Monthly Archives: May 2013

“I want to leave behind me the name of a fellow who never bullied a little boy, or turned his back on a big one.” ~Thomas Hughes

Yesterday I was faced with a really difficult dilemma.  As you all know by now, my kids love giving me a hard time and occasionally have those tween/teen attitudes, but for the most part, I have great children.  They’re respectful (to everyone except me), smart, driven, motivated, talented, and very well-rounded.

Starting just this year, things have gotten a little tough with the seventh grader/teenager, as these little aliens, also known as hormones, have taken over his life, causing him to because more lazy and not so on top of his homework and things like that.

No, he’s not a delinquent, and he isn’t flunking out of middle school.  I’ve just had to ride him a little bit harder than I always have.  Let me also mention that he’s never done drugs, never had a “serious” girlfriend (well, as serious as they get in middle school), hasn’t had sex, has never been in a fight, and have never been to juvie.

With all that being said, yesterday something happened that I never imagined I would have to deal with from any of my kids.

Gerald was on the playground for recess, playing gaga ball (I have no idea, so don’t ask, but it’s the latest rage in recess games) with his friends.  One of the not-so-nice kids at his school started picking on and bullying Gerald’s best friend.  Gerald told him to leave his friend alone.

They proceeded to play the game again, and the bully kid got out.  He refused to leave the gaga ball pit and wait for the next round, as one is supposed to do when he “gets out” in the game.  Gerald said to him, “Dude, if you’re not going to play right, then why don’t you just leave and not play at all?”

Well…. that’s when it happened.  The kid got in Gerald’s face and pushed him.  Gerald says that he continued to grab his shirt after he pushed him and didn’t just push him and let him go.  So he says he pushed him back to get the kid off of him.  Of course when Gerald pushed him back, things escalated, and the kid tried to all-out fight him.  A tussle ensued, and to make a long story short, both kids got suspended.

Needless to say, I get a call from one of the school administrators yesterday to tell me what happened, and as you can imagine, I wasn’t too happy about it.  The administrator assured me that Gerald is a good kid and that it’s just school policy to suspend students who get in physical altercations.  He told me that usually when a kid gets in trouble, he almost always recognizes the kid’s name immediately.  He said this wasn’t the case with Gerald, and that he had to look him up in the computer to even figure out who “Gerald” was.  He said he’s a good student and has never been in trouble before and explained that this would not be on his permanent record or carry over to next school year.  He also explained that the suspension itself wasn’t really a big deal since the students are done working for the year and are just watching movies these last three days.

Not a big deal, huh?  Well, it kind of is to me.  My kids know better than to fight at all, much less in school.

So this is where I’m torn…

Gerald swears up and down that this kid is one of the school’s bullies and that he was being really mean to his best friend.  When I asked why his friend couldn’t stand up for himself, he asked me the best (yet hardest) question ever:

“If someone isn’t strong enough or comfortable to stand up for himself, shouldn’t I do it for him?  You always told me to stand up to bullies.”



“If you see someone being bullied, make it stop.

Why is that so hard for us to do?” 

~Susane Colasanti

What could I say to that, really?  I hate to say it, but he kind of had a good point.  While I’m so angry at him for getting into a fight and getting suspended, I’m also kind of proud of him.  He’s usually such a follower (his little brother is the leader amongst his friends), but this time he didn’t care what anyone else thought of him.  He saw someone being bullied, and he stood up to him.

It’s in times and situations like these where you realize that parenting is the hardest job ever.  And where you constantly question whether you’re failing as a parent or doing a pretty decent job.  Unfortunately, the true answer to that test probably won’t be clear until our children are adults themselves.  But in the meantime, I’ll keep doing the best I can and keep praying for my little boys who grow up more and more every day.

 “Bullying is not okay. Period.”

~Jim C. Hines

Source: Bethel Clinic

Source: Bethel Clinic

Resources to Help Stop Bulling:

PACER’s National Bullying Prevention Center

the ellen degeneres show

“It’s easier to dismiss ghosts in the daylight.” ~Patricia Briggs

I think that by now we’ve all noticed the rise in TV shows about ghosts and spirits:  Ghost Hunters, My Ghost Story, Ghost Adventures, Haunted Collector, and my personal favorite, Paranormal Witness.  Also, we’re drawn to movies like Paranormal Activity and The Exorcist.

True story:

Source: Funny as Duck

Source: Funny as Duck

For some reason, as dumb as I sometimes think these shows and movies are, I still can’t turn them off.  Except at night when I’m home by myself.  Then I change the channel as fast as I can!!  I think the reason I’m so drawn to them is because of something that happened when I was about ten or eleven.

My sister and I used to have our own bedrooms, but they were right next door to each other.  We used to knock on the wall between our rooms and talk to each other at night, until Mom and Dad would fuss at us and tell us to go to sleep.

Anyway, one night I was lying in bed, and I heard something outside my room.  I assumed it was my mom going to the kitchen, but she never actually passed by.  I looked at my door and into the hallway, and I kid you not… there was a man standing in my doorway!  While I couldn’t see his face, I could see his entire silhouette leaning against my doorframe.

This is kind of how it looked:

Source: Deposit Photos

Source: Deposit Photos

I gasped, buried my head in my pillow, and panicked!  I thought for sure that if I looked again, “he” would be gone, proving that my imagination was definitely just on overdrive.  So, I poked my head up, looked again, and HE WAS STILL THERE!!!

“Okay, maybe it’s Dad,” albeit that would be pretty creepy, and my dad’s not really a creeper.  I focused my eyes more, and just stared.  He remained in his spot in my doorway and didn’t move.

“One…two…three!”  I jumped from my bed faster than I’ve ever moved in my life, and ran right through him to my sister’s room.  I jumped into bed with her, frantically trying to wake her up so I could tell her what had just happened.  Of course, I didn’t sleep a wink that night, but he didn’t return, so maybe I scared him, too!

My sister, surprisingly, didn’t think I was crazy.  She said that she had seen him and other strange things around the house, too.

Even now as adults, she and I occasionally recount the creepy things we saw when we lived in that house.  It still makes the hairs on our arms and necks stand up!

I haven’t seen any weird ghosts or spirits as an adult, so of course I’ve become skeptical, often forgetting about my own firsthand experience.  But then, every once in a while, my sister and I will start talking about it, and we remember that night so long ago that I swear I saw a ghost.  Thankfully it didn’t try to possess me or kill me or anything, but that doesn’t make it any less real [or scary]!

Do you believe in ghosts?  Have you ever seen one?  Share your stories!

Source: Funny Junk

Source: Funny Junk


“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” ~Franklin D. Roosevelt

At the time President Roosevelt said that fear itself is the only thing we have to fear, he obviously had never come face-to-face with a massive man-eating spider like this one:

Source: Plant Swap

Source: Plant Swap

Terrifying, right???  I hate spiders!  They scare the living bejeezus out of me!  Thankfully I have Ronald to come to my rescue and save my life most of the time – He kills them for me and then flushes them so I can be sure they won’t reincarnate themselves and crawl out of the trash can to plot my death.



Spiders are only one of the things that I’m scared of.  I’m also scared of the following things.  Can you relate to any of them?

Our Future:

With the rise of technological devices that are smarter than I am, I wonder if we’ll even have to really communicate with anyone in the future.  My kid just asked me recently what a rotary phone was.  Remember those??  Probably not.

And if you’re falling into this “technologically advanced future” trap like I am, you hate talking on the phone.  Unless it’s 911 worthy, just text me.

Source: someecards

Source: someecards

I mean, in ten years will we really even talk anymore?  I’m kind of scared of what our world’s going to be like.  I mean, what if the whole Internets crashes and we can’t use the Google for a whole day?!  Chaos, people!  Our world will be chaos!

The only sound that will be familiar to us old farts by then will be laughter… the laughter we hear at our desks in the middle of the day when someone reads a stupid meme on their Facebook!

Source: someecards

Source: someecards

Our kids will never learn how to do real research.  All they’ll have to do is download some previously written paper on whatever they’re learning about and email it to their teachers.

And take learning how to write… Will they ever need to learn that?  Sure, now they’re learning how to type, but in ten years, they won’t even need to do that.  All they’ll need to do is speak into some device, and it’ll translate it all for them.

Source: 9 LoLs

Source: 9 LoLs

I’m terrified of this future.  If it’s hard to connect with my teenager now, I can’t even imagine trying to connect with anyone younger than me when they don’t even know what communication really means.

The World In Which My Kids Will Grow Up:

This fear extends beyond the previous one.  Not only will they not have to learn to communicate… or write… or speak…, but they’ll also probably not have social security and other benefits that our fathers and grandfathers busted their behinds to have.

For example, the Social Security Administration estimates that by 2037, the trust fund reserves that our benefits are currently held in will be exhausted, and recipients will only receive 76 percent of their scheduled benefits.  That’s in less than 25 years!!!  That means that by the time our children are eligible for benefits, there will likely be nothing left!

What are they going to do?  Do they even know what work ethic is anymore?  I’m trying to teach my kids that working hard is necessary to being successful, but it seems like so many young people in our society just want things handed to them.  They don’t want to work hard like we have and like our parents have.  They think they’re entitled to a successful life and a paycheck.

I don’t know about you, but I’m terrified of having to support my kids for the rest of their lives.  That’s why I’m working so hard now to be a good parent and raise them to be successful for themselves.  I want a break when they’re old enough to support themselves!  Hell, I want a break now – who am I kidding?!

Source: Soda Head

Source: Soda Head

Being Closed In Small Spaces:

Yes, I am claustrophobic.  If I feel like I can’t breathe, I freak out.  That’s also why I don’t like people in my face.  Or turtlenecks.  I hate turtlenecks.  I think they’re made with live material that tries to suck all the life from you and strangle you ever so slowly.

I’m that person who will wait ten minutes for the next elevator if there are too many people on the first one I’m waiting for.  What if we get stuck, and that annoying girl who sits in front of me at works sucks up all my air?!  I’ll suffocate to death and never get to say goodbye to my family.  Um, no thanks.  I’ll wait for the next one.

Source: The Meta Picture

Source: The Meta Picture

A Zombie Apocalypse:

Um, zero.  My chances of surviving are probably zero.  My underground zombie shelter isn’t ready yet, and I can’t figure out how to keep digging without my ceiling falling back in on me.  And the thought of that happening takes me back to suffocating to death.

I mean, what if I’m totally winning against the stupid zombies, but then I die of suffocation when my zombie shelter falls in on me??  That.  Would.  Suck.

The End of the World:

Every time the Mayans predicted the end of the world, I could at least prepare myself a little bit.  But obviously, they weren’t very good at what they did.

Source: Very Funny Pics

Source: Very Funny Pics

So now I’m stuck constantly wondering and worrying.  What if it’s today, and you haven’t seen The Hangover 3 yet?  Or what if it’s tomorrow morning and you haven’t had your last delicious Starbucks Hazelnut Frappuchino yet?

I want to know when it’s coming, dang it!!!  But once again, God uses his amazing sense of humor to keep me hanging.  Matthew 24:36 says “But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”  Please, Father… please tell me!  Just give me a hint!!!

No luck with that begging thing yet, either, I might add…

Anything With Fur And More or Less Than Four Legs:

This includes anything except dogs and cats.  And just to set the record straight – I hate cats.  While I may not be scared of them, I still hate them.  Probably because of things like this.

I’ve already discussed spiders.  Eek!  Another one that scares the daylights out of me?  Caterpillars.  Yuck!  One crawled into my hair once and tried to crawl in my ear and suck my brains out.  My mom had to pull off the road because I was about to jump out of the [quickly] moving car.

Source: Funny Baby Pictures

Source: Funny Baby Pictures

Anything Without Fur And More or Less Than Four Legs:

Except snakes.  Surprisingly, snakes don’t bother me.  But beetles, ladybugs, worms, roaches, slugs, etc?  Nooooo!!!  Keep them away from me!

Gerald played a cruel CRUEL joke on me this weekend.  You know those little sword things that some restaurants use in their burgers to keep them together?  He had one that looked like this:

Source: Amazon

Source: Amazon

Well he took his hid it strategically in the seat in my car so that just the top part was sticking out.  I was just getting back in the car from pumping gas, and he said, “Wait, Mom!  There’s a maggot right there on your seat.”  Oh.  My.  Goodness.  I FREAKED OUT!!!  I really don’t know how I didn’t have a heart attack.  He and Ronald started laughing, and I finally figured out that it was a damn plastic sword.  If it wasn’t illegal to sell a kid on Craig’s List, I would have been on my way to deliver a handsome 13-year-old boy to someone that very second!

Really, I HATE bugs and critters and creatures.  They terrify me.


I’m also terrified of birds.  And no, not even because of Alfred Hitchcock.  They’re disgusting, and one attacked me once for no reason whatsoever.  I didn’t even have food, but that sucker chased me down and attacked my head.  Needless to say, I’ve been scared to death of them ever since.  They’re all on a personal mission to attack me and rip my face off.

Source: Eat: Watch: Run

Source: Eat: Watch: Run

And to the moron who feeds the seagull at the beach, luring in the other ten thousand of its bird friends, I HATE YOU!  No, seriously.  I hate you.  Why – WHY – would you feel the need to attract a gazillion of these disgusting creatures?  I hope they take a big dook [thanks Don] right in your hair.

And their feet.  Have you ever seen their gross, creepy feet?  Ugh.  Dreadful.

A Bacon Shortage:

What the heck are we going to do if there’s a bacon shortage??!  I mean, who can live without bacon?

No one should have to suffer through life with no cured, fried pig.  Without it, we would have no reason to eat vegetables anymore, since the only real way to suffer through vegetables is if they’re loaded down with bacon bits.  Green beans without bacon?  As if!  Lima beans without bacon?  Ugh – gag me.

Bacon is the most amazing food on the planet!  I’m scared to death that there won’t be enough to gorge myself on in a year or two.  In the meantime, I’ll buy some every time I go to Sam’s Club and just overload my freezer with it.  Just to be on the safe side, of course…

Source: Loveless Cafe

Source: Loveless Cafe

Anyway, these are just a few things that scare the crap out of me.  Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “Do one thing every day that scares you.”  What the heck?  Did the Roosevelts love fear or something??  Clearly they never had a critter try to eat their brains out.  And clearly, there was no threat of a bacon shortage in their day.

I’ll just stick with raising two boys every day… that scares me in and of itself.

What scares you?

Source: Curious Inkling

Source: Curious Inkling

“Racism is so universal in this country, so widespread, and deep-seated, that it is invisible because it is so normal.” ~Shirley Chisholm



Before I start with my “ignorant quote of the weekend” story, I want to take a second to thank all the men and women who have died bravely serving our Country.  Also, thank you to those who are currently fighting for the freedoms that we take advantage of daily.  It is thanks to YOU that we can even write these blogs and share our honest feelings.  And it is thanks to YOU that I could spend my weekend lying on a beach, enjoying the perfect weather, while you spent yours in a desert hell, never knowing whether you’ll be safe the next second and counting down the days until you can be back home with your families and friends.  THANK YOU.  We owe you our lives and our freedoms.

Okay, so now to my unbelievable weekend story…

Father Figure, the kids, and I went to the beach yesterday to enjoy our perfect, 80-degree weather here in beautiful Charleston.

At this particular beach, you can’t have dogs on the beach from 10 to 6.  While I love dogs, I think that this was probably a good idea yesterday because it was packed.  Everyone was enjoying their last day of the long weekend, and there was hardly an empty spot on the beach from all the people.  It would have been miserably full if everyone had their dogs out there, too.  So a cop came up to a couple who was on the beach right in front of us and told them that they needed to come back without their dog or could come back with her after 6.

I admit that I did feel kind of bad for them because they had just gotten all of their stuff unpacked and settled on the beach, their kids had just gotten in the water, and their big old fat dog was adorable.  She was just lying there, enjoying the sand and the sun, and she looked like a big baby.  She wasn’t running around or barking like crazy; she was the perfect dog.

After they were told they couldn’t have Luna (the dog) on the beach with them, they started packing up.  Paw went to get the kids out of the water, and Maw was trying to pack everything up with one hand while holding Luna’s leash with the other.  Like a sweet southern belle, I got my lazy butt out of my beach chair and offered to help Maw by holding Luna while she finished packing up their towels, toys, and cooler.

She thanked me and then proceeded to tell me that she was from somewhere in North Carolina and that they didn’t want to leave Luna at their hotel all day.  She said that it really sucked that they had to leave because the day before, they had gone to a different beach in the area where dogs are allowed at any time of day, but that they didn’t like it there because of the “type of people” who were there.

I assumed that “type of people” meant maybe rich and snobby since we live in a pretty affluent area, and these folks sounded pretty country.  I also assumed that maybe someone hassled them about their dog since Luna was pretty big and wasn’t a small frou-frou lapdog.

Anyway, I stayed and chatted with Maw while she finished packing up, and then her boyfriend came back from the water with the kids.  Paw introduced himself, grumbled about them having to leave, and then he told me his version of why he hated the other beach that they visited the day before.

And when he did… I finally started to understand who the “other type of people” referred to.

Here’s what he said [read with your best country/redneck accent]:

“Yeah, we went up to that other beach over yonder yesterday, and the whole damn beach was full a’ those watermelons.”

Huh???  What did that mean?  Why was the beach full of watermelons?  The Watermelon Festival isn’t this weekend, and it’s not at the beach, is it?  Why wouldn’t people throw their rinds in the trash?  Why would they even bring watermelon to the beach?  Doesn’t it get all sandy and make a sticky mess?

Then, Maw cut in and cleared it up for me a little [again, read with your best country/redneck accent]:

“Yeah, those damn watermelons and pit bulls… The whole beach was full of ‘em.”

What?!  The beach was full of watermelons and pit bulls?  How strange.  I don’t see many pit bulls on the beach when I go, and there certainly isn’t trash all over the beach.  How strange…

Paw made another comment that I think was supposed to be funny because he laughed his best redneck beer-belly laugh, and suddenly a light went off…

They weren’t really talking about watermelons and pit bulls.  That was their best euphemism for black people!!!  And isn’t a euphemism supposed to be used instead of something that can be found offensive?

At this point, I couldn’t even believe what I had just listened to.

Source: Newd Magazine

Source: Newd Magazine

These morons were racist!  And they didn’t want to go to the other beach because … wait for it … black people were there!  They said that they would just waste the rest of their vacation hanging out at the hotel’s pool so that they didn’t have to go back to the other beach.  Are you kidding me?!  Clearly these rednecks from the hills of North Carolina had the smallest pea brains in existence.  Father Figure and I just stared at each other in unbelief!

They finished packing and left with their kids and their poor, albeit adorable dog.  As I sat there thinking about this whole conversation after they left, I felt more and more sorry for their poor kids.  They were still young, and it was sad to think that they, too, would probably grow up to be racist idiots just like their parents.

Source: Relativity Online

Source: Relativity Online

I wish that in the middle of their conversation on why they hated the other beach (you know, the one full of watermelons and pit bulls), that my two biracial kids would have walked up and said, “Hey Mom, look at the shell I found!” or something to that effect.  I imagine the looks on Maw and Paw’s faces would have been priceless.



It makes me sad to think that this is 2013 and racism and hatred still exist.  You may remember my previous post about racism.  It’s an ever-growing problem.  Unfortunately, it’s not just an issue with race, either.  We see so many stories in the news now about poor kids killing themselves because they’re being picked on and bullied about ridiculous things.  This is NOT okay!!! 

We need to teach our children tolerance and love.  We also need to teach them to stand up for these poor people who are picked on and hated on.  Only our kids can change the future.  As F.D.R. said, “We may not be able to prepare the future for our children, but we can at least prepare our children for the future.”  The place to start is with love and acceptance.  No, we don’t have to agree with everyone’s choices in our increasingly liberal America, but we do have to at least tolerate them.  Set the example.  End racism through unity.  Don’t ignore it – STOP IT!

Source: KULfoto

Source: KULfoto



“Friendship is the hardest thing in the world to explain. It’s not something you learn in school…” ~ Muhammad Ali

As promised, today’s post will be much more lighthearted than yesterday’s.  But true, all the same…

Last night, I found myself in a position to teach Gerald (the teenager) a very valuable life lesson.

Here’s how it went down:

Gerald: “Mom, Megan and Chase broke up again, and they are so mad at each other.”

Me: “Really – what happened this time?”

Gerald: “They’re just talking about each other to everyone else. They both talk trash about the other one to all our friends.”

Me: “What do you say since you’re friends with both of them? Or do you just listen and not really say anything?”

Gerald: “I say, ‘I know, right.’” [Hee hee]

Me: “Gerald! You can’t do that! That’s throwing fuel on the fire!”

Gerald: “I know, but it is kind of funny!”

Me: “It’s mean. You should tell them both to just get back together or get over each other and move on. They’re both gonna’ get their feelings hurt if they keep spreading rumors about each other.”

Gerald: “I know, but I’m kind of on her side.”

Me: “No, no, no…!!! I’m about to teach you a very valuable life lesson that you need to remember until the day you get married.”

Gerald: [listening intently] “Okay, what is it?”

***Drum roll, please…***

Me: “Bros before hoes, man. Bros before hoes.”

Gerald: [amazing look of wonderment on his face] “Hmm, okay. Thanks, Mom.”

And that, folks, makes me….

Source: Imgur

Source: Imgur

That’s right – – I’m officially the WORLD’S OKAYEST MOM!!!

Source: Meme Center

Source: Meme Center

“The whole thing becomes like this evil enchantment from a fairy tale, but you’re made to believe the spell can never be broken.” ~Jess C. Scott

You know I usually write about something funny or even stupid, but today I feel the need to share something serious and even potentially life-changing.  I hope it’s not the case, but maybe someone somewhere needs to hear it.  It’s not something I’m proud of.  Hell, it’s actually mortifying to even discuss it.  But it’s part of who I am now, I guess, and it certainly explains some of my overbearing control-freak personality issues.

I grew up with a mom and dad who loved each other and loved my sister and me.  We were a pretty traditional family, but my mom wore the pants in the family, for sure.  When she and my dad would get into an argument, she’d say what she needed to say, he’d just “listen,” and the next day, he’d come home with flowers.  Not exactly perfect, but it worked for them.  She was the Type-A control-freak, and he was the laidback, easygoing one.  Opposites attract, right?

You could say that… While I was in high school, I was extremely shy, polite, and soft-spoken.  I was smart and ran track and had my tight-knit group of friends, but I wasn’t crazy preppy popular.  Well, what do you know???  I get hit on by one of the most popular seniors in the school when I was only a sophomore.  Go me… go me!!  I ignored him and blew him off, which I guess in weird guy language, means “Try harder.”  So he did.  I finally gave in to him and agreed to go out with him.

Boy, was he charming.  In fact, he was the most charming sweet-talker I’d ever met.  He knew just what to say, and I was a stupid naïve and innocent 15-year-old.  You may imagine where this is going.  I eventually ended up spending every second I could with him.  Of course, there was no way that we were going to mine or his parents’ houses… Could you imagine??  So we’d go to the park or the movies or the mall.  I guess those are the usual places where teenagers used to go.

Source: someecards

Source: someecards

It didn’t take long before I found out that he had not one other girlfriend, but TWO.  But by that time, it was too late.  I was IN LOOOOVE.  He told me he loved me, that I was the only one for him, and that eventually he wanted to marry me.  Okay.  Sounds good to me.  And if you tell me that things are over between you and her and her, then that must be true, right?  Wrong.  Right.

Source: That is SO High School!

Source: That is SO High School!

Anyway, I laid off of the accusations about the other girlfriends and “dated” him throughout high school.  During my junior year, I was shopping at the mall, and I happened to run into one of these other non-girlfriends.  She asked me a million questions about the love of my life, trying to figure out whether we were in fact an item or whether I was just making it up.  After I kept insisting that he and I were going to be together forever, she decided that the best thing to do was for us to confront him since he was obviously lying to both of us.  After all, they were going to be together forever, too.  Hmm… how is this gonna’ work?

He happened to work in the mall at the time, so we walked down to the store he worked in, he took a break, and we all went outside to the parking lot to get to the truth of the matter.  While we’re standing in the parking lot, he looks at her straight-faced and tells her that he hardly knows me and that there’s nothing going on between us.  WHAT???!!!  Are you kidding me?!  Of course, I call him out right then and there, and he becomes furious with me for not lying for him.  What does he do, and how do I know he’s so angry?  He backhands the crap out of my face.  Yep.  You read that correctly.  He hit me!  Now keep in mind this son-of-a-bitch was 6’4” and 275 pounds, and I was 5’4” and 90 pounds.

Needless to say, when he hit me, I landed on the hood of his car that we were all standing around.  I was floored.  I couldn’t even believe what had just happened.  I was in shock, and like an idiot, I didn’t call the cops.  I didn’t know what to do!  I had never seen anyone get hit before in my life.  Ever!  My parents fought occasionally, but they never even came close to getting physical with each other.  I picked my jaw up off the ground, snapped out of my shock, and left and went home.

Of course, I didn’t tell my parents about what happened.  They already hated him because he was a cheating liar, and I always stuck up for him and made excuses for him.  I knew they would skip the whole police thing, too, and go straight for the part where they killed him themselves.  So… I kept it a secret.

I ran what happened through my head a million times over the next few days.  I was devastated, but what’s worse is that I still “loved” him.  What the hell?

A few days later, I was at work, and I turned around, and he was standing right in front of me.  My instinct wanted to punch him in his fat face, but I reminded myself that I was at work and to act professional.  So I just glared at him instead.  You know… that “I hope you die” stare?  Yeah – that one.

Source: Cheezburger

Source: Cheezburger

So he begs me to just hear him out and says, “Off the record, I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for what happened the other day.”  Off the record?!  What?!  I was livid, so I just walked off and went back to work.  He called me that night and begged me to meet him so we could talk.  Like a sucker, I did, and he begged and cried and pleaded for my forgiveness and swore it would never happen again.  He didn’t know what came over him, blah, blah, blah.  Like an idiot, I believed him.  It sounded good, he was crying, and again… He told me how much he loved me and wanted to marry me and all that “good” stuff.

To make a long story short, this was the beginning of my battered woman syndrome.  I know it’s a controversial concept, but believe me when I tell you: IT’S REAL!!!  And terrible.

As you now know from yesterday’s post, I left home when I was still pretty young.  I was 17 when I graduated from high school and moved out the very next day.  Not because I hated my parents or my life, but just because I’ve always been independent like my mom.  (I’m definitely my mother’s child…)  I couldn’t wait to start college, I had just found out I was pregnant, and I didn’t think I should stick my newest responsibility with my parents.

Considering the fact that I was pregnant, scared, and had no idea what I was doing, I moved in with him.  It was the right thing to do, right?  I didn’t want to raise a new baby as a single mom, and abortion sure as hell wasn’t an option.  I felt like it was my only choice.  And things with a baby would only make our relationship better, right?  It had to.  That’s how things were supposed to work.


Things got worse while I was living there, before I even had Gerald, and continued to get worse as the years went on.  He hit me countless times after that, including while I was pregnant.  As always, he would cry afterward, promise that was the last time, and beg on his knees for forgiveness.  I would blame myself and had myself convinced that I did something that deserved what I got from him.  I even covered for him on several occasions.  I was that dummy who used the excuse that I fell down the stairs or bumped my head.  All while this was going on, he was also having multiple affairs with the underage girls who worked for him and didn’t know any better.  So why the hell did I stay with him?  That’s what you’re dying to know, right?  Why the hell I would stay?

Well, my reasons were classic textbook, actually.

– As effed up as it may sound, it gave me something to make him feel bad about.  And whenever he felt bad about it, he would be extra sweet.  Psychiatrists call this being positively reinforced by the “honeymoon” phase.

– I was financially screwed without him.  I was working full-time and still only making enough to pay daycare, which I had to do so that I could finish college and get my degree.  I was terrified of being homeless with two babies.  And, like the moron that I was, I was terrified of going to my parents for help.  My pride forbade me from allowing them to tell me, “We told you so.”  I didn’t want to hear it and face the fact that they were right.

– I honestly believed that I could keep the peace as long as I was doing everything right.  So I went to work, went to school, took care of my babies, and still managed to cook dinner and clean the house… the stuff I thought would keep him happy.  And calm.  I didn’t understand at the time that the bastard was bipolar, and nothing that he did was any reflection of me.

Source: Positive Outlooks Blog

Source: Positive Outlooks Blog

– Probably the biggest reason I stayed was because I was truly scared to death of what the psycho would do if I took the boys and left.  He seriously was the type of crazy who would pick up the kids for visitation one day, and then I’d never see them again.  I really thought he would either kidnap them or kill us.  I was terrified of him, and he knew it.  He used it to his complete advantage.

– Sadly, by that point, I had also felt so badly about myself that I thought that I’d be a burden to anyone.  I thought I’d be alone forever, with no help and no support.  I mean, who would want to support a naïve girl, who’s still nearly a baby herself, plus two little boys?  I had rejected myself before I even gave anyone else the chance to do so.

– In hindsight, I also recognize that I was severely depressed.  I had no idea of that at the time.  I’d never dealt with anyone who was depressed or had any emotional issues, for that matter.  I just didn’t have the psychological energy to leave or to fight back.

Pretty pitiful, right?

So what made me finally grow some balls and leave?

The day he beat my kids.  Yep.  I’m serious, sadly.  I got out of the shower one day, and he was beating the crap out of the boys with a belt or a cord or something because they didn’t clean their rooms good enough for his standards.  I freaked out on him, so he stopped.  Then, I told him I was taking them to the water park for the day, and I drove them to the police department.  I was shaking like a leaf, and I had no idea what I was doing.  It was a Sunday, and the police station in the small town we lived in was “closed” and the doors were locked.  I had to call 911 and tell them that I was outside of the station with two kids and couldn’t go back home.  They let us in, took pictures, and wrote a report.  When they told me it was safe, I started driving the boys and me back home.  On my way, we passed by the police car that he was handcuffed in the back of.

I’ve never been so scared in my life, but I knew, even in that moment, that it was the best decision I would ever make.

Source: someecards

Source: someecards

You may think that this crazy battered woman cycle is just a bunch of psycho-babble crap, but please believe it.  It’s a vicious vicious cycle.  And it’s real.

Ladies, if you’re in this situation, get out!!!  Get help.  I didn’t know at the time, but there are so many abused women’s shelters and safe-houses that can get you help.  You’re not alone.  And please, don’t ever be as prideful as I was.  I was too ashamed to open up to anyone, including my family, because I was scared of what they would think of me.  I’m a strong person, and I didn’t want to be seen as a victim.  In fact, I still hate that part, and the only reason I’m sharing this is because had someone shared something like it with me, I may have built up enough courage to get out of my situation years before I did.

My concern that I would never find someone who would love me and my kids was ridiculous.  My second husband loves those boys more than their sperm donor ever did.  Unfortunately, our problems stemmed from outside stressors and things we had never dealt with before, and we just didn’t know how to handle them.  But I can say, without a doubt, that he accepted the boys like they were his own.  He still does, as a matter of fact.  (He’s “Father Figure” in my posts.)

Our fears are exactly that.  Our fears.  And sometimes they’re not nearly as big and unsolvable as they seem.  If people don’t know that these fears exist, they can’t help.

Having gone through all this has definitely affected who I’ve become.  I’m [obviously] no longer that shy, soft-spoken little girl.  If I think something, I’ll tell you.  And I’ll be damned if I’ll allow anyone else to hurt me or my kids again.  Hopefully someday I’ll find the perfect balance between the two.

Yes, I still hope Sperm Donor steps off a curb in front of a bus, but I’m past the point of actively plotting his death.  I’ve finally learned that wasting my energy and emotions on him only allows him to keep that power over me that he once had.  No more, buddy.  Never again.  He’s not worth it.  I’m better off focusing that energy on my raising my boys right and helping others.  And for that… I’m a better person.

Source: Your Daily Enlightenment

Source: Your Daily Enlightenment

“Once you tell your first lie, the first time you lie for him,

you are in it with him, and then you are lost.” ~Anita Shreve

May 2008

May 2008

“You can’t make decisions based on fear and the possibility of what might happen.” ~Michelle Obama

Life is full of decisions.  Decisions that can change your life in a split second.  Decisions that you’ll either be proud of or spend the rest of your life regretting.

Unfortunately, I’ve made several of the latter in my 31 long years of life so far.  Maybe not necessarily ones I’ll regret forever, but ones that I’ll spend the rest of my life at least wondering about and questioning.

Source: LolRiot!

Source: LolRiot!

I’ll bore you to death and share with you some of those decisions that I still wonder about.  This is probably more than you’ll ever want to know about me, by the way, but I don’t care… It’ll make me feel better to make you listen to me.  Remember, free therapy and all…?

Source: Your Face is Stupid!

Source: Your Face is Stupid!

1. I got accepted to NYU but went to Charleston Southern instead.  Whaaaat???!  I know, I know.  But they didn’t have a Criminal Justice major.  And I didn’t want to major in Gender and Sexuality Studies or Jewish History and Civilization.  Bummer.

Anyway, now I always wonder about how cool living in NYC would be during college.  I’d probably still live there and work at some kick-ass law firm.  Oh wait.  I do work at a kick-ass law firm.  But not in the middle of NYC, so that doesn’t really count.

Oh, I forgot to mention – it probably didn’t help that I was pregnant before even starting my Freshman year.  THAT would’ve been fun.  Living in NYC by myself, going to college, going to the best parties, being knocked up.  Yep.  Sounds like a blast.

Wait, wait, wait.  Before you judge me [some more], let me explain.  (And move on to decision number two.)

2. I married my baby’s daddy.  Yes, I really just used the term “baby daddy” and promise to never ever use it again.  Shame on me…

This, folks, was a BIIIIG mistake.  While I don’t run around condoning unwed pregnancies, let me be the first to say that getting married is NOT the answer.  It actually makes things worse.  (You can’t just up and run from the bastard.)

Source: someecards

Source: someecards

I got married when I was 19.  That is much much too young.  I should’ve listened when the entire planet told me that.  But noooo, I was 19, and I knew everything!  Sound familiar?  If not, just wait until your kids turn 19.  Then you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.

Even after getting married, I will still virtually a single mom, so I would’ve been just fine on my own with a new baby.  I still worked full-time, went to school full-time (and took 18 hours each semester), made the Dean’s List every semester, and was still a damn good mom.  No, it wasn’t easy, but I did it.  And well, I might add.

The entire time I was struggling to get by for Gerald and me, the bastard husband was physically and emotionally abusive and ran around constantly with one whore after another.  (But that’s a post for a different day…)

Source: King of Humor

Source: King of Humor

I wonder pretty often about how much different those nine years would’ve been with just Gerald and me.  And possibly an actual nice guy to join us.  Damn, why did I have to be so stupid???

3. Obviously, because I had a kid at such a young age and another when I was 20, I had to put my law school plans on hold.  The original plans were that I would start law school immediately after graduating from undergrad.

That would’ve been fine and dandy, except by that point, the boys were playing peewee football.  And man, were they CUTE!!  I couldn’t stand the thought of missing the chance to watch their games, so I put my plans for law school to a screeching halt.

You can see where this is going already, can’t you?  The problem comes in with the fact that they haven’t gotten any less cute or less talented.  Gerald’s now a damn good defensive end and catcher, and Ronald’s a hell of a guard and pitcher.  I can’t stand the thought of missing out on watching where their talent and hard work is going to take them.

Their practices and games requires a lot of time and dedication, and obviously until they can drive [God, help me], that’s my job.  I refuse to make the boys suffer for my poor judgment, which we’ve discussed many times, if you remember.

I hope to still go to law school once they’re both in high school, which is terrifyingly right around the corner.  Then, at least, they can drive themselves [yikes!!!] and they’ll have practices right after school.  Not to brag, but I think I can be a pretty damn good attorney, so I definitely don’t want to let the opportunity pass by forever.

4. Since moving to Charleston to go to college, I’ve been convinced that I wouldn’t leave this area.  I love it here, despite the morons who’ve given South Carolina a bad name.

Now mind you, I hated living in Myrtle Beach, better known as the Redneck Riviera.  My family moved there when I was in the 7th grade, and I hated it.  I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.  Once I moved to Charleston, though, I had myself convinced that I didn’t hate the whole state.

Source: Fits News

Source: Fits News

The only problem with living in Charleston since college was that I missed my mom and sister terribly.  They’ve always been amazing at coming to visit, but it’s just not the same as living in the same city.

So, hubby # 2 and I decided it would be a good idea to up and move back to Pawleys Island (in Myrtle Beach) to be closer to my family, especially my granddaddy who was sick with lung cancer.  Two words: BIG. MISTAKE.  As soon as we moved, I remembered every single reason why I hated it there so many years ago.  Traffic.  Tourists.  Dead winters.  Obnoxiously busy summers.  Crappy law firms.  Crappy salaries.  Tourists.  Traffic.  I hated it!

Source: My Horry News

Source: My Horry News

Stress about money, jobs, the step-kids visitation with their mom, and things like that led to one problem after another.  Long story short, hubby # 2 and I separated (ugh – here we go again), and I ended up moving back to Charleston.

I can’t help but wonder if whether I hadn’t moved back to begin with, if things would still be just fine and dandy like they were before I moved.  Fortunately, I got a great job at an amazing firm, after having left an amazing job to move, so that worked out.  I love where I live now, and I love this area, but damn… I didn’t realize that the cost I’d pay to be happy again would be so high.

Source: The Meta Picture

Source: The Meta Picture

This is only the beginning of my questionable decisions, but they seem to be the ones I think and wonder about the most.  Of course, there’s that one time I went out with some girlfriends and woke up in the hospital, but I don’t think that affected me for the rest of my life, other than to say that I no longer trust bartenders who give me free Purple Hooters all night…

There I go, getting off-track again.

They say hindsight’s 20/20, right?  Well now I know what that means.  If I hadn’t made the debatable decisions I’ve made up to this point in my life, I may be a rich, happily married attorney, who’s not stuck with doing all the work and making none of the money and spending all my time in divorce court.  At least I’ve got Gerald and Ronald, though.  They’re my life.

I guess it’s true what they say: There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.  My tunnel just seems to be really damn long.

What decisions do you wonder about?  Any that you would go back and change?

“‘When are you planning to return to earth?’ ‘Soon as I finish this coffee,’ says Jesus. ‘Pretty good, isn’t it.’” ~Garrison Keillor

Source: Funny Junk

Source: Funny Junk

So, some friends and I went to Party at the Point last Friday night.  It was the perfect afternoon: amazing weather, great bands, cold beer, and drunk fun friends.  A Friday night after a crazy long week of work can’t get any better than that, right?  Wrong!  At one point, while I was lounging on my blanket, enjoying my beer and the music, I looked up and saw this:

The Son of God was there, too!!!  I knew right then that I had to find Him so I could tell Him that I knew His buddy, Don.

I searched the beach for the tall, Mexican/Italian/Irish, barefoot dude with the Bud Light Lime, but I couldn’t seem to find Him.  Finally, I passed a man who smelled slightly like salami, and I knew!  IT WAS HIM!!!  Only he didn’t have a BLL… He had a Miller Light.  I guess he didn’t want to feel like a Nancy.  Good choice.

You can imagine my surprise when he said, “Alicia!  How’s it going?  Wanna get a burger?”  [What?!  A burger with the Son of God?!  Um, okay!  But should I get rid of my beer???]

“No, but for my Dad’s sake, quit nursing it so we can go get another.  I’m running low.”  [Uh, how in the world-]  “I am the Son of God, you know.  At least give me a little credit.”

Right.  The Son of God.  He already knows my thoughts.  Crap.  That means He also knows what I did the Friday before last.  Crap crap crap.

So anyway, we get in the food line behind what felt like a hundred drunkies.  “Oh my God.  Look at this line!  We’re never gonna get our burgers.”

“Uh, that’s Son of God.  But people get me confused with my Dad all the time.  And, shh… keep it down.  Call me Steve out here.  Listening to your crap is enough.  I’m not in the mood to deal with everyone else’s tonight, too.  But I think I can help out with this line.”

The next thing I knew, everyone in line in front of us was turned around staring at the Son’s proof his Italian heritage.  [HOLY SWEET MOTHER!  Don was right… It’s like a train wreck, and I can’t look away!]  I had to snap out of my trance, though.  This was my shot.  I walked right up to the front of the line and ordered a burger for me and one for Steve.

By the time I had them in my hand, Steve had his pants up and had us both another beer.  We went and sat on my blanket, took our shoes off, stuck our toes in the sand, and enjoyed to the band.  He asked, “So, how do you know Don?”  “Oh, well, he’s my blogger friend.  And I think I love him.”  We sat and talked about Don a little more (He told me about what really happened during that Everclear incident, by the way…), and we even danced a little.

When the band wrapped up, Steve helped me pack up my blanket and get all ready to go.  I thanked Him for the endless rounds of Miller Light, high-fived Him, and invited Him to Reggae Night at Party at the Point in a couple weeks.  He promised He’d be there.

Right before He left, He said, “Oh, wait.  I almost forgot.  Here’s the $3,010 I owe Don.  Can you make sure he gets it?”

[Sure thing, Steve.  Sure thing.“Jesus, wait!!!  You forgot your shoes!!!”

***Before I get hate mail like Arden did with her Kristen Stewart post, please know that I really do love Jesus.  But I also believe that He has a pretty darn good sense of humor.***

“The only escape from the miseries of life are music and cats…” ~Albert Schweitzer

As you all know by now, one of my favorite bloggers and favorite [nearly] crazy cat ladies is Arden.  Under normal circumstances, I would have nominated her for the Liebster Award, but the first time I received it she was my nominator, and I couldn’t nominate her back, and the second time I received it, she had already received it, too.  But… she definitely deserves another award because 1) she’s awesome, and 2) she needs something to blog about tomorrow.  Sooooo I’ve made up an award especially for her.

Please join me in welcoming Crazy Cat Lady Arden as the first only latest recipient of the MEDAL OF AWESOMENESS!!!

Here’s how this award works:

1. [Proudly] display the Medal of Awesomeness on your page.

2. Give a shout out to your nominator.

3. Nominate one of your favorite fellow bloggers to receive the Medal of Awesomeness so he or she can be as awesome as you.

4. Tell us 20 song lines or lyrics that best describe you/your life.

5. Your lyrics cannot have any reference to cats.  None.

Source: Fun Elf

Source: Fun Elf

Now, when we all have the same stinking song stuck in our heads all day, we’ll know exactly who to blame.  Congrats on being an AWESOMELY AWESOME blogger, Arden!!



“All those ladies have stinky vaginas?” ~Butters

So, the boys are watching TV, and a Vagisil commercial comes on… The following conversation ensues:

Ronald: Vagisil! Look Gerald! Vagisil!

Gerald: Oh yeah! I remember when Cartman dipped with Vagisil!

Me: [face palm]

Source: South Park

Source: South Park

Tiffany Kleiman ~ Author

“I don’t care if a reader hates one of my stories, just as long as s/he finishes the book.” ~ Roald Dahl, WD

Jeanne Grier

A Modern Day Mom

The Meat & Potatoes of Life

By Lisa Smith Molinari


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Ooops, I Said Vagina... Again..

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