Sunday, February 27, 2011

Don't watch your hands after using the bathroom.

Seriously. Don't. Never again.

Or maybe that's just me, I don't know.

I was working lat week. Yay, money. After I ate lunch, I made my way to the bathroom because after so many kids my bladder hates me. I was going about my normal business when I was at the sink (ok, this was after my business, I didn't pee in the sink) & when I looked up I saw something. I went back later & took a picture because it bothered me so.



OK, it's just a sign, right? When I looked at it, my thought process was literally this...

Well that's interesting, in fact I think I've seen it befo....oh fuck me are you fucking kidding? God dammit, mother fucker. Fuck fuck fuck.

Yes, I'm THAT anti-hand washing. Kidding, of course.

When I went to get induced with Joel, they put me in a room in OB that had been cleared of newborn reminders. One of the only things on the wall was a sign. A sign that I stared at. A sign that fucking haunted me. I read it over & over & over. A simple sign that was all I could focus on. A sign that was in the background when I watched a social worker roll Joel out of the room forever.

A simple hand washing sign continues to haunt me to this day. But not just identical to that sign.

And for the rest of the day, I wanted to jump off a bridge. Even more so after my next classes played sad songs, including Stairway to Heaven. Jeesh.

Things have been rough for me lately. No real reason why besides the normal "my baby died, god dammit" stuff, but what more do you need?

That same day I also encountered the best group of understanding people since Joel died. I was working high school, which is the only group I feel comfortable telling the truth about Joel. If 2nd graders ask how many kids I have, I omit Joel in the count. It bothers me, but 9 out of 10 times they ask how old they are or what their names are. I'm not about to talk dead baby stuff with kids, it'd be bad for all involved. But high schoolers, I figure if it comes up they can understand & go on with life without it ruining their lives.

Anyway, 4 boys. That's all it was, just for senior boys. When sitting around, which was all was left for them to do, discussions come up, usually kids ask if I graduated from that school. That led eventually to asking how often we go back "home" 2-3 hours away. I explained we didn't because most of my family lives in my current area, they asked about my husbands family & I said we don't interact with my husbands family. One kids said that was sad & I couldn't help but to blurt out, "yeah, sad on paper but we actually had a son die & they said some pretty awful things about him to us." These boys didn't look at me funny. They didn't even question the dead baby thing. They just went onto how anyone can talk bad about a dead baby or to parents of a dead baby. Then they told me they hoped we punched them or even ripped their throats out. And the discussion moved on to whatever was next.

No questions. No weird looks. No cliched bullshit lines. No dwelling. No making me feel like a weirdo. Like 10 years ago or so, I would have told you high school boys were assholes. And, well, maybe they still are in some areas, but at that moment I decided that teenage boys were alright. They handled it like it was nothing. And that, for once, was nice.

Off to update my Joel picture blog.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Stop raising assholes.

The past couple weeks I've had some interesting encounters. And by interesting, I mean shameful. I don't consider myself a preachy blogger but I'm going to get on my soap box.


But good news, it's a glorious sarcastic soap box like me!


I'm really not a violent person, but nothing makes me want to rip some hair out of a bitches head quite like someone messing with my kids. Seriously. I can envision myself pulling hair out of heads & just punching someone in the face over & over until they are a bloody pulp for hurting my kids feelings.

...apperantly it's a bloody, sarcastic soap box.


Anyway. Maybe it's because I've got issues from when I was a kid. Sit down peeps, this is going to be a shocker but...I was not a popular kid. So maybe some of my inner aggressions come from knowing the feeling of being rejected or picked on. God damn, do I know how that feels. I know, kids will be kids. It happens. But I'm talking about not just basic kids being kids stuff. I'm talking at one point in my life, I kinda wanted to die. This is getting deep, huh?

So yeah, I've got issues. And more than anything in the world, I want my kids to be spared those awful feelings & encounters in their lives. I do my job as a parent to not let my kid think it's alright to be an asshole. I do not want my kid to think it's OK to be happy at the expense of someones misery or that it's alright to be mean to someone whose different.

Like I said, not be an asshole. But people...they don't all have the same idea as I do. And while I am fine with people feeling different, flat out meanness & encouraging your kid to grow up an asshole isn't cool.

My first encounter of shame was a couple weeks ago at the nice mall play area. And by nice, I mean germ infested hell hole.

Oh, you know they are. Get over it.

Anyway, my adorable sweet son...


He found a friend to play with. A little girl who had another little girl who was younger, I can only assume sister. They played. They romped. A good time was had by all. Eventually, I hear my son called a girl, which I'm use to because my sweet, adorable son has long hair.

Let's back this up a bit. I know, someone is reading this & cringing over my son having long hair. It's alright. Really, it is. But no one is making your son have long hair so get the fuck over it. I always hated long hair on boys. Always. I cringed when I saw it & never understood why a parent would allow that. I allowed it because I liked his hair & didn't want it cut. And, not that I want it cut myself, Jules loves his hair & doesn't want a hair cut anytime soon. He's very content with being a long haired boy. And you know what? It's not going to hurt him or anyone else, so who cares?

Anyway, as I sit in the floor with Blair, I hear the little girl Jules was friends with correct her mom, saying Jules was a boy & his name was Jules. Paying continued, but I could eye ball mom & her friend talking & staring at him, then back at me. After a couple minutes, I see the moms packing up & telling the kids it was time to go. Little girl starts asking to stay longer, something about how they were going to stay until someone got off work, whatever. Then I heard her loudly announce a statement that about had me fly off & end up in jail.

"We aren't staying so you can play with him. You know we don't play with boys who have long hair. Their parents obviously don't care for them, so we don't need to be around those people."

Oh hell no bitch, you didn't.

She did.

Jules is there. Like...right there. I know he has no true understanding of what was just said, but he knows something is up, he knows this lady doesn't want her kids to play with him. Woman looks at me, all smug & proud of herself because she said it for me to hear more than anyone else & I somehow manage to refrain from punching her. Instead, I walk over & redirect Jules to another kid & as he walks away, I tell him it's OK, there are other people to play with who aren't leaving.

Then I turned to her & just as smugly said, "we don't like to play with kids whose moms are twats anyway."

...yeah, I know. No kids could hear, I promise. But that smug look was replaced by shock & either she didn't want to or couldn't respond quickly enough before I turned & went back to where Blair was in the floor.

Seriously. SERIOUSLY?! Who in their right mind thinks it's OK to say something like that about a kid? And who thinks it's OK to teach their kids that things like that are alright? What purpose does that serve in life at all? I mean I get it, I'm a bitch, too. But to say something about a 3 year old? And to stop your kid from playing with mine because he's got girly fucking hair? How does my kids hair length determine anything about him or our family? We're decent, clean people who raise our kids to say please & thank you & to be good to other people. But, you know, that's all erased because of some hippy hair. We must be avoided at all cost.

And in that moment, I realized why my mom made that awful scene that morning when I was in 7th grade. She flipped off our bus driver. With a bus full of kids. As I was getting on the bus.

I know, very different & I don't agree with her doing that with a bus load of kids watching, but this guy was an ass. Picked on me constantly, left me in tears most days. Total ass. I remember how horrified I was because my mom made a scene, I cried most of the day because how embarrassed I was. But now...well. I kinda admire her restraint to not punch him in his balls. Again, doing stuff in front of kids is totally not cool & I'd never do it & I don't think that was right. But looking back at the hell that man put me through & just how awful that situation was...I get what she was feeling. I've now seen that asshole-ish smug look given to me that she said was given to her that morning. And...I understand.

On a side note, the school & transportation people sided with us & I was given a whole new bus to ride because of him while he ended up suspended for things he said to me even before the whole flipping off incident. He actually left me alone after that day, funny enough.

The day went on well for Jules. He got a pretzel, icee, & a gumball. Then we met daddy for dinner at Applebees. But I myself still couldn't get over how cruel someone was to leave & not let their kids play with mine for such a pathetic reason. Part of me hopes it was a totally fake reason just announced so she could feel like the head bitch at the play area. If so, I think I won that show down.

Jules & I had another incident today at the park. Again, a fun time was being had by all. I noticed a couple women watching & playing with the same little girl, then ended up noticing they were holding hands. Life goes on. As we end up at that area of the play ground, we walk into a conversation about someones daddy getting off work & meeting them at the park soon, which led into "where is your daddy." One little girl, who later told me she was 4, announced she didn't have a daddy but she had two mommies instead. The kids, they didn't really think much of it from what I could tell. Jules asked me what that meant & why she had two mommies, so I just briefly told him that some kids have mommies & daddies, bother others have two mommies or two daddies, but they are a family just like ours & have kids, pets, the whole deal. I told him it was just different. He was totally cool with that.

A couple other sets of parents eye balled each other. One couple quickly loaded their daughters up & went to another set of play ground equipment. The dad actually kept looking back as they walked away, like the big scary lesbians were going to kick his ass or something. And soon after, another mom ushered her two little girls away, even leaving their sand toys. Seriously. Told them, "we'll just come back for them later." They wanted away. The little girl actually tried to follow them to the swings, but when the mom realized that was happening she then changed her mind & said maybe they needed to go rest in the car. Again...seriously.

My son then had what I personally thought was the saddest discussion ever & he didn't even realize it. Little girl asked when Blair was going to grow up, I asked how old she was, she told me 4, then I told her he has about 3 more years of growing then. Jules came & asked where all his friends went. I told him I didn't know, that people have to leave & things sometimes. The little girl then said, "they don't like my mommies, people don't play some times when I have both of mommies with me." Jules then went on to ask her, again, if she had 2 mommies. She, again, told him yes & told him again that people don't like her two mommies so they didn't play with her...this is a normal thing in toddlers, having the same discussion 5 times in a row. Finally, my son who is NOT an asshole, told her "mommies are cool, let's dig in the sand, make a castle! My mommy has cups!" which I did. Then he told me he wanted the cups back, because he was going to play with her, she was "cool" & that "she's got mommies & that's OK." Again, that whole toddler repeat thing.

I didn't know if I should cry because this little girl is only 4 & already knows people have issues with her two mommies, or if I should cry because my son went out of his 3 year old way to tell her it was cool & that he wanted to play with her anyway.

Of course then I was angry, because 5 minutes before we had 6 kids who were happily playing. And 6 kids could have continued to be happily playing. But adults had to jump in to avoid catching the gay I suppose. Those kids, just like Jules, didn't think much of it when she said she had two mommies. Those kids would have went on with life like Jules. Worse came to worse, someone may have said something like I said to Jules. But, of course, there are always people who don't want to have to "explain" those things. What the fuck are you having to explain? It's only as complicated as you make it, as big of a deal as you make it. I don't know why I was surprised, when I was pregnant with Blair the husband had a co-worker who admitted that she didn't let her 5th grader play with a girl anymore because she had 2 mom's & she didn't want to have to explain that to her daughter.

Let me tell you this...if the most awkward, involved, strange conversation you have with your child is that some families are different than your own, you've lucked the fuck out.

Unless, you know, you want to teach your kids how icky it is that a chick loves another chick or a dude loves another dude & how weird it is that they may have a better, more healthy & stable relationship & family structure than you do. In that case, please say nothing so maybe they can one day hear about it from someone who isn't a biased asshole so that they may turn out to not hate people because of who they love. OK? Thanks. It'll do us all a favor.

And please, more than anything...stop raising assholes. They aren't born, they are made. Every one of them, at some point in their life, were made that way. Do what you can to prevent your kid from growing up to be one. Don't be the parent of the kid who refuses to play with someone for some lame reason. They'll grow up to be the parents like I've encountered, who are training their kids to do the same things in their own lives. This sounds lame & all but, children are our future. Let's not make our future suck ass. That last line was all me.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Dude, I feel like crap.

Rainbows & sunshine, I am not tonight.

I'm a waaay in advance planner. It makes me feel good to plan far in advance. So I'm already mentally preparing from Blair's first birthday.

Yes, he's 8 months old.

And suddenly...I'm pissed.

I'm going to have a get together with people less than 2 weeks after Joel's death/birth date. Most of which are people who still pretend he didn't existed. And even when I'm able to swallow that (because I plan on shoving it down their fucking throats that he fucked existed, so take that assholes who may be uncomfortable with it)...& even when I'm happy & grateful with my truely gorgeous Blair...I'm sad. over me with a train sad.

I feel weird admitting this because, I'm sure in some fucked up way it means I kinda wish Blair didn't happen, because let's face it, if Joel hadn't died Blair wouldn't be around, but goddammit I shouldn't be planning a 1st birthday party.

Again, don't get me wrong, I'm happy that I do & I love Blair oodles & oodles. I know there are others out there who would love to plan a birthday party for a living, breathing baby.

But, again, goddammit. I should be planning Joel's 2nd birthday party.

I shouldn't be carrying around a baby. I should be trying to keep up with 2 boys running around with each other & driving us nuts.

I shouldn't be buying baby food. I should be trying to get an almost 2 year old to eat more than Mac & Cheese 6 times a day.

I shouldn't be waiting for a baby to take steps. I should be waiting to hear a almost 2 year old to tell me some insane story about dinosaurs living upstairs in our house.

But I'm not. I have a baby. And I'm thrilled with him. But that can't fix the other stuff. He can't fix that stuff, & it's not fair for me to ever think it could. I never thought that'd be the case.

I'm sad over someone who didn't exist, not in the ways that matter at least. Know what I have to prove he existed? Some dead baby pictures, a small corner shelf of random stuff, & stretch marks. And I'm not even sure which are from him. I have no way of knowing what the fuck he would have been like, looked like, or even sounded like. I can only make it up in my head & I have no idea where to even start.

Yep, I'm a bitter, unappreciative person. It's my prerogative.


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