They say there's no stupid questions.
I'm here to tell you, that's a bullshit lie. A lie the size of an elephant parade. A lie as loud as the cacophony caused by preschool recess.
"What's wrong?" is officially the dumbest question ever; at least when it's directed at me.
In 3 years time...
I've lost:
My labrador retriever, Neo.
My family. (yay, disowning.)
My job.
My insurance. (and therefore, all migraine treatment, and anxiety treatment)
My home.
A second home.
My kids.
My car.
My husky, Gojira.
My drivers license.
My grandmother.
All other income.
Was forced to:
Move 750 miles from anything I considered home.
That's also 750 miles away from my kids.
That's also 750 miles away from most semblances of friends.
Move in with family that is not mine.
Have a baby in an unfamiliar town, around unfamiliar people.
Learn to be quiet even when everyone is disrespectful around me.
Come to terms with living in a 10x10 foot room, with my pets, and a new baby.
I've gained:
A fiance. (Positive)
A beautiful baby boy. (Positive)
Migraines returning. (Negative)
Anxiety attacks returning. (Negative)
Depression. (Negative)
And despite ALL of these topics? I smile. I still ask how everyone else's days are. I still try to make others happy, and everyone around me knows it. I still find humor in every day life. I still like to discuss the absurd. Because overall, I'm thankful. I have a roof over my head, and my new son's got food in his belly. But when I finally become reclusive, and grumpy, and generally just prefer to not talk to anyone for a change... I get.. What's wrong? Are you SERIOUS?!
Ask me what's wrong again.
Please.
It's a stupid question, especially when you know all of the above. What's wrong. Ha. Fucking pick a topic.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Thankful against all odds
Its 4:30 am. The baby screams. I roll out of bed. Stumbling to my son's crib, I'm met with an irate, but cute seven week old boy.. Smiling.
And dropping a major deuce.
It's officially morning.
I can't help but smile, and laugh. While this scenario horrifies most non parents, and disgusts most parents, I can't help but be thankful.
Come again?
That's right. I'm thankful. And not many people are too graciously thankful at 4:30 am. In fact, any other method of 4:30 am wake up and I'm not too thankful myself. But this is different.
At 19, and newly married, I was told I would likely never have children. That's a pretty devastating statement to have to pass along to an Italian, and Catholic husband who would surely want kids eventually. They're notorious for family. So I didn't say a peep.
Begin life with endometriosis. Suffer, and pretend nothing's wrong. Nobody understands pain they can't see anyways. Not worth explaining to my less than understanding husband at the time. I'd just plead ignorance and worry when the topic of children came up. It's not like I wanted kids anyways, right? That's the ticket.
Fast forward only a short time to August of 2000. I find out I'm pregnant. What? Come again?
Against all physical odds, and birth control, somehow I conceived a child. It was perplexing but despite never wanting children, I was suddenly excited about the prospect of being a mother. My oldest son, was born in 2001. What a welcomed fluke!
Fluke it was not. My daughter was born in 2003. My doctor explained that my pregnancy early on in my diagnosis of endometriosis, probably helped combat a lot of the problems associated with endo. And also helped enable me to have my daughter.
Two. Two beautiful and perfect children from an imperfect mother. Amazing. But, more than enough, and time to call it quits in the baby making department due to marital strife, and soon thereafter divorce. My child birthing years were now OFFICIALLY over by only 26
Over the years since, the endometriosis got worse again. IUDs helped now and again. But generally speaking, things went from bad to worse. Surgeries to remove unnecessary build up. Cysts rupturing and the injury triggering endo on ovaries. Fantastic. More and more pain and problems the longer time went on. Oh well. I've got this. I'm a tough cookie.
I started dating my now fiancé a couple years back. I, of course, was relieved to know he didn't want children since I knew it was a non option at this point in the game. But I wasn't going to express why that was a relief. Single woman with two kids. That's enough baggage for many men. Informing him I had not only fibromyalgia, but also endometriosis, two diseases that mean nothing but pain, on the daily? We'll leave that out.
Over the course of events, things got worse. Worse and worse. I was facing a hysterectomy due to pain and excess uncontrollable tissue. Many days I couldn't get out of bed. My fiancé pampered me, but it was getting old. Just rip it all out. Please.
Well, as that eventuality approached I realized something. Even if you aren't planning on children, the idea of having your reproductive organs taken from you leaves you feeling broken. Flawed. Ruined. Like a failure. More over, I actually did want a baby again and had spent years in denial. Crap.
It was time to talk since I realized I did want another kid. Now that I was older and wiser. Not so rushed to get the kids grown and independent. Crap. Now I have to explain everything!
And I did. And I cried like a loon. Explained why it all scared me. Why it upset me. And what was wrong with me. What the honest prognosis of anything was. Truthfully, with his anti child stance, I really just wanted to vent, so he knew why a hysterectomy at my age was so undesired an outcome given my latest revelation.
Then came the most unexpected response. "Then before you jump to any conclusions about having everything ripped out, why don't we just try to have a baby."
..... What? Come again? "My boyfriend has lost his mind!" was my first thought. He wants to give me a baby, despite his general stance on kids? What?
In short? Yup.
Against all odds once again, I successfully conceived. He was born 7 weeks ago. Eight pounds and two ounces of smooshy faced concentrated adorable. (Now 12 lbs of chunky monkey awesome) He is my world. And I am thankful.
I'm thankful my boyfriend, now fiancé, had a lapse in his usually sound judgement. I'm thankful my body allowed it. I'm thankful for every smile, scream, gurgle, and poopy diaper.. Why? Because this shouldn't have happened. I was told it couldn't happen. And it did. So I'm thankful.
However? It all came at a price.. I had an emergency c-section. Nobody bothered to tell me how painful that healing would be just from the endo side. And nobody told me it would likely make the endo worse from being surgically opened. Nobody told me endo would likely cause my uterus to adhere to my bladder when healing. Nobody told me that would likely cause pain in urination for the rest of my life.
But I'm still thankful.
However, seriously they need to find a way to keep women from suffering this. It's ludicrous how much of our lives are altered or lost as a result of the condition. It's insane that women aren't informed of how it can further affect them. And it's completely ridiculous that the rest of the time they just rob women of hope.
You CAN have children sometimes. Some surgeries DO help. SOME make things worse. That's life with endometriosis. It's all one big crap shoot.
Vegas odds. Without the comp'd drinks. (Wouldn't that be nice?!)
But to anyone reading: Don't give up. It's a condition they clearly don't understand, or I wouldn't have my kids. And don't be scared. I promise even at its worst, when you fight through for what you want? Sometimes you really do get it. And even when it comes at a large painful price? You will still be thankful.
Even for poop at 4:30 am.
And dropping a major deuce.
It's officially morning.
I can't help but smile, and laugh. While this scenario horrifies most non parents, and disgusts most parents, I can't help but be thankful.
Come again?
That's right. I'm thankful. And not many people are too graciously thankful at 4:30 am. In fact, any other method of 4:30 am wake up and I'm not too thankful myself. But this is different.
At 19, and newly married, I was told I would likely never have children. That's a pretty devastating statement to have to pass along to an Italian, and Catholic husband who would surely want kids eventually. They're notorious for family. So I didn't say a peep.
Begin life with endometriosis. Suffer, and pretend nothing's wrong. Nobody understands pain they can't see anyways. Not worth explaining to my less than understanding husband at the time. I'd just plead ignorance and worry when the topic of children came up. It's not like I wanted kids anyways, right? That's the ticket.
Fast forward only a short time to August of 2000. I find out I'm pregnant. What? Come again?
Against all physical odds, and birth control, somehow I conceived a child. It was perplexing but despite never wanting children, I was suddenly excited about the prospect of being a mother. My oldest son, was born in 2001. What a welcomed fluke!
Fluke it was not. My daughter was born in 2003. My doctor explained that my pregnancy early on in my diagnosis of endometriosis, probably helped combat a lot of the problems associated with endo. And also helped enable me to have my daughter.
Two. Two beautiful and perfect children from an imperfect mother. Amazing. But, more than enough, and time to call it quits in the baby making department due to marital strife, and soon thereafter divorce. My child birthing years were now OFFICIALLY over by only 26
Over the years since, the endometriosis got worse again. IUDs helped now and again. But generally speaking, things went from bad to worse. Surgeries to remove unnecessary build up. Cysts rupturing and the injury triggering endo on ovaries. Fantastic. More and more pain and problems the longer time went on. Oh well. I've got this. I'm a tough cookie.
I started dating my now fiancé a couple years back. I, of course, was relieved to know he didn't want children since I knew it was a non option at this point in the game. But I wasn't going to express why that was a relief. Single woman with two kids. That's enough baggage for many men. Informing him I had not only fibromyalgia, but also endometriosis, two diseases that mean nothing but pain, on the daily? We'll leave that out.
Over the course of events, things got worse. Worse and worse. I was facing a hysterectomy due to pain and excess uncontrollable tissue. Many days I couldn't get out of bed. My fiancé pampered me, but it was getting old. Just rip it all out. Please.
Well, as that eventuality approached I realized something. Even if you aren't planning on children, the idea of having your reproductive organs taken from you leaves you feeling broken. Flawed. Ruined. Like a failure. More over, I actually did want a baby again and had spent years in denial. Crap.
It was time to talk since I realized I did want another kid. Now that I was older and wiser. Not so rushed to get the kids grown and independent. Crap. Now I have to explain everything!
And I did. And I cried like a loon. Explained why it all scared me. Why it upset me. And what was wrong with me. What the honest prognosis of anything was. Truthfully, with his anti child stance, I really just wanted to vent, so he knew why a hysterectomy at my age was so undesired an outcome given my latest revelation.
Then came the most unexpected response. "Then before you jump to any conclusions about having everything ripped out, why don't we just try to have a baby."
..... What? Come again? "My boyfriend has lost his mind!" was my first thought. He wants to give me a baby, despite his general stance on kids? What?
In short? Yup.
Against all odds once again, I successfully conceived. He was born 7 weeks ago. Eight pounds and two ounces of smooshy faced concentrated adorable. (Now 12 lbs of chunky monkey awesome) He is my world. And I am thankful.
I'm thankful my boyfriend, now fiancé, had a lapse in his usually sound judgement. I'm thankful my body allowed it. I'm thankful for every smile, scream, gurgle, and poopy diaper.. Why? Because this shouldn't have happened. I was told it couldn't happen. And it did. So I'm thankful.
However? It all came at a price.. I had an emergency c-section. Nobody bothered to tell me how painful that healing would be just from the endo side. And nobody told me it would likely make the endo worse from being surgically opened. Nobody told me endo would likely cause my uterus to adhere to my bladder when healing. Nobody told me that would likely cause pain in urination for the rest of my life.
But I'm still thankful.
However, seriously they need to find a way to keep women from suffering this. It's ludicrous how much of our lives are altered or lost as a result of the condition. It's insane that women aren't informed of how it can further affect them. And it's completely ridiculous that the rest of the time they just rob women of hope.
You CAN have children sometimes. Some surgeries DO help. SOME make things worse. That's life with endometriosis. It's all one big crap shoot.
Vegas odds. Without the comp'd drinks. (Wouldn't that be nice?!)
But to anyone reading: Don't give up. It's a condition they clearly don't understand, or I wouldn't have my kids. And don't be scared. I promise even at its worst, when you fight through for what you want? Sometimes you really do get it. And even when it comes at a large painful price? You will still be thankful.
Even for poop at 4:30 am.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Being the bigger person and the difficulties of it
Being the bigger person is a very trying thing sometimes. It's even harder when you know you're the person in the right.
Despite being the person in the right (without a doubt in my mind) I'm very proud that today, I was the bigger person. My fiance has the most invasive, up in your business family members I've ever encountered in human kind. They're basically the human versions of that really annoying dog at a dog park. You know the one. The one that has his nose so far up the other dogs behinds that they cannot possibly enjoy their time there. The one that leaves your normally happy dog edgy and snippy. That is them. And... Color me snippy.
Routinely they have inquired with my better half about entirely incorrect rumors regarding my life. My ex husband having my oldest two children at the moment, somehow translated into child welfare services removing them from me. Are you joking? My stating that I'd like a beer and barbecue food, with good friends, translated into suddenly having a drinking problem. My stating that I had it up to my eyeballs with illiterate classmates, somehow translated into me calling his family illiterate. Whatever the case is, the translations are always incorrect, albeit sometimes amusing. Assumptions. God love 'em.
The unfortunate part? By and large, I really do enjoy his family. His grandmother is the sweetest woman I've ever met. She has hilarious personality quirks, and we often tell her we're kidnapping her all for ourselves. His grandfather is probably the most misunderstood man in the entire family, but it's hard to have a problem with an aging man that turns to putty over his Maltese. In fact, I don't know how many people that have spent any time around him one on one, could really have a truly bad thing to say. I will fully admit, I do not like his dogs. I don't like when dogs bark incessantly. But that isn't a reflection upon him. He, is not a yapping 10 pound dog. He, is the man who is absolutely ga-ga over my almost 2 month old son's every facial expression.
Given this fact, it was absolutely, completely uncalled for, entirely ridiculous, and wholly incorrect that one of my fiance's family members attack me on social media. Attacked for being a "loser" that was talking "shit" on those two family members. They attacked me on a posting of a video of my son cooing, and smiling. A happy post. No negativity. Color me confused. Color me annoyed. Here we go again, what is the story they've made up THIS time?
First off, there is a time and a place for accusations. Personal messages. Phone calls. Visits. Not inflammatory comments on unrelated, happy posts, that leave an entire circle of friends and sisters wondering exactly what lunatics my son and I are regularly being subjected to, and if I need another place to escape to.
Second off, why are my fiance's family members so desperately looking for a fight with me over assumptions? Some would say they lack interesting interactions in their daily lives and forgot how to turn on a soap opera. They could be correct. I don't know. But I wont make that assumption. The assumption I AM making, is given the amount of times they've assumed incorrectly, and questioned as a result, and have now accosted incorrectly, followed by questioning my fiance after the fact to see what MY problem is? THEY obviously have a problem with me. Color me not surprised.
This is where I was the bigger person. I could have called this person a daft bitch for her behavior. I didn't. That's not very polite, nor adult. And I was quite irate, as I'm being perpetually subjected to this... So my not calling her a daft bitch, says something.
I just plainly stated I would be addressing the people I permit to read my social media in light of the immature behavior that had taken place, again, on a video of my SON, SMILING.
That I had no room for drama mongers. I did after all, graduate high school 14 years ago.
And that we were all entitled to opinions. Oh fuck. I probably shouldn't have said that. It'll be taken that I'm hunting unicorns with the help of a harpy.
I don't ask people to agree with me. Never have. I don't ask people to like me. I have plenty of people who love me, so it's truly not necessary. But if you didn't like me, and wont even attempt to be civil with me, I think it's fair to request that people like that please delete their ability to view said media.
Wouldn't you know it. I was deleted. Color me oddly satisfied.
I'm not surprised. In fact, I'm glad. It was one less person that I blocked from having even the ability to see photos of my son. I should not be having to handle "family" in this manner to avoid accusation and accosting, simply because they're insane enough to genuinely think if I hate the volume of the ever present neighborhood ice cream truck's song, that I hate my fiance's grandfather. I might add: that man hates that blasted truck too.
Turns out though.. sometimes being the bigger person requires removing yourself from the dramatic equation (that you never asked to be part of,) by any means possible, rather than telling them to kindly fuck off. This meant abandoning that form of social media in it's entirety; simply because my fiance's family is large, and have multiple cronies. It all gets back to someone, because they clearly lack other hobbies. (There ARE photography, crochet, scrapbooking and so many other options out there, besides making Erry's life hell. I'm serious. Lots of options!) It means opting not to converse with the family in any way for fear that if I say the weather has been improving, I might want to kill kittens in their world... All of this ridiculousness, for no other reason, than I happened to fall in love with a man with a family that likes to meddle, and assume, when they have no place. Color me done.
However... Being the bigger person requires not pointing this out. Being the bigger person requires not telling them they're all complete loons by trying to make unrelated things fit their guilty consciences and preconceived notions.
Being the bigger person requires I bite my tongue, simply to save my fiance endless complaints. I am a redhead leo female, an alpha personality, and I am a sleep deprived mother. Biting my tongue is HARD. (read: next to impossible.)
Simply put: Being the bigger person really sucks when I know I'm right. It goes against every urge I have. But there's an odd satisfaction in knowing people ten and more years my senior, are so worried about MY little opinion, when I'm not even related. Color me special. And relieved that even when my internal self is giving people the finger, my edit filter can in fact work, and allow me to be the bigger person.
Maturity. It's a lovely thing.
Despite being the person in the right (without a doubt in my mind) I'm very proud that today, I was the bigger person. My fiance has the most invasive, up in your business family members I've ever encountered in human kind. They're basically the human versions of that really annoying dog at a dog park. You know the one. The one that has his nose so far up the other dogs behinds that they cannot possibly enjoy their time there. The one that leaves your normally happy dog edgy and snippy. That is them. And... Color me snippy.
Routinely they have inquired with my better half about entirely incorrect rumors regarding my life. My ex husband having my oldest two children at the moment, somehow translated into child welfare services removing them from me. Are you joking? My stating that I'd like a beer and barbecue food, with good friends, translated into suddenly having a drinking problem. My stating that I had it up to my eyeballs with illiterate classmates, somehow translated into me calling his family illiterate. Whatever the case is, the translations are always incorrect, albeit sometimes amusing. Assumptions. God love 'em.
The unfortunate part? By and large, I really do enjoy his family. His grandmother is the sweetest woman I've ever met. She has hilarious personality quirks, and we often tell her we're kidnapping her all for ourselves. His grandfather is probably the most misunderstood man in the entire family, but it's hard to have a problem with an aging man that turns to putty over his Maltese. In fact, I don't know how many people that have spent any time around him one on one, could really have a truly bad thing to say. I will fully admit, I do not like his dogs. I don't like when dogs bark incessantly. But that isn't a reflection upon him. He, is not a yapping 10 pound dog. He, is the man who is absolutely ga-ga over my almost 2 month old son's every facial expression.
Given this fact, it was absolutely, completely uncalled for, entirely ridiculous, and wholly incorrect that one of my fiance's family members attack me on social media. Attacked for being a "loser" that was talking "shit" on those two family members. They attacked me on a posting of a video of my son cooing, and smiling. A happy post. No negativity. Color me confused. Color me annoyed. Here we go again, what is the story they've made up THIS time?
First off, there is a time and a place for accusations. Personal messages. Phone calls. Visits. Not inflammatory comments on unrelated, happy posts, that leave an entire circle of friends and sisters wondering exactly what lunatics my son and I are regularly being subjected to, and if I need another place to escape to.
Second off, why are my fiance's family members so desperately looking for a fight with me over assumptions? Some would say they lack interesting interactions in their daily lives and forgot how to turn on a soap opera. They could be correct. I don't know. But I wont make that assumption. The assumption I AM making, is given the amount of times they've assumed incorrectly, and questioned as a result, and have now accosted incorrectly, followed by questioning my fiance after the fact to see what MY problem is? THEY obviously have a problem with me. Color me not surprised.
This is where I was the bigger person. I could have called this person a daft bitch for her behavior. I didn't. That's not very polite, nor adult. And I was quite irate, as I'm being perpetually subjected to this... So my not calling her a daft bitch, says something.
I just plainly stated I would be addressing the people I permit to read my social media in light of the immature behavior that had taken place, again, on a video of my SON, SMILING.
That I had no room for drama mongers. I did after all, graduate high school 14 years ago.
And that we were all entitled to opinions. Oh fuck. I probably shouldn't have said that. It'll be taken that I'm hunting unicorns with the help of a harpy.
I don't ask people to agree with me. Never have. I don't ask people to like me. I have plenty of people who love me, so it's truly not necessary. But if you didn't like me, and wont even attempt to be civil with me, I think it's fair to request that people like that please delete their ability to view said media.
Wouldn't you know it. I was deleted. Color me oddly satisfied.
I'm not surprised. In fact, I'm glad. It was one less person that I blocked from having even the ability to see photos of my son. I should not be having to handle "family" in this manner to avoid accusation and accosting, simply because they're insane enough to genuinely think if I hate the volume of the ever present neighborhood ice cream truck's song, that I hate my fiance's grandfather. I might add: that man hates that blasted truck too.
Turns out though.. sometimes being the bigger person requires removing yourself from the dramatic equation (that you never asked to be part of,) by any means possible, rather than telling them to kindly fuck off. This meant abandoning that form of social media in it's entirety; simply because my fiance's family is large, and have multiple cronies. It all gets back to someone, because they clearly lack other hobbies. (There ARE photography, crochet, scrapbooking and so many other options out there, besides making Erry's life hell. I'm serious. Lots of options!) It means opting not to converse with the family in any way for fear that if I say the weather has been improving, I might want to kill kittens in their world... All of this ridiculousness, for no other reason, than I happened to fall in love with a man with a family that likes to meddle, and assume, when they have no place. Color me done.
However... Being the bigger person requires not pointing this out. Being the bigger person requires not telling them they're all complete loons by trying to make unrelated things fit their guilty consciences and preconceived notions.
Being the bigger person requires I bite my tongue, simply to save my fiance endless complaints. I am a redhead leo female, an alpha personality, and I am a sleep deprived mother. Biting my tongue is HARD. (read: next to impossible.)
Simply put: Being the bigger person really sucks when I know I'm right. It goes against every urge I have. But there's an odd satisfaction in knowing people ten and more years my senior, are so worried about MY little opinion, when I'm not even related. Color me special. And relieved that even when my internal self is giving people the finger, my edit filter can in fact work, and allow me to be the bigger person.
Maturity. It's a lovely thing.
Monday, September 24, 2012
I'm not responsible for your behavior, or am I?
(Sarcasm on)
Your behavior is my problem. Clearly. And me saying otherwise at any time? Obviously incorrect. And my incorrectness is your problem to criticize. Make sense?
(Sarcasm off)
Yeah, it didn't to me either.
It's very easy to turn a blind eye to ignorant people you work with, or encounter in daily life. It's even easy to turn a blind eye to ignorant people you live with. By ignorant people, I mean people that have zero regard for how their actions and behavior can adversely affect the people surrounding them. The people that ignore the fact that everyone sighs heavily in their presence because they're waiting for screaming over something as inane as coffee creamer. The people that wont take a hint when you repeatedly walk away from their ranting. And the people that wont take their behavior into consideration even when truly approached regarding it.
I do not mean that these people are stupid. Not at all. Stupidity is a problem independent of ignorance.
In fact, stupidity would actually indicate a true lack of capacity to learn, or understand why the things they do, upset others. That would be an easier to stomach explanation. But, these people are just, simply put: ignorant. And that's not to say that one is perpetually nothing but ignorant, that would be nearly impossible. Humans do need sleep. However a few acts of normal and acceptable behavior does not negate staggering amounts of ignorance.
(Sarcasm on)
But like I said, it's my problem they're ignorant.
Why is it my problem that they're so painfully ignorant? Well, I've come up with four amusing reasons to start:
1. I have no right to my own preferences regarding personal space. It was stupid of me to ever desire my own personal space. Your wishes supersede mine. Every time. Please remind me of this the next time I want to be left alone and verbally express such. My apologies for overlooking my lack of rights in this department.
2. I have unrealistic expectations of communication skills. I shouldn't ever expect people to speak at a normal, non aggressive volume and tone around others. Especially my child. No... in fact, my child's very presence? Warrants louder, more aggressive verbal communications with other humans than normal. Got it.
3. I should not have become an educated woman. Women that potentially know more than ignorant people on a given topic are the worst form of evil. They should be talked over, and disagreed with regardless of topic, especially in matters of things like pregnancy, which only men can possibly experience fully and be authorities on. They should also be disagreed with over their knowledge of things they've gone to school for, and been licensed for, especially by people that never went to school to obtain the knowledge, and were never licensed. Got it, you know everything. Argue disrespectfully with me. Please.
4. Childish temper tantrums are acceptable. They are especially acceptable coming from grown adults. My mentioning irritation with this behavior, or simply pointing out the behavior? Also frowned upon. I know nothing. Please start kicking and screaming.
(Sarcasm off)
Surely you see the ridiculous nature of this situation. So I have to ask, why is your behavior REALLY my problem? Well, I'm here to tell you, it isn't. More over, because it affects me directly, I'm more than qualified to comment on it. If you don't like this, maybe, just maybe, you should change your behavior to not affect me directly, so I don't have room to comment.
Unfortunately, the moment I comment on this fact, I'm somehow the asshole. I'm the asshole for expecting more out of a human. I'm the asshole for expecting normal social skills out of every person on this planet equally, unless there is a true mental disorder, or behavioral anomaly explaining why that is impossible. I'm also the asshole called out on being an asshole... by supporters of the ignorant behavior culprit. That makes you either ignorant or stupid as well. Take your pick. I'm not calling you either specifically, but your behavior lends well to both currently.
But mark my words:
I'm not sorry I'm the asshole that expects humans to treat one another with respect, and dignity and finds it appalling when they repeatedly and routinely don't. Why? Because I respect you, even when you don't deserve it.
I'm not sorry I'm the asshole that finds adults lashing out and throwing tantrums to be ridiculous behavior from grown adults. In fact, I find it unacceptable from children. I don't loudly scream and demand attention over the most inane things daily. I expect the same from others.
I'm not sorry I'm the asshole that respects peoples space, and belongings, and doesn't understand how someone can't. Why? Because I don't barge in when you're asleep to ask questions that could wait. I don't interrupt you when you're clearly busy. I don't just assume I can utilize anything I see, simply because it's within my grasp. I respect everyone's space and belongings. I expect the same from others.
I'm not sorry I'm the asshole because I'm aware of what constitutes ignorance because I chose to educate myself both in books and life, and strive to be a better person in all things at all times. Again, I expect the same from others in my life, and if they're not capable of that, they are not included in my life. If they are forced upon me beyond this, do not expect me to find the ignorance acceptable.
And I'm really and truly not sorry I'm the asshole that will point all of it out, because your ignorance is not my problem. It is your problem. How it affects me becomes my problem, and if I comment on something that is my problem, that is my prerogative. If you don't like my problem, fix yours since it caused mine.
Fuck, did I say that? Yes. Yes I did.
Your behavior is my problem. Clearly. And me saying otherwise at any time? Obviously incorrect. And my incorrectness is your problem to criticize. Make sense?
(Sarcasm off)
Yeah, it didn't to me either.
It's very easy to turn a blind eye to ignorant people you work with, or encounter in daily life. It's even easy to turn a blind eye to ignorant people you live with. By ignorant people, I mean people that have zero regard for how their actions and behavior can adversely affect the people surrounding them. The people that ignore the fact that everyone sighs heavily in their presence because they're waiting for screaming over something as inane as coffee creamer. The people that wont take a hint when you repeatedly walk away from their ranting. And the people that wont take their behavior into consideration even when truly approached regarding it.
I do not mean that these people are stupid. Not at all. Stupidity is a problem independent of ignorance.
In fact, stupidity would actually indicate a true lack of capacity to learn, or understand why the things they do, upset others. That would be an easier to stomach explanation. But, these people are just, simply put: ignorant. And that's not to say that one is perpetually nothing but ignorant, that would be nearly impossible. Humans do need sleep. However a few acts of normal and acceptable behavior does not negate staggering amounts of ignorance.
(Sarcasm on)
But like I said, it's my problem they're ignorant.
Why is it my problem that they're so painfully ignorant? Well, I've come up with four amusing reasons to start:
1. I have no right to my own preferences regarding personal space. It was stupid of me to ever desire my own personal space. Your wishes supersede mine. Every time. Please remind me of this the next time I want to be left alone and verbally express such. My apologies for overlooking my lack of rights in this department.
2. I have unrealistic expectations of communication skills. I shouldn't ever expect people to speak at a normal, non aggressive volume and tone around others. Especially my child. No... in fact, my child's very presence? Warrants louder, more aggressive verbal communications with other humans than normal. Got it.
3. I should not have become an educated woman. Women that potentially know more than ignorant people on a given topic are the worst form of evil. They should be talked over, and disagreed with regardless of topic, especially in matters of things like pregnancy, which only men can possibly experience fully and be authorities on. They should also be disagreed with over their knowledge of things they've gone to school for, and been licensed for, especially by people that never went to school to obtain the knowledge, and were never licensed. Got it, you know everything. Argue disrespectfully with me. Please.
4. Childish temper tantrums are acceptable. They are especially acceptable coming from grown adults. My mentioning irritation with this behavior, or simply pointing out the behavior? Also frowned upon. I know nothing. Please start kicking and screaming.
(Sarcasm off)
Surely you see the ridiculous nature of this situation. So I have to ask, why is your behavior REALLY my problem? Well, I'm here to tell you, it isn't. More over, because it affects me directly, I'm more than qualified to comment on it. If you don't like this, maybe, just maybe, you should change your behavior to not affect me directly, so I don't have room to comment.
Unfortunately, the moment I comment on this fact, I'm somehow the asshole. I'm the asshole for expecting more out of a human. I'm the asshole for expecting normal social skills out of every person on this planet equally, unless there is a true mental disorder, or behavioral anomaly explaining why that is impossible. I'm also the asshole called out on being an asshole... by supporters of the ignorant behavior culprit. That makes you either ignorant or stupid as well. Take your pick. I'm not calling you either specifically, but your behavior lends well to both currently.
But mark my words:
I'm not sorry I'm the asshole that expects humans to treat one another with respect, and dignity and finds it appalling when they repeatedly and routinely don't. Why? Because I respect you, even when you don't deserve it.
I'm not sorry I'm the asshole that finds adults lashing out and throwing tantrums to be ridiculous behavior from grown adults. In fact, I find it unacceptable from children. I don't loudly scream and demand attention over the most inane things daily. I expect the same from others.
I'm not sorry I'm the asshole that respects peoples space, and belongings, and doesn't understand how someone can't. Why? Because I don't barge in when you're asleep to ask questions that could wait. I don't interrupt you when you're clearly busy. I don't just assume I can utilize anything I see, simply because it's within my grasp. I respect everyone's space and belongings. I expect the same from others.
I'm not sorry I'm the asshole because I'm aware of what constitutes ignorance because I chose to educate myself both in books and life, and strive to be a better person in all things at all times. Again, I expect the same from others in my life, and if they're not capable of that, they are not included in my life. If they are forced upon me beyond this, do not expect me to find the ignorance acceptable.
And I'm really and truly not sorry I'm the asshole that will point all of it out, because your ignorance is not my problem. It is your problem. How it affects me becomes my problem, and if I comment on something that is my problem, that is my prerogative. If you don't like my problem, fix yours since it caused mine.
Fuck, did I say that? Yes. Yes I did.
A motherly freak out of silent yet epic proportion.
I'm well aware I don't look my age, but I'm a mother. Not just to some random pet, like some feel give them the title "mother," but three real life human children.
Children are these glorious little creatures that enter the world completely helpless, and as time goes on and they lose more and more of their helpless traits, it will cause you to feel helpless and often want to rip your hair out. It's funny how that works. But every so often something happens. They, and you, are equally helpless when this something happens. And there's no specific recipes or requirements for this "something."
You'll know it when it happens. You feel like a failure as a mother. You wonder what you did. You wonder if it could be avoided. You look at your perfectly oblivious child, and you have to walk into another room, and cry.
That something? Happened today. Well.. it's been happening for a few weeks now. The full gravity of the situation though, now that... that happened to hit today.
Torticollis. Go on. Look it up. I'll wait for you. Sufficiently horrified? Me too.
Torticollis can occur in any number of severities, but simply put, it means one's neck is incorrect. There's a few different causes, but in any of them, one's head has an inability or difficulty to turn both directions. In a baby, this can over time cause a number of problems. Ocular problems. TMJ. It's a fairly extensive list, beyond just looking funny. Head to the side in my dog? Cute. Head to the side in my handsome baby boy? Enter panicked mother.
There's no facial distortion going on, as you can see. He's a perfectly cute little boy.
What a photo doesn't show, is his overwhelming tendency to only look to the left. I could be standing in the room in a panda suit holding sparklers, and singing at the top of my lungs to his right... he will still look at the wall to his left. It's just easier. He has no vision problems. He has no hearing problems. These have been tested and confirmed. He just has a turning to the right problem. Turning to the left wouldn't be so bad, if his head was fully formed and hardened like mine, or his father's.
Babies heads are malleable. It's so their brains can just grow and grow and grow. So they can outsmart us at three years old. When they get into something we swore there was no way they could. It's a great human adaptation to allow this sort of growth, but... when a child can't turn both ways, and they spend so much of their days sleeping in early baby life, this can cause a child's head to simply, form incorrectly.
This is what's obviously happening.
From an above Mister Handsome's head perspective, he's developing a flattened spot on his skull to the rear left of his head. This is causing a slight bulge to the right rear of his head to accommodate this shift. Again, this is all imperceptible for the average person ooh-ing and ah-ing at my child. It is however quite perceptible for me. And it can get worse. And it can cause problems if it does.
His pediatrician at last visit assured me this was "normal" and "many babies" do this.. and they often do. I've researched... I've witnessed... I'm aware. This however is not the normal flat spot my older son or daughter exhibited. This is something worse. This is something different. This is text book Torticollis symptoms in my last baby, in my otherwise perfect baby, and I'm freaking out.
Children are these glorious little creatures that enter the world completely helpless, and as time goes on and they lose more and more of their helpless traits, it will cause you to feel helpless and often want to rip your hair out. It's funny how that works. But every so often something happens. They, and you, are equally helpless when this something happens. And there's no specific recipes or requirements for this "something."
You'll know it when it happens. You feel like a failure as a mother. You wonder what you did. You wonder if it could be avoided. You look at your perfectly oblivious child, and you have to walk into another room, and cry.
That something? Happened today. Well.. it's been happening for a few weeks now. The full gravity of the situation though, now that... that happened to hit today.
Torticollis. Go on. Look it up. I'll wait for you. Sufficiently horrified? Me too.
Torticollis can occur in any number of severities, but simply put, it means one's neck is incorrect. There's a few different causes, but in any of them, one's head has an inability or difficulty to turn both directions. In a baby, this can over time cause a number of problems. Ocular problems. TMJ. It's a fairly extensive list, beyond just looking funny. Head to the side in my dog? Cute. Head to the side in my handsome baby boy? Enter panicked mother.
There's no facial distortion going on, as you can see. He's a perfectly cute little boy.
Mommy's perfectly cute little n00b
What a photo doesn't show, is his overwhelming tendency to only look to the left. I could be standing in the room in a panda suit holding sparklers, and singing at the top of my lungs to his right... he will still look at the wall to his left. It's just easier. He has no vision problems. He has no hearing problems. These have been tested and confirmed. He just has a turning to the right problem. Turning to the left wouldn't be so bad, if his head was fully formed and hardened like mine, or his father's.
Babies heads are malleable. It's so their brains can just grow and grow and grow. So they can outsmart us at three years old. When they get into something we swore there was no way they could. It's a great human adaptation to allow this sort of growth, but... when a child can't turn both ways, and they spend so much of their days sleeping in early baby life, this can cause a child's head to simply, form incorrectly.
This is what's obviously happening.
From an above Mister Handsome's head perspective, he's developing a flattened spot on his skull to the rear left of his head. This is causing a slight bulge to the right rear of his head to accommodate this shift. Again, this is all imperceptible for the average person ooh-ing and ah-ing at my child. It is however quite perceptible for me. And it can get worse. And it can cause problems if it does.
His pediatrician at last visit assured me this was "normal" and "many babies" do this.. and they often do. I've researched... I've witnessed... I'm aware. This however is not the normal flat spot my older son or daughter exhibited. This is something worse. This is something different. This is text book Torticollis symptoms in my last baby, in my otherwise perfect baby, and I'm freaking out.
Since it causes him no discomfort to be facing right I'm incessantly turning him to the right. He'll turn back to the left and here's Neurotic-Mom to the rescue, I'll save you from yourself! *turns head back to the right* Or better yet, I'll turn you slightly on your right side, try looking left now!
.....Roadblock. Whenever Neurotic-Mom attempts THIS course of action, Mister Handsome's right eye gets puffy from lying on the right side of his face. Crap. And it's not allergies or infection causing the swelling because it's gone in a matter of minutes to hours. It's purely from sleeping on that side.
So, what to do? The advised by physical therapist stretches and turning of his neck? No problem. I've got this.
Admittedly there has been some improvement. He does actively look both ways now, in only a week of this routine. Which tells me, the pediatrician is incorrect, it wasn't normal otherwise he wouldn't have made such a marked improvement after physical therapy. That incorrect assessment of something so obvious upsets me. I'm glad I'm more observant than the frickin doctor I pay to tell me what's wrong. But still... Whether I'm right or not, and whether my actions have been helping, is largely irrelevant. When he's sleeping, which puts pressure to his skull on the flat spot, he's still always to the left. So we still have major concerns to deal with.
He doesn't look very concerned now does he?
All the while, I haven't mentioned this whole scenario to anyone except my other half. Why? That's a good question. I could use some voices of reassurance. But somehow I'm just stuck in Mommy-Panic-Mode. Feeling like I must have done something wrong. Like he didn't have enough room to grow in me. Why couldn't I get fatter? I'll take extra pounds if it means my child's head doesn't deform over time because he can't turn. Why was one child born perfect, the next with a hemangioma that required plastic surgery to remove for safety's sake, and now this? Good thing I'm not having a fourth, because what would befall THAT one? I can think of a thousand irrational reasons why this could have happened from a karmic perspective.
God knows... I'm not perfect. But I'd like my children to be. And now he's not. Freak out. Freak out, freak out, freak out. I just want him to be okay. And not have to wear a ridiculous helmet to fix it. Sigh.
Oh the trials and tribulations of being a mother, when you're already high strung. Someone bring me a sedative.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)