Yet another road block…

To say my life has been easy, or handed to me, would be a bold faced lie. I have had to fight, tooth and nail, for everything that I have. I am a little bitter that it has been so hard for me, when I watch everyone else just cruise and get what they want with little effort. That is not to say that everyone I know doesn’t work hard for what they have (most of them, some of them are just straight up lazy asses who let everything just get handed to them…) but when all you have are the normal obstacles, you never really will understand the larger ones in life.

That’s me – the wrangler of the large ass obstacles. I would like to say that I have done this all with grace and compassion, but that’s straight up shit. I have been angry, I have been mad, I have cried, I have cursed what brought me to this point, I have plotted the conducters demise (yep. I have. judge away.. I care not), I have flipped my shit and screamed at the unfairness of this entire situation. None of that has helped, but I do believe it has helped me maintain a shred of sanity – no one can leave that much hostility bottled up without going bat shit crazy. That being said, I have also kept a smile on my face, I have kept trying, I have kept my kids happy and healthy and well adjusted, I kept my sobriety (which I believe is a feat all on its own!), I have kept my life fairly balanced, and I still have all of my hair! hahaha….

I have fought back and won. I know very few people who could do what I have done… life is not easy when everything is taken from you all at once. Literally, everything. I had me and my kids, and everything else, I had to fight for and get on my own. NOTHING has been handed to me. NO ONE can say that I wouldn’t be where I am if it weren’t for them (except maybe the asshole who fucked things up for me in the first place). Everything I have and everything I am is because I refused to give up, I am tenacious, and I did everything in my power to get back on my own two feet. I mean, my husband helped, but that wasn’t so much a silver platter as it was a partner in crime. Everything I have, everything we have, has come from hard work, grit and determination. Imagine living your life with literally no credit. None. Not even a dollar. Could you do it? I fucking doubt it. But I did, and we did, and now look where we are.

And even with everything we have done, accomplished, fought for, striven for, rebuilt… I am still finding myself facing road blocks. Bull shit from my past that never should have affected me in the first place, but I was unfortunate enough to be tied to one of the most selfish pieces of shit on the planet. But I digress, that was then and this is now.

And while I sit back and watch people go about their lives, spending money like it is not an issue (and for some it isn’t, but for some, it damned well is…) I am sitting here, despairingly, and a bit heartbroken, because I have a plan for my life, something I desperately want to do, something for me, and I can’t. I just can’t.

My life is my own, but I am also living in the shadows of other peoples choices, and it affects my life every day. I have chosen to live my life happily, in spite of the constant shit I had to endure. And I am happy I did. But it would be nice to just live my life, the way I want to, without the constant reminder of the heinous bullshit people pulled on me.

I am happy. I love my life. I love my husband and my kids. I just wish that things were easier, sometimes. But I suppose it is what it is, and there’s nothing I can do to change the past.

Six months. In just six months I will get exactly what I want, once again, on my own. I guess in a way, it is amazing and awe inspiring that I have been able to do what I have done, on my own. Not many can say that. But I can. And that is something that no one can take away from me.

You and I..

I am currently sitting on my couch, screwing around on Apple Music, listening to all sorts of music I maybe wouldn’t have had I had to actually pay for it. Chances are good that if I had to pay $1.29 for it, it never would have made it onto my phone. But considering I am sitting in the first month of my 3 month free trial, I figured why not! Let my freak-music flag fly! So here we are, deafening bass and treble flowing through my blue beats, and cramming itself straight into my brain. Then it hits me – literally and figuratively. “I got all I need when I got you and I, cuz I look around me and see a sweet life.. stuck in the dark but you’re my flashlight, you’re getting me through the night” and shivers ran up and down my spine, and my husband flashed into my head. A breath caught in my throat and I had to blink back tears. Sure, it may be a cheeseball song from a cheeseball movie, but that line struck a chord with me (pardon the pun.. haha)

For anyone who doesn’t know me or my husbands story, let me just say, it has been a sorted one. It was love at first sight, but also nothing near love at first sight. After a miserable month of school in this catholic high school in grade 10, my mom transferred me to the high school I should have been at all along. A month and a half into the school year, I was, once again, considered the “new girl”. But all of my friends from junior high were there, so I wasn’t all alone. I did a few days in this school, and felt okay. Then one day, rain. My gym class ends up in the drama room, in the dark, siting on the floor, watching a mind-numbingly boring video about tennis. And all of a sudden, there was a head in my lap and a hand holding mine under my knee. I looked at the boy beside me and whispered “who is this?!” and he snickered and said “oh, that’s just Trevor”. And that, people, is how I met my husband. We sat through that entire video, and I can’t tell you a single thing that happened on it, but I can tell you that my heart was racing! I was only a few days at this new school, and I didn’t really know anyone in my gym class. When the video ended, he looked up at me with those gorgeous brown eyes that I now get to gaze into every single day, and he smiled and said “me and Jennie’s like peas and carrots” and then stood up, grabbed my hand, walked me to my locker, kissed me on the cheek and walked away. Other than a few pleasantries for the next 3 years, that was the only real contact I had with Trevor in high school. How much easier life could have been if I had just kept him from walking away that day. We talk about it all the time. Our “what if” moment. We had another “what if” moment at our safe grad 3 years later.. but he was drunk (as all kids are at their safe grads, plus, he was 18, so it was totally legal) and he doesn’t remember telling me he liked me, calling me cutie, saying how sad he was that we weren’t closer, or hugging me like he never wanted to let me go. Funny to look back at moments in your life where everything could have shifted, just if only……

There was zero contact between us over the next 12 years. We became facebook friends in 2007, when facebook was taking the world by storm, but still no contact. Trevor and I lived very different lives, but at the same time, they were scary similar. It’s like life knew better, and just continued grooming us to end up together. I was with someone, and he was with someone. We both had 2 sons, and deep down inside, without showing anyone, we were both miserable, but always had smiles on our faces. We endured a lot, most of which doesn’t require any airing or attention. Lets just say, it was a very sad and empty decade of years.

Then, one night, after he endured the hardest year of his life, closely followed by me doing the same, us separated by 4 hours and what felt like a million years, I made a facebook post expressing how deeply I missed my grandma. And a couple hours later, at midnight, my phone buzzed on my nightstand. I remember my mouth hanging open, and saying out loud in my empty room “Trevor J… where the hell did you come from!?” Of course, I am saying this to myself, cuz I am crazy like that. So, I typed out that very sentence, and thanked him for the nice message. And just like that, a friendship was born. We chatted a few times, nothing too exciting. Talked about our kids, our losses, our lives, etc. I grew to look forward to our talks, because he made me feel like there was a rainbow just over the horizon for me, and that eventually all of my dark clouds would go away. I was, at that point, a year into my divorce and was more lonely than I ever really let on, but he somehow saw through it and made me feel like it was all going to be okay.

There is a lot of stuff that happened in those few months, most of which I do not feel like it needs to be aired, either. All I can say is, we were friends. He helped me through my divorce, helped me smile again, and when the time came for him needing someone to lean on, I helped him see that there was a light at the end of the tunnel. We were friends. Period. I was closed off, jaded, angry, hurt and broken, and he made me feel hope. Then, when some time had passed, we decided to give this love thing a shot. Let me tell you this, two broken people with that much baggage trying to make a long distance relationship work? That, right there, is a recipe for broken fucking hearts. And that is exactly what happened to us. Fizzle fizzle, crack, and we were done before we ever even got going. And it broke me even more. We had a couple of months where we held eachother together with hopes and tears, but it wasn’t enough. Sometimes, love just isn’t enough. I called him my bandaid, but it just proved that when bandaids are soaked enough, they just don’t stick. And our bandaid was drenched in buckets of tears. It just let go.

Months passed after the most devastating breakup either of us had ever endured, and we all but stopped talking. I couldn’t bear the pain, and he, too, just blocks out pain. So we went from being friends, to best friends, to in love, to nothing, in a mere few months time. It would sound like it was no big deal to most, but that was one of the worst pains I had ever felt. It felt like I was losing oxygen and could not breathe. And deep down inside, as much as I told myself I hated him, I still felt like we were supposed to be together. Who breaks up, tears running down their face, and says “I love you more than anything, and I WILL marry you one day”? I’ll tell you who, my husband. We both just knew we were too broken to be a part of anything at that point, so we broke it off, at 2am laying on my hotel room bed, heads on our tear soaked pilows, and fell asleep holding eachother. Almost 6 years later, and it still hurts my chest.

One day, during our “off” phase, I was at my weekend job, and this song came on the radio. I remember listening to a bit of the words, and falling to the floor in a puddle of tears. “I wish Trevor thought this way about me” I thought…then picked myself up, swore I would stop thinking about him right then and there, and carried on with my life. Fast forward a few months, and I went to Calgary to spend the weekend with my best friend. I finally felt free of the pain, and like I was going to be okay, after all. We had a great weekend, and I felt happy for the first time in months. After leaving her house, I texted Trevor and told him I would be swinging by to “get my shit from you, cuz there’s no need for you to have it anymore” So we planned for me to stop and grab my book, blackberry and PVR. I had several people texting and calling me while I was there, to check up on me, and make sure I didn’t get sucked back in.

I got out of my truck, felt really good about myself (helped that my thyroid meds kicked in while we were apart and I lost 35 pounds.. haha) and grabbed my stuff, threw it in the truck (making sure to flash my tiny ass at him) and said goodbye and started to leave. But he wanted to talk… 2 hours later, we were still standing in that parking lot, talking. And before I knew it, he grabbed me and kissed me. It was all over after that. I tried to keep him at bay, I tried to keep my heart locked up… but he is supposed to be in there… he was always meant to be in my heart. Always. He texted me at work later that week and said “look up the lyrics to this song. Every time I hear it, I think of you and miss you” What song do you think it was? Yeah, the exact same one I thought “I wish Trevor thought this way about me” a few months earlier. When people are meant to be together, it always finds a way.

It wasn’t easy. It still sometimes hurts. I still have moments when I let this all in and I cry. But it is part of our story, as sorted as it may be. Had all of that not happened, we wouldn’t be where we are right now. That’s not to say I don’t wish we could have ended up together without all of the hurt and pain. I am so insanely jealous of people who do it right on their first try. I will never know what that feels like. I have an ex. He has an ex. And no matter what we do or where we go, they will always be in the background. I have kids from a previous marriage. He has kids from a previous relationship. I have a failed marriage. He has a failed long term relationship. I have trust issues. He has trust issues. We still fight fights with our exes, with eachother. There is still baggage at every single turn. And I wish on a daily basis that we had a do-over. But that just isn’t real, nor is it ever possible. This is our life. This is what we have built. We have a beautiful son together. He is an amazing dad to my older two boys. We have a sturdy as hell marriage that isn’t going anywhere.

Trevor is my person. He is my oxygen. I have a lot of issues from my past, but instead of wishing them away, he holds my hand and helps me see in the darkness. I would give anything to go back to grade 10, and never let his hand go… but that’s not my life. Nor is it his. We have overcome some insane stuff in our relationship. We have stood together and let life try to knock us down. But with him by my side, I have no doubt in my mind that I am in the middle of my forever, and nothing is ever going to rip us apart. He still gives me butterflies and tingles, I still get giddy when I hear my phone tell me that he texted me, I still miss him every single time he goes to work, we still text eachother any time we are apart, I still get nervous when he kisses me, I still crave his hugs….

I know if we had been together sooner, it would have been amazing and magical and everything that dreams are made of… but it also may not have worked. Because at our core, we are the same people, but we have both changed a lot over the last 2 decades. And in some ways, I think that Trevor and I had to break before we got together, so that we could help each other put ourselves back together the way we were always meant to be.

Right or wrong? Who fucking knows..

Decisions Decisions.. how do you know when you are making the right one? Do you get a feeling in the pit of your stomach? Do you get a tingle up your spine? Do you have a little crazy ass voice in your head leading you in certain directions (if you hear it all the time, I may suggest speaking to someone about that.. haha) How do you know when you are making the right choice? How do you know when you are on the right path? And don’t fork over any of that new-age mumbo-jumbo that spouts off that every path is the right path if you look hard enough. Bullshit. I know a lot of people (present company included) that have blindly stumbled down all sorts of incorrect paths, and where did that lead me? Right up shit-creek. And I am here to tell you, shit-creek is not a pleasant place to be, especially when you are a weak swimmer. Regardless.. how do you know? YOU DON’T!! You just close your eyes, hope you’re doing the right thing, and hold on for dear life.

Not every right decision feels right. And not every wrong decision feels wrong. Sometimes, they interchange. Sometimes, the bad decisions are the best feeling things in the whole world! I would imagine that is why being “bad” is deemed as fun, while being “good” is usually deemed as boring as fuck. It is because being good doesn’t usually feel good. That’s not to say that all good decisions feel bad, or aren’t fun. I have made a lot of good choices in my life that were the best things ever, the most fun, and felt amazeballs. That being said, lots of my bad decisions felt that way, too.

So, how do you know what to do? When you are faced with something that you feel is the right decision, but you KNOW that it is going to piss off a lot of people, and potentially hurt and destroy others. But you know deeeeeep in your gut that it is absolutely the path that you need to be on right now? I know I shouldn’t be concerning myself so much with the opinion of others, or worrying with how anyone else is going to feel about my choice. But at the end of the day, in spite of many opinions that would suggest otherwise, I am not a rampaging irrational unreasonable bitch on wheels. I am not. At my core, I am a good person, and very smart, and I have a very keen eye for people and am an amazing judge of character. Maybe that’s why I am perceived as a bitch to most? Because I can see through bullshit and people are afraid of me being able to see who they really are, before they are ready for that to be public knowledge? Maybe it is because I stand up for myself and (used t0) frequently speak my mind. For a long time, I stopped, because I was exhausted of always having to defend myself. And I just hung back and let shit happen. But now? I am kind of exhausted of that, so I have started putting my foot down, and the bitch-mask has been thrown on my face again. SO BE IT! Just call me Bitch-Girl and watch me rock my cape and mask. (of course, my “cape” will be in the shape of a hoodie, and my “mask” will be sunglasses, because while I may be considered a bitch, I am not bat-shit crazy)

I have made a few very big and life altering decisions in my life. Lots of them are ones that most people are never faced with. Lots of them would pale in comparison to some other peoples life altering decisions. But regardless of where I land on the “holy shit” meter, they were the ones I had to make, and they are part of my journey and have shaped who I am. Again, I don’t think I turned out that bad. It has been pointed out to me (directly and indirectly) that not everyone agrees with my appraisal of myself. But again, this isn’t about anybody else’s opinion right now. My life, my choice, my journey.. And here we are. At yet another crossroads. Some days I am baffled at how many of these fuckers I have encountered in my life. I am 35 years old, and I feel like I have had to make choices that could potentially alter my world permanently WAY too many times. But it is about perspective. Had I not made those choices, I would not be sitting here. I don’t think my choices have landed me in a horrible life, just sometimes a really HARD life. Then again, most of the time, it is easy and awesome and fun and enjoyable. Nobody loves every minute of their life, I suppose. And if they say they do, they’re crazy enough to be wearing a cape and mask.. hahaha.

I know that once this newest “WTF” issue comes to a head, there is going to be an awful lot of shit thrown at me, a LOT of protest and probably some tears. Which is why I am sitting on my couch, for the third hour in a row, with my headphones on full blast, with very loud and aggressive music on (read: very drum laden) It is how I have always dealt. Music. I turn it up as loud as my poor old-ass eardrums will allow, and my mind kind of goes blank. I think all day every day… a lot. So maybe when my mind goes blank, it opens up avenues for sense to me made of the shit that is swirling. I used to do this in my truck. I would make insane playlists on my ipod (or burned to cd’s cuz my cd player was able to turn up louder than my ipod transmitter thingy) and I would drive. The longer, the better. Most people hate driving long distances alone. I used to LOVE it! Grande Prairie to Calgary was my favorite. It was 9+ hours alone in my truck with nothing but my sunroof and music to keep me company. I turned my phone on silent, and just drove. It was always when my mind was the clearest. I also did Grande Prairie to Edmonton several (hundred) times (gotta love long distance relationships!) and while that was only 4 hours, it still usually did the trick. But, being older (and somewhat more responsible) I can’t really just jump in my truck and drive to see my best friend in Calgary like I used to. So, my pretty blue Beats and my Apple Music playlist are just going to have to do for the time being.

Is it making this decision making crap any easier? Not really. Because in my gut, while I know it is the right thing to do, it is still hurting me. I hate having a conscience. It is brutal. There is something to be said for the time that I was numb inside – didn’t matter what choice I made, I just didn’t give a fuck. Though, being numb probably wasn’t super healthy, either. Oddly though, that was when I was the most up-front and brutally honest, stood up for myself the most, and didn’t really give a shit what people thought, and nobody thought I was a heinous bitch! But now that I am more timid and care about other people’s feelings, I am Bitch Girl. HA! How ironically ridiculous.

Long story short (okay, not really short…) making decisions is not always easy. It is not always cut and dry. It is not always clear what you should do. It is not always going to make you happy. It is not always going to make everyone happy. It is not always going to make you feel good. It is not always going to hurt. It is not always going to be clear to other people why you did it. It is not always going to make you popular with everyone. It is not always going to make you feel good.

How do you know if you are doing the right thing? Like I said.. you don’t. You just close your eyes, hope you’re doing the right thing, and hold on for dear life.

Here we go… time to jump.

Defective? Or sucky?

Yesterday, I found myself pondering.. damn you sickness, do you see what you made me do? You made me ponder! When I am left to my own devices, and allowed to wander the dark recesses of my own brain, horrific terrors are usually emerge. Yesterday’s theme was “am I defective? or just sucky? why does everyone leave?” and from there, it spiraled. I frequently feel like “the girl that everyone remembers, but is easily forgotten” and that is a sad and lonely way to feel.

I thought back on a few of the larger losses in my life (people who chose to leave, not people who passed away.. I didn’t go that dark) I came up with a top 10 list of the more memorable (and sad, confusing, befuddling or down right douchey ones)

  1. the sisters. I would like to preface this with my total and utter disdain for vapid, shallow, self-involved fake bleach hair bitches. These two, I had been friends with since grade four. FOUR! That is a long time when you are 20 years old. Why did they decide to unfriend me? Their words? “you are just the wrong body type” THANKS! Nothing boosts your ego more than people telling you you look the wrong way when you are a measly 110 pounds. Apparently that extra 4 pounds I weighed more than them made me unsavory. Oh, and I am pretty sure it was also because my hair was brown.
  2. the dude from high school. He decided I was no longer worth being friends with because I was “squishy” in my mid-section. Another boost to the ego.
  3. the people who decided I was no longer worth being friends with because I got a divorce. Thanks. May you rot in hell, you hypocritical douche-monkeys.
  4. the girl with the big truck. She helped me stay sane during my divorce, and spent one night a week with me, just so I wasn’t lonely.. who phoned me one night, drunk off her ass, and told me she had just hooked up with some dude I BRIEFLY saw (like, so briefly, it lasted only a couple hours.. that is a funny story, but one for another day) which also meant she had cheated on her boyfriend. She didn’t ever call me again after that.
  5. the girl from high school. Friends since grade 10. Went through all sorts of crap together. Pretty close. Had a couple crazy fun weekends (one of which I was roofied and dragged into some strange persons car, pulled out by some other dude, and apparently rode in a stretch hummer? I have no recollection of any of this, but this is what I was told happened..) attended her wedding… then one day she texts me and says “I unfriended you on facebook. You are just too negative to be friends with now. See ya”. She did this while I was in Mexico on a family vacation, and hadn’t spoken to her in over a month at that point. WTF.
  6. the girl who tried buying my friendship. We had been friends since 2005. Talked all the time. Hung out lots. She was someone I leaned on heavily during my hardest times, and vice versa. She was a very good friend to me. When I was single, sad and alone, she texted me every night, because she knew that my saddest thing was having no one to say good night to. She started getting distant and apologized, once even offering to buy me things to make up for being MIA. “I am gonna be around anyway, you might as well get something out of it” to which I replied “being my friend is all I want”. And one day we were friends, and the next, she removed me on facebook and hasn’t responded to a text I have sent, since. 8 years of friendship, and no reason why it ended.
  7. the girl with the asshole husband. I am pretty sure he decided that we weren’t to be friends anymore.. Cuz there was no other logical explanation.
  8. the here-when-it’s-convenient-for-me-only girl. Really no need to delve into that one.. it is pretty self-explanatory. Pretty sure I just didn’t properly fit into her world anymore, and it was just easier to only pop in and out of my life when she had nothing else going on.
  9. the self involved selfie taker. We were good friends, our kids were friends, we had a lot in common and talked all the time. Then one day, after we had hung out, she decided that I didn’t fit in her life anymore, and that was that.
  10. the best friend since grade 7. What can I say about this one? She was my best friend. We grew up together. We leaned on eachother. We were a huge part of eachothers lives. I loved the crap out of her. She was my person for the longest time. We had coffee two days before I moved away from the town where we were both living, and everything was fine. I hugged her goodbye, we vowed to stay in touch, and shed a few tears as we walked to our vehicles. I tried texting after that, but never got a reply. I have facebooked her on her birthday every year, but rarely get responses. I sometimes go and look at her pictures, and it makes my chest hurt. She was my best friend and I miss her all the time. I don’t know why, and I probably never will. Friends from 1991-2012 and just gone.. just like that.

I see these people I am friends with now, and they have friends from when they were kids, in school, etc…. and I wonder how that feels. Because I don’t have that. I used to. But I don’t anymore. And it makes me wonder… why? Why was it so easy for these people to just go away? Am I defective? A sucky friend? A crappy person? I don’t think I am. But there is clearly something fundamentally wrong with who I am, if 10 people can just turn and walk away, without ever looking back.

It sucks that I will never have that person in my life who knew me when I was a kid (outside of family, of course). Or when I had my first kid. Or when I went through my hell and landed on my feet. It sucks that any of my “remember when” moments with my current people all start when I am in my 20’s or 30’s. It is sad. I feel like I have been robbed of a part of life that everyone around me has. It makes me sad. It makes me feel broken.

Like, I know that my life was a rollercoaster ride for the longest time. I know that I went through an enormous amount of pain and shit. But most of these people left me either right before, or right after, all of the hell on earth. So, who knows. I will probably never get any answers (other than the obvious ones, which are those certain people in that list are just giant fucking asshats…)

Still, if I could get any of them back… I would give my left kidney for #10 to be sitting at my table laughing with me again. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I miss you.

A bad example? Or a cautionary tale?

Have you ever sat back and thought “holy shit, my life has been insane!” No? Just me? LIAR! Everyone has at least something that they look back on and reminisce and wonder how the hell they made it out alive. It can’t just be me. I mean, I have had a bit of a whirlwind life thus far, but I know for a fact that I am not the only person who has ever made a mistake or had shit thrown at them and lived to tell the tale.

This was all brought to my mind today, while telling a friend the “cliffs-notes” version of my life. I mean, I didn’t go back very far (only 8 years or so.. as the brunt of my “are you effing kidding me?!” started happening around my 28th year of life.. there was a shitstorm of epic proportions prior to that, but that’s a story for another day) I was spewing forth some of the happenings in my life, and a familiar catch in my throat appeared. Hello old friend, I haven’t had to swallow you in a while. Then it hit me. That shit is all behind me. Very behind me. I survived. Like Eminem said “that’s what happens when a tornado meets a volcano..” that is exactly how I feel like my life was for the longest time. A tornado and a volcano. But, I have been on solid ground for a while, and am so thankful for the ability to say that!

While telling my friend about all of my highs and my many many devastating lows, I wondered something – am I more of a bad example? A “what not to do”? Or am I a cautionary tale? Leading others on a path that may not land them in the shit that I dug myself out of? Interesting.

To some, I may seem like the worst example. Divorce. Single mother. All the other shit that was swirling at that time. To some, what I did and what I went through is considered heinous and abhorrent. Well, I am here to tell you, it wasn’t that bad. I am not a bad person. I just do not believe that people are required to stay unhappy forever. And once someone has done everything in their power to fix a perpetually broken and shitty situation, and it just isn’t fixing, then it is time to pack it up and move the hell on. Which is what I did! Was it easy? Hell no. Was it scary? Fuck yes! But I did it, and I survived (as did my kids!)

How about considering myself a cautionary tale? A “this is what happened to me due to these choices, and should you want to avoid this, perhaps don’t make these choices!” kind of situation. I am not sure I really want to be portrayed that way, either. But maybe it’s not so horrible. I maybe didn’t make “horrible” choices, per say. I made the same choices that millions of other people have, I just made them with the wrong people and at the wrong time. So, look to me for answers about what not to do, fine. But also know that if you happen down the same path that I did, and find yourself in the same crap-stew that I festered in for a very long time, know that one day, you will fight your way out of it, and you will find yourself even stronger and more resilient than you were before.

Cuz if I can survive everything I have, and still have a smile on my face, hope in my soul and love in my heart, than anything is effing possible. Well, maybe not anything.. I mean, I am still not a millionaire. HAHAHA!!

 

To curse, or not to curse…

A few days ago, my friend tagged me in a post on facebook. The gist of the article was about parents swearing in front of their kids. I know a few people in my life who are very anti-swearing.  I, however, seem to come across as one of the parents who don’t watch what they say. How does that make me feel? I am not sure about that, but one thing I do know for sure, I don’t avoid certain words or phrases for fear that my kids will repeat them. (possibly because by now, they’ve repeated all of the bad ones, so why stop now?)

It started me thinking. Does this make me a bad mom? Should I be shielding my kids from the horrible words of the world? If I curse in front of my kids, does that set them up to be wretched little humans?

And you know what I deduced? F*CK NO! My kids are great and funny and smart little humanoids, and maybe even smarter than kids who’ve never heard “fuck” or “shit”, or ever heard their mother shout her famous coined-phrased “piss and shit-sticks” when she’s forgotten something important, or had their mother or father mumble “douchebag” to the rude-ass driver on the road.

Smarter how, you may ask? Well, I’ll tell you! Cuz my kids have heard all of these (and possibly worse, don’t judge me!) and they know that they’re not supposed to repeat it, and for the most part, they don’t! I think that jacks their intelligence points up a few notches, because they are a few steps ahead of kids who’ve never heard them and then begin to shout them from the rooftop at the first chance they get when they’re older.

I’ll admit – I came from a very strict and religious house (I recall getting my ass GROUNDED when I dared bring a NKOTB cassette into my house.. “hangin’ tough” was the one and only song I have ever heard, because I got busted while listening to my “secular” contraband in my room one day) So when I got old enough to be in a group of kids who used this vernacular as their regular speak, I got butterflies! A few things went through my head at my first experience with a non-religious-schoolyard encounter…

1- oh my goodness, naughty words!

2- holy shit, these kids are badasses!

3- holy shit, I just said “holy shit!” I am such a badass!

It was my first week of grade 7 (my first year of junior high) and I was blown away! We were all standing in a group by the fence (like true bad-asses) and I heard some of my new-found friends using naughty words, and my religious upbringing recoiled, and then (what I believe to be) my true identity came surging forth, and my first (of many) curse words left my tongue with ferocity and force, and I felt a surge of empowerment and sophistication (shut up, I was a stupid kid) and I have been a profanity volcano ever since.

Well, that is not entirely true, I suppose. For the looongest time, I kept up the charade of being good little church girl, for the most part, while in the presence of my family. But you can only keep your true self bottled up for so long, until the carbonation build-up gets too strong and the “real” you comes bubbling forth. Well, I think my “true self” came surging out with the purchase of my very first (and still favorite) Blink 182 cd. I remember playing it in my car and my sister calling me a heathen (she was a church girl for a lot longer than her heathen big sister) I can still see the look of shock and disgust on her face, and it still makes me giggle. She soon crossed over to the dark-side with me, though, using her first naughty word while singing along with Kid Rock in her car (she was beside herself with shock, disgust and amusement when the F word came unknowingly flying out of her mouth while singing along to her cars cd player) I laughed, and it remains one of my favorite memories to this day.

The churchy charade soon ended at home, and now I am not ashamed to say that our family gatherings bring forth some of the most filth-ridden and hysterical spewings of profanity. So, if you shy away from that sort of talk, stay away from this particular group of yahoos.

But back to my children. I have decided that swearing around my kids isn’t taboo. Swearing AT my children, abso-bloody-lutely.. Don’t be disrespectful to them; they are still people.

However:

1- I am the parent

2- I am grown up and know right from wrong.

3- We are not equals.

4- “Do as I say, not as I do” rules in this house. Not saying I am a bad example, but I had to learn the hard way, so they don’t have to.

5- They are my kids, and while I adore them, they still have a lot to learn.

6- You shouldn’t be on the same parallel as your kids. Same level of respect, yes. But at the end of the day, you will always be older than them, and THEIR PARENT!

7- We teach them not to slam their fingers in the car door, or to pick their noses in public, so, teaching them not to repeat the shit I say should be a piece of cake, and perfectly acceptable.

8- If you don’t agree with this, don’t swear in front of my kids, and politely ask me to watch my mouth in front of yours. Respect. Goes both ways, I am not an asshole.

9- Hearing my son honk the little horn in the car-cart at Safeway and mumble “douchebag” is a memory I will always laugh about, and wouldn’t have if he hadn’t heard me and my husband doing the same thing. He was told to not say that anymore (and he hasn’t) but it was still amusing.

So all in all, I don’t believe that swearing makes people “bad”. I don’t believe that kids will grow up to be horrible people if they hear naughty words, nor do I believe it sets them up for a putrid existence. They are just words. Yes, their meaning may be a bit less scrupulous than some, but does that really breed a bunch of assholes? No. My kids still have manners and morals, they are still sweet and caring and thoughtful, they still have respect, they still know right from wrong, and they still have huge and beautiful hearts. But just to even shit out, I put them in Catholic school, so they can learn stuff that I might not necessarily be able to teach them.

But let’s be honest, most kids I know from Catholic or religious schools/backgrounds end up being the foul-mouthed naughty kids anyway (case and point, MOI!), so maybe I just gave my kids a headstart to understand the logistics of this foul-mouth society that they are about to enter.

Who f*cking knows.. All I know is, my kids are frequently getting Virtue Awards at school for being kind, considerate, thoughtful, patient and loving… So I must be doing something right. 
  
  

the jennie digits…

Everyone on earth is different. We are all comprised of these specific conglomerations of digits that make each and every one of us unique from everyone else. No one on earth will have the same numbers or formula that you do. That is really cool! You may share numbers, but you will always have your own special formula 🙂 

Here are my important ones:

12/17 – my birthday

1980- year I was born

5’3″ – how tall I am

1 – number of sisters I have

2 – number of brothers I have

2 – number of parents I have (although 1 came into my life when I was 22)

2 – number of nieces I have

0 – number of nephews I have

2 – number of sister in laws that I have

1 – number of brother in laws that I have

3 – the number of people on earth (including my husband) who know my darkest secrets

1998 – the year I graduated high school

3 – the number of years I was in high school

1995 – the year I met the love of my life

2003 – the year I had my first son

2005 – the year I had my second son

2009 – the year I became a single mom

2009 – the year I lost my grandma and one of my favorite people on earth

2010 – the year I got together with the love of my life

2011 – the year we had our son (my third son)

12/17/2011 – the day I got engaged to the love of my life

2013 – the year we got married 7 – the day of the month that all three of my sons were born on  3 – how many times I have been to Mexico

4 – how many times I have been to Disney (2 in Cali, 2 in Florida)

3 – how many countries I have been to (Including the one I live in)

10 – how many states I have been to (including layovers on planes)

4 – number of provinces I have been to (including the one I live in)

2 – number of college diplomas I have

10 – years I have been battling hypothyroidism

1 – how many times I have reached my goal weight since being diagnosed

0 – how many times I have given up and stopped trying

infinity – how many tears I have cried over the whole frustrating thyroid mess

infinity – how many times I will wipe the tears off and keep going

12 – times I have had my ears pierced (8 are still in there)

2 – how many times I have had my tongue pierced (second one is still in there)

6 – how many tattoos I have

80+ – how many hoodies I have (they are my secret addiction!)

The unimportant ones:

2005 – the year of my truck

4 – how many bedrooms in my house

4 – how many bathrooms in my house

1 – how many times I have been divorced

26 – how many times I have moved in my life

0 – how many marathons I have run

0 – how many pull ups I can do

7.5 – the size of my feet

10 – the size of my tank tops and hoodies and jeans

4, 6, 8, 10, 12 – the sizes hanging in my closet

198 – the highest weight I have ever been (pregnant or otherwise)

132 – the weight I was when I got pregnant with my youngest, and everything broke really bad

180 – the number is see looking back at me from the scale right now

50 – the amount I would like to lose

The important ones make me WHO I AM. The unimportant ones make me WHAT I AM. The two are very exclusive of each other.. The important ones will only ever either stay the same or improve. And the unimportant ones.. They may change, but they won’t ever change me.