Explanations are NOT apologies

We all make mistakes. There isn't a single person out there who hasn't at one time or another done something or said something that, in hindsight, probably shouldn't have been done or said. Many of the mistakes we make happen when we are kids. Because that is just what kids do. Screw up. Make mistakes. Do the exact wrong thing. As a parent it is not only our hope, but also our responsibility, to help kids understand how to handle their mistakes appropriately. Saying I'm sorry = good choice. Screaming and throwing your body on the floor, flailing about wildly like a sunfish in the bottom of a rowboat, hysterically declaring that its not fair for you to get in trouble because you didn't mean it and it wasn't on purpose = poor choice. 

I think its a safe assumption that most, if not all, kids learn the difference between good choices and poor choices from the adults around them. As adults we can use words to help get this message across, by talking about choices and using teachable moments to reflect on what might have been a better choice in the moment. We can refer to other people's actions as examples of either what to do or what not to do. But I think the most powerful way we help kids is by example. I can talk until I'm blue in the face but my words mean next to nothing if the kids in my life don't see me following those words up with corresponding actions. The whole "do as I say, not as I do" is a crock of shit, and everyone who has ever been told this as a kid knows it. A hundred positive words can be undone by one negative or unkind action. So no matter how many times we tell kids what they should do in a given situation, and what a good choice would be, all it takes is one example of that same adult doing the opposite to erase any memory of the "good choice lessons". Its like kids are Jenga. Stack up all the good ideas, positive interactions, praise, and lessons about appropriate behavior that you can find. All it takes is that one time - that one negative pot-shot, that one time we set a poor example with our actions, that one name called, that single instance where we inadvertently show them through our actions that it is worth it to go with a bad choice - and the tower comes falling down. And we are left at square one. Starting over. Trying to rebuild all the positive progress that has just been undone in that one single regrettable moment.

As parents, I think we all strive to set positive examples for our kids in every way possible. We show them how to treat others by how WE treat others. We show them how to talk to others by how WE talk to others. We show them how to handle their frustrations by how WE handle our frustrations. We show them how to celebrate by how WE celebrate. We show them how to love by how WE love. We can also hope that the other important people in our children's lives understand this same concept and follow it. Because kids are influenced and taught about these important life lessons by more than just their parents. They have teachers, coaches, parents of friends, adult relatives, television, movies, video games, books, peers, siblings....the list goes on and on and on. Some of these influences we, as parents, have some control over. I can control what my kids see on TV, or in movies, or what video games (if any) they play, or what books they read. When they are younger, I can have some influence over who their friends are, or at least who they play with at MY house. However, I can not control how other people choose to behave around them. I can only hope and pray that when other people are around my kids, they want to do the right thing and behave the right way and set the right example for them.

But I'm a realist. I know that sometimes, mistakes happen. Examples get set that we wish hadn't. Things get royally screwed up. Ironically, this is the most important opportunity we have. Especially if you are the screwer-upper. This is when you get to demonstrate how to accept responsibility for your screw up. And the biggest part of accepting responsibility is being able to say I'm sorry. Not providing a play by play of how it happened or explaining why you did what you did. Just simply, I'm sorry. Because explaining "how" or "why" you made the choice you did is NOT accepting responsibility for "what" you did. Sure, it helps me understand your intentions, but it doesn't change anything. Explaining that you didn't mean to hit your brother in the head with a rock, and describing how it happened, doesn't change the fact that I am taking him to the hospital for stitches. Saying that it wasn't your intention spray Febreze in your brother's eyes, because you weren't aiming for them, doesn't change the fact that he has Febreze in his eyes and can't see right now. Saying you didn't mean to break my favorite vase when you were touching something you were not supposed to be touching doesn't put the vase back together. Saying I didn't mean to eat all the Oreos in one sitting, but that I'm pms-ing like a crazy person and we are all out of wine and potato chips, doesn't put the Oreos back in the box. Capisce? So sometimes the most important thing, the most valuable part is unfortunately what seems to be the hardest part - the simple I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're hurting. I'm sorry if what I said or did caused you pain or discomfort or distress. And regardless of my intentions, I recognize that you are hurting as a result of my actions and I'm sorry for that. 

If there were more adults who could say these words to kids, there might be more kids who know how to say that to each other. There might be more kids taking responsibility for their own actions because they see its not a WEAKNESS or CHARACTER FLAW to say I made a mistake and did/said something that I shouldn't have. If we as adults act like it is a weakness or a character flaw, so will kids. And so perpetuates the cycle. I hope my kids learn this overall lesson from me by example. By watching me and hearing me say I'm sorry, I screwed up, I shouldn't have done that or said that or behaved that way. I know I'm not perfect but by and large, I hope they see that sometimes being the bigger person means saying I'm sorry, even if you didn't mean to do whatever it is that was done. I also hope that the other adults they encounter will be able to do the same thing. Because there is nothing sadder or more pathetic than an adult who is caught in a mistake but can't admit it. Who can't take responsibility. Who can't simply say I'm sorry.

Observations from another fun trip to Walmart....

You do it on purpose, don't you? I'm convinced of it. You must. And I know why. I'm on to you. And if you think that I'm not passive-aggressive enough in my psychosis to keep coming back JUST to keep provoking your attempts at sabotage, you are even more deludedly naive than I thought. I'll keep coming. You can keep trying to annoy me. But I guarandamntee that I can out crazy you. I might even arrange my schedule in such a way that I can come back EVERY motherlovin' DAY. How does that sound, crappy-Walmart-grocery-bagging-lady?!?! 

I understand that me and my cloth grocery bags are annoying and inconvenient for you. Instead of being able to mindlessly throw my groceries into those plastic bags conveniently located on your little spinny wheel, you have to set the bag up and, in THEORY, pay attention to the things you are putting in there. And this takes up more time. It holds up your line. It means people have to wait a bit longer for their turn to stand under your blank stare and watch you throw a jar of spaghetti sauce on top of their eggs and bread. I'm sorry. Really I am. And I show it by offering to help in whatever way I can. Setting the bags up for you on the hooky things on your spinny wheel. Removing the bags as soon as they are full and replacing it with an empty one. I will even lift heavy stuff up on occasion so you don't have to be inconvenienced further by having to walk ALL THE WAY around to my cart with your scanney gun. I say "on occasion" because I have a problem with you giving me attitude and expecting me to do this when your scanney gun is detached from your register to make it easier for you to use it in JUST such a situation. But I digress.....

I don't like inconveniencing you like that. And I normally don't even do any grocery shopping here. But YOUR STORE sells these bags. In fact, my bags were purchased at Walmart. So if you don't like having to deal with customers and their cloth grocery bags, perhaps - JUST perhaps - you should inform YOUR employer that they should quit providing these nuisances to the shopping public. 

I would also like you to consider the alternative to my annoying cloth bags ... your shitty plastic bags. The ones you can't even get off of your little spinny thing without half of the handles ripping. If YOU can't use them without breaking them, how exactly is it that you think I should be expected to get $150 worth of groceries off your spinny thing, into my cart, loaded into my car, and carried into my house, ALL without losing at least $75 in groceries splattered on the floor at your store entrance, throughout your parking lot, and all over my driveway?? That's right. You can't. 

And don't try to lie to me. You know they are shitty. Don't even TRY it. I'm not stupid. I see what you are doing. Why else would you put only 3 items MAX in each bag? Which results in me having approximately 37 bags of groceries to carry in? And over half of them with a rip forming in the bottom corner, or one (or both) of the handles already ripped? Because they are shitty. And we BOTH know it.

So with all of this information in mind, I am 100% sure you could be less obvious in your frustration and disdain for my cloth bags. Subtlety ain't your strong suit, is it? When you pretend it makes sense to lay a jar on its side in the bottom and then act like its a good idea to try and balance my yogurt 4-packs on top of it, all with a 3 lb bag of sugar on the top, you lose your advantage. I see your passive aggressive. And I raise you one OCD petty vindictive bitch with a penchant for being willing to waste more of my own time as long as I know it will further inconvenience the ass hat who is currently making my life difficult.

Oh yes. Yes I will. I will stand here and rearrange my bags. Right here in your line. I will NOT attempt to balance my grocery bags in my cart, or my car, or on my kitchen counter like a Jenga game being played on a table covered in marbles. Because if I'm going to clean up an exploded butter container, I'll be damned if I'm going to do it because of YOUR lazy ass. Its going to be because of my OWN lazy ass minions. The ones who will then get a "learning experience" regarding how difficult it is to clean exploded butter off of.....well, anything. Because trying to balance shit that is square or flat on top of things that are round DOESN'T work. As evidenced by the gallon of milk that slipped out of your one hand and splattered all over the floor as you tried to balance my grocery bag on the counter with your other hand. The bag in which you placed a cereal box on its side on TOP of some bagels and jars of salsa (on their sides, naturally) all balanced precariously on a bag of frozen chicken at the very bottom of the bag. 

I'm willing to play if you want to. I'm a stay at home mom who doesn't "get out" much and has to find her fun wherever and whenever she can. And if you want to taunt me with your bullshit grocery bag packing, I'm your huckleberry (random Doc Holliday quote from Tombstone...) I will seek you out. I will make sure its YOUR line I go to, even if its the longest one in the store. I will come more often, making sure you have to deal with me and my annoying cloth bags on a sickeningly regular basis. And I can do all of this with a cranky 6 year old in tow. One who has just been informed that not ONLY will I NOT buy her a new princess anything, I will have also just cancelled our previously scheduled happy meal run. Don't worry about her, though. After her glorious performance in your checkout line where she convinces everyone within the store that she is physically dying AND has the most cruel and torturous mother on the planet, she will be duly rewarded. But not before wreaking havoc on your day, your eardrums, and your full day's supply of patience. And I am just the crazy bitch to do it too. 

So go ahead and test me. I dare you. See you tomorrow.

Trying to control the Control Freak in me...

Most people who know me well know that I can be a bit of a control freak. Not about everything.  For example, I am NOT a "helicopter parent". I want my kids to grow up, learn from their mistakes, and become independent and successful, productive adults. I don't need for them to wear coordinating outfits for family pictures. Hell, I've given up trying to make them wear clothes that match for school or church. I have enough trouble making sure whatever the hell they put on their bodies is clean and not pulled out of a stinky pile of questionable cloth items found deep in the darkest recesses of their closets. I also don't think I'm any more of a control freak than anyone else when it comes to my marriage. He was gone for long stretches for his job and I never had any clingy or jealous issues with him being gone and me being left home alone with the kids. And I think most of our decisions are pretty fairly split with give and take. You know, picking your battles and such. And anyone who has ever been a guest in my house knows without a doubt that I am not a control freak about cleaning. 

For me, its the odd and bizarre little things that will send my OCD over the edge and wreck havoc on my poor family. Things like loading the dishwasher, folding the laundry, putting groceries away, packing the car before a road trip, or making the bed. I can not stand the way anyone in this house loads the dishwasher. Its not their fault. I know that I should be grateful that the chore is getting done. One less thing that I have to do, right? But I hate - HATE - that the bowls aren't being placed in line on the little bowl-wickets on the top shelf. And I hate - HATE - when the plates and large items are set in the bottom all willy-nilly instead of in neat and organized rows. So instead of complaining and making people feel bad for trying to help, I go back later and re-do it. I can't help it. It really bothers me that much. I've also been known to take a basket of laundry that someone else "helped" fold up to my room so that I could completely re-fold it the way I want it. Which I recognize is completely insane since once it makes its way into the kids' rooms, it becomes wadded up and stuffed into the back corner of a drawer and all of my "neat and folded" efforts are in vain. But when it comes to chores around the house, I know my kids need to learn about responsibility and helping out so I stand by silently, watching and gritting my teeth, until they have all gone out to play and I can re-do it. Sick and sad. I know. Fortunately, when it comes to things like groceries and car packing, my husband has been willing to step out and just let me do it. Its not that I find these activities particularly enjoyable, but the tension and stress I feel having to watch someone else do it in a way that doesn't seem logical, organized, or orderly to me is worse for me than just doing the task myself. Luckily, he gets my weirdness and loves me anyway. And really, what man would fight me on this and say "No, honey, I really REALLY insist on doing all the groceries. I'm sorry it bothers you but I will be doing it all myself anyway."? I'm sure that to him its clearly a win-win.

But I've learned to live with my control issues and for the most part they don't seem to interfere with my daily life. Having kids will do that for you. All in one fell swoop, you lose control of EVERYTHING...how much you sleep, how often you talk to your friends (conversations interspersed with mediations of kids' fighting or accident prevention lectures aren't really conducive to maintaining conversational flow), how often you get to shower, what you eat or when(a baby with a temperature and diarrhea for 3 days can seriously interfere with regularly scheduled meal times), how often you get out of the house, whether your house is clean enough for company - EVER -, or when you might get to take a poop unobserved. By kid number 3, many of these issues have been resolved by  either the kids getting older (I don't care what you think you heard in your closet! Get your ass back in bed until your clock has a number on it that starts with a 7 or so help me God, you will be IN your closet WITH whatever it is that you think you heard!), or by the kids getting trained (What the fuck does the closed door mean?!?!?! We've been over this and over this! If the door is closed, it means don't fucking come in!! Jesus, Mary and Joseph I just want to pee in private! Why is that too goddamn much to ask in this house?!?)  And I consider the state of my home's cleanliness (or lack thereof) to be a very solid Friendship Screening Tool. If it bothers you that my house isn't perfectly put together and completely sterile, you and I were DEFinately not meant to be friends, thank you anyway. 

Living with these control issues becomes a lot harder, however, when you throw a phobia into the mix. Because the phobia is completely out of my control. I hate that I can't control it. I hate that I can't talk myself out of it, or just explain to myself logically and sensibly that there really is nothing to be scared of. Believe me I have tried. And when I am not in the situation that triggers the phobia, I almost start believing that I have succeeded. I have convinced my children not to be afraid and take on my fear just because I have it. And I can read up on the subject and explain to myself that my fear is irrational and not really even based in fact. But all that goes right out the window the minute I see a snake. It really is a physical reaction for me - the instant heart rate increase, the sweaty palms, the fight or flight (which for me is ALWAYS flight!) instinct, the crying, the hyperventilating. Its embarrassing. I hate having people see me react like that. Thank God it hasn't happened in "public" much at all but having my oldest son see me fall apart like that is really humiliating, even if it isn't around anyone else where it might embarrass him. This combined with my NEED to get control back from the snakes of the world has set me on a mission to NOT be phobic anymore. 

Its important to recognize both the difference between fear and phobia, as well as a realistic expectation for an outcome. I know that with a phobia like mine (one that can send me into my closet in the fetal position crying and hyperventilating) it would be unrealistic to believe that it could just go away, at least not without years and years of work as well as thousands of dollars that I don't have spent on expensive therapies. I think an appropriate goal would be to become merely afraid. Just your standard run of the mill run-to-the-other-side-of-the-yard-squealing-like-a-girl-saying-get-it-away-from-me-while-squeezing-my-eyes-closed-and-flapping-my-arms-like-superman-trying-to-fly-with-a-kryptonite-belt kind of afraid, instead of the current oh-my-god-is-that-a-snake-followed-by-complete-loss-of-control-of-most-if-not-all-bodily-functions-and-fluid-coming-out-of-every-facial-oriface-while-hyperventilating-and-running-blindly-in-the-opposite-direction-until-I-find-a-dark-place-in-which-to-curl-up-in-the-fetal-position-and-sob-uncontrollably kind of afraid. 

I have a neighbor down the street who has snakes and who has agreed to work with me. Neither of us is a therapist (or actually even knows what the hell we are doing), but it makes me feel like I am at least trying to re-gain control. And what is even more amazing is I think - THINK - it might actually be working a little bit. I've worked my way up to sitting in a room in his house talking to him while a baby snake sits in a locked clear plastic bin on the other side of the room. Without running out of the room or having a complete hysterical melt down. Of course I worked up to this. The first course of action was being willing to go in his house at all, knowing the snakes were in his basement. We have gradually worked up from there. And I was recently able to attend a neighborhood gathering in a park knowing  that he and his snakes would be there (he's popular with the kids in the hood who like to hold them and see them at this type of party). I wasn't planning on going to this thing until he started working with me because I was afraid I'd humiliate myself or my family, should I accidentally look in the wrong direction and see a snake from a distance or God forbid, actually have a kid walk by with one in his hands! 

So I guess I would say that its a good thing I'm a control freak. Otherwise I might be willing to just live with this phobia and continue to let it take control of me every time a snake crosses my path. I haven't seen a snake "in the wild" so-to-speak since I have started this course of action, so technically it remains to be seen how truly effective it might be. But I feel like I'm doing something, which gives me the illusion of control. And for a control freak like me, even the illusion of control is better than openly having to acknowledge a complete lack of control. So HAHA on YOU, 5 foot ball python that lives next door! I will still want to chop you into little pieces with an axe until the day that I die, but I will no longer let you send me to my closet. I'm taking my closet back! It is now reserved for hiding my chocolate stash, and providing me with a place to go hide when I need 20 fucking minutes to myself.

Bite me, Mother Nature.

I remember being a kid and getting more and more excited as the school year drew to a close. Sitting in class daydreaming of all the fun I was going to have with my friends, running amok in our neighborhood day after day, playing barefoot in the sun, swimming until I was pruned, standard "kid summer fare" shenanigans. Even now as an adult, I get a little bit giddy on my kids behalf as the school year winds down and the anticipation of summer fun builds. Especially as they have gotten older and have earned a bit more freedom. Summer hanging out with friends without parental units looming over your shoulder = awesome fun and amazing summer memories. 

Unless its raining. And you are trapped inside. With your parents. And your siblings. Without your friends. Who are trapped inside their respective houses with their parents and siblings. For days on end. Oh. My. God.

School has been out for a week and a half and we have had a total of 2.5 days of sun since then. And I get that it doesn't have to be sunny in order to play outside with friends. But it seems like its been only extremes so far. Either its a nice day or its donkey sucking crappy. If the sun's not out, its pouring rain. And in the spirit of maintaining what little degree of sanity I have left, the shorties have even gone outside to play in some of this inclement weather. Running in the sprinkler? Playing with the hose? Swimming? Yeah? Then consider this rain a free opportunity for the same without having to set up the sprinkler, unroll the hose, or walk to the lake. 

But even that only lasts so long. So then we resort to the standard fall back position.... electronics. Perfect rainy day entertainment, especially since these toys are usually reserved in this house only for rainy day situations. So getting to play the PS3 a lot has been a treat. Until they have played it so much in the last week due to constant rain that they are now even bored with THAT. Now what???? Never fear! The local video rental place has a deal for a free video rental coupon for every A on your kid's report card! Woo hoo!! And with the A's these kids raked in this year, we should be sailing on easy street. Right? Let's just say there is a reason video rental places are becoming extinct. My kids are 12 and 10. They do not want to see movies from the 80's. And when all the newest movies (and I use the term "new" veeeeeeeery loosely) aren't eligible for this coupon promotion, I see how this place can get away with this promo without losing money. You want 6 coupons for free movies? Sure. No worries. I'll just make sure you will have no friggin' interest in ANY of the movies that are eligible for the "free"ness. You want a movie that came out within the last 10 years? Well that will be an additional charge. And you want it for more than 6 hours? That will be an additional charge too. But wait!! Our video games are eligible for this deal as well!! Look, we have pet shop, and my little pony, and lego games. Oh, you wanted a sports game? That will be...I know! I know! an extra friggin' charge. Sonofa.........

So now I am listening to my 3 kids fight over pillows (we have 9 between the family room and the futon in the basement...), blankets (we have 5 upstairs in the family room and more in the basement), and seating (we have a 3 person couch and a 2 person love seat) in order to watch crap on TV that none of them are actually even all that interested in. And yes, the shortest person must insist on stretching out lengthwise on the longest couch, using the most pillows and refusing to share her blanket. So the bargaining begins. Fine you can do that but then we (older brothers) get to turn off Sophia the First and watch something we like. Ok fine then here is a pillow and I'll move my feet 8 centimeters to the left but we are NOT changing the channel. Its going to be a great day. I can just tell.

So Mother Nature can suck it. I got it. You made your point. You are all powerful and you can put the kibosh on all the wonderful summer plans of all the little kiddies in all the land for as long as you want to. We are all at the mercy of your whims. I understand completely. But I implore you. I beg you, please for the love of all things good, right and holy, take your goddamn meds today. Get off the "I'm fucking miserable so I am going to make damn sure everyone else is too" bandwagon and let the kids get out of the fucking house today. For the love of god, woman! Tap into just one ever lovin' ounce of that maternal instinct that mothers are supposed to have and cut the damn kids a break. And how about having a bitch's back as well, hun?? Chicks should be looking out for each other, not sitting back with a cocktail laughing in the face of another's distress and her cranky minions. Come on, hook a sistah up with a little sunshine today forchrisake. 

Just be f*#@ing NICE!!!

I don't think I'm alone in this. I think everyone has been in situations like this. Where shit just happens. And then I just want to vent. Yell, scream, curse, pull my hair, basically have a grown up temper tantrum. And what I do NOT need in this situation is someone to point out to me the error of my ways, or how I "should" have done things so as to avoid the situation I am currently in. Because contrary to popular opinion, I am not stupid, naive, or ignorant of my mistakes. I am very well aware of the concept of action-consequence, and for the most part am self-aware enough to know the possibilities of negative consequences for any of my given actions. But just because I know they are possible doesn't mean I am happy when they happen. It still pisses me off when things don't go how I would like or when "shit happens" to ruin or impede upon my otherwise pleasant plans. And sometimes, I just want to say "THIS PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF!!!". And advice is not requested by this statement, nor is it needed.

I have been involved in several groups in the past whose focus and intent was supposed to be offering support to like-minded people, folks whose life situations or circumstances are similar, or those who are all going through the same types of life difficulties. And there are hundreds of different "groups" out there all claiming to offer the same things to their target population. Some of these groups might meet in person, others might be online. Some might be serious, others might be more social. I have encountered what I find to be a very fascinating phenomenon regarding these "support groups". Even the social ones, the ones designed to be fun or light-hearted, can take a turn for the nasty. Very easily. And very quickly. What I find so interesting is how easy it is for people to "hide" behind their keyboards and pass judgement or critique others, when they would never dream of saying such things to a person's face should the exchange happen in person. 

We all like to believe we are supportive people, helpful people, non-judgemental people. And for the most part, we very well may be. But give a person a keyboard and a feeling of anonymity and watch Her Majesty Holier Than Thou rear her ugly head. Things that no one in their right mind would ever dream of saying to a person's face get thrown around like candy at a fucking Fourth of July parade. Judgement, condescension, and self-righteousness get passed off as support.

I've seen this in a few of the groups I've joined on Facebook in particular, where anonymity and social networking meet to create their own little version of hell for those of us foolish enough to believe the premise that people in similar circumstances or situations are capable of supporting each other without using the experiences of others to make themselves feel superior. I've watched a single mom's post venting the frustrations of trying to get an overactive special needs toddler to bed in less than 3 hours, get turned into a critique of this woman's life choices, what "causes" the special needs and what this mother should be doing differently to correct it, her obvious lack of parenting skills and discipline to have a child not listen or follow directions, and her laziness for this one night expressing a frustration and desire not to fight the fight. Its so sad to me that the only way some people can feel good about their own decisions (parenting or otherwise) is to critique and judge the decisions and circumstances of others. Another time a person asks advice on traveling cross country with a pet, only to have responders set upon each other over decisions regarding pet vs. no pet in motels with pet vs. no pet policies. 

And here is where I state my disclaimer...I am not naive enough to truly be personally disappointed that strangers on Facebook or any other social media site are being judgmental or mean or catty or bitchy or rude or condescending or just plain overall pissy to each other. Nor do I seek out complete strangers anonymously for my true support needs. I'm not sure if anyone knows this about me but I rarely give a flying rat's ass what other people think of me, although I do try to avoid openly or callously giving offense. But I still find it sad when I see people attack others especially under the guise of "support". Especially when I don't believe for one minute that the attacks would happen without the benefit of hiding behind a computer keyboard. 

Put a group of people in a room with the task of discussing a book they have all read. Some like the book, some don't. Some get a deeper message, others couldn't get past the first chapter. Some see symbolism everywhere, some see only the words on the page. Not one time have I ever seen things deteriorate into insults, barbs, critiques, or personal attacks because of these differences. I have been in a room with mommy's of toddlers, all going through the typical difficulties associated with mommying a toddler. Some breast fed, some bottle fed. Some made their own baby food, some bought their babyfood in bulk at Costco. Some were proponents of co-sleeping and attachment parenting, some believed in the old "let them cry it out" method. Not once did anyone need to pass judgement on the parenting decisions of others to justify their own. There was a lot of "this is what works for us" on all sides, and that was enough. But take these same groups and put them behind closed doors on a computer, with no one knowing who you are or where you are, and its amazing how quickly things can deteriorate.

I get that the internet isn't true support. I get that strangers are just that, strangers, and that to have any expectation or faith in them is to set yourself up for disappointment. But I am also getting a pretty clear idea of where "mean kids" come from. They come from mean adults. Adults who feel the need to criticize and judge what they don't fully understand, and who thus are raising children to do the same. If a person is different, believes differently, parents differently, dresses differently, thinks differently, worships differently, then it is my right to condemn, judge, ridicule or scorn. What the fuck happened to just being fucking NICE to each other??? Where is it written that a person needs to be just like me in order for me to be nice to them??? And where is it written that being nice to someone automatically means you condone and agree with every single fucking thing they have ever done or said??? Especially when that person is a complete fucking stranger on the internet??? 

Again, I am not naive. Just wishing there was more reason to be optimistic about humanity. Cuz not nice adults create not nice kids. And those kids become not nice adults, perpetuating a very sad cycle. I know it doesn't help to engage these people so I do try my best to avoid it. However, sometimes meanness needs to be called out as just that. Meanness. For my part, I will continue to try and teach my children the importance of just being fucking nice to people. Even if you don't fucking feel like it. Even if you feel like they don't deserve it. Because sometimes mean people really just need a hug. And there is nothing more rewarding than telling some high and mighty judgmental holier-than-thou condescending ass hat that you feel bad that they are so unhappy or insecure in their own life that they feel compelled to pass judgment on others to feel better about themselves, and then to offer them a big virtual hug. Because this usually just pisses them off. Which I guess is a win-win for me.

Fly Paper for Freaks....

That is going to be the name of my autobiography. Fly Paper for Freaks. Because sometimes that is exactly what I feel like. The freaks are the flys. And I am their fly paper. It seems like they find me. Where ever I go. Its inescapable. I know that the more you move, the more likely you are going to experience an increase in whacko experiences. Its simple math, in the probability and percentages. The more you move around and relocate, the more people you are exposed to over time, and thus the more likely you are to cross paths with people who put the f*@# in WTF?!?!?!?! We've lived in 9 different houses in 9 different places in 7 different states in the last 13 years. That is a shit load of opportunities to experience new and different levels of crazy. 

Our first home was in TN and was on a quiet little cul-de-sac. It was a wonderful home and I remember it fondly. We were only there for a year so we didn't really get to know too many of our immediate neighbors very well. There was one, however, that stands out. Cop cars in front of the house in the middle of the night 4 times within 6 months has made her hard to forget. I don't think I ever knew her name, but I do remember getting trapped on my own front porch with her (after my mother and husband escaped inside and NEVER came out to rescue me!) as she shared with me every detail of the drama in her world. About why she had to have her fiancé taken away in handcuffs because he was so mad at her for bringing her boyfriend to the house (HIS house, the fiancé's house) when he was away for work, and how it wasn't good for the 2 young children to see him so upset, because they really like the boyfriend.

Then there was the guy in FL who lived next door with his elderly mom. The unemployed 40+ year old who made his mom pay to have the grass cut because "I did that growing up. I'm not doing that anymore." Nice. This is a guy who smoked so much pot, he didn't think he could pass a drug test for a construction job, so he asked - YES, came right out and ASKED - my husband if he could "borrow" some of his pee. My husband, who was working drug interdiction at the time. Irony, anyone? That the guy does soooooo many drugs, he asks my husband who is working drug interdiction for his pee. Say, WHA......???? This is the same guy who was murdered in the driveway 3 months after we moved away. Local speculation is it was either a drug deal gone bad or a really effed up "love triangle". Huh??? And I thought dealing with poisonous snakes was the worst thing I would have to deal with in Florida...

But up until this point, it seemed like the freaks we encountered were relatively harmless freaks. Like if you kept your wits about you, you could sit back and be entertained by their shenanigans and freakishness and drama. Shit got real in Michigan. This was when my husband pissed off a neighbor, inadvertently, by joking with him that when our air conditioner wasn't working the day we moved in, we might have to crash on his floor with sleeping bags, ha ha ha. Well, apparently he took that seriously and decided he didn't like my husband. So much so that after one particularly egregious offense, he decided to wait in his garage with a baseball bat for my husband to come home from work. That's us, making friends everywhere we go. Needless to say, I've forbidden my husband from making jokes with people when we first meet them. At least until we find out what sorts of weapons they keep in their house.

Alabama was one giant clusterfuck of freakish experiences that literally had my head ready to explode. From the open prayer "In the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ" in a public school at school functions, to the passing out of Bibles outside the cafeteria at lunch time, to the people who told me not to ask too many questions about religion or race because I could end up with a cross burning in my yard, to the people down the street who informed my children on Halloween that they were going to hell for trick or treating. I don't even have to go into the weird next door neighbor who came into my house one morning, sat down on my couch, and wouldn't leave for 2 freaking hours. I could keep going, but I think I've made my point about our experiences in the state of Alabama.

Which brings me to our current situation. We love where we live and for the most part couldn't be happier with our choice to live where we live. But true to form, we selected the ONE house in the neighborhood that is surrounded - literally, surrounded - on all sides by some level of whackishness. Harmless crazy lives across the street in the form of the guy who mows his grass in penny loafers, sweats, a collared polo shirt, and a sweater vest. A bit whacky, but at least he's entertaining to watch. Then next door, we have the family with an 8 foot ball python. That they bring outside in the summer to let it "exercise" in the tree right next to the fence between our yards. I looked it up, and its not illegal until the snake is 10 feet long. Cuz its that extra 2 feet that make it dangerous. Holy mother freaking shit balls you have to be mother effing kidding me!!! This news brought me to tears. As someone with a honest to God snake phobia (not just oh get it away from me I don't like it snake phobia, but complete melt down hysterical hyperventilating when I see one can't go through the reptile house at the zoo level of snake phobia) knowing that this thing is living next door and that summer is rapidly approaching has my nerves on "permanently fried" status. But other than the pet that could potentially kill and eat my children, they have been very nice to us. They understand my.....issues, and have promised to be aware of that and take it into consideration before bringing their pet outside in the summer. I can ask for no more than that. 

And then there is drama central on the other side. Where to begin....well, there is a woman, her 5 children, the boyfriend (now step dad), and the dog. Woman is a midwife (but uncertified), has health issues and has been on and off "pain management", smokes like a chimney (which she says she has to do because of her pain), and is now pregnant with #6. Yup. A pregnant midwife who smokes. Yet somehow she is on a potato only diet due to her health issues and pain management needs. Don't ask, because I don't know. Man has worked as everything from a masseur, to a race car driver, to a contractor. I don't know what he does now, other than drive Woman to her appointments and births, because he doesn't work anywhere. There are the kids, who just stare at you Addams Family style when you speak to them. Its truly creepy. Truly. The Coup D'Etat of Crazy was learning about the "spiritual cleansing" that was performed there recently because there was supposedly a "demon" attached to one of the older kids after he returned from the bio-Dad's house. Folks, we have officially attained a new level of WTF?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Now don't get me wrong. I have met so many of my dearest friends along the way in my travels, and many in the very places where I encountered all the heavy duty "Crazy". My AL friends, without them, I wouldn't have survived that year. Seriously. I wouldn't be here now. And I love my friendships with my neighbors in MI and am still close with Bat-Man's ex wife. And Florida is where I made some of my best friends, friends that will never leave my heart or my Christmas card list. And I foresee the possibility of making connections here with people I have met. So I truly hope I haven't offended any of my friends who think I am referring to you when I talk about the freaks I have encountered over the years. Most of you are exactly my kind of crazy. I'm talking about the over-the-top whacked out things that fall in under the header "You just can't make this shit up". And I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. I guess I should be used to it by now, being fly paper for freaks. Between the child eating snakes and the exorcisms, I suppose I'll feel right at home.

And So It Begins..........

It happens to every parent. That moment when you are dropped. Instantly. You tuck your precious child in at night with a hug, a kiss, and an "I love you". And literally overnight, that same child doesn't want to be seen with you, speak with you in public, or acknowledge your existence in front of friends. God forbid you should actually speak his name out loud in front of his friends, thus shattering the fragile facade he has worked so hard to create that he doesn't even really know who you are. 

I was hit smack in the forehead with this reality when Big Dude asked if he could go to the movies with some friends, including some girls, alone. Sure. As long as all the other parents understand it will be a co-ed outing and we are all on board with the agreed upon movie, I don't have a problem with stepping up the social freedoms a notch or two. But you know what sounds even better? Me and the other family members attending a different movie at the theater during that time. Seems to me that there's no reason the rest of us shouldn't enjoy a movie as well. It also saves me gas, not having to drive home after dropping you off only to turn around and pick you up in a few hours. Sounds logical, right? Holy shit, you would have thought I suggested drawing and quartering him ala Braveheart style. The sounds of pain emitting from him at the mere thought of having to endure such a horrific experience would have put Mel Gibson to shame. I tried to reassure him that I wouldn't set foot in his movie, wouldn't attempt to even lay eyes on him and his friends, and would behave like a perfect stranger should the unthinkable happen and we actually cross paths. All to no avail. He was ready to call the whole thing off and just not go. I can only imagine the look of "You can not be serious about this. Are you effin' kidding me with this shit?!" on my face at this point. I mean its a huge ass theater!! There are a shit-ton of different options there, and unless he is Justin Beiber or a Kardashian, I'm not sure he has any business trying to regulate who can and can't go there while he is in the building. Given the fact that he was scrambling to come up with the money to cover the movie and snacks for himself and his female friend, I think its safe to say that the Beibs he is NOT. 

It was the first time I was faced with this new status quo. And I know its just the beginning. All in all, I'm okay with it I think. Overall we still have a pretty awesome relationship. He shares with me, voluntarily I might add, things that are going on with him at school with friends and girls and stuff. He always checks in with me when he is out with friends in the neighborhood, telling me where he's going to be or when he'll be home. And his friends all seem to respect the fact that this is the expectation, and don't give him a hard time about it. I've even had them check in with me when they are with him. Not too shabby. 

He's been away this week on a vacation with my mom. He's farther away than a car ride for the first time and for longer than a few nights with a family member. And he has called me every night so far. To check in. And to chat. And to tell me about all the cool stuff. Like how when he's really quiet in the pool, he can hear the sounds of more different kinds of birds than he ever knew existed. And that the color of the red flowering bush next to the house is a brighter red than he could have ever imagined. And how amazingly beautiful a starfish is in the ocean, as opposed to in an aquarium. In fact, he just now, as I am typing this blog, called in the middle of the day to ask me what size his little sister is because he is at a gift shop and found a "really really cute little sundress" that he wants to get her. The kid has an amazing heart and I love love LOVE that he still wants to share his heart with his family. I know not to take it for granted because if this mentality isn't nurtured and cultivated carefully, it can disappear faster than Lindsey Lohan's underwear at a Los Angeles night club. 

I'm trying to prepare myself for the years to come, when its not just Big Dude asking me to step back, but also Little Dude and Little Diva as well. And I've decided to handle it in the mature and adult manner that would be expected of me. I'm going to do my damnedest to be every inch of the embarrassing mother that I am being punished for not being yet. Lets call it a lesson on "Self-Fulfilling Prophecy". I will do my very best to fulfill your expectations of me. If you expect me to be polite and respectful of your privacy and personal preferences, I will happily meet that expectation. However, if you expect me to be an embarrassment and humiliate you, I got that covered too. Just like I expect you to do well in school, be a good citizen, help those in need, and grow into a fine upstanding young man. Which you are doing an amazing job of doing, I might add. Instead of expecting you to be loser punk who's going to end up living in my basement forever. Cuz if I expected that of you, you'd probably meet that expectation. See how that works? So I'll give you another chance to rethink how you might want to handle future situations where you might have no other choice but to be seen with me in public. This is called empowerment. I'm empowering you to determine your own destiny in this matter. Cuz I care about your destiny. But if you want, I have lots of other ideas too. Lots. And I am very creative. This could be fun. Muaaahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah!!!