Pissed Off and Ultra-Determined

Fair warning before I get into the meat of tonight’s post. What I have to day tonight will be a jumble of thoughts coming out in no particular order, and a whole lot of them; and it will probably also be colored with more expletives than usual. Both of the above because I’m really angry and frustrated right now and any of you who actually know me know that when I get like this my thoughts don’t run straight and my language is pretty bad. If you don’t think you can take it, stop reading here.

You all know a good part of my history over the past five or so years because I’ve written about it in bits and pieces here and there. You may or may not have connected the dots at some point, and if you didn’t that’s okay because I will back peddle tonight to clarify what’s happening now. So I’ll get started.

I don’t consider myself to be stupid or naïve but it seems as if I may have become both at some point. Maybe I’m wrong. After you finish reading, let me know what you think. I was under the distinct impression that the government was supposed to be helping people who really need it. That’s what I’d always been told, and from my research and dealing with government agents that’s what I was led to believe. It’s not turning out that way, though and I’ll explain why in a few minutes.

When I lived in MO I was forced to go “into the system” because of no fault of my own. My ex left me with two toddlers and our third child on the way. I had no income and no way of paying bills without going to DSS. I was also forced to move into HUD subsidized housing. It wasn’t bad, mind you; the neighborhood wasn’t the greatest but most of my neighbors were of the opinion that they didn’t need to work as long as the government was willing to give them a place to live. I, on the other hand, along with my next-door neighbor, was of a different opinion.

I believed that I was supposed to use the system to support my family only until I was able to do it myself. I was attending college – via Internet – and earning a degree while my kids were in school. I completed my Bachelor of Science in Paralegal studies in 2009 and had every intention of getting a job when the kids went back to school. Unfortunately for me, I only qualified to put my daughter in part-day Head Start because I couldn’t pay the $500 a month it would have cost me to put her in the full-day program. After care for her, if I was working, would have been just as much so I was stuck. I couldn’t get a job until she went to school full time with the boys.

Then I found out that once a person is in the system the government makes it virtually impossible for that person to get out of the system regardless of how hard s/he tries. It was suggested to me that I work part time for the hours that Dolly was in school. That was fine except that any money I brought home over $200 a month would have to be reported to my apartment management office and DSS (I was getting food stamps). My rent would have gone up and my food stamp allotment would have gone down. I would have basically broken even at the end of the month and wouldn’t have been able to bank anything at all, thus being forced to remain exactly where I was residence-wise.

So I stuck it out for the year and realized that I wouldn’t be able to work out there making enough money to support my family. That’s when I decided to move to MD and Ellen and I were going to do the freelance paralegal thing. That didn’t work out so I moved all the way back to Long Island, where I’d been raised. Since October the kids and I have been living in a friend’s basement making do with what we’ve got. Now though is where the real trouble starts.

Kara is selling her house so the kids and I have to be out PRONTO. I have spent the past six weeks or so looking for housing out here. Not only does NY not have any HUD subsidized housing, but the agencies all claim to not have any emergency housing. I find that fucking hard to believe. I have to correct something, though. There is HUD subsidized housing here but it’s not the same as in MO. There it was based on income with respect to what you did or didn’t have. If you had no income, you paid no rent. I was paying a really low rent for a 3-bedroom, 1.5 bathroom townhome with a full basement. Here, though, the “subsidized” housing communities all have minimum income guidelines – generally around $35K a year with a max of about $65K. There is nothing for low-income families.

I’ve been looking for a job out here but since I’m in the fucking boondocks of Long Island there isn’t a job to be had that’s much over minimum wage. I think I mentioned this a couple of weeks ago. A job for me making $9/hour would just pay for the before/after care the boys would have to attend and I’d have whopping $30 left over – which would pay for my gas to get to and from work. What the fuck?! All the decent-paying jobs are in Western Suffolk County/Eastern Nassau County, which are, at least, an hour from me and I don’t have enough time or gas money to be driving to and from a job interview, much less a job. Since I’ve only got about four free hours during the day because of the kids’ fucked up school schedules.

I need to move to that general area to be able to have the time during the day to go on a few interviews each day. I also need for prospective employers to stop thinking that, because I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for the past ten years, I’m not employable. Fuck the fact that I worked for a solid 18 years before Ty was born, right? I was an administrative assistant and a damn good one at that. That coupled with my degree you’d think would garner me offers left and right. Nope!! Every ad I’ve seen for a paralegal requires a minimum of two years of experience in the legal field. Gee, can’t get the job without the experience, but can’t get the experience without the fucking job. What the fuck gives?!

Now, though, I can’t get a job without a home, and I can’t get the home without the job. I’ll tell you why. BECAUSE THE GOVERNMENT IS COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY FUCKED UP!!! That’s why!! I have ads on craigslist offering my services as a paralegal but keep getting replies from the motherfucking insurance sales companies wanting me to put my “experience” into their company. Did anything in my ad or on my resume on any of the job search sites say I was looking for a fucking sales position? I don’t think so!! I didn’t ask for it so don’t fucking offer it to me.

I’ve also put ads on craigslist asking for help for a single mom with three kids and two cats. I’ve politely requested a place to stay with either a low rent for a couple of months or in exchange for housekeeping/child care services. I’ve gotten responses – from stupid fucking desperate single men looking to build a relationship. If I was looking for a fucking date I’d sign up on match.com. I’m not going to move in with a single dad looking to get laid. FUCK NO!!!

So I finally went back to DSS to find out about rent assistance. Guess what I was told. I don’t qualify because I have no rental expenses – I was supposed to be paying Kara rent but because I have to drive Dolly to and from school daily that rent money is eaten up in gas. I also don’t qualify because, for the time being, I have a roof over my head. If I take the kids out of school one day at the end of the month, and get a notarized letter from Kara telling them she “evicted” us, and show up at the door to Social Services, they can place us in a shelter that day. You know what? THAT’S FUCKING UNACCEPTABLE TO ME!!! I will NOT subject my kids to shelter life because I have to follow rules that I had no say in creating.

Since then I’ve been calling agency after agency after agency, all of which claim to have resources, and they all say the exact same thing: “Call Social Services.” Is that the only motherfucking resource you have? Are you fucking kidding me? Do I look stupid enough not to have thought of that myself? Does anyone? Do they honestly think that people who are losing their jobs and homes don’t think of calling Social Services first?

I did come in contact with a couple of people who actually turned me on to some real agencies or contacts that gave me decent information. The Commissioner of DSS was a very nice man and told me that I qualify for a couple of their rent assistance programs but I have to literally be sitting in a shelter first. Give me a motherfucking break!! Why in the world would the government want to pay to house us in a shelter, and then pay again to help me find a place to live? Does that make any fucking sense at all to anyone? It doesn’t to me.

Onward – I called the County Executive whose aide told me to call the DSS Commissioner. I explained that I already did and told her what he said didn’t work for me. She gave me the number to the Board of Elections so I could get the names and numbers of the elected officials. I called the State Legislator and spoke with someone last week and we’ve been playing phone tag ever since. Another agency, the EOC, told me that they could help me secure a place but since my only income is child support I don’t have enough to guarantee that I can sustain the rent after they assist me. Again, I can’t get a job without the place to live first. She understands completely but, “I’m sorry, that’s all we can do. If you can get a job and bring us a letter from an employer, we may be able to get you into a place.” Am I not speaking fucking English or is she just a dunce?

The Department of Labor can’t even help me. They’re not a job placement agency but they can let me use the Internet and fax machines and give me the names of all the job search web sites that I’ve already got. Does the government actually fucking pay people to give folks like me what we can already do on our own? I want THAT fucking job!! “I’ll give you what you already have but that’s the best I can do.” Un-fucking-believable!!

So the DOL lady connected me to the “Displaced Homemakers” division because “they have a class that’s starting June 7th and runs through the 17th. It’ll give me tips on how to write a resume and do an effective job search, and some other things that might help me. Again, am I not speaking English? Listen carefully you fucking moron: I CAN DO ALL OF THAT MYSELF!!! I JUST CAN’T GET AN EMPLOYER TO HIRE ME BECAUSE OF A LACK OF EXPERIENCE!!!

So I left a message with the Displaced Homemakers lady and she called me back. She did have a couple of suggestions and even scoffed at what the other lady had told me about the class. Her response, “No, that class won’t do you any good. You need help now, not later.” Thank you for listening to me!!! She suggested I call my State representatives and she was impressed that I had already started that. She said I need to keep climbing that ladder because the government’s “We can’t help you until you live in a cardboard box” attitude is the shits. Then I got annoyed with her but it was my own fault. I was just talking to her explaining that I understand how some people take advantage of the system but I’m not one of them. I told her that I didn’t ask to be put in this position, that I didn’t ask for domestic violence in my relationship – and she stopped me there. “Oh, you didn’t say anything about that. I have a couple of numbers you can call. Maybe these places can help.”

You know why I didn’t mention it? BECAUSE I’M TIRED OF PLAYING THAT SAME FUCKING CARD OVER AND OVER!!! Yes, it happened; no, it’s not still happening (According to her, though, since he’s close to us again, I never know if he might come around and start some shit.); yes, I’ve dealt with it; no, I’m not over it, just past it. I’m tired of thinking about it, I’m tired of having to offer that information, I’m tired of having people help me simply because of it. The government simply wants to keep me in the system, and keep me reliving my past over and over and over… I don’t want to do that forever.

Am I glad I have the resources? Okay. Am I happy that I’ll have to tell my entire story over again to each of these places? FUCK NO!! Look at me as a person – an intelligent, strong-willed, capable woman who will do what needs to be done for myself and my kids if I can just get this one last step up the mountain. Stop looking at me as the poor abused victim who had to deal with domestic violence in her home and is struggling with issues at every turn. It’s really starting to make me sick and it’s making more sense to me how people keep bleeding the system. All a woman has to do is scream abuse and people rush to her aid. I’m not like that. I got counseling, I got help when I needed it. It’s in the past and I’m tired of carrying it around only to have to show it when I least expect it. How am I ever going to move forward with my life if the system keeps insisting I live in the past?

Fuck, my brain really hurts now. I’m tired of yelling, and screaming, and crying, and griping. I’m fighting one helluva a fucking fight right now and I guarantee you I WILL NOT LOSE!! Yes, I’m going to call these other resources tomorrow. If they can help, so be it. Do I like it? Not really, but if it helps me get a home for my kids, I’ll do what I have to do. I also have to go above the head of the State Legislator aid simply because he can’t get back to me when I need him to get back to me. I will not give up on this and the angrier I get the more determined I am. So keep pissing me off, folks. I promise you I’ll just come back stronger and more forceful. Eventually you’ll realize that, if I can take my fight as far as I have and farther, I’m not an ignorant bimbo trying to get something for nothing, and you’ll help me with what I need if only to get me out of your face.

So, this was a long post – no apologies here, I told you in the beginning it was a massive gripe. Thanks for hanging in there with me and I’d appreciate you sending me all the positive energy you can. I am determined to get what I want and I’ll keep you updated as things progress. Hell, maybe if I fight hard enough I can actually get some of the bullshit rules and regs changed to help others like me. That was my intention from the beginning and the reason I got the degree I got. I intend to make the world a better place for honest, hard-working women so we can stop getting shit on by the system. No better time to start than now.

Until next time…peace to all.

A Blast of a Day

Wow, what a great day today. I know you get tired of listening to my boring life but I don’t care. J It was busy, hectic, rushed, but a complete and total blast. I had to bake Zach’s birthday cake, help a friend who owns a party business set up for a party, and then race back home to have Zach’s birthday dinner, cake and gifts. And I got it all done. YEA ME!!

I got up this morning to bake his cake. He wanted a layer of chocolate, a layer of vanilla, and blue icing. I had to leave the house no later than 12:15 and I started mixing the cake batter at around 9:45. The countdown was on. Got one layer in the oven, stored the leftover batter; got the second layer in the oven, stored that leftover batter. I’ll make cupcakes latter in the week. Baked the cake, let it cool, mixed the blue icing, frosted the cake, and wrote the wording on it. It was exactly 12:00 when I finished. Whew!!

I had to drive to my friend Steve’s house because we were driving to the party people together. He’s about 45 minutes away from me with traffic and I needed to be by him at 1:15 so I left at 12:00. There’s one area over here that is always seriously clogged with traffic because of construction but I didn’t figure there would be much considering it was Sunday and it was rainy. I wasn’t taking any chances though and I actually got to his house at 12:30. We hung out a bit and left his house at 1:15 to get to the party people’s house to help them load up the van and head to the restaurant/hall where the party was taking place.

We were doing balloons, centerpieces, and favors and only had an hour to set it all up. When we got to the hall there was already a party going on in the room where we were supposed to be setting up and we knew we wouldn’t be able to get in there until 5:00 so we started making the centerpieces in the parking lot. There is an office building next door that has a covered parking lot so we worked under there. We made seventeen centerpieces out of three-feet-tall vases, glass beads, miniature lights, giant feathers, feathered boas, and strings of beads. We were doing really well, too, and had them all finished; hoping the wind didn’t pick up and blow them over. We only had one casualty, though, when the van door blew open and knocked on vase over. Luckily they had an extra on in the van so we just rebuilt it really fast. Then we ended up standing around waiting to get into the room.

The party that was already in there was supposed to be over at 5:00 but they were still in there dancing at 5:00. Now I was running out of time. Steve is only about 20 minutes away from Paul, who still had the kids. I’d left my van at Steve’s and was going to go by Paul’s when I got back there, pick up the kids and then head home for dinner. Since it was already 5:00 I decided to just ask Paul to meet me at Steve’s house with the kids so I could save that 20 minutes. Kara was going to have dinner ready around 6:30 so we could do cake, ice cream, and gifts before it got really late. The kids all have school tomorrow so we didn’t want them up any later than need be.

At about 5:15 they finally let us in the room as the previous party was still breaking up. The wait staff was already changing out the table cloths and setting the tables we got busy putting centerpieces on the tables and putting the finishing touches on them. We had to put favors at each place setting – 16 tables with anywhere from 7 to 11 people at each one – and four small flameless candles on each table. The friends who own the party company, the ones Steve and I were helping, got to work on the balloon arches and pillars with another guy who was helping us, while Steve and I finished the tables and started cleaning up all the boxes and scraps we were dropping on the floor. Mind you, we were supposed to be setting up from 5:00 to 6:00 but were cut 15 minutes short. We were rushing like mad to get things in order before the Bat Mitzvah girl’s guests got there. We did it though. I was hotter than all get out, and tired, but felt really good. We did great work in a really short amount of time.

Earlier, at 5:40, I’d texted Paul that I needed him to drive the kids home, ASAP, so they would be there for dinner at 6:30. Then I texted Kara, at 6:00 that I would be heading home soon and told her to start eating with the kids, not to wait for me. I was really getting annoyed that I was going to be so late. We didn’t leave the hall until about 6:20 after we reloaded the van and we had to drive from the hall back to our friends’ house which was about 20 minutes away. Then Steve and I had to go back to his house, another 25 minutes. By the time we got back there it was already 7:05 and I still had a 45 minute ride back home. I knew it would take me that long since it was evening and people were all heading home from whatever they’d done today.

Don’t tell anyone, but I actually raced to get back home. I bobbed and weaved, safely mind you, but wasn’t going to let anyone stop me. Traffic actually slowed down at one point and was semi-creeping. Grrrrrrrrrrr… At a really big and busy intersection I found out why. Off to the far side of the road there was an accident but the police hadn’t gotten there yet. Just as I went through the intersection the flashing lights came from my left. Thank goodness I got through when I did or I may still be sitting there. From that point on I just hauled ass until I pulled into our driveway. I made it home in about 25 minutes; I got home at exactly 7:30. Another Whew!!

The kids had all finished eating and had left me a plate of food. I was so hyper from the fast party setup and the race home that I didn’t feel like eating even though I was starving. I chowed down half a burger and a glass of water and was ready to bring out the cakes. We had two cakes, one for Zach and one for Kara’s son. They opened their gifts, we all had cake, and I even got the kitchen cleaned up and it was just 8:25. Holy shit!! From 2:00 on I don’t think I really stopped except for the half hour we had to wait from the time we finished working on the centerpieces until we got to set up the party. Other than that I was in overdrive, but I said in last night’s post that I work best under pressure. Today was one of those days.

It feels good when I get to work like that, though. I spend so much time going in slow motion, or so it feels, that I actually need something to make me speed up a little. A little adrenalin rush is good for me and I need it occasionally. That’s why I said today was a great day. I got a lot done and there wasn’t too much downtime. I’m exhausted, but I can’t wait to have another day like today. Oh the fun of actually having a lot to do in a day. Yesterday I was bored but happy; today I’m tired but happy. It’s a great life.

Until next time…peace to all.

Bored but Happy

Without my kids here I get a lot done, and it’s really peaceful, but I end up being bored. How does that happen? I drove them to their dad’s house yesterday afternoon and headed back home. I didn’t have much to do so I watched back episodes of “Supernatural” on the computer. In the middle of one Ellen called me to chat so I called her back when I was finished watching it. We were on the phone for over five hours. That’s what happens when you have no life. Ellen is laid up at home after having foot surgery and I am laid up just because I have no life outside of my home.

We chatted about anything and everything. First time we’d done that in a really long time. Back when I lived in MO we talked almost every day, for hours sometimes. Last night was just the same. Anything that came up we talked about, and that would lead to something else, and so on. We finally hung up sometime after 1:00 in the morning, or thereabouts, right Ellen? And I watched TV for a few minutes before going to sleep. I actually get to sleep, too, when the kids aren’t here. Dolly isn’t in my bed smacking me in the face or pushing me off the edge. It’s nice.

When I got up this morning the house was quiet because Kara was at work and the kids were out of the house. It was just me, my cats, and her dogs. I showered and got ready to do some errands – all by myself. When the kids aren’t here I get to go alone. There’s none of that whining and crying that goes along with a shopping trip with kids in tow. And they’re not here to whine and cry either. J I can actually walk through the stores without hearing, “Mom, can we have a treat?” “Will you buy us (fill in the blank)?” “C’mon, Mom, pleeeaaase?” It was nice to be able to do that today, but I still hate shopping.

I actually had to go shopping for Zach’s birthday. He turned eight today. First time since he was a year old that his dad got to be with him on his actual birthday, so I’m sure it was a treat for all of them. Anyway, I had to get Zach’s gifts and Kara wanted me to pick up a few things for dinner tonight. Not a problem, right? Wrong! I wrote down everything on a shopping list because that’s what I do. I had the list with me, either in my hand or in my back pocket – and I still kept forgetting shit. Go figure.

I went to the strip mall across the street from us and found Zach a couple of gifts there. Then I headed to the supermarket to get the groceries. I read off the list and got what I needed, paid and headed out to the van. Got in the van, started the engine, and realized, FUCK, I forgot the pizza sauce. I had everything else but that. Okay, I’ll make my last stop at one other store to get Zach something he specifically asked for. Maybe they’ll have the sauce there. I’m cool. Relaxed. Fuck again! I also forgot his cake mix while I was in the supermarket. Grrrrrrrrr… I’ll just look in the next store for that too.

Get to the store and find what Zach wanted then searched for the sauce and the cake mix. Gotta be there, right? Of course not. Why would the items I need actually be waiting in the store for me? FUDDRUCKER!!! Alright, I’ll run back to the supermarket to get the sauce but I know I can get the cake mix cheaper at another store I know of. Get to the supermarket and can’t find pizza sauce. Text Kara: “What is pizza sauce and where do I find it?” Waiting…waiting…waiting…no answer. Shit – she must be busy and can’t get to me. Okay, can’t find it so I’ll just come back later. On to the last store for the cake mix.

Wouldn’t you know it, they didn’t have it there either. They had cake mix, just not what Zach wanted. Shit!!! Now I gotta go back to the supermarket just for the cake mix. The people there are gonna thing I’m nuts. Do I care? Nope – I am nuts. So, back to the store to the baking aisle. Get the cake mix, get the frosting, get the candles, get the writing gel, but no food coloring anywhere in sight. Seriously!? What to do…what to do? He wants blue icing so what can I use to color the white that I bought? Well, they have a tube of blue writing gel. That’ll do it. Got everything now and I’m on my way back home. Happy to be finished with all my errands.

I get all comfy in the van, start the engine, turn the corner toward home and, holy fucking shit, I forgot to get Kara’s younger son his birthday gift. His birthday is Tuesday so we’re doing gifts and cake for both boys tomorrow. Now picture me sitting in my van, driving home after going to six stores, one of them three times, and suddenly remembering that I needed to buy another gift at the same store where I found some of Zach’s gifts. What is wrong with me? Nothing other than the fact that I’m so relaxed I can’t remember anything.

So I get home and decide I’ll get Little Boy’s gift later or tomorrow morning. Just as I’m packing out the groceries in the kitchen Kara finally texts me back saying that the pizza sauce is over by the pasta sauces. I’d figured that and that’s where I’d looked but still didn’t see any. Not to mention the fact that it’s Saturday and the store was crowded. I was ready to punch people in their heads to get them out of my way. I didn’t; it was just a thought. I texted her that I’d go back to the store later to look again. Then she called and asked if we had any sauce and paste in the pantry. Those are staple items so, yes, we did. She told me not to bother going back to the store, she’d just use what was there. Okay, fine by my. I still had to go back for the other gift, though.

I came downstairs, wrapped Zach’s gifts and was ready to get comfy when I decided it was better to run back to the store then, rather than wait. Good thing I still had my shoes on or I’d have been really ticked. I hate shoes and they’re the first things I take off when I get home and the last thing I put on before I leave. I’d left them on when I was wrapping Zach’s stuff – I don’t know why – so I was up and out the door in a shot. Got to the store, headed right to the aisle I needed, got two small gifts, paid and was back home in less than 15 minutes. YEA ME!!! Finally got all my errands done. Then I had to clean.

I did a quick clean down here, put in some more laundry while I folded what I’d done Friday and watched “Must Love Dogs” that I’d rented from Netflix. That’s the movie with John Cusack and

Diane Lane

, and they meet through a personal ad. I love John Cusack but this movie wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I rated it three-out-of-five stars. Anyway, got done watching that and I was bored again. So you know what I did? I watched some more back episodes of “Supernatural” on the computer; had dinner with Kara, then came back down to watch some more.

The only reason I’m not watching it now is because I paused the episode I was watching to fill you guys in on my oh-so-exciting day. Don’t get me wrong; I’m happy, healthy, enjoying my quiet time, and getting my energy realigned – but I’m still bored. I guess that’s the life of a single mom when her kids aren’t around for the weekend. I actually work better under pressure. The deadline is looming and I get shit done. When I’m too relaxed, nothing seems to flow right. But I guess that’s the way it’s supposed to be. I don’t mind; it helps me get myself in order to be a better mom and a better me. I may be bored, but I’m loving it. Now back to "Supernatural." J

Until next time…peace to all.

Relationships: Fact or Fantasy?

Can an intimate relationship between two people ever be balanced? “In real life” does it actually exist? The reason I’m asking is because I don’t think I’ve ever seen it, except in movies. Most of the TV shows I watch all have the wife/Mom being the dominant figure in the husband/wife relationship. Mom sets the rules; Dad defers to her when the kids have made bad choices; Mom tells Dad what he will and won’t wear; and many other examples but I won’t name them all. You’ve seen that, right?

In movies it seems like the couples are either really happy and discuss and compromise on what needs to be done on every issue; or the couples are having serious problems and can’t get along at all, pretty much because one wants more power than the other. I think that’s why, anyway. And in my actual life I’ve never seen any couple that existed together without that power struggle, usually with the woman winning. Even my own parents were like that. They would discuss issues but my dad would always tell my mom, “Whatever you want.” What’s up with that? Why the need for discussion at all if you’re only going to give in anyway? Doesn’t make sense to me.

Maybe that’s why I don’t really see the reason to get back into a relationship. I don’t know; I haven’t given it much thought. I don’t even know why I’m thinking about it tonight, it’s just there and floating around in my head. But you know about my last relationship. Talk about a power struggle. He had the power, and I struggled. No mystery there. Each of my relationships in the past got worse as time went on. Yes, the relationship got worse, but what I really mean is that #2 was worse than #1, and #3 was worse than #2, and so one. Each relationship was worse than the last, so here I am.

Anyway, back to my original question. Does a balanced relationship really exist where Mom and Dad, or whatever the partners may be, have equal say in matters of the home and heart? I don’t know that it does; I’ve never seen it personally and we all know that movies aren’t “real” by definition. I guess if the couple is in love (if even that exists), though, they can have a good balancing act right? Since I’ve never had a good relationship, and I’ve already said in other blog posts that I’ve never been in love, I’m just curious to know if and how it happens that people have good relationships.

I don’t know why I want to know, I’m just tired of seeing people on TV constantly fighting and the dad giving in to whatever the mom wants. It never fails that one of the kids will go to the dad asking for something saying, “Well you can make a decision, too, Dad,” and the dad will respond with something like, “Have you met your mother?” This shows that Mom is the boss. What gives? It’s really irritating but I guess it needn’t be since I'm so used to the women who claim to be in good relationships being the ones who make most of the final decisions. Maybe I just got the idea from all the movies I watch.

Yes, movies aren’t real but maybe they’re trying to portray relationships as we’d like them to be, and TV shows are giving us the true version of what life is actually like. Hmmm…I think I’ve hit on something in my own little reality here. Let’s see: I’ve said that I’ve never known any couple who was in a truly equal partnership even though they claim to be happy; and what I’ve seen on TV makes real life look like “Pleasantville.” So it must be the movies that are making me think that there is real happiness and love out there, when in all actuality they don't really exist. I get it now. Look at that, I’ve had a major breakthrough and didn’t even mean to. I was just speculating tonight.

Now, though, I can definitely say that I won’t be rushing into any type of relationship any time soon. There’s no need, right? I can live in a fantasy world whenever I watch a movie and my life is, pretty much, based in fantasy since I keep trying to obtain the unobtainable; and I can experience real life when I watch TV, hang with friends, and visit my own memories. I’ve got all the bases covered and never have to leave my own room if I don’t want to. So I guess I’m good here. I appreciate you listening to my blather. If I confused you, I didn’t mean to; you already know that I’m a bit nutty at times. Tonight just happens to be one of those nights, but I feel better now; thanks for asking.

Until next time…peace to all.

"Rude" is a Four-Letter Word

How do I explain to my kids that they need to be polite when they constantly see rudeness from others? I was standing at the supermarket the other day with Dolly. We’d stopped for a couple of things and were waiting on line to use the self-checkout. There was a lady in front of us who had her son, about 10, with her. Right in front of them, using one of the machines, was another lady who had a toddler with her. The little girl must have been about a year old and was sitting in the seat of the cart which was facing us; the cart was just behind the mom.

While the mom was ringing up her groceries the lady in front of me was chatting with the little girl. She was just saying little cutsie things to the girl, trying to make her smile. Suddenly, the little girl fumbled with her pacifier and almost dropped it. It was stuck between her leg and the edge of the leg hole where she was sitting. The lady in front of me politely said to the girl’s mom, “Oops, she’s about to drop her binky.” Now, if you were the mom, what would you do? I know I’d look for the pacifier, catch it before it fell, and thank the lady who warned me. That’s what this mom did, right? Nope, not even close.

The little girl’s mom looked up, got a seriously angry look on her face, grabbed the end of the cart with her daughter in it and yanked it to where it was now sitting in front of her, away from those of us standing behind her. She didn’t thank the woman who warned her about the soon-to-be-falling pacifier, just threw out an angry look and went back to ringing up her groceries with her back to us. What the fuck? The lady in front of me turned around to see if I’d seen what had happened and all I could do was stand there staring at her. Most people don’t surprise me anymore but that rude bitch really caught me off guard.

The lady in front of me asked me if it was just her, or had she done something wrong. I told her it wasn’t her, she’d done nothing wrong, and the mom’s response was uncalled for. Then the lady look down at her son and told him not to grow up that way and not to ever be as rude as the mom. Dolly wasn’t really paying attention to the lady in front of me but she had seen what happened and said to me, “Mom, that lady was weely wude.” I just agreed. Then she asked me why and all I could say was that maybe the mom was having a bad day.

The lady in front of me and I exchanged pleasantries as we got up to the checkout machines; I rang out and Dolly and I headed to the car. That’s where we got into another discussion about rudeness. Dolly’s issue was why other people are allowed to be rude when I was constantly telling her and her brothers that rudeness is unacceptable. I told her that sometimes people are rude on purpose, sometimes they don’t mean to be, but it’s not nice either way.

All she wanted to do was argue with me. Her brothers are rude to her sometimes; some of the kids in her class are rude; people we see in stores are rude. Correct, but that doesn’t make it right. I tried to explain, over and over, that being rude is not the way to treat people. “But the lady in the sto-uh was weely wude.” I know she was but that doesn’t make it right. Grrr….

I’m just glad the boys weren’t there with us because I may have jumped out of the car once the rudeness conversation started. All three of them coming at me about all the rude people they know would have been too much for me to handle. Granted, I’m not always polite, but when my kids are around I try really hard to be. If I can’t be polite, for whatever the reason, I apologize to my kids afterward and explain the circumstances, always following it with “but I was still wrong” so they get the hint. I try to teach them that when someone is rude to them, they can smile and say something like, "Thanks for your input," or "Thanks for sharing," or they can just wish the person a nice day and walk away. Sometimes they do it, sometimes not. It depends on whether or not they remember what to say and do.

I feel bad for that mom’s toddler, thoug, because if her mom is always like that, the little girl will turn out to be one snotty little brat. I ran into that about seven years ago in a store. I was shopping with a friend and Ty and Zach were very small. I was walking along, pushing my cart, when a little girl almost T-boned me in the middle of an aisle. She must have been about six or seven. She stopped just before she hit me, looked me dead in the eye and said, “Move!!” Are you fucking kidding me? I just looked at her as I very slowly kept walking. Her mom looked at me, too and gave me a “Fuck you, bitch” look when she realized I wasn’t going to take any crap from her little shit. My friend and I just stared at each other as I, VERY loudly said, “Gee, at least we know where the little brat gets it from.” Her mom was not happy at that but I didn’t give a shit.

So the little girl from the supermarket could very well turn out like the girl from years ago and that’s sad. That’s the type of kid people are referring to when they say kids have no respect for authority these days. They’re right too, but if you ask the kids’ parents they’d say there is nothing wrong with their kids. All I can say to that is, "Okay, if you say so." So I’ll just keep arguing with my kids over the benefits of being polite even amidst all the rudeness they encounter every day, and I’ll hope they make the right choices as they get older. It’s the best I can do.

Until next time…peace to all.

Good Times and Silly Dances

Am I the only one who tries to follow the rules? I know I’m not the only one but it seems that way sometimes. A few weeks ago there was a Daddy/Child dinner at Dolly’s school and Paul wanted to take Dolly. I had to sign them up on a form in the classroom and, since it asked who would be attending, I asked Dolly’s teacher if Paul could also bring the boys to the dinner, or if it was just for the child in the class. I was told it was just for the classroom child and the Dad. Okay, that was fine. I signed up Paul and Dolly, and they attended while the boys stayed home with me.

A couple of weeks ago there was a notice that, tonight, there would be a Mommy/Child dinner. I signed up for Dolly and me to attend. Yesterday the boys asked me if they could go with us and I told them that it wasn’t permitted so they asked if Paul could pick them up for a while. Paul had said he would but a last-minute kink ended that so the boys would be staying home with Kara and her kids. They were upset that they wouldn’t be seeing Paul but they had no choice.

So Dolly and I went to the dinner and were the first in the classroom. A few minutes later a mother showed up with her daughter, who’s in Dolly’s class, plus her older daughter. Then, as more Moms started arriving I noticed that almost half of them, and there were about twelve of us, brought extra kids along with them. Many of them brought an extra two kids. That really ticked me off, and I’ll tell you why.

I had specifically asked if other kids in the family could attend and was told they weren’t allowed. This was supposed to be a dinner for just the students and the Moms. I would have loved to take the boys for an evening of fun but I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. It was also explained to me that they needed to know, in advance, who was attending because they needed to make sure they had enough food for everyone. That’s fair, and I respected their wishes.

These Moms who came tonight with all the extra kids apparently didn’t give any notice that the kids would be attending because the lead teacher sent an assistant teacher to the kitchen to find out if the cook had made extra, or if she needed to stretch the food that was delivered. Lucky for all, there was extra if needed. Not only that, but there wasn’t enough seating for everyone so the teachers were scrambling to move tables and rearrange chairs to make room.

Now, you might say that maybe the moms who had tag-a-longs were single moms. That may be true but do any of them have any friends or family who could watch the other siblings for a while? I’m a single mother and I made arrangements for my boys. Okay, I’ll say that maybe, just maybe, one, perhaps two, of them, didn’t have any alternative so the siblings had to attend. But there is no way on Earth that all five mothers couldn’t find alternate means in a situation like this. This was just not right and it needs to be made clear that, for future events, if the event is for students only, siblings need to stay home.

What’s done is done, though, and I can’t change it. My irritation only lasted a short while and I really enjoyed the dinner and the time Dolly and I spent together. The teachers gave us popsicle stick picture frames that the kids got to decorate with markers and stickers; and the lead teacher took a picture of each parent/child combination for the kids to put in the frame. Then they served a really good dinner with cookies for dessert; and for the finale, we got to dance to kids’ songs.

We moved to the carpeted area in the classroom where one of the assistant teachers got out the CD player and played a couple of songs the kids liked, that had dances to go with them. The kids loved it and, yes, I did the dances along with the kids. There was only one other mother besides me and the teacher who played the songs who actually danced. The rest all just stood around watching. Dolly said that Paul didn’t dance either when he went with her a couple of weeks ago. It was really pretty fun, too.

One of the songs the teacher played was “Tooty Ta!” by Dr. Jean & Friends. I’ve been dancing along with this song since the boys were in Head Start five years ago. Yes, I did the actual dance: Thumbs up, elbows back, feet apart, knees together, bottoms up, tongue out, eyes shut, turn around. I may have looked silly but I don’t care. I had fun, and Dolly was thrilled that I danced with her.

All in all it was a really nice evening. Good food, lots of fun, great company. Dolly couldn't stop smiling, and neither could I. If you ever get the chance to attend an informal school dinner with your kids, I highly recommend you go and act silly while you’re there. It makes for great memories and the kids will love it.

Until next time…peace to all.

Difference of Opinion

I didn’t really have a topic for tonight so I was going to skip my blog again, until a friend and I had a conversation on Facebook. It brought a topic to mind that I thought I’d discuss. It concerns differences of opinion.

In the wake of bin Laden’s death I’ve noticed that about half of my friends on Facebook are actually celebrating it with an “eye for an eye” attitude, and the other half of my friends refuse to rejoice in his death choosing instead to express their remorse for those who have suffered because of him. I fall into that second group. Now, I’m not going to get all political or religious here but when we were attacked on 9/11 there were people over there dancing in the streets and celebrating over the devastation we’d suffered that day. I was sickened by that and won’t allow myself to sink to that level just because that man is dead. Anyway, I’ll move on now.

The half of my friends who feel as I do have been posting some really inspirational quotes, some of which I swiped and posted myself. One of the quotes I posted was from Mahatma Gandhi and says, “An eye for eye only ends up making the whole world blind.” I thought it was appropriate given the situation. My friend, D, responded to my post with a quote of her own from Mark Twain which says, “I have never wished a man dead...But I have read many obituaries with great pleasure.”

Since I hadn’t seen any posts from her earlier which directly expressed how she feels about the whole thing I just figured she was expressing a different opinion than mine. Since I didn’t want to argue with her over this – I won’t argue with anyone over it – I just responded that we’d have to politely agree to disagree. She in turn said that she wasn’t saying she disagreed with me, she just liked Twain’s light heartedness in what he’d said. She actually believes the way I do about this bin Laden thing. Then she continued by saying that it’s nice to know that, if she ever did disagree with me, I wouldn’t go nuts and curse her out on her wall or post. 

I explained to her that I'd never do that; I might debate her over whatever the issue is – never over politics, and very rarely over religion – and that I’d throw arguments at her to try to get her to change her opinion, but, in the end, we’d just believe what we wanted and that’s our right, regardless of what anyone else thinks. With that she agreed wholeheartedly. We’re all entitled to our own beliefs and opinions and I don’t think anyone has the right to make us feel bad because of them. Still, there’s nothing wrong with a little healthy debate once in a while.

My “Critical Thinking” professor loved me because I love to debate. Every time our online seminar would start she’d sign in and immediately throw out a topic that was general in nature and then ask us if we agreed or disagreed. The majority of the class automatically agreed with her, I guess thinking they needed to, I don’t really know. I, however, would actually think about what she’d asked and then try to think of an argument to counter it. In most cases I did. She’d see all these “agree” responses scrolling up the screen and then she’d see mine – “disagree” – and would ask why I disagreed.

That’s when the fun began. I’d have, at least, two arguments ready for her. She’d ask me questions and I’d have answers ready. This would go on for a few minutes and then we’d get down to the business of the actual lesson for the night. When the course ended she told me that she really enjoyed having me in the class because I’d challenged her so much. She said that she’d only had one or two other students who’d done that before and she was pleased with the fact that I liked to debate and never took what I heard, saw, or read on face value. She also suggested that I go beyond being a paralegal and continue on to get my Law Degree. J

I loved that class because it gave me a chance to do what I do best; you might call it arguing, I call it debating. I just think it’s a blast to be able to discuss a point with someone and have legitimate arguments to toss out for review. Sometimes I’ll even just throw out stupid crap to see what the other person will say. What I don’t like, however, is when people are so grounded in their beliefs that they refuse to budge at all. To make matters worse, most times they don’t even know why they believe the way they do, only that it’s what they were taught. Doesn’t anyone ever ask questions?

My mother, my sister, and I all converted to Catholicism when I was about 12 because my stepfather was Catholic and my mother thought it would be nice for all of us. Okay, I was 12, what did I know? Then, nothing; now, oodles. My mother didn’t like the fact that, after we’d converted, I spent a lot of time asking questions about the religion that she couldn’t answer. She’s always just say, “It’s in the Bible” or something similar. Well, I asked enough questions that after a few years she stopped forcing me to go to church and allowed me to think what I wanted to think. I still do to this day.

I never take anything as gospel, and I research continually until I find what I think might be closest to the actual truth – if there is an actual truth. Kids are different, though, and I’m teaching my kids to ask questions until they understand, regardless of who gave them the information. I even say it to other kids. In the car this afternoon Ty mentioned that his teacher told them about bin Laden today and Kara’s oldest son interrupted saying, “They shot him 18 times in the head.” My immediate reaction was to stop him and tell him not to believe everything he heard because there were a lot of stories floating around and he ought to do some checking himself.

Thing with kids, though, is that they tend to believe those they trust, which is a good thing – to a point. I never lie to my kids; I keep the information age-appropriate but I give them real answers. Their dad, on the other hand, doesn’t. He fudges, glosses over, and outright lies to them at times. My kids and I have had numerous arguments over “But Dad said…” issues. I show them proof and the issue is dropped. When it comes to their friends, though, they like to believe whatever they hear and I have a hard time telling them that they don’t have to believe it just because so-and-so said it. I explain that there is always room for argument and research in any given conversation.

I just don’t want them to grow up believing everything they hear or see or read. I would rather they have and/or develop their own ideas, beliefs, and opinions than to follow the masses “just because.” I’ve had that discussion with Zach numerous times already. “Zach needs to decide what Zach wants and stop worrying about what everyone else wants,” when all the kids are looking for cereal for breakfast. He asks the others what they’re having because he’s afraid someone might say something negative to him if he picks the “wrong” cereal. As they get older I’ll make sure they know that they don’t have to follow the leader and that it’s okay to be who they are without fear of repercussions from others. I'm doing my best already. Granted, life doesn’t always work that way; some people are just downright nasty if you disagree with them, but so be it. The only people we can control are ourselves, right?

Rest assured, though, if you ever disagree with me, I’ll be more than happy to debate you for a while and then we’ll just smile and move on from there. If we think the discussion might get heated we’ll just drop it altogether and agree to disagree. Remember, though, I don’t discuss politics, and I very rarely discuss religion. Everything else is fair game. Have at it.

Until next time…peace to all.