Tag Archives: parenting

Why is the Path I Usually Choose to Take, Covered With Horse Sh*t”?

28 Oct

Ever wonder what the hell it is you are supposed to do in this life?

It’s been a lifelong struggle for me. Well, I mean the only thing I’m sure of that I was meant to do was be a mother. Now back in the day, no not that day, that day, it was ok to just want to grow up to be a wife, mother, homemaker. There were books and magazines dedicated to that shit. “Good Housekeeping”, “Redbook”, “How to Keep Your Husband Happy”. Then somewhere along the line, feminists threw that all out the window. To just want to get married and be a homemaker was a disgrace, a loser, a simple minded woman who couldn’t do anything else.

Ouch.

But my struggle started way before realizing that being a mother was my calling, that came later. Early on, in the 1960’s I was raised in a family of overachievers. My parents were both Penn State graduates. My Mother was a 1948 college graduate, which put her a little ahead of her time. A very intellectual, very strong woman, very driven. My Father, another driven guy, went to college, left to serve in WWII, then came back and finished college. Having no high money earning or intellectual dreams wasn’t acceptable in my family.

Soooo, lucky me, I was born creative into a family where you must choose one of the following career paths – teacher, lawyer, doctor,scientist,  engineer, counselor, nurse, or business management. I seemed to have no viable skills as I was growing up, so I thought. And if you didn’t have viable skills you were chastised, or maybe I just told myself that. Looking back, in parts of my life I was an A student… usually until boredom, anxiety or depression hit, then I tanked. I loved history, I was really good at English basics (spelling and grammar, however I later almost failed  Composition Writing in college), I was a good swimmer, and I was pretty decent in theater. Yup, so… what am I supposed to do with that? Doesn’t amount to much, so I thought.

I thought I finally figured it out in high school! I want to be an actor! That’s it! I’ve always been a ham, I crack jokes, I got the female lead in “Fiddler on the Roof”… I’ll be an actor! So, come college search time and I excitedly tell my parents I want to major in theater. Great, right? “We’re not paying for you to go to college to become a waitress”, was their reply. Exact words. Wham! Thud. A blow right between the eyes of my self-esteem, hopes and dreams.

However, in the last few years in my period of rediscovery, with no real preparation I tried auditioning for a few things and failed miserably, so maybe my parents did save me some time.

But to their credit they gave me an alternative to ponder. My Father’s brother had been the President of ABC News until his death in 1974, “Why don’t you go into broadcasting like Uncle John, that’s a new major now.”. Hey ok, I always wanted to be a DJ. It was the early 80’s it was a new thing. It was great until I got out of school and my hopes were dashed realizing that being a DJ on the radio didn’t mean you could play or say whatever you wanted. It was cue up the record, announce it, then say “we’ll be back after these messages”. Then all the corporations came in in the 1990’sand bought up the stations and I just wasn’t a good corporate, yes-man team player. I grew bitter. If I could only just be a coporate guy.

I had just gotten married and within 2 years gotten pregnant. After my son came along is when I realized I wanted to be a full-time mom. My ex-husband said no. I begged for a few years then I got to because I was on bed rest. I was happy, all the while him telling me that I was useless because I wasn’t bringing any money in. When my third baby was about 16 months old, we called it quits for good. Being “just a mom” wasn’t an option anymore. I was told I had to work. I scrambled to find something that would bring in money. I was working to cover daycare, nothing extra. How fucking stupid. I wish I’d had the guts back then to say no, until these kids all get in school I’m staying home and you’re paying. (believe me, he made enough) But I was stubborn and wanted to show I was no “freeloader”.

I jumped from one job to another over the last 13 years trying to figure out what it was I was supposed to do. However, I never really had the opportunity to find something I love,d it was always “grab the first thing so you have an income”. I was never happy, I was never really any good at any of those jobs, and I was always late or taking a sick day because to me, kids came first (they certainly didn’t to their Father, so someone had to). Sorry, a 6 year old can’t stay home vomiting by themselves. I kept taking sales related jobs because everyone thought I had such a great personality for it and had the prospect for good money. I hate sales! And I suck at it. “I wouldn’t buy this either, put your money to better use.”

About once a year or so I’d find myself looking for another job again for a variety of reasons. The main one I’m finding is because I didn’t choose wisely, I just went for the first paycheck I could find. I’m tired of that. I’ve been trying to leave that behind. I think I’ve finally found what I love but the pay is somewhat lower than craptastic right now and not enough hours. Doesn’t fit into the plan my family always told me I was supposed to take. And it’s hard when you’re trying to feed, house, and put three kids through college.

I lost a job recently that was really good pay for part-time and it was helping to keep the boat afloat. But due to cash flow problems, I was let go from that sinking ship. It was a blessing actually because it was emotionally draining for various reasons, but losing it left a big money void, so here I am once again figuring out what to do. At least I have recently been blessed with realizing that I don’t have to tow the party-line. I don’t have the pressure of believing I need to do what my parent’s thought I should do. I’ve been blessed to have several articles and books put in my path that said there are a lot of famous, brilliant, happy, and sometimes rich people that failed out of college, been fired from jobs, and had several failures in their life until they found their purpose.

Albert Einstein, Jack Kerouac, Buckminster Fuller, Lucille Ball, Bill Gates, Thomas Edison, Oprah, Emily Dickinson. All either failed school, were called dumb, been fired, or had countless business and life failures… but all ended up becoming revered in an area which they finally thrived and persevered. Yay, maybe I found a club to join, losers unite!

We’re not all conformists with a perfect path. I have accepted that I don’t conform. And that’s ok. I think. Some have gifts we haven’t quite figured out what they are yet. Some of us think we have gifts but spend too much time listening to the expectations of others. Some of us think we might have figured out the gift or purpose but just aren’t quite sure how to exactly use it and break out of the wrong path we’ve been travelling on.

Buckminster Fuller spoke of the epiphany he had after trying to kill himself because of several recent failures. He said:

“You do not belong to you. You belong to Universe. Your significance will remain forever obscure to you, but you may assume that you are fulfilling your role if you apply yourself to converting your experiences to the highest advantage of others.”

Or sometimes you realize you just really want to lay concrete for the rest of your life. That helps others, right?

Isn’t that a nice thought? I don’t know how realistic it all is, but it proves my concept of figuring out what you’re supposed to do and still try an earn a living. You guys are lucky that have a specific vocation, “I want to be a hairdresser”, bam! Fulfillment, success and money. Those of us who can’t seem to put our finger on our purpose, feel rejected. It gives me food for thought, but still doesn’t tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do.

 

 

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Like a Bad Rash, Sometimes You Just Have to Wait ’til it Passes

5 Dec

Holy cow, I just realized my last post on here was November 14th.  Here it is December 5th.  Well, sorry but I had one of those “life interruption” things.  Let’s see that day (Nov. 14th) or the next day my Mother went into the hospital with pneumonia.  I hopped on a plane Saturday morning to Arizona from NY and arrived in the afternoon.  Sunday night my Mother passed away.  She was 87 years old and had been battling brain cancer since August.  She put up a valiant fight.  That was her, a feisty Irish broad.  Apple –> Tree.

So, I stayed out there for a while, had a service and all that.  Came home, had Thanksgiving… it’s a been a whirlwind of activity of which I have trudged through like a zombie.  It’s almost like I’ve been numb or it’s just been surreal.  What made it worse is we just lost my Dad last October, we weren’t even over that yet.  There were days I didn’t want to get out of bed.  There have been unexpected bouts of tears as I have passed my Mother’s favorite chocolate bar in the grocery store.  How silly is that?  But ya’ know we all have emotional triggers.

Something I never thought I’d say ever in my lifetime (yes, I know it’s a complete denial of reality but it’s how people roll sometimes)… “I don’t have any parents anymore”.  What the hell?

It makes me think though, I’m a grown ass woman saying that, and I’m devastated.  I can’t imagine a child losing a parent.  Oh my God, just breaks my heart.  Inconceivable.  God bless you to anyone who has been through it.

I keep telling myself that I’m lucky that I had them until they were 89 and 87 years old.  That’s a damn long time.  A wonderful, loving, entertaining long time.  I am very grateful.

But you know what’s funny?  I’m a GAW (again a grown ass woman) and I’m a parent of teens but my emotions have reverted to those of a 7 year old child.  As I mourn my parents’ passing, all the thoughts in my head are from my childhood.  Like automatically.  I have plenty of memories of them in my adulthood and them being grandparents to my kids but the immediate gut ones come from a closet way deep in the back warehouse of my heart labeled “childhood memories”.

I remember the visions, sounds, and smells of Mom in the kitchen, or reading on the couch, or watching TV with her eyes closed (swearing that she was still watching the program as we attempted to turn the channel) or as I was older her ironing a top for work as she was just in pants and a bra.  She’d probably kill me for that one, but that was my Mom, some stuff she just didn’t sweat.  When we (6 kids, 2 parents) were all trying to get through our daily functions and survive, Madelyn wasn’t a stickler about things, her motto was “Ya’ gotta’ do, what ya’ gotta’ do”.  That’s where I got it from.

Ya’ know what I just remembered though?  And this is funny… she of course didn’t care about traipsing through the house in various states of undress but it was absolutely essential that she put on lipstick before she got out of the car and went into an establishment.  Even if she was in yard clothes or exercise clothes.  Always the lady… except when she was in a hurry around the house.  lol  Oh Madelyn.

Well, I swore this wasn’t going to be a eulogy about my Mother, I just wanted to say how primitive our mind is sometimes.  Sometimes our emotions are very basic.  Children’s needs are basic – food, love, clothing (optional), shelter.  My primitive basic emotion of a child needing it’s Mother (and Father) has kicked in.  I try and tell myself “You’re an adult, you had them a long time, stop it.”  But that parent/child bond isn’t broken so easily.  I actually know someone who’s  Father is a convicted murderer, their head tells them he’s an evil man and has broken ties but the heart still yearns for a normal Daddy.  Those moments where Dad was nice for just a moment, and you wonder “What happened to that guy?  Couldn’t he be that guy all the time?”.  The heart has a mind of it’s own.  A child’s love is still there even when the child is 80 years old or the parent is evil.  Sometimes you have to sit with it until the hurt passes, the heart wants what the heart wants.

On a side note, my book “When Life Gives You Lemons… at Least You Won’t Get Scurvy!” will be FREE in Kindle Version this Friday and Saturday at Amazon.com.  Please download.  And hard copies make a great Christmas gift!

The Blues = Feeling Down, The Plaids = Too Many Emotions

3 Sep

I used to love this time of year as a kid.  It was a time for renewing… new school year, new clothes (after I stopped going to Catholic school), new swim season, new kids in my class, new TV season.  I freakin’ loved it.

Remember in the 1970’s when they would have that special on Friday night that previewed all the new Saturday morning cartoons?  I lived for that shit.

In mid-August when I would first see the football players out practicing at the high school, I’d get all tingly.  No, not my naughty bits because they were boys and all, but because football would start soon and games were very exciting to me.  I loved going to the games.  I was a cheerleader.  I was briefly in the marching band… don’t laugh, we used to do all these cool elaborate half time shows, that was fun.  But then I became a cheerleader and that was the end of band.

First and foremost I was on the swim team.  I started swimming on the varsity team when I was in 7th grade.  Yea, bitches.  I got my first varsity letter when I was in the 8th grade.  See, I used to be good at something.  I couldn’t wait for that season to start in the Fall every year.  I was even really dedicated to going to two-a-day practices, 6:30am and 3:00pm.  What the hell has happened to me?

Then having my own kids, I would get all excited for Fall.  My son played football and the girls play soccer.  More fun and excitement to look forward to.  I love the hoopla of cheering for our school.

But today September 3rd, 2013…  I feel agitated.  I feel agitated, annoyed, sad, trapped, unmotivated, unhappy and I can’t even think of another word to describe this.    I hate it.

I want to feel joy again.  I want to feel excitement.  I want to feel renewed.

I don’t.

I think there are various reasons.  Maybe PMS, maybe peri-menopause, maybe because I have a possible torn achilles and the fucking doctor won’t see me until Thursday, maybe because I just lost my Dad in October and now my Mom’s health is very bad, maybe it’s because I don’t have my own place, maybe it’s because I’m having trouble getting this next project out the door.  Whatever it is, I just can’t seem to get it to go away over the past 9 or 10 months.

I’m not saying this to be like “Oh woe is me”… I just want it to GO THE FUCK AWAY!  I don’t like feeling this way.  I don’t want to feel this way.  I try to simply “choose” not to feel this way.  But none of that works.  I seriously think I need a shake up.  Or an exorcism.   Hard core drugs?  What are the closest thing to “happy pills”, uppers?  How about electroshock?

Last year I endured a long stretch of “happy”.  Woot!  I have the itch to have that again.  Damn, I want to feel something.  Have you ever just felt nothing?  Like numb? That’s also what I feel.   Is that when people start doing dumb things like cutting or sluttin’ around?  Is it possible to feel anxious, angry, and numb all at the same time?  I think that there are so many emotions, they have blended together to make me numb.  It’s like the blues… these are “the plaids”, so many colors/emotions they become almost one blur of color/emotion from far away.

Jesus Christ, will you stop with the banging around outside?!!!!!

They are digging up the street outside, replacing sewer lines.  Maybe that’s why I’m so irritated.  Shut the fuck up, already

Is this just regular middle-aged crap?  I didn’t want this blog to be a Debbie Downer but hey maybe someone else can relate.  Ladies?  Gentleman?  Bueller?

Calgon take me away…

 

Sports Moms I’d Like to Take a Meat Cleaver To…

22 Aug

I am proud to announce that my 16 year old daughter just made the varsity soccer team at her high school.  And I might add, it is the same all girls Catholic high school that soccer superstar Abby Wambach played for!  A fine soccer tradition, indeed.  I’m so proud!

Which brings me to a subject my dear friend Wendi has suggested a few times but I’ve stayed away from because I fear I might explode while writing the blog.  The subject is…

Sports Moms

I’m pretty sure those of us at a certain age never had a parent present ever when we played sports.  I competed in gymnastics, swimming, track, and cheerleading from about the age of 6 thru high school, was a college cheerleader (don’t laugh) and attempted swimming for a month or two in college and decided it took much time away from fraternity parties.  But I digress, I did all those sports and really don’t ever remember my parents being at any of those events.  And that’s just how it was back then.

Oh wait, I do remember my Dad being at a few events because he was a swim and track official at times.  You know, the guy with the starting gun?  But ya’ know he wasn’t allowed to cheer for us or I think even acknowledge we were his children.  Hell, he even got paid. Great, my Dad got paid to watch my sport events.  *dejected face*

Now I’m a Sports Mom.  Over the past 16 years, my kids have participated in hockey, football, rugby, soccer, tennis, softball, track, cross country, volleyball, and lacrosse.

It’s all different now, there is such peer pressure (and I believe school pressure) for parents to attend every damn event their kid has, that you begin to get a label.  And the peer pressure has had some Moms create their own bad label.  Sports Moms in particular have very specific types.

But before I reveal the types of Sports Mom can I just make a public plea to DO AWAY WITH THE FUCKING MID-GAME AND POST-GAME SNACK!  We didn’t need it, they don’t!  I survived an entire swim meet without a snack in the middle.  My brothers survived basketball and football games without a snack in the middle.  Nor did we need a snack the second the game finished, we some how survived the ride home or the ride to the burger joint.   My kids are, thank the sweet nekkid baby Jesus, past the snack age.  But when I had three kids playing 3 sports a year and I had to pay attention to a God damn snack schedule?  I wanted to gut the team Mom like a fish.

So stop it.

Ok, Types of Sports Moms…

1.  The Pitbull.  Bitch, you crazy!  She acts like her kid is playing in the NHL, when it’s an age 8-9 year old house league game.  She’s hollerin’ and screamin’ and usually has no idea of the rules of the game.  Her: “Tripping?  That wasn’t tripping!  Terrible call, Ref!”  Me (on same team):  “Yea, actually it was tripping.   We deserve the penalty.”  Also 9 times out of 10 her kid is a God-awful player.

2.  The Nursemaid.  According to her, her kid has every ailment known to mankind.  Of course the kid has asthma and peanut allergies.  Then he gets on the field and falls down, she has to have the coach pull him out and check him for a concussion.  Then she’s got the kid thinking he has every ailment, when he doesn’t so he becomes really hesitant.  “Oh look out for Jimmy’s fallen arches!”.  Might as well just put your kid in bubble wrap, lady.

3.  Pep Squad Mom.   This Mom lives vicariously through her child and becomes obsessed with their activities.  She’s the one that has the stick figure stickers on the car that portray what the kid is into.  In addition she has a plethora of  “Titan Cheer – Ashley” and “Warrior Hockey – Dylan” emblem stickers on the back of the car.  If that weren’t bad enough, she takes it upon herself to place an order for “Monarch Soccer” three-quarter zip sweatshirts that I can’t afford but now am getting pressured to get from the kid because “everyone else on the team is ordering one”.  Fuck you, lady.

4.  The Invisible Mom.  Never shows up to anything.  Kid always needs a ride home.  Never volunteers.  Kid never has necessary paperwork or equipment.

5.  The Assistant Coach.  This parent is not really a coach but sits on the sideline the entire game, yelling instructions and giving her evaluation of every position, player, and play.   Lady, you mention one more time that my kid hangs back too much, I’m going to come over and punch you in the throat.  Until they put you on the bench with the kids… STFU!

6.  The Slacker Mom.  Unfortunately this is what I’ve become.  When I was due to bring snack, I usually had to run to the corner store during the game and buy a package of Rice Krispie Treats because I never remembered my snack time.  God forbid I like, cut up orange slices or made homemade whatevers… I’m a shitty mom, I know.  I used to have my folding chair in a bag right there on the sidelines, but now… I sit in the car half the time.  Fall and Spring are still cold in NY!  I’ve been watching kids play sports for 16 years now, I deserve a comfy seat.  Hey, I keep the window partially opened, so I can cheer on my kid a little!

7.  The Twat.   She only has a select few parents on the team she will talk to.  She is far superior to you.  She is usually dressed in tennis or golf attire or Vineyard Vines.  She is not paying all that much attention to what’s going on on the field or in the pool or on the rink… but she will make sure you all overhear what’s going on in her life.  “Well Ted and I just got back from the Cayman’s.  We needed to get back to take Anna to her horse show.  Then we are taking the kids to Europe.  But making sure we have enough time afterwards to take Hunter to ski school in Vermont for the winter.”  I always want to say, “Oh I just got back from the Dept. of Social Services re-certifying for foodstamps, oh it’s just lovely there this time of year!”  But now my kids keep telling me they are going to step in and say, “My Mom wrote a book, did you?”  I admire my feisty kids.

Did I miss any type of Mom?  I’m sure I did.  Add your favorite types in the comments below…

(also don’t forget to check out my new blog for DivorcedMoms.com right here)

New Blog Announcement and Pick My Filth Writing Pen Name!

13 Aug

What up skanks?!  I’ve got some interesting news!  I have been asked to write for a new website getting ready to launch – www.DivorcedMoms.com .  So I have started a new blog that will framed within the site but I am launching it separately first.  You can find it here http://singleparentmadge.wordpress.com/2013/08/12/so-whats-this-blog-all-about/ .  The new blog will be focused solely on single parenting and divorce, so if you are interested in those two subjects please follow me on that blog but please enjoy this one as well!  And stay tuned for DivorcedMoms.com to launch in the next month or two!

I will still be blogging here, just writing an additional blog over there.

So this new blog will be more professional, probably not like here where I say fuck a lot.  I’m going to try and use the experiences I’ve been through to help those who are newly divorced.  Hmmm, I think one of my words of wisdom will be “Don’t date until you have been divorced for a year”.   That doesn’t mean you can’t get laid… just don’t try and date or have a relationship, everybody is a mess the first year.

However, the one big thing I learned is that no one can tell you anything.  Meaning, even if they do give advice, you’re going to have to go through it and feel it, see it, hear it for yourself before it sinks in.  I’ll tell you not to date, but it might serve you just as well to go out and have a disastrous attempt at dating where you like him but he doesn’t like you and then you say some really needy things and he thinks you’re a crazy psycho.  Not like uh, that ever happened to me but you know… trial and error sometimes makes the best way to learn.

So, there’s that blog and this bog… I’ve often wanted to write another blog under a nom de plume,  where I can tell you all the adult stories I have that I don’t want my children to see.  Oh boy do I have a lot of those!  You know they involve bad words, borderline illegal activities and s-e-x.  So if I did, I’m not sure what name to use.  Hey, let’s have a little contest!  Suggest some names below and I will pick my favorite and use it as my name and you win a $10 gift card to Starbucks!  But of course if they all suck, I’m not picking any of them.  heh heh

Well, come on get started… and Jane Doe is not even an option.  Jane Do-me might be.  (ok not really that’s tacky)  Have at it!

If You Kids Don’t Go Outside, the Beatings Will Begin!

8 Aug

For those of us that have kids… the summer vacation is almost over or if you live on the East Coast like me we still have a month to go. Either way, I’ve been thinking about summer vacations of my youth and every time my kids say “I’m bored”, I try to remember what I did to occupy my time in the summer as a yute.

However, my kids are at different ages where one size does not fit all.  So I kind of ran through the stages of summer entertainment according to age group.  My kids now are 19-16-14.  So here we go:

Birth – 4

It’s pretty much all about the diaper changes, meals and naps.  There is the occasional foray into the kiddie pool or walk in the stroller.  But it’s just about the same as the rest of the year.  You just get a reprieve from putting so many clothes on a kid.  My son spent every summer of this time period in just shorts and no shirt.  Now at 19, he’s come full circle, never a shirt and I’m lucky if I get him to put on shorts.

Ages 5-8

This is about the time they start whining about friends.  “I want to play with Jimmy”, “I want to play with Suzie”.   Which makes it a little difficult because things aren’t the same as they were for us.  In my day, there were all these older brothers and sisters to play in the yard with you, so if you have a friend over, there’s some sort of supervision.  With no older kids to pawn them off on, you get to plant yourself outside and “supervise”.  Nowadays, everybody wants to have a God damn “play date”,  and you can’t really leave your kids that age unattended because there are lots of pervs around.  So you’re whole summer is spent being a “Dry Land Life Guard”.

Also it;s not like in our day where we lived in city neighborhoods and you just walked across the street to play.  Now everybody lives in the suburbs on estates and kids need a fucking tram to get house to house.  So at this point getting them into camps and activities kind of takes care of the socializing and entertaining in one fell swoop.

If you’re a working parent, you just dump these kids in day care all summer anyhow.  That’s what I had to do and be all guilt-ridden.

Ages 9-12

At this age in my day, we left the house after breakfast and had to be home by the time the street lights came on.  Kids can be left unattended outside at this point but not endlessly like we could.   You’re lucky if you live in a development where they can run free.  But the level of entertainment satiation kicks up a notch.  Rolling a ball to each other doesn’t quite do the trick.  However, kid-organized games of soccer or capture the flag start to come in handy.  But then they want to bring in the whole neighborhood to play video games.   “Go outside!” becomes the Mom’s mantra.  But in your head it sounds like “God, will you kids get the fuck out of the house so I can get it clean for one minute before the next mess starts?”.

If you work, this is where it gets tricky… can I save some money and let them stay home alone?  That’s a call only you can make.  Camps are still a good option.  If you stay at home… sports, sports, sports.

Ages 13-14

It’s all about the opposite sex.  Where can we go to see boys/girls?   “Let’s ride our bikes to the beach.”  Yes, yes!  Go!  Go off on your own and entertain yourselves.  just be on the look out for pervs and don’t take rides from strangers.   That’s what we did back then and it’s pretty much the same now except for that suburban sprawl and needing rides things.   So sometimes in lieu of getting on bikes, they just Skype or text or Tweet or Facebook chat.  And that’s when, “Please, for the love of God, go outside” is Mom’s mantra again.  They’re getting too old to enroll in some activities but too young to get a job.  Solution – again sports, sports, sports.  But be prepared for lots of attitude at this age.

Ages 15-18

Get a job.  Period, end of story.  And in your spare time you’re too tired to do anything, but if you do, get your rich friend who’s Mummy and Daddy bought them a car and can haul your ass around.  Oh but now I have to worry about sex, drugs, and alcohol.  There is always a gathering at someone’s house and now firepits are the big thing.  They go to some kid’s house and sit outback around the fire, and you know some damn kid will have a pint.  Come on kids, can’t you just be occupied without me having to worry?  Then of course we become the bleary eyed parents again like when they were babies, because we wait up for them to come home.

Ages 18/19-22

You’re in college, if you can’t entertain yourself by now you have issues.   You must have a job, hopefully it’s a job where you go work at a summer camp or go away to work on a fishing boat.  Take an adventure, it will serve you well.  I worked at a summer camp in Massachusetts and it was awesome.  Plus my parents saved on food and booze. (drinking age was 18 and 19 back then)  And of course… I was somebody else’s problem.   Maybe get an internship, something you can start to build a resume with.  And for God sake, don’t drink and drive.

Well,  I guess it’s evident that some age groups may get a little easier but the responsibility never ends.  I still have about more years to go with the summer struggle.  Lord have mercy…

Opinions are Like Bananas, They Go Bad After a While

9 Jul

Quick FYI FREE Kindle version of my book “When Life Gives You Lemons… at Least You Won’t Get Scurvy!” available on Amazon.com on Wednesday 7/10 thru Thursday 7/11!   CLICK HERE

 

You know that old saying, “Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one”?  My new version is “Opinions are like bananas, they go bad after a while”

bananas in pjs

 

(BTdubs, I really hated this show when my kids were little)

I’ve been dealing with that a lot lately.  As I have to make some decisions about my career, finances, living situation, kid’s college futures, etc… everyone has something different to say.  And most often it’s the complete opposite of what the last person said.

Oh don’t get me wrong, advice is good.  Bouncing things off people is good.  We all need to weigh things out.  But as you’re weighing and it starts to feel like one of those people from a TLC documentary like “The 900 lb Man” sitting on your chest… wait maybe the 900 lb man riding Mothra… well then it’s time to stop bouncing things off others.

One of the most intelligent things my ex-husband ever said as I was obsessed with the “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” books when I was pregnant was, “Throw the damn book away”.  Yea, he was right.  I was more worked up than a bag of cats tossed down a hill.

When you begin to doubt your own compass is when you need to take a step back.  For instance, I have my second child starting to look at colleges.  Now my son is going to one of the most expensive colleges in the Universe, NYU.  I’m trying to be realistic with my daughter.  He got scholarships but will still have a few big loans and the travel expense back and forth adds up.  My daughter can certainly apply to her dream schools but we need to weigh things out before accepting.  If I can’t afford to bring you home for Thanksgiving, we have a problem.   I have some people insisting I send my next two children to state schools or community college for two years then 4 year state school.  Uhhhh… no.  Nothing against them but state schools really aren’t any cheaper in my circumstance because they don’t give as much aid as private schools do.   I just know my kids, comunity college isn’t for them.   I started out at one school and was fucking miserable, then I transferred.  Some kids, it doesn’t really matter, others it does.

Jesus Christ stop telling me what to do!!!!   Aaaaarrgghhhh!!!!  I’ve raised these kids for 19 years pretty much on my own and gotten this far, do you think I’m freakin’ stupid?  The thing is, I’m a risk taker.  I’m not like the people who say “What if?”  “What if?”  ‘What if?”   I’m a “Let’s try it and if we need to change our course, we will”  kind of gal.  Maybe that wasn’t always the best thing, but at least I didn’t do it with anything crazy like, “Let’s try heroin and just see what happens”  or “Let’s just try unprotected sex with this guy who injects meth and see what happens”. (I don’t know, is injecting meth even a thing?)

If you are obsessed with making a move only if you can predict the outcome, then you can become paralyzed.  Conversely if you leap without thinking, you can find yourself in a heapload of shit.  I say weigh thing out, then take an educated leap of faith.  And there’s a lot to be said for gut instinct.  (Unless of course you’re a rapist or murderer)   I ain’t afraid.  But once I’ve made up my mind… leave me the fuck alone.  The outcome will eventually be apparent to me, I don’t need your predictive “Mark my words…”  bullshit, because shit ain’t happened yet!

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