I’m one of the almost 3,000 people that went to JCPenney yesterday as a means of social protest. Okay. Read that sentence again. That sentence is hilarious. My grandmother would laugh her depression-era backside off at that statement. How did we get here? It’s ridiculous. And yet, it was pretty darn cool to watch it happen and to be a tiny part of it.

Just in case you have no idea what I’m talking about, you can watch this ,and then you can read my reaction to it (and some interesting comments… this one pushes a button for some folks), and then you should know that this whole thing inspired this shop-in on Sunday, and then you can check out this Facebook page, where tons of people said they’d go shopping in support of the comedian … and then reported that they’d done it. Here are a few blog posts as well.

Caught up? Okay!

Here’s my take:

JCPenney couldn’t buy this kind of publicity. As a former PR person, I’ve been watching this go down the last few days, and it’s been a case study in amazing (and amazing sales). But this kind of thing can’t be proactively planned or orchestrated or duplicated. And that’s why it happened as it did. On the other hand, I guess you could say they technically did buy it…by selecting an interesting and somehow controversial (?) spokesperson. Maybe. (…Honestly, Ellen DeGeneres just seems like a cheery, helpful neighbor to me, not some kind of controversial figure, but whatever. She’s apparently sinister to some … ) But I can think of about 500 more controversial people…many of whom were in our living rooms last night during the Grammy’s.

So yeah, it’s pretty clear this all wasn’t the result of any kind of corporate PR plan. In fact, this kind of thing would NEVER happen in a corporate PR schematic…the whole event started and ended in five days (two of those being a weekend)…in corporate marketing reality, it would take (at least) five months to get something like this past planning stage, budgets, approvals and legal. And then it would cost a half million dollars, be edited throughout, and be completely lame. No. This kind of thing can only happen because of a spontaneous and human reaction to injustice. People created it…and made it happen…because something about Ellen sparked both controversy and incredible response.

I get that. I was amongst the responders. I rarely watch the Ellen Show, I haven’t been inside a JCPenney in decades, but I was motivated to support someone who was being bullied for being herself. I think a lot of us are tired of watching people we love get criticized, ostracized and demonized. We’ve had enough. And if shopping is all we have to do to make a statement against that, well, okay then. Easy action.

And of course action inspires more action.

The only time I ever remember going to JCPenney was when I was very young, with my grandmother, and we purchased pajamas. This memory, coupled with yesterday’s trip, motivated me to buy some little kids’ pajamas for the women’s and children’s shelter at a local Austin church.

So that happened.

And then I saw these.

A rack full of coral red dresses. And I remembered that I had about 50 comments on this red dress post…all from people wishing for their own.

It seemed like a good day to make another person’s wish come true. And $60 seemed like a bargain price for spreading some extravagant happiness. So I got that too. And I’ll send out the new red dress today.

When I went to JCPenney yesterday, I didn’t have a plan for what I was going to buy. But it seemed that by simply moving in what seemed like the right direction, things sort of fell into place. Action inspired action.

I have this little antique dish thing that I found years ago, and I love the sentiment: Follow after the things which make for peace.

They say that change can only come from standing up and yelling about what you believe. Pointing fingers. Setting things on fire. That you can only create change by fighting for it. With weapons. And armies.

I say that change comes in small ways. In quiet ways. In unexpected ways.

I love how so many people came together to stand for peace, and to create it. My grandmother would approve. Even if she might have questioned the other thing I purchased in the name of peace…a $15 blowout from the JCPenney salon. Like I said, life is ridiculous. It’s also pretty cool.

MORE ON BABBLE:

Internet 1, Provincial Bigotry 0

Who’s “Traditional” Anyway?

One Mom for Gay Rights

I support JCP and the Shop In

Show Your Support and Join Us For A Shop In

5 More Companies One Million Moms Should Boycott While They’re Being Silly

RELATED LINKS:

http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/lifestyle/2012/02/shop-in-sunday-to-support-jcpenney-ellen/

I’m a Christian, and more than half of the people related to me are Christians. My other relatives are Jewish, or Agnostic, or obsessed with football, or all of the above. I live in a giant Red State…and my family has for nine generations. My family is also super into that fact. And the NRA. And Jesus.

We’re what They call “Traditional.” We are all married to people of the opposite sex (In fact, I’m the first person in my family to ever get divorced). We hold jobs. We pay taxes. We are civic leaders. We serve snacks at Vacation Bible School. We host community picnics and organize park clean ups. We even tithe. In other words, I come from a long line of  tradition loving, law abiding, Sunday School going, Red State Election voting, Christian, married, white people. It doesn’t come much more “Traditional” than that … in fact, don’t even get my mom started  about traditions (no seriously, please, don’t get her started).

And I am sick to death of people I don’t know dragging me into their who-knows-why arguments about all kinds of things that have nothing to do with any of the traditions I or my people value.

So let me be clear, Million Moms, this traditional mom does not agree with you. At all. So stop implying that I do.

For starters, if you are using Bible verses as your main means of arguing a point, you have already lost. If you are using them to get someone fired, you need to go outside and take a walk. Or volunteer somewhere.

In other words, shut up and work on living.

And with that, I’m going to shut up and work on living.

And then I’m going shopping at JCPenney on Sunday. We don’t need anything, but my parents’ church is taking donations for a women’s shelter. And from how I understand my Traditional God, He would be super into that.

Peace.

*This post was brought to you by my annoyance of being lumped into a general traditional label (that I identify with) that was being used as a weapon of mass meanness to get someone fired for being herself. I’m not cool with that. Or with bullies. You can watch the whole thing here. I join with Ellen in honoring honesty, equality, kindness, compassion, of treating people the way you want to be treated, and helping those in need.  That’s what I traditionally value and believe.

**Want to know more? Here’s more. They say: “We believe that love and acceptance are family values — not hate and bigotry — and so we’re very proud of JCPenney for standing up to One Million Moms and retaining Ellen DeGeneres as its spokesperson. And we’re going to put our money where our mouths are by organizing a ‘Shop-In’ on Sunday, February 12.” I’m with them. And I agree with this group 100%.

So here we are.

One month into our New Year’s promises to ourselves, and let me guess, you blew 90% of them by day two, didn’t you.

Do you know how I know this? Because you are like me. Well meaning, well intended, a terrible dancer, great at parties. I know. Shhhhhh, little lamb, now now. It’s okay. All is not lost. You can completely hit refresh and pretend like February 1 is January 1, because honestly, who’s counting. And speaking of that, let’s begin.

1. Pretend that February 1 is January 1. Because, whatever. It’s all numerologyastrology based on calculations some old Egyptian dudes made up like 6,000 years ago. You’re fine. February is the new January. Start over. Today. You can totally do that. It’s allowed.

Image from Pinterest

2. Pick your favorite two resolutions and start there. Two are easier to remember than 10. And if you can’t remember two, write one resolution on each hand. Then look at your hands lot. You can do that. And then you’ll remember. And then you’ll rock it out. I know you will.

3. Sleep more. If you didn’t make this one of your resolutions, add it. It will help everything else. And it will be like bonus points extra credit. You will totally become the valedictorian of New Year’s Resolutions. For real.

4. Drink more water. If you didn’t make this one of your resolutions. Add it. (See #3 for more details.)

5. Add things to your two resolutions that make your furiously happy. For instance, if you’re like me and want to work out more, you could perhaps not focus on the working out but instead make yourself a killer fun playlist of all your favorite best songs in the land. And then only allow yourself to listen to all that fun when you’re working out. See how that works, Boss? Instead of thinking “I have to go workout now,” you’ll think, “I get to go listen to my awesome playlist of happiness and glee.” And you’ll just focus on the listening and forget what’s happening around you while that’s happening. It’s like delusion for the soul. Go team!

6. Spin around in circles. At least once a day. This doesn’t really help in any specific way, I mean, according the science and the scientists, but it’s a happy act. And it’s a good way to make yourself giddy. And that’s always a good idea.

7. Consider making new goals. Honestly. Like you were really going to run a half marathon by Groundhog Day. Um. No. No you weren’t. Look at your list again. Make any needed adjustments and move forward with a get-real list that you love.

8. Focus on the more, not the less. The dos, not the don’ts. The absence of nots,  not the nots. You know what I mean. No? Really? Like this.

9. Give yourself a high five. You can do this. This is your year.

10. Stop beating yourself up. And while you’re at it, stop comparing yourself to others who seemingly have it all together and are already rocking it out on the resolutions. They have their things too. And you can do this. You can totally catch up (see #3 and #4). So stop looking around. For real. Do your thing, child.

From The Great Divorce on Instagram

And now I will attempt to take my own advice. Care to join me? We can do this!

Thanks so much to Brita for sponsoring this series of posts. Check out more at Babble’s Brita Health and Well-Being page.

Honestly. I need to reevaluate my life.

I have a big birthday coming up in 25 days. But today. Watching this video of Kristen Bell receiving a sloth has made me realize that I need to find something that would make me this excited.

Seriously, y’all.

I want to have this reaction to something. Anything.

George Clooney? In theory. But in reality, I’m not sure I’d have this kind of intense and uncontrollable tear duct explosion.

Someone raised from the dead? Probable. But that’s not even a probable gift. So, dumb idea.

A giant cake made out of moonshine? Possibly.

The moral is, dude, I need an obsession. Or a crack addiction. Something.

All suggestions are welcome. You have 25 days until my big 41. Go.

Top photo from National Geographic.

For almost as long as I can remember, I dreamed of having four kids. Then no kids. Then two kids. Then one kid. Then dear God what do I have to do to please have one kid, just one kid, that’s all I ask, please please please. And then two kids. And now, as I’m almost 41, I realize it’s going to be just the one. And I’m super lucky to have the one.

But sometimes, especially late at night, when the house is quiet, too quiet, I know again that I want my sweet one to have a pal. I want it so badly for him. And for me. But mainly for him.

Growing up, I was so tight with my younger brother, and I’ve wished that my little one as well. For years now, I’ve dreamed that he too could have that closeness, that shared experience and history with someone. A sibling. A second.

And I can’t give him that.

So I’m giving up on that dream. My eyes are open. And I’m looking out for what’s coming instead, what’s meant to be, what’s in store for us. Next.

Next is my new dream.

Photo from Sweet Peach Blog

Last Friday, my dad turned 68 and the Harlem Globetrotters played in Austin, TX. And in Waco, TX. And in Bowling Green, OH. It seems the Globetrotters have multiplied, because when life gave them Meadowlark Lemon, they made Meadowlark Lemonades…and they sell them for $10 a piece, in three different locations, on the same night. (They actually don’t sell MLLemonades, but they totally should. You can completely steal that idea, Harlem Globetrotters, you’re welcome.)

So yes, my brother and I took my dad to see the Harlem Globetrotters for his birthday…with the grandkids and spouses and God and everyone. And it was a bit of a Full-Circle-Moment because my dad had taken my brother to see them for my brother’s 6th birthday. And okay, sure, I realized after we’d arrived that this might be a more of a dream present for a 6-year-old birthday than a 68-year-old birthday, but whatever, there was popcorn.

The grandkids loved it, especially my son Harry. Because he’s six. I sat between him and my brother, who could remember a remarkable amount about the game he’d attended 32 years earlier, and, since this was my first Globetrotter gathering, he kept me apprised of what to expect. And he was right. Because there, on the court, few things have changed in the last three decades. Besides the aforementioned multiple teams of today, the show is still basically the same. They did the same tricks and gags, pulled down players’ pants, threw buckets of water that magically turned into confetti. The rad stuff that six year olds love, and Harry was laughing his ass off.

One of the best parts for me though, happened before the game started. To warm up the crowd, a hip hop dance troupe came out and performed and few numbers, moves, dances, whatever. They were good, but the most outstanding things about this group…they were not female, and they were not wearing low-cut, satin + fringe bikinis. (Now before his goes into some kind of anti-satin-fringe-bikini thing, that’s not my point. Because A.) Whatever. They’re everywhere. They’re boring. B.) I have a boy, not girls, so my thoughts are in different directions and C.) That’s another post entirely.) These were just some young guys, wearing normal clothes, dancing with impressive talent. And my son was riveted. RIVETED. He’d never seen a bunch of guys perform in such a way in front of so many people. He takes a hip hop class, but it’s taught by a girl, and boys are in the minority…and frankly…can I just say this?…is this where this post is going?…okay, then…It’s so freaking good to see a bunch of guys rocking it out somewhere.

Okay, okay, okay, I know men are everywhere. They still make more, they still rule the world, etc. But then again, more girls than boys are going to college, and there are tons of stats that prove that males are trending toward aimless, and hopeless, and less in general, etc. Also. This post isn’t about that.

The reality: 1.) So much has changed and so much progress has been made in gender equality in America over the last 50 years. 2.) And sure, more has to be done, and yeah, and also, and that, of course. 3.) And true, for there the be anything anywhere near equality, the pendulum has to be swung…intensely, purposefully, and radically. Etc.

But, I’ll just say it, it’s a little weird to look at the world through the eyes of my little boy during the pendulum swing.

You should know I was in the United Center when this was filmed/when Beyonce performed this for the first time. And I was screaming my head off. Even now as I watch that, I tear up. Like, as I’m writing this, tears are in my eyes because I just watched it again. It was incredible. (And oh my, Beyonce was pregnant in her first trimester when she did that y’all. All I did in my first trimester was eat peanut butter, watch American Idol, and sleep.) I love that song. I love that performance. But the first time my son watched this and heard this song, he was super sad and troubled. “I don’t like this song. It’s mean. Why do they say only girls run the world? What about boys? Boys can run it too, can’t they? Why can’t it just be people run the world?”

And as much as I love girl power, the boy’s got a point.

Point 2: Remember, this is coming from a kid whose only understanding of the world began in 2005…and let’s be honest, he’s only started to understand a PBS-Kids-version of the world since about 2008. So he has no concept why one gender would need to be encouraged over another. But there’s a lovely purity there. A pure viewpoint of how things could be. This is also the kid who was utterly confused last week why “none of the people running for president on TV have dark skin.” The world according to Harry: “It’s weird, Mom. They all have white skin and they’re all boys. None of them have dark skin like our normal President. That’s weird.”

Point 3: Also last week, Harry asked me if boys could be “principals of companies like girls can.” Because he thinks his school principal owns the school and is the boss of the school, and you get it. I told him that of course boys could own companies. He is confused. “But all my principals and teachers have been girls, and you own a company, and NaNa is the mayor, and all the girls own things and schools and companies and no boys do.”

And of course that isn’t exactly true in his kindergarten world. But that’s how he understood it.

And that’s for sure not true in the world at large. But that’s how he understands it.

Because that’s what he sees. And that’s what he hears on the radio. And that’s what he reads on T-shirts. And I hate that for him.

So as we celebrated my dad’s 68 years, I thought about the changes he’s seen since 1944. There’s no question the pendulum has swung. And thank goodness, because that world was bafflingly bizarre at best. So go Beyonce. Go girls. I’m right there with you.

But until we find our balance, I see so clearly that my son’s current 3-foot-and-10-inch viewpoint is discouraging. And I hate that. I really hate that.

Of course he’s not thinking about any of this. The next day, he gleefully told a couple of strangers…born in the 1940s themselves…that he had the best time ever at his Pop’s Birthday Party. His report: “We saw the Olive Godtrotters! And they pulled their pants down! And it was awesome!”

I kind of already hate 2012. Because, honestly, where the hell does it think it is going?

In the last three weeks, I’ve been in four different cities, three different time zones, and two different climates. I’ve done a kid-summer’s worth of stuff, and it’s still the dead of winter. Only that means nothing around here, because it was 70 degrees today. And now I’m confused.

Basically, it feels like it should already be June. And it feels like it is June outside. But then again, the beginning of the year feels like yesterday, and I haven’t even done anything that I said I was going to do by the end of January. Only I still have a few more days so all is not completely lost. Or perhaps it is. I can no longer tell.

Do you see why I’m bad at math?

*This cool twenty twelve art to the left here is from my favorite designer, Laurie Smithwick. She designed Kirtsy, The Queso, and at least 100 other beautiful sites you love. Check her out.

There are a lot of big things slated to go down this next year… the Summer Olympics in London, another US Presidential election, The Hunger Games + The Hobbit on screen, plus the Kardashians will release at least 12 more product lines…

But none of those things really happen around here. In our new little world, things are slower and don’t have advertising campaigns. In other words, things have changed. I don’t work in an office around the clock. Life now has seasons. And upcoming events are less in number and more in color. So I went ahead and made myself a 2012 color calendar. Because my job is weird, I work from home, and part of Hitting Refresh is figuring all of this out.

So here I go, attempting to look ahead into next year. And the more I look, the more I realize there’s a lot already planned. But of all the upcoming things to think about, these are the twelve I’m really excited about in 2012. And their associated Pantone colors. Because that’s helpful for a colorful new year.

1. January: January is one of my favorite months. It’s the epitome of life hitting refresh. I’ve always thought of this month as the orange-slice-chicken-soup-make-a-list-stretch-up-high month. Plus I’m looking forward to Alt Summit, one of my favorite blogging conferences. The crowd is always smart. It always snows. And it’s always cozy.

2. February: My actual favorite month. Because it’s short. It’s cold (one of the few months of cold here). And then there’s Valentines and my 41st birthday. I’m actually excited about this birthday. Turning 40 was too monumental…too much pressure. For me, it’s been the New Year’s Eve of birthdays. Lame. And 41 feels like it’s going to be rad.

3. March: SxSW. This is my hometown conference. And it’s eternal, and exhausting, and awesome. We always do a party, and it’s always fun. Also exhausting. But fun. Plus the first Dad 2.0 Summit is happening in Austin too. I’m excited about that.

4. April: I plan to do as little as possible in April, besides work. In fact, since I work from home, I plan to work everyday in my pajamas. And plant a garden. And make pickles. And attend a Seder dinner (I will change out of my pajamas for the Seder dinner). We’ll see if any of this actually happens.

5. May: Mom 2.0 Summit in Miami. Of course, I’m super involved with this, so it’s all over my brain, but the things planned for this one are actually sort of stunning me. And Key Biscayne is super relaxing.

6. June: Another down month. My kindergartner gets out of school, it starts to get warm, and we’ll probably spend a lot of time hanging around the house. Maybe I’ll sneak off somewhere and read a book. Or take a yoga class with the aforementioned kindergartner. Or become addicted to popsicles. Something.

7. July: This one’s hot. We’ll just wander around looking for water to jump into. And I’ll plant the most sincere pumpkin patch ever for the fall.

8. August: And this one’s super hot. We’ll hopefully go for a drive and keep driving until we get out of town. And then get hydrated. And then come back and start school. Honestly, this month is the worst. Just the worst. I need to figure out a way to make this month shorter and cooler. Any suggestions are welcome.

9. September: Still hot. Harry will turn 7. I will get organized for the fall. I don’t even know what that means at this point, but hopefully it will all be more obvious by the time I get there. I also hope to have the most epic barn sale in the history of all barn sales. Who keeps track of the history of barn sales? That person is totally invited.

10. October: October is always my busiest month. Professionally. Personally. It’s full of action and I love it. This year, I want to add “learn how to make apple cider or some kind of hooch” to my Octoberfest to-do list. That should make it all the more fun.

11. November: Winding down, cooking more. I want to plant a winter garden next November and attempt to understand why everyone loves kale. I’m sure other things will happen too, but it all feels far off right now.

12. December: Hooray. Party month. I’m planning for next December to be merry and bright. And I’m already looking forward to it.

So that’s how the 2012 is looking in my imagination and on my color wheel. Now if someone would just create a cool way to make-your-own PMS calendar…and hey, that’s actually a good idea for someone to run with. And if that person is you, let me know. I will be your first customer.

Happy New Year.

So I’m sitting here on my couch, thinking about New Year’s resolutions. And I can’t decide what I think.

The truth is, I haven’t done them for the past 18 years because I’ve always created a year list…which always started and ended in May, and so around Jan 1, I was always just in the middle of that, and well, blah blah longreallyboringstoryshort, I just haven’t done them.

But then this year, I did a Life List instead of a year list. And while a Life List should be (theoretically) more difficult, it’s actually waaaay easier because it just consists of a bunch of  things like “Drink champagne while hiking Mount Everest” … things with no deadlines, or even any basis in reality, so I don’t feel the need to actually do anything. I like this.

But then Alice got me thinking. She wrote this swell post about making five writing resolutions for the new year. And I like them. And I like how she’s thinking, so I’m going to go ahead and do five more resolutions for myself that all contain the word more.

1. Wear more color. This year I’ll wear less black and more fun. Like Punky Brewster.

2. Sleep more. I love this one.

3. Run more. I hate running. But I want to do it more because I like the way it makes me feel afterwards. It’s a love/hate thing. And I want to focus on the love.

4. Grow more food and eat it. Ever since we moved to the country, I’ve been growing vegetables…but I always give them away instead of eating them. I don’t totally know what that’s about, but I bet a therapist could have a heyday with it. So instead of paying this therapist, I’m just going to start eating my vegetables.

5. Eat more cake. But not in the obnoxious Marie Antoinette way. Because, obnoxious. But I love cake. It’s so celebratory. So I want to find more reasons to celebrate, then bake cakes to celebrate more often, and then eat those cakes. All of them. I predict, 2012 will be the year of cakes. You heard it here first.

So that about covers it for me. It is decided. I’m now pro-resolution. And I feel good about this. Totally doable. Almost restful. Also, cake.

Here’s to a great 2012!

*Art from Someecards. Get it here.

So here’s another thing about our new life in Central Texas. Football is a big damn deal, y’all. That’s not a stereotype, not just something you see on TV. It’s real. Super real. And as the mother of a little boy, it sorta freaks me out.

Before we moved here, we still lived in Texas. But it’s a big state, and Houston is a melting pot of everything. An international gathering place. (Don’t believe otherwise, no matter what political commercials say.) And the other kind of football was king. Soccer ruled our house. And really, it still does. But I can see its American nameshare sneaking in.

There’s a kiddie football league in our town, where kids can start playing at four years of age. (Spine injury before nine! Yeeehaa!) Harry has no idea that this exists, and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

There are parades in our little outside-of-the-big-town town for Football. Football parades. That’s right.

The big town we go to everyday for school and work…well, let’s just say it’s rather coocoocuhchoo for the sport. It’s a college town, and the team’s head coach is on the news more than the mayor, the governor (who sadly, gets presidential coverage, sorry about that y’all.), and Austin City Limits combined. My brother calls this coachlebrity ‘The Burnt Orange Jesus.’ It’s true. And Longhorn football is always the news. (“Today in Austin, there was a fire, it’s still hot, and now 27 minutes of UT football analysis!”)

And a few weeks ago, the university that Harry’s parents went to…the school that has never been known for its football anything…this year, our quarterback won the Heisman Trophy and our Alma Mater is going to a bowl game right up the street from our house.

So….

Harry is now super into football. And his number-one Christmas wish was tickets to the Alamo Bowl. And a Baylor jersey. So, that’s where we’re going today. To fling our green and gold afar waaay past his bedtime. Go Baylor! Go football. Etc. Etc.

Next year he’s getting a chess set.