"He's our, um, nephew. Yeah, he's our nephew"

So as I've mentioned before, Behind the Gates isn't diverse, so when Daniel moved in with us we had to tell the security guards that he was our nephew or they wanted us to pay for a background check. Why would they ask for a background check for someone who lives in our home but not ask any other neighbors to do them? Well because Daniel is black. That's right folks, we had the balls to bring in the only black guy in the entire neighborhood into our home.

Now because Daniel is black, I'm white and Juan is hispanic no one really matches. I know they are wondering how he's our nephew but being the good little closet racist, they don't ask and we don't offer up any explanation. I mean, come on, you can't ask someone, "Why is your nephew black?" or "Why are you white?"

Now Daniel is more like a son I would have had in Elementary school than a friend, roommate, nephew or drinking buddy, we love him like he's our kid,  and because he's just a part of our lives we forget that not everyone knows Daniel, case in point, our babysitters.

Juan and I don't get a babysitter very often so when we do we get the hell out of the house as fast as possible before any of our children have an opportunity to scare the unsuspecting sitter away.

Daniel Photobomb 

The first time we had a sitter was when Valentina was 6 months old. We went out and were having a blast when I got a frantic message asking if someone lived with us. It then dawned on me I forgot to mention to the 16 year old girl watching our little monsters that a 6 foot tall black dude may walk in at any time. So after being thrown up on by the baby, trying to wrangle the boys and get them to go to bed she finally gets shit under control only to have stranger danger walk right in the front door and head straight for the fridge, a mere 10 feet from where she was watching TV. Scaring the crap out of the poor girl when she looked over and saw some random dude in the fridge, obviously not matching the pigment challenged matriarch of the home.

Now Daniel is totally harmless, well unless you are Juan trying to relive your early twenties, if that's the case Daniel can equal hangover from hell.  I do realize however, that any adult walking into a home that you are babysitting at can be scary.  We now try to remember to tell the sitters about him.... usually after we have left and it dawns on me a few beers into date night. "Shit I didn't tell the sitter not to be freaked out if Daniel comes home."

Daniel doing shots in our bar with Juan

I am still not sure how to tell them about him, it usually goes something like this "Don't freak out if a tall, good looking black guy walks in, that's just Daniel. He lives here. If it's any other ethnicity or an ugly black guy it's not Daniel and call 911."

Daniel and Valentina

Note to Daniel: We love you and the day you decide to fly the nest I will cry like a baby. You will always be my "Sunshine". Also, I purposely left out the photos of you partying it up at our wedding but if you aren't good I will post them. 

Love Is Love

Yesterday was a great day, yesterday the Supreme Court ruled that same sex marriage is legal in all 50 states! My Facebook feed was filled with rainbows and happiness.  I cried tears of joy and my little black heart grew two sizes.

While riding the high of the love I felt for my common man yesterday I saw Mitchell, my friendly neighborhood Target employee.  He was wearing a shirt from Target's Pride collection. You can shop the collection here.

There are some people however that are not happy about this decision.  I would like to address these grievances.





Reason #1: Gay Marriage is offensive.

image via wikipedia

You know what offends me? People who wear socks with sandals. Do I go on hate filled rants in the hopes that senior citizen tourists all over the world will stop this hideous trend? No, it's none of my damn business what footwear/clothing combination they wear. If you are offended by gay and lesbian couples marrying than don't attend their weddings. Simple solution.














Reason #2: It's against their religious beliefs.

You can get this lovely stroller at Petco

The bible has a lot of crazy rules in it, like stoning an unmarried woman in front of her father's house because she got pregnant.  There are offenses that are punishable by death that don't apply to society today.  If you are going to use the bible as your defense than you better follow it to the letter, sorry ladies, that means if your husband walks in on you in the shower and aunt flo is in town you are now cut off from society.

Religion is not a valid reason to hate an entire demographic. I am pretty sure that just pisses God off.

You want to know what's against my religion? People who bring their little dogs into stores in strollers and say that it's a service dog. No your little Fee Fee with her faux fur hot pink dress from the Paris Hilton collection is NOT a service dog. Your only disability is ignorance.



Reason #3: It Ruins the Sanctity of Marriage
I'm just going to leave this right here:


pics on Sodahead
And this:

Full story at buzzfeed.com

My Santa, Tooth Fairy & Easter Bunny

Reason #4: They don't believe in gay marriage
How do you not believe in gay marriage? Same sex marriage is not like Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy or good customer service from Comcast. It does exist, you can see it all around you. The LGBT community isn't invisible or make believe they are real people with real feelings.

I want to make it known I did not list Unicorns as imaginary or nonexistent because I still hold out hope they will appear one day.







Reason #5: Our country is going in the wrong direction
If you believe the worst thing that could happen is same sex marriage you are grossly unaware of the true travesties in our country. There are people who ride mopeds in the fast lane, MOPEDS!!!!!
And of course This.

In all seriousness. There are a lot of bigger issues we face in America.  If you want to help your fellow American do something good, stop the hate and rally for something out of love.

Here are some great ways to make a difference:
Donate money to a charity near and dear to you, I personally love St. Jude's Children's Hospital, Feeding America and Habitat for Humanity.
Volunteer at a local food bank, animal shelter, nursing nome, community center or school.
Support your community. Don't tear those in it down because they are different, our differences is what makes life interesting.  Love will always win and for that I am proud.

You can follow my antics on Facebook, Instagram & Twitter

Handyman or Husband?

Behind the gates it's not exactly diverse, I mean, there's one asian family that we only see when trick or treating at halloween and that's about it.  We are like the freaking United Nations in this house compared to the rest of the neighborhood.

So my husband is Colombian, I mean he's COLOMBIAN, like the male version of Sofia Verarga Colombian.  He is also from Barranquilla and has the same accent and temperament, I know, hilarious!

That being said, when we first moved in we did a lot of work organizing boxes in our garage & outside, and when I say we I mean Juan. Neighbors would go by and see me with my flaming red hair and burst-into-flames white skin ordering around the tan hot guy and you could see it in their faces "Handyman? Husband? No, no, no, he CAN'T be her husband, must be the handyman." After a while the neighbors next door, you know Mitzy & her nameless husband (I'll think of something to call him eventually) finally realized the ethnic guy waving to them every day lived next door and wasn't being friendly in the hopes of being hired. The nameless husband actually started to wave back.

**Note: these people have yet to ever say a "hello", "Hola" or even wave at me. I am assuming they think the myth that redheads have no souls is true.... and they may be right**

I am pretty sure a few of the neighbors still mistake Juan for their gardeners.

Handyman or Husband? You decide.

"You don't have a nanny!?"

So I have 3 kids, 3 dogs, a husband and a Daniel (our "nephew") and no nanny!!!! Apparently, in this neighborhood you do not care for any living thing, EVER. Dog walkers, nannies and gardeners are everywhere. The idea of me raising my children just about made my new neighbor, let's call her Rebecca, almost pass out. She recently moved in to the 6 bedroom mini mansion next store (I have one of the smaller houses in the neighborhood, I know I'm sooo poor!) and was practically having a nervous breakdown because the nanny they hired didn't start for a couple days. She's not the only one, my other neighbor, we will call her Mitzy, not to protect her identity but because I can't remember her name and that's what I call her when discussing her general c*ntiness with Juan, also has a nanny. Her kids are like 15, 13 and 11. Whose ass is this poor woman still wiping?! Why the hell do you still need a nanny?

Let me be clear, I am not saying the use of nannies is bad, not at all, but if you are a stay at home mother and you don't have children in Octomom proportions, you don't need a full-time f*cking nanny. If you can't handle your school aged children from 2:30 in the afternoon until bedtime or the idea of taking care of your own infant makes you faint, you probably should have gotten a fish instead of procreating. If your children are so difficult to handle that you have to go on the internet and find your own personal Mrs. Doubtfire that may mean you have failed at parenting, on second thought let someone else raise your hellions you obviously aren't cut out for the job. 

I mean I get it, sometimes kids are assholes, like a lot, and sometimes they make you want to day drink, like a lot, and sometimes they fight and cry and you find yourself hiding in the bathroom hoping no one is bleeding but their your kids. You decided to bring these sticky little balls of love and annoyance into this world, the least you can do is be the one they make want to start happy hour at 10 AM.

Babies and Beers the perfect combo.
This isn't one of my children, it's my sister's baby.
You can learn about her crazy brood here

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Welcome to Stepford?

Welcome to the blog about my life, my family and the ridiculous gated community I now call home. If you don't know what Stepford is check out this awesomely bad movie staring Nicole Kidman and Bette Midler.

 This is my driveway, notice the Harley, apparently that's a 
No-No in our neighborhood and we must be criminals 

Before getting into what it's like here in Suburbia (<- click it, it goes to the most reliable place for information on the internet) I want to tell you a little about where we came from.

We were the typical young couple, we both lived in little, old houses on the same street, like REALLY little, like 700 sq feet little.  That's so small it's only worth about 1.5 million in New York City. We met when my husband moved in across the street from me.  Our neighborhood was totally normal, people said hello to each other, some actually in the same language. We all got to know each other, usually over beers in the front yard (CLASSY). It seemed like it was a block party every weekend so when a hot new guy moved it word spread FAST!

The hubs and me.

 I met Juan and we hit it off.  We loved all the same things; socializing, going out, talking about how pretty I am and how much we both hate Kim Kardashian, you know, totally soulmates.  We went from neighbors to dating to living together to getting married to going WTF did I just do?! to moving to Stepford* what I shall refer to my gated community as to not piss of the HOA again (they hate us). Juan had two kids from his first marriage so it was instant family. We needed something more than our 2 bedroom bungalow and fast!    
       

Enjoy a libation while baby wearing.
Ring Slings rock! 

Anyway, back to the story, so we moved to give our kids a better school district, nicer home, blah blah blah. What we didn't know is what it means to move into one of these neighborhoods- selling your soul to the HOA board. No shit people, this is a very serious group of elected officials who have power to reek havoc on your life.  This is a collection of some of the stupid, funny, sad, pathetic and entertaining things that happen when you stick a Colombian man and his Irish wife, their Harley Davidson, three kids, three dogs and their 6 foot tall black nephew (he's not really our nephew but it was the only way they would let a random black guy move in without a background check, racist asshats) in a quiet neighborhood of wannabes in mini mansions.  Stick around for some of my tales from behind the gates!