13

I hate writing about this.  I want to be the person who just turns it all into some passion that a symphony of words just pours out about the whole thing.  But all I see is the gritty. The pain.  The shame.

We’ve all seen 13 Reasons right? If you haven’t, go watch it.  That’s the real world.  Maybe not the tapes. But the pack mentality, the anxiety of being a teenager, the never ending impending doom that is high school. That’s all real.

I was in the last half of my senior year and I had never felt lower.  I should have been excited.  I wasn’t.  After spending years and years wishing I could get out of that place, that tiny town, I was experiencing very much a Hannah period in my life.  I felt like nothing would ever go right.  Thing after thing piled up on me. Home. School.  Hannah used a razor blade.  I went the long route of an abusive relationship. He literally called me slut when I walked down the hallway.  And like Hannah, I had no one there to save me.

One time, my mom saw him put my hamster into his jacket pocket and throw the jacket on the ground and stomp on it.  I’m a mom today.  If I saw someone doing that to my kid, I would move mountains to make sure that person never came near my child again.  I guess my mom chose to parent differently.  I can remember in college calling his mother and begging her to come get him, move him out of my apartment, do something so I can get some peace, I didn’t want trouble, I just wanted to be away from him.  If someone knew my child was doing those things, I would come get them immediately and get them help right away.  She also decided to parent differently than I would.

Those were two adults in my life that could have changed the fate of what happened 13 years ago.  He’s 100% to blame.  But we talk about “well if only someone knew.” Yeah well, sometimes people do know and still nothing changes.

Back then, I online journaled like a fiend. Xanga was my home but LiveJournal was a little home away from home.  I finally had the courage to leave him but legally he didn’t have to move out of our shared apartment because he was on the lease.  I had a lock on my bedroom door and stayed gone a lot to my friend Sarah’s.  I was going to ride out the summer and move out when the lease was up in the fall.

I remember this as starting out being a not so bad day.  I remember we paid bills and rode together to Blockbuster and back. I remember thinking okay, the summer will go by fast, I’m taking classes, I’m working, he’ll lose interest in me and I can do this.

This was after like two and a half years straight of abuse so 13 years removed, I can see how fucking warped this was. I should have packed my shit and broke the lease and moved back onto campus. But there I was thinking I was totally in control finally. I wasn’t. I so wasn’t. When they say the most dangerous time for an abuse victim is when they leave? That is completely true.

And here’s where I falter. It hurts me to tell this story because I can see the pain in people’s eyes when I tell it. Every new doctor, because I have PTSD, I have to tell some summary of this to for my medical history.  How do you condense two years of abuse into two paragraphs? Then they mark it in your chart and you get the pity eyes at every visit.  I hate the pity eyes. I hate the awww poor thing.

So instead of writing it all out, here’s what I said back then on live journal.

monday nite i would not have sex with david (we are not together and are still doing horribly) he decided to throw a hissy fit and try to smother me. i have asthma so its hard to breath anyway.. then he bit me. and sat on top of me. tried to choke me and tried to crack my neck.

but ahhhh this time i got smart. i planned what i would do if it happened again (gasp, it happened before!) so i called 911. skrink-la-das, he just got out of jail tonite.

so that’s where i have been. domestic violence hell.

and yes i am ok.

Jesus Christ on a cracker. I want to hug 22 year old me because I can remember the pain I felt trying to write that in a sarcastic, I’m totally going to be okay kind of way. When in reality, my dad was sleeping on my couch and he walked me to and from class until the end of the semester.

The reality was yes I turned him down for sex and yes he flipped his shit.  But after other 911 calls, my cousin who was a sheriff at the time alerted dispatch and he was on duty that night and he brought the cavalry.  Too bad the DAs office gave literally zero shits about what he had done to me.  It was humiliating to have him call me from jail over and over and over and they just let him.  It was humiliating to sit in court with my DOVE advocate and my head held high and my lawyer waiting to fight for me all while his lawyer and the judge sat in the back talking golf.  My lawyer went to find out what the hold up was and the judge only cared about my abuser’s AOL account because back then once an email was attached to an account, that was it, they were stuck forever.  I still had the bruises on my body when a judge of the legal system of the United State of America ignored my legal rights for justice.  The month before trial, I called the DAs office multiple times a day. No one would call me back. Ever.  Not once.  I remember sitting at work with my bestie, dialing that number over and over leaving message after message.  Nothing ever happened to him legally. Nothing. 

When I met my husband 6 months later, he was visiting for a weekend as we lived hours apart.  We woke up to messages that my abuser had watched us through the windows of my bedroom.  He keyed awful things onto my husband’s car and left a dead fish for him.  My abuser’s new girlfriend would call and leave me threatening messages.  For my safety and sanity, I moved down to where my husband was which was over 3 hours from my college.  He still found me.  He followed us and watched us go to a movie.  I will never forget that feeling because I had no idea he was there.  He could have easily shot us.  When the opportunity came to move clear across the country we took it.

It was still years before I slept without nightmares.

I am hyper vigilant now.  I am secretive about where I live.  It’s never really over.  And that’s what pisses me off.  Yes I survived. Yay go me.  I did that on my own.  In the split second between passing out where he would have had full control, I had a choice and I took it and it worked and I was able to grab the phone and run to the bathroom and call 911 and scream before he ripped the cord out of the wall.  That first call is what alerted my cousin to come out.  It’s what saved my life.  He was hell bent on killing me that night for whatever reason.  The look in his eyes was different from other times.  I have never felt that scared in my entire life.  When they say time slows down, it does because I remember thinking about how my dad would feel having to find my body.  I was a forensic student at that time.  I remember thinking I would know all the procedures used at my crime scene. Sometimes I think if he had killed me, he would have gone to jail.  I would have had to die to get a drop of justice. But I never go a day without thinking about at least one memory from those years.  That’s what victims are left with.  Or survivors. Whatever you want to call them. Us.

Like Hannah, I felt like it’s written all over me.  Every awful thing he did feels like it’s written in sharpie for everyone to see. That’s what I’d like to go away the most. That feeling.  Every year I think if I own it, if I write something, the words will all wash off and I can just be me again.  13 years later and it’s still an epic struggle, to either accept that it’s part of me or keep hoping for a cure so to speak. Maybe a middle ground where the words just fade a bit.  Like scars.  They’ll still be there but they’ll be harder to see.

This is the first year I have to go through today without my Sarah. My college bestie who cried with me after this day.  There was no hiding it from my friends anymore after that. They knew about the fighting.  They knew he was controlling.  But I broke her heart a little bit when she found out how much I was hiding from her.  She passed away last summer and so far today has been the day where I feel her missing the most.

I allow myself to have my one dark day and then I put my smile back on because people count on me.

 

Well.

Ahhh my last post had so much hope.  We are now closing the first week on Emperor Orange Baby Bitch Tiny Fists reign of terror.  It’s going to be a long four years.  Because even if he was impeached, his VP is just as awful.  And after that? Paul Assface Ryan.

BUT on the 21st, the entire world got to see something amazing.  Women marching in cities all over the country.  Over 4 million people marched to say WE MATTER.  That was beautiful.  All the signs were amazing. The message was loud and clear.  And even through a media blackout, we are seeing people stand up and say NO.

My mother in law has decided anyone who opposes EOBBTF is personally insulting her.  Especially anyone she’s ever helped.  I know. I know.  The cheese has slid right off her cracker.  She literally asked the husband to come to her house and sit down and listen to HER views.  She wouldn’t listen to one word he said, she’d only immediately start ranting about socialism and China. She’s always had opposing view points than us.  We survived the Bush years just fine together. Lots of heated arguments but they were always backed up in fact which was fun and enriching for everyone. I don’t know what happened but that’s no longer the case.  What bothers me the most is that’s her son she’s ranting at without one care for his feelings or experiences.  That sit down will not be happening.

It’s been over a month since our General and Princess Carrie Fisher passed away.  I have yet to read something about her or talk about her without crying.  Her ripples went far and wide.  The loss of her left this huge void in a lot of people’s hearts.  And not just because she was Princess Leia.  She was a brilliant writer. Just a regular conversation with her was full of energy and wisdom both blunt and hidden. It’s like she understood and saw the universe better than anyone else.  Debbie, her mother, passed away a day later.  So whatever was left of my broken heart then burst into dust.  I’m a huge Gilmore Girls fan but Carrie and Debbie should have had a tv show.  The two of them together…I can’t even describe it.  But there’s two pieces of Carrie that she left with us, one little and one big.  Gary her dog and her talented and almost equally comedic daughter Billie.  If you don’t know her yet, IMDB her and watch Scream Queens.  She has that quick wit and that Carrie-like ability to read a room and bring it all together.

I have to admit, I had a little twinge of jealousy to see a mom have such love for her baby girl.  My mom most certainly will never be like that.  Even on the good days.

Alright…what’s next?

Next week

This has been an emotional election.  People are currently not speaking to me for calling them out on thinking rape was funny.  My dad is so stuck in his ways that he can’t see what’s at stake for the future.

But instead of whining about all that, I want to talk about what I personally want to see happen in the next 4 years.

First and foremost, I want women to truly be equal across the board when it comes to careers and pay.  Second to that, I want parental leave really looked at and see what we can do to help new moms and new dads.  So many countries have amazing support systems that we could easily implement here in America.  6 weeks paid leave is the bare minimum. It’s like getting toast in jail instead of being starved.  Parents are shaping the future of the planet.  If we want a great country, we need to build that from the ground up.

Continuing the theme of the children are our future, legalize marijuana already! Quite a few states have done that safely and it’s going great.  BUT I want to see every single dime of that tax money go to the school system.  Our teachers need more support.  Our schools need more funding. Billions of dollars could be made. BILLIONS for our children.  That’s state of the art classrooms taught by the best trained teachers trained in state of the art schools.  Where can that go wrong?  It can’t. Education can only improve our country.

I want more support for farmers.  We want less chemicals and better quality but our farmers are working bare bones because of how expensive everything is. They are feeding us, let’s help them any way we can.  Every grocery store should be able to have truly fresh local produce.  Apple picking should be a memory for EVERY kid. Gardens in every school.

More funding for our army and our vets.  They should be able to walk into the VA and get treated right then and there.  I see urgent cares and ERs popping up all over yet vets have to wait months if they get help at all.

Speaking of healthcare….WHY are we catering to insurance companies? Why can’t your average person walk into the doctor and pay $40 and get my 15 minutes of treatment.  Add that up per day….I think that’s reasonable and cuts out the middle man for all basic PCP healthcare.  In 2016, I’ll have paid over $7000 to our insurance company to have the pleasure of saying I have their insurance.  I have so far have had high co-pays, simple medications not be covered and lots of extra bills.  Thank the PTB for Costco being reasonable about prescriptions.  $17 vs CVS $200+ per month.

I want faster internet. I know that seems silly but it bugs me that we keep saying we have the best country ever but we aren’t #1 in the categories that matter.

And last, I want a huge HUGE push to cure childhood cancer.  It gets a tiny tiny slice of the budget for cancer research and this is unacceptable for a thousand and one reasons.  I want it to be a world effort for everyone to come together and figure it the fuck out.

Good luck next week.  I hope we have a happy 4 years coming to us because 2016 alone has been a heaping pile of dog diarrhea. I’ve got a xanax with Tuesdays name on it all picked out.  Because until the final word is in, I’m going to be beyond nervous.  Gob, if you are watching, you’re up.  You’ve got this.

 

 

To glitter bomb or not to glitter bomb

That is the question.

My mother has been an epic cunt for a while now.  She’s also a super drunk now which is completely weird for me.  She’s hooked on wine.  Can’t live without it hooked.  Drinking before going out to eat at a place that has to have wine kind of hooked. Any wine works but red is preferable.  God forbid you get her a fancy dessert wine from George Washington’s own plantation.  But she’ll happily drink your Hello Kitty red wine even though it’s disgusting.

She last saw the kid a year ago next week.  Too drunk to get up to trick or treat with him.  Even though she begged for us to go come her neighborhood. That’s when I knew I had to build a little bubble for me and the kid.  He’s old enough to know what’s going on these days and I can’t have all that happening.

I still have a ton of anger, obviously. I think she’s selfish.  I think she’s sad. And I think she’s very very unhappy even though she has everything she wants.  It’s odd. The psychologist in me would love to poke around in her brain and see why she’s so damn unhappy.  The daughter in me just can barely function at this happening yet again.  And the mother in me is angry that she didn’t just walk out on me, she walked out on him.

So as per the anger and probably a little bit of a fuckery habit, I’ve been considering the art of the glitter bomb.  The idea is the recipient opens it and glitter goes every where.  This is funny.  My mom and her husband are clean freaks so this would be double funny.  And a little fuck you to her for what I think of as our little anniversary of me finally seeing she’s a shitty mother.

 

 

This is why I don’t do religion

Recently I saw someone’s post on Facebook and it really pissed me off.  Shocker right? It said “I’m going to have to put this out there….I am a Christian, I believe that my Lord sent his only son to die for our sins. I feel really bad for people that don’t have a religion to follow. Whatever religion it may be. I’ve been shown, on many occasions, that He watches over and protects me. So to those that “don’t do” religion, I WILL PRAY FOR YOU🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

 

“I feel really bad for people that don’t have a religion to follow. Whatever religion it may be.”

veronica

 

She feels bad for me?  Because I “don’t do” religion…

okay

 

My most favorite thing ever is for someone to say they’ll pray for me.

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Like do you for real sit down at night and go God, I’m praying for that Heathen without God from the Facebook, watch over her religionless stupid ass because she doesn’t believe.

 

This is why I don’t do religion.  I have no issues with people who love religion. That’s awesome.  I love grapes. I love Netflix.  I love gardening.  Wooo all things people love.  But I don’t walk around going wow, I feel sorry for you, you don’t have a garden, or a netflix account and you don’t even like grapes.  How sad.  I’m going to watch Netflix tonight in your honor.

But don’t be an asshole.

 

Robots

Hello all none of my readers! Probably because I never post….

Anyways, my in laws visited this weekend.  My mother in law fell in love with my trash can.  It’s one of those touch free ones where you wave your hand over it and the lid opens.  I have a thing about icky trash can germs and this makes it so I don’t have to ever touch it.  It’s a win-win.

These trash cans, or robots as she calls them, are my Mawmaw’s arch nemesis. She hates my “robots.” I have three of these trash cans.  One in the master bathroom,  one in the kitchen for regular trash and one for recycling. When she visits, I make it known that I deeply love my robot army.  Because I also have a Roomba. His name is Roombie.  He’s not terribly bright but he’s ours and I love him even though he gets scared in the guest bedroom and hides under the bed almost immediately.

My mother in law and I took a little field trip to Target. They live in a small town so she likes going to stores they don’t have near by.  As we were walking, in her adorable Cajun accent, she says “look, I like your trash cans, where did you get those?”

Some people’s poison is Target.  Mine is Amazon.  She knows this but it’s cute she asks anyway.  She tells me that my father in law had a run in with their trash can.  No word on who won but the trash was worse for the wear and she figures now is a really good time to replace it.  As promised when we got home, I sent her the link for both of the sizes I have.  Some people prefer a smaller trash can.  I love to cook. It’s my zen. I cook from scratch 95% of the time so I like room to throw stuff away.  Our recycling one is smaller. And also when I went to order a second bigger one, the price had gone up and I figured I could live with a smaller recycling one for a better price.   I don’t know which one she ordered but she ordered them immediately.

I am hoping to invite my Mawmaw to Thanksgiving at my mother in law’s house so she can see that my robot army is spreading.  Maybe I’ll get her one for Christmas.

 

 

 

Do you DWIL?

I DWIL.  Well, I lurk DWIL.  I think I’ve made maybe 3 comments on there in the 3 or so years I’ve been lurking there.

What is DWIL?  It’s a Baby Center group that deals with issues with family and in laws.  It’s half entertainment with a dash of tragedy porn, a heap of llama food and a pinch of helpful advice. It takes a while to distinguish trolls from real people.  Don’t get me wrong, trolls can be very entertaining.  Especially ones with writing skills and patience.  A lot jump the shark too soon or start out with outlandish and impossible scenarios to keep up with.

People love a good mother-in-law who has gone totally bonkers.  From poisonings to break ins to attempted kidnappings, claims of magical vaginas and wanky blankies.

It all begins and ends with “The Sticky.”  The sticky has the rules of the board.  The rules are enforced by “The Queens.”  No legal talk, no medical advice and no text speak.  And most certainly NO VENTS.  If you post there, you are posting for advice, not to bitch.  Bitching is for the birth boards.  Oh and you must know all the lingo and abbreviations.

Like BEC.

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Bitch Eating Crackers.  Most in laws are mommies BECs apparently.

You must be ready to two card your spouse at any moment.  Two cards means you hand them a card to a therapist and a card to a divorce lawyer and tell them to choose.  Leave and cleave, ladies, leave and cleave.  Once you marry someone, their loyalties only lie with you and your magical vagina.  He must never ever have any loyalty to the person that birthed him and raised him.

And if a grandmother wants to see her child and her grandchildren more than twice a year, she is a psychopath.  She must only speak to her child on the phone once a month for 5 minutes and they can only talk about the weather. Anything else is boundary stomping.  Grandmothers can never buy anything unless it’s birthdays or Christmas and can only buy things from a per-approved list.

Real talk though, I get some of the boundaries they talk about.  Don’t buy “Firsts” leave that to the parents.  No favoring one kid over another.  Be respectful of your child wanting to spend time with their newly created family.  But these bitches go way way overboard 99% of the time.

If a post starts out with a background that says “my mother has always been abusive, she hit constantly as a child” I legit close that page.  Usually there’s 10 more pages of bonkers background that’s like duh, don’t let these toxic people in your life.  They are just there for the attention and drama.

If a post has 100 pages and no update numbers in the thread title, I skip it.  There’s an amazing creation called Sleepy Cow now but if an OP is too lazy to post update pages, I’m too lazy to read their post.

If a post says they live with their family or in laws, I typically won’t read it unless it’s super super llama food. Because it’s always the same song and dance.  They “can’t” afford to move out.  Yet they’d been living rent free for years.  They only want to buy and not rent.  But are willing to live in a place where their kids see their parents emotionally abused or worse.  And it’s always, well my husband doesn’t want to move out when they are living with his parents.  STOP HAVING SEX WITH HIM.  His mommy does his laundry, how in the world are you even getting turned on by this man child enough to get pregnant multiple times under his parents roof.

Oh and my ultimate favorite thread was the one where the wife was letting her MIL move in even though the mother-in-law endangered her child’s life on more than one occasion and now emotionally abuses her daughter to the point of the nanny having to step in and tell the chick to DO SOMETHING.  Ask me if the mother in law still lives there.  She does.  But hey, the mom has time to write a blog and bitch to Huffington Post about how a dude at Jiffy Lube insulted her.

Every once in a while you get someone coming back and saying how the group changed their lives and helped them get out of a bad marriage or away from really bad family.  I refer people there all the time. But I tell them to take it all with a grain of salt and find what boundaries fit for you.  The one positive thing I can say that group does consistently bring is helping new moms protect their postpartum time. New moms have no idea what the weeks after birth is like and the group tends to give it to them straight on what to expect.

Baby Center does let their group owners in DWIL run wild.  They usually never give an explanation for threads being deleted. Close threads on a whim.  That’s when messages get sent to venture to the two other boards that have gentler and more understanding group owners. There’s been complaints for years but nothing has ever been done about it.

And yet, I still go and read. I find myself getting invested in a story, waiting for updates, bookmarking pages.  Hugging all the good comments along the way.

 

 

 

 

BEC

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Right now I’m BEC with my mother.  Like any mother and daughter, we’ve had our ups and our downs. We had been having a lot of ups until recently.  I love my mom but a lot of times, I don’t like the way she treats people.  Especially retail workers.  If she has to wait longer than a few minutes in a line, she gets bitchy.  If an item isn’t ringing up right, she gets bitchy.  She’s never had to work retail but I have and I’ve explained how complicated their systems are.  Especially for a place like Macy’s where they are always having to keep up with new sales.  It’s not the cashier’s fault.  And the cashier doesn’t know every single sale price of every item.  She gets mad if they are new and doesn’t do it fast enough.  It’s embarrassing and rude.

My cousin made some life changes in the last year or two.  She’s an adult and she’s allowed to do that.  But since she lived with my mom for a few years, my mom seems to think my cousin should do exactly what she says or else she’s a big piece of shit.  My cousin is one of my best friends.  We recently had a death in the family and my cousin was 100% my rock through the entire time.  She really stepped up and helped out with the funeral and after funeral stuff.  My mom still treated her like a big zero.  It breaks my heart to see my mom treat her like that.

So today I call my mom since I haven’t really talked to her much this week.  I’ll be honest, I needed a break from her.  She launches into how we need to come over for Father’s day and grill…. Ummmm it’s my husband’s day.  My mom’s husband doesn’t have kids and has never acted like a stepdad to me or my sibling so why she seems to think it should be all about him is beyond me.  I was pretty mad that she hadn’t taken into consideration about what my husband wanted to do that day.  I was too stunned to really say anything.  DH said he didn’t want to spend the day there and of course, I want to do whatever he wants to do for that day.

And lastly, my mom keeps saying how much she misses the kid.  We live 15 minutes away from her…at any time she could come over and see the kid but she doesn’t.  It’s all on me to bring the kid to her.  Now that’s just not cool at all.  I grew up with two sets of grandparents who fell all over themselves to hangout with their grandkids.  My dad lives far away but he makes every moment count when he’s here or we are there.  I think my mom is pissy that I’m spending a lot of time with my cousin.  So sorry she’s fun to hang out with?

And honestly, at any point I can put on my big girl panties and use my big girl words and tell her how I feel but I’ve done that before and we didn’t talk for years.  Literally years.

Nursing in Public and later…pitch forks and torches

I think that by now this is pretty much beating a dead horse

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But I wanted to talk about this.  In my home state, a mom, Kate, was eating lunch with her friends, a moms group.  They were at Chic-Fil-A which is a seriously family friendly restaurant.  I love going to the one near me.  They have placemats on all the high chairs.  They are super nice.  She’d forgotten her cover and asked if anyone minded that she breastfeed her adorable 6 month old.  All the moms were cool with it, as they should be.

And then some bitch had to ruin it.  Jennifer Long decided to take a picture of this sweet mom just feeding her baby and posted it on Facebook with the comment of “Anybody want some milk? Noon time at a restaurant is not a place to do this?”

I saw the picture and Kate wasn’t shaking her tasseled and glittered up milk jugs on a Chic-Fil-A table.  She wasn’t squirting milk in people’s chicken sandwiches.  She was feeding her son.  She wasn’t showing any more skin than a v-neck shirt.  The people in the background of the picture weren’t even looking her way.  The moms shown in the picture weren’t glued to her boobs either.

I feel so bad for Kate.  All she was doing was feeding her child with food nature provided in a way that was respectful of the people around her.  That’s it.

As for Jennifer, her “organic” tanning business seems to be taking a dive.  Hell hath no fury like breast feeding moms scorned.  Rumor has it, Jennifer spray tans people while they are naked.  *Gasp*  Even if she didn’t and Kate had come to her for a spray tan, Jennifer would have seen way more of Kate’s assets during the tan.  So that’s okay but showing a little cleavage while feeding your child is something that should be mocked on a social network?

This sends a message to other nursing moms that they and their children could be mocked online.  This sends a message that you maybe shouldn’t nurse in public.  How fucked up is that?  Hey there, don’t feed your baby with food nature has provided because someone else may see part of your boob.  When in reality, you see more boob on tv every single day.  Don’t like it? DON’T FUCKING LOOK.

Jennifer is claiming the first amendment.  Freedom of speech.  So here’s my message to her using my first amendment.

Dear Jennifer,

You are a coward.  You should have your vagina card revoked.  And your boob card too.  For someone who’s business is run on boobs because come on, you know your clients want that tanned cleavage, you are being real judgypants.  Does your life suck right now because woman are standing together against you and your actions?  That’s called consequences and karma.  If your mama raised you right, you would get in touch with BBC and the local news and sit down with them and talk about how you didn’t realize how this would affect mom’s on a national scale.  That you hope to make an educated choice in the future when you think about doing something like this again.  And most of all, that you are truly, from the bottom of your heart sorry for all the pain you’ve caused Kate.  Oh and be thankful I didn’t call you a certain four letter word that starts with a C and rhymes with blunt.

Don’t like it, don’t care,

Me

 

If Kate reads this, I’d like to tell her to keep on doing what she’s doing.  Turn this really stupid situation into something good and raise awareness against stupidity about breastfeeding.  It’s big shoes to step into but change needs to happen.  And if anything at all good comes from this, at least know that a boatload of mom’s are reading your story and are getting all riled up and then they have to pause to fawn over Bentley and his beautiful blue eyes.

Mean Girls

It’s the 10 year anniversary of Mean Girls.  I loved that movie.  Who doesn’t love everything from Tina Fey though right?  That woman is a goddess.

Real Mean Girls are a dime a dozen.  Every large group has them.

You start with the girl who tries way too hard to act like she doesn’t care.  So much so that she just seems like a non-caring robot.  Oh but she cares.  She cares so much.  But she’s so busy pretending she doesn’t care that she pushes away the possibility of good friends.  She’s also someone to watch out for.  She’s not above taking advantage of a situation.

Next up is the girl who thinks she’s better than everyone else.  She can give example after example of why she’s totally better than you.  She loves sympathy.  She needs it to survive.  She needs to feel that she’s above the rest.  She’s smart.  Usually book smart because it gives her an edge.  She’s always struggling to keep that edge.  Which is sad because she could be a truly nice person if she hopped down off her pedestal. You can’t push her off because she’ll thrive and revive from all the sympathy.  She’s quick to defend her self because she can’t stand people thinking badly of her. She’ll harp on something for forever because she can’t handle anyone thinking she’s a liar. Or a bad person.

And then you have the oh so insecure one.  She goes to bed worrying that she’ll wake up the next day and be booted from the cool table.  She tries to be 5 steps ahead of things to secure her position but really she’s 10 steps behind.  She’s good for information if you pick the right time.  She needs to feel important but she gets in her own way of things.  Everything is calculated.  She makes you do all the work on things because that way if things blow up, she can say well YOU did THIS.  She is so easily manipulated too.  95% of the time, she’s the cause of group drama.  She’s not two-faced.  She’s a million faced.

There’s always the weird one.  They keep her around for entertainment but she’s easily cast out if they feel like she’s not good enough that day.  She hang onto them because they are all she has.  And the days she’s cast out, she’s lost and alone.  There isn’t much to say about her because no matter what the group, she’s never going to change or make her life better because being this person is her life.

And you know what really sucks?  So many people focus on these girls that they miss all the really cool girls.  The one that makes dirty jokes and is the first to have your back in a fight.  The one who loves all kinds of cool music and can talk sports with the boys.  The one who is super sweet and looks on the positive side of life.  Everyone wants to sit at the cool table so they don’t see the tables full of amazing women.