around aimlessly until it got dark.

    When I was eight years old, I began babysitting for our neighbor’s twins. They were six months old and I got paid $5 an hour. I guess I was an innocent victim of a child labor ring – obviously I should have gotten $10 for two kids! I would play with these baby girls, change their diapers, sometimes remember to feed them, and play some more. I may not have been the most diligent baby sitter of all time, but I kept them alive and we had fun.

    In the summertime, I easily biked 15 miles a day because my mom thought driving her kid around was a “republican thing to do.” The majority of my childhood I was either alone or frolicking with friends making wise decisions like eating half a pound of cookie dough for dinner. Maybe this lead to a bout of serious diarrhea, but I also gained a sense of responsibility over my own person. I learned to rely on my instincts of self-preservation and subsequently understood how to take care of both myself and other people. The more my parents trusted me the more I trusted myself.

    It turns out that my mother, my neighbors, and half the parents I knew as a child, would have been arrested if they were parents today. According to a recent pole, 68% of Americans think there should be a law that prohibits kids age nine and younger from playing in parks unsupervised and 43% feel the same way about 12-year-olds. Despite the fact that people in this country are enjoying the lowest crime rates in decades. When asked: “Do kids today face more threats to their physical safety?” 62% answered “yes.”

    Americans are living with unprecedented fear. Enter the presence of modern day news. The pressure that 24-hour “news” channels have to fill each hour with content, every story is magnified to epic proportions. Media relies on people tuning in, so the more intense the tragedies, the higher the viewership. We have a morbid fascination with catastrophe, so media companies have a vested interest in amplifying every horrific detail to make more money, unconcerned that this ultimately exacerbates our culture of fear and paranoia.

    Call me crazy but parents today are in deep denial thinking the dangers facing their children are lurking in the park rather than I don’t know…THE FACT THAT CORPORATIONS AND THE BANKING INDUSTRY ARE RAPING THE PLANET OF ALL ITS RESOURCES SO THERE WILL BE NOTHING LEFT FOR FUTURE GENERATIONS? Or how about our foreign policy: the U.S. is currently fighting SEVENTY-FOUR different wars right now? It is comparable to someone refusing to swim in the ocean for fear of sharks but then driving down the street because they don’t feel like walking—turning a blind eye to the reality that the likelihood of getting eaten by a sharped tooth bony fish is INFINITELY smaller than dying in a car crash.

    The benefits of allowing children to be accountable for themselves by playing with other kids without constant supervision and micromanaging of adults seems much more meaningful than our culture’s current obsessive panic over safety. Imagine if the movie “Stand by Me” took place today? The boys would be like “wanna see a dead body” and then some medley mom in the background would be like “no, you boys do not – now get back inside.” Roll credits.

    Of course we need to protect our children, but that also means helping them learn how to protect themselves. A generation of kids who has never once felt the autonomy of making their own decisions will potentially grow up to be a generation of very insecure adults. Although a 12 year old is still young, it is also kind of old. I mean… Mary was 12 when she had Jesus. If she can raise the Son of God, then I am pretty sure our kids can swing on a damn swing without their mommy having to observe their pumping skills.

    Maybe I am wrong. Maybe these kids will be happy and well adjusted. Maybe part of the problem is that too many of us were raised by inattentive parents. Who knows. I do know that the fun of playing outside until dusk with no one telling what to do so maybe you try a cigarette that makes you puke seconds after the rush of your life–those memories will last a lifetime.

    (I would be scared of Munch if I came across her alone at the park)

    alone-kid-blog-(i)

     

    August 26, 2014 • Behavior, Current Events, Disciplining, Mommyhood, Parenting, Playing • Views: 1095

  • Doing Stuff For Yourself Sucks

    One of the many annoying things about having a young child is how much you have to do for them. I don’t mean the keeping them alive part, but dealing with all the stuff that they can’t do because they are uncoordinated… or won’t do because they are jerks… and maybe you don’t want them to do because they suck at it. You have to wipe their butts, brush their teeth, get them juice from the fridge, help them get dressed, make sure they wash their hands with soap, assist with every cleaning process. This list goes on and on like that winding road the Beatles sang about semi off key. I am not only driving just Miss Daisy, but also serving her day and night like Alfred does Batman – yet without the glamour of a tuxedo.

    Now that The Munch is four, I feel like we have reached an age where she should do a lot of shit on her own. If children in the Amazonian rainforest can handle a machete, my kid can figure out how to put on underwear so it’s not backwards – a fudgie should be pretty obvious by this point.

    The quest for Munch’s autonomy is not just predicated on ability alone however, but also motivation. I want her to want to do these things, and feel empowered by her growing faculties. I don’t want to have to ask or fight about this crap. She should be inspired to grab life by the balls, and get her own fucking water.

    Lucky for me, recently The Munch gave me the perfect tool for manipulation to get this going.

    Munch: Mom, I really want to get earrings.
    Toni: Why do you want to get earrings?
    Munch: Because your mom told me that you had them when you were a little girl, and now I feel jealous.
    Toni: Well, I am not sure you are ready for earrings.
    Munch: BUT WHY MOM!!? I REALLY WANT EARRINGS! IT IS NOT FAIR!
    Toni: Munch you are so particular about your clothes, I cannot handle negotiating another accessory. If you can’t find the right headband you fly into a fit of rage. I don’t want to deal with taking care of your earrings.
    Munch: But I will take care of them!
    Toni: Okay here is the deal. If you can show me for one month that you can be responsible for your own body. You can get earrings before school starts.
    Munch: Okay!!!!!!!!!
    Toni: But Munch… that means you have to get yourself dressed, put your clothes away, clean up your room, and make your bed. Anything you are physically capable of executing, you have to do. You have to be responsible for your own body, and show me you can take care of it, your space, and your things.
    Munch: DEAL!

    You want to know what ?! For a week this totally worked!! The Munch did everything on her own, and if she tried to complain I would just say “it looks like you are still too young for earrings then,” and she would do it immediately. Life was amazing, and I felt like a Machiavellian genius.

    But on the 8th day I went in her room and her bed wasn’t made.

    Toni: Munch? What is going on you haven’t made your bed?
    Munch: Yeah… maybe I will do it this afternoon.
    Toni: No way. That is not our deal. We aren’t going to fight about these things. If you want earrings you have to do this stuff on your own without Mamma asking you too.
    Munch: But MOM… doing everything myself and being responsible for my body is too much work!!! Maybe I will just get earrings when I am six.

    (Here we are…. chilling on the unmade bed)

    earrings-blog-(i)

  • The House You Grew Up In

    The house you grew up in is almost as profound as the people you grew up with. It is like a character in the story of your life. The building that housed your youth serves as a porthole into the nostalgia of days gone past. It is a place where you can transport yourself into memories vaguely recalled, yet still so familiar. When you return to the rooms that contained your childhood, visions will flood your brain as you try to connect to the person you used to be when you were still forming into the person that you have become.

    It is some deep shit!

    Of course not everyone has access to the home of their younger years to mill around searching for relics. Parents move, and new homeowners don’t always allow strangers to come over to talk about how this room used to be smaller before the walls were ripped out, or shed tears at the site of a old tree with rotten branches they used to climb. Yet sometimes you have a chance to go back to a house that is no longer yours, but forever will be anyway.

    My childhood home is unique because I grew up in a Harvard dormitory, so even the sight of pizza boxes in the trashcan of the parking lot made me tear up. I went to this place I once called home to take pictures for a project, and realized it had been 22 years since I last roamed those halls. I immediately yearned to be like Benjamin Button so I could age backwards and return to that innocent time of trying to steal beer from 18-year old boys.

    I had brought The Munch on this tour so she could see where her mom grew up. She was somewhat amused, by maybe more so because a nice lady gave her a Tootsie-pop, which was her first exposure to high-fructose corn syrup and hydrogenated oils. I pointed out to Munch every space in the building that had meaning to me, while she nodded her head and drooled orange bio chemicals.

    Toni: Look at these corridors! This is where I would roller skate with my bird on my shoulder. Check out this dining hall where I would eat nothing but burgers. Do you see this vending machine? This is where I would eat candy for dinner. Check out this elevator. My friend and I once pooped on this elevator as a joke… and now that I have said that out loud it is clear how disturbing that act really was.

    There was something so emotionally satisfying about being in the place that helped remind me of little Toni. That girl who wore yellow stirrup pants and survived on Reece’s Pieces. I was getting high on all the information inundating my consciousness.

    I saw a couch complete with beer and cum stains that would provoke most people to say “ew” – but to me it was beautiful simply because I remembered it. I sat on the white parts while lovingly running my fingers across the wood.

    Toni: Munch! Look at this couch! I used to sit here when I was a little girl!
    Munch: Are you sure you want to be sitting there now?

    house-you-grew-blog-(i1)house-you-grew-(i2)

    August 12, 2014 • Adventures, Old School Stories • Views: 1209

  • Top Ten Reasons Being an Adult Sucks

    1. You spend all your time making money, so you can spend all your money making time.
    2. You work hard to buy a home just to work as hard inside your home.
    3. There is no summer vacation from your job – unless you work at a school but then you are back at school.
    4. There are young people who poop their pants and old people who poop their pants who you are expected to take care of.
    5. All the power of your imagination that once relished in creating characters out of toothpicks turns into an anxiety that can only be suppressed with the right combination of Xanax and white wine.
    6. Your body starts to breaks down as various folds of flesh fall while orifices and crevasses emit an increasingly distinct odor.
    7. You wake up tired.
    8. You have to watch what you eat – not just as it comes towards your mouth.
    9. Once thrilled by the chase of childhood tag, you’re are now pursued and haunted by failed dreams.
    10. You are that much closer to death.

    (Yup… this picture pretty much sums up my adult life)

    10-reasons-adults-suck-blog-(i)

    August 8, 2014 • Musings • Views: 8609

  • Your 30’s – The Decade of Identity

    Every decade we live has a texture to it. There is a particular flavor that coats the years like emotional plaque. Your childhood is about innocence and discovery, your teen years – exploration and experimentation, your 20’s – adventure and ambition, and your dirty 30’s – identity and responsibility.

    By the time you are in your 30’s there is a cultural expectation to be “settled” in your career, have “settled” into a relationship, “settled down” and bought a house, “settled your sexuality” and popped out some children, and basically settled into every part of yourself like gelatin.

    The major life decisions you make, or don’t make, then come to define you. No longer are you a person who is a conglomerate of personality traits, but you are also quantified by the choices you made. Did you breed? Do you have a fancy house? Do you make lots of money? What job do you have? These questions become the sum total of how people see you.

    Yet there is this whole other part of your 30’s that I think gets overlooked. What kind of person are you? Are you self-reflective? Have you evolved emotionally? Do you still try new things? Are you courageous? Do you take risks? Do you laugh? Are you creative? Do you have a spiritual practice? Are you philosophically curious? The daunting nature of obligation and performing for people replaces these aspects of humanity we once valued when young.

    I think it is easy to go a bit cray cray in your 30’s because there is so much pressure to be something that fits into a box. It is the decade where you brand yourself – the banker, the parent, the candlestick maker.  Those that procrastinate these defining decisions tend to feel like outsiders missing out as societal outlaws.

    I get how responsibility breeds more responsibility, but I also think “fuck… isn’t there something exciting about the future being unknown?” Part of he reason why so many people start to crave stability in their 30’s is that it provides a sense of security.  Yet when you are your most comfortable, you are not exactly your most stimulated either.  Mystery has a vibrating energy that can get you off… your ass and out trying things you never thought possible.

    30s-blog-(i)

    July 16, 2014 • Musings • Views: 2702

  • Can’t I Just Be A Big Baby?

    Although kids are cute and all, they can also be as irritating as an over used fuck hole.  Everyone is always telling me to “appreciate every moment, they grow up so fast!” Yeah yeah yeah… Even though I know this to be true, and the years may be short with your child – the days are long.

    But I don’t blame kids for being annoying.  Children are in a constant state of growth, and that is exhausting.  They are having to learn new things daily, and are expected to adapt that knowledge while more and more input is flooding their tiny, still developing brains. It’s hard enough for me to learn someone’s name.

    I think one of the hardest things about being a toddler is the transition from being an infant into a child.  The Munch has actual memories of being a baby.  She recalls me holding her all the time, and having everything done for her.  But now she is expected to “be a big girl” and do things on her own.

    On the one hand I am sure being capable of new things is empowering for The Munch. That she enjoys her new found freedom of being self-sufficient.  But at the same time, being a baby kicks ass.  If I could live my life as one big baby you better believe I would.

    I feel like The Munch is nostalgic for those times and it manifests with this one constant request that she makes every day of my life:

    Munch: “Carry me Mamma.”

    Toni: “Munch, you are too heavy.  You’re a big girl now.  You can walk.”

    Munch: “NO CARRY ME!!!!!!”

    Toni: “Dude, it is like 700 degrees out.  If I carry you my arms are going to melt off.”

    Munch: “But Mamma, please carry me! I LIKE TO BE CARRIED!”

    Well I do too kid… I do too.

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