An Eagle Point school standing together and supporting both the family who lost a daughter, and the right to speech, right to grieve a loss of a classmate, the right to fight against BULLYING and raise awareness for SUICIDE PREVENTION.
This morning I received a letter from a fan of my Facebook page named Bobbie Ann Phillips and as I read it I knew instantly this needed to be read by all of you. This is her story and its an honest account of how it feels, of what we don’t expect, our fears and our goals. Enjoy!
” I never imagined I would have to co-parent with an ex of mine, much less an ex of my new husband. I did know I would be co-parenting with my own husband. I never imagined my husband would be someone else’s ex husband. I never thought I would have to share some of “my” weekends and “my” holidays, separate, from “my” son. I never thought I would have to long for the chance to do those same things with and for a son whose dad is dead. I also never thought my deepest fear would be that my third son may someday meet the same fate of a broken home. I never thought I would be fearing completely loosing two of my children if my marriage ever did fail. I never thought most of my scheduling would revolve so much around picking up one set of kids at 6p on Friday, meeting to drop off another kid before or after that, and then meeting back on 6p Sunday for drop off of two kids and then meeting before or after that to get another kid back. I never thought I would both look forward to, and dread those weekends at the very same time. I never imagined I would explain to two of my three biological children why daddy can not be here, or does not live here and the reasons be because of such different circumstances. Circumstances that would cause as much hurt for both of “my” boys and myself as both situations do. I never even imagined my children would have different dads. I never thought I would have “other” kids ask me why my husband, their dad, is not with their mom. I never thought I would be making beds, cleaning laundry, preparing meals, buying necessities, and supporting “other” kids. I knew “my” kids may look past all I do for them and it would hurt some. I did not know having “other” kids look past those same things would hurt as much. I never thought I would have “other” kids sometimes resent me for my role in their lives. A role they only want their mom, and their dad, to have. I never thought I would feel so much hurt for them, and for my husband, because they too come from a broken home. I never thought I would love each person in “my” blended family so much that I would wish each child could have their mom, and their dad, in one home. If I had that wish though, several of my biological children would not exist, and I would never have a chance to even meet two of my “other” children. I would have never met my husband. I never thought I would have to accept that because someone I loved died, and because a different relationship failed I would find new love and create a new family. I never thought I would agree that when one life ends another begins. I feel as though I have personally lost two lives and began a new one each time. I feel I am on my third life, and feverishly pray for it to be my last.
I never thought I would be the “other” parent that another parent would resent. I am that parent whose mere presence in a child’s life causes another adult resentment, and pain. Though “her” family ended long before “mine” began, I never imagined my place with my husband would be a stark reminder of another woman’s lost place with her husband. I never imagined That my place with my step children would be a reminder of “her” time she “has” to share, with me. I never thought my loving them could hurt her as much as it would if I did not love them. I do acknowledge that my presence does cause these things, though completely unintentional. I never imagined two children who “are not mine” would have me so wrapped around their little fingers. I did not know I could love a child I did not give birth to so much that it literally hurts. I did not know I would want to fight so fiercely for my time, my bond, and my place with two children who I feel with every bone in my body are mine. I knew I would have children that would fill my life with love, joy, hope, chaos and clutter. I knew I would do everything in my power to protect, love and cherish every moment with “my” kids. I knew I would become a mom by choice to children I gave birth to. I did not know that I would have that same desire to love, protect and cherish children not born to me. I knew there would be times my children would be angry with me. I knew I would make mistakes and cause hurt. I knew I would mend the hurt, calm the anger and explain why I do what I do to “my” kids. I knew I would both reward and punish “my kids” with no remorse because that is my job as their mom. I did not know I would feel so guilty by my own presence that I would overly reward, and seldom punish the children I did not give birth to. I never knew I would feel I don’t have the right to demand and earn respect from “other” children as much as I do from “my” children. I never thought I would always worry my actions and words would favor “my” children over the “other” children so much that I actually show more favor to “other” children over mine at times. I never thought I would say I am an ex, a wife, a mom, and a step mom, All in one. I am all of those things and I am these things at the very same time. I sometimes struggle to decide which hat I am suppose to wear at which time. All of these inner struggles are real, and part of my life. I am exactly where I want to be. I realize I am exactly where God planned me to be. I do have the husband and children I did always long for. I am thankful for all the good and bad that comes with this life and these roles. Yet I have no idea how to navigate my happiness and love without someone else being hurt, or resentful, in some way because of it. I have no idea why I even care that my presence, my role, and my place effects any person other than my husband, and our children. I just know that I do care.
I do not co-parent with my ex’s new wife or serious girlfriend, not yet anyway. I do know that the day will come when I will. At least, I pray it does. I do want “my” son to have another parent love him. I do want him to have someone else he can learn from, respect, love and cherish. I so want him to know I am okay with him loving some “other” parent. I want her to know that while her presence may cause some stinging, I’m happy to share “my” son with her. I want her to know that he’s “our” son, and that “our” will include her. I know that during my time as a step mom I have learned many things to do, and not to do both with “my” son and towards the “other” parent. I hope I will remember to respect her, and to honestly cherish her. I hope I will remember I should view any person my son loves as an extension of himself. I love “my” son, and so I will love those he loves and that love him. I hope I can remember I should love “my kids” mom because they love her and she is an extension of them. For the love of a child even the most difficult situations on all ends I am involved in will be handled with love and care, by me, for them regardless of how the opposing end on either side of these blended families are behaving. That is my goal anyway. I know I pray daily that God shows me the way to do all these things with Grace in each of the roles I am fulfilling.
~ Bobbie Ann Phillips
∗Don’t be a Mom, be their friend
∗Don’t be the disciplinarian
∗Stepchildren should be allowed to misbehave
∗It is easier without the other parents involvement.
∗You will eventually grow to love them, and they will love you.
Chances are, if you are a stepparent, you’ve had these said to you by either a successful stepparent whose life is perfect – and possibly lives in denial, a family member or worse; your own friends. Here are five common myths, and tips to prevail.
#1 Don’t be their Mom, be their friend.
It was about a few months in when a friend of my significant other muttered this very statement. It was followed up by “He already has aunts, grandma, and me, he doesn’t need anyone else.” Those words are as fresh in my mind as the day she spoke them. What I should have said was this: Last time I checked, his mother hasn’t been in his life for years. Furthermore, Aunts are aunts, Grandmas are grandma’s and you are a friend. Therefore, looks like the Mom position is currently vacant, so I am just going to go right ahead and slip into whatever role his father and I choose. Instead of course I sat there with the deer in the headlights stare, and a broken heart. This is solely a decision that is left up to the people who it effects, your spouse, your stepchild and yourself.
#2 Don’t be the disciplinarian.
Okay, let me get this straight, what you are saying is that if the child misbehaves with me, I need to wait until his father comes home to rectify that? Or, if I see him misbehaving even when his father is home, I am supposed to run to his father and tattle that he is doing something wrong and make him deal with it? Whoa honey, no freaking way! Sorry, not happening, uh uh. NO. Allow me to explain why in two reasons. First, respect is built by setting expectations and firm foundations, and allowing the go around or discipline to doled about by someone else, is less effective. That simply permits the child to be disrespectful and to misbehave until dad gets home. And, the second reason is, have you ever asked your husband to take the garbage out…. it can take days!! Discipline needs to be done in the moment, direct, and efficient for it to work.
#3 Stepchildren should be allowed to misbehave.
When venting to friends about the difficulties in blended families, and building a relationship with your stepchild you hear the difference in responses when the conversation of ill behaviors arise. When you are talking about your biological childs misbehavior to another parent the responses are “Oh yep they get bitchy when their periods are coming” Or, “Oh, I would have spanked her ass, and grounded her until she was 16!” But, not with stepchildren. Those responses are “Oh, she must be going through a lot. You need to love her through this phase.” Or, “Well consider how she feels, she’s angry, lost and confused, she just needs patience.” While, I can give the benefit of the doubt and show compassion like any other parent for a majority of situations – I am not an idiot! Sometimes, kids are little shits, and do bad things, and misbehave. ALL KIDS. They all need the same reaction and same treatment. No different. Same love, same discipline – same, same same.
#4 It is easier without the other parents involvement.
Really? For who? The child? Or, me? I used to believe this myth. I was wrong. My stepsons mother is not involved except maybe three times a year, by phone – if that! Yesterday was the first day of school, and all day my mind was overrun by thoughts like, will she call? Why didn’t she call? Who does that? Sure, I made sure to ask him about his first day, and I made sure to take those all important first day photographs, his father and I took care of the school clothes shopping and the school supplies, without one care or concern from her. She is not involved with him, but she and I are involved in that she lives permanently in my head, rent free. She lives as the fear I have that she will never call, or that she will call. That she will never come back for him, or that she will come back for him. That she will always be the one he wants, because he so badly wants her to want him. I worry she will let him down either way – and there will be nothing I can do to prevent that heartbreak.
#5 You will eventually grow to love them, and they will love you.
I’ve never been one to blow smoke up anyone’s skirt, mostly because I don’t smoke and I have no business up another woman’s skirt – but nonetheless this is not always the case. Sure there are some gloriously unified step families that just work. However, there are plenty of blended families who live to respect their parents choices, and live a life without a bond or love for their stepparent. In the same sense, there are stepparents that tolerated their stepchildren until they were old enough to live on their own. A stepparent/stepchild relationship can’t and shouldn’t be forced. If it happens naturally and effortlessly that is fantastic and makes life that much easier. But, don’t be surprised or feel doomed if it doesn’t happen for you right away, or at all. You can still foster a relationship with mutual care and respect.
Contrary to popular belief no one really has the answers on how to be the best stepparent. There are plenty of articles and advice from those that have lived it, and while those should be respected if only as a differing point of view, you don’t have to agree. You need to do what is best for you and your step-family. For me, I choose to be the mom, not the friend to all my children, step or otherwise. My significant other and I are the two leading adults in our home, we are partners in the responsibility for raising healthy, happy and well adjusted children who we chose to love, care and discipline regardless of the person or whose child is whose. Children and Stepchildren, are the same. Period. Maybe, one day the lack of involvement from the other parent will change, maybe it won’t – don’t allow that to limit your involvement. Love your stepchildren/stepparents as best as you can, if you have to fake it at first, do that. If its not there, respect them.
After all, we are all in this together.
This is an example of daily phone calls with my daughter, when I call to check on them, or when she calls to tattle. Because, when all else fails, call mom. Enjoy!
Phone Call #1
Me: How is everything going at home? Are the boys being good? Did they eat breakfast?
Gracie: Umm ya they ate, and they are running around in their underwear.
Gracie: I don’t know. They took their shorts off and are being weird running around and being loud.
Me: Get the boys and put me on speaker phone
Gracie: (screaming in my ears) BOYS!! MOM WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!! Okay mom they’re here.
Me: Boys put on your shorts! Stop running around in your underwear, being ding dongs. No one wants to see whats under your shorts, especially your sister!!
Boys: OKAY – giggle giggle.
Phone Call #2
Gracie: Mom, since I made sure the boys cleaned their room, and I did the dishes, can I have some of your chocolate you have hidden in your room?
Me: Yes, but you have to do a load of towels first! And quit snooping in my room – one of the days what you find WILL NOT BE AS SWEET AS CHOCOLATE!
Gracie: Yes mom.
Phone Call #3
Me: Hello lovely daughter
Gracie: Oh, you are going to be thrilled!!
Me: Really?! Somehow I doubt that. What happened?
Gracie: Oh, well, remember your rule about no balls in the house. Because all your stuff always gets broke?
Me: Oh no, what broke?
Gracie: Well they were playing with balls in the house, and I told them no balls in the house, so they went and got a pillow – which was a foot BALL pillow. And don’t worry Gage already knows that was not a good idea. Then, Boone kicked the football pillow, and they broke the tall glass lantern you had on the table. So, Coleton is in one corner, Boone is in another corner, and then I ran out of corners so Gage is crying in his room.
Me: (laughing) Did anyone get hurt? Is anyone bleeding?
Me: Okay can you sweep it up, and make the boys wear shoes until I get home and can make sure it’s all cleaned up?
Gracie: Yes, but what about the boys?
Me: Tell them I will talk to them when I get home, and let them stay where they are for 5 more minutes. and then call it good.
Gracie: Okay. Love you bye.
Phone Call #4
Gracie: Mom. David (Step/Grandpa) is here to check on us and says we have practice, and I told him we don’t. But he says we do. Do we?
Me: No, practice got cancelled, let me talk to him for a second.
David: Hi there
Me: Hi, hey practice got cancelled, so I can get the kids tonight. Thank you though.
David: Oh okay, Matt told me they have practice.
Me: Yes, they did. It got cancelled. Matt didn’t know when he told you that this morning.
David: Oh okay. What are you doing?
Me: I’m working.
David: Oh okay, well they need practice. (laughing)
Me: I know, they’ll make up for it.
David: Okay then, bye. Have a good day.
Phone Call #5
Me: How are things going? Did they do their chores?
Gracie: Um ya they did them, but then they made a mess again in the front room, but they won’t listen to me when I tell them to clean it up. They keep going out in the backyard.
Me: Give the phone to Gage
Gage: Hi Momma
Me: Gage Riley, clean the front room, do not go outside, do not get a snack, do not get water, don’t go pee or poop. Just clean the front room.
Gage: Okay Mom
Me: Give the phone to Coleton
Me: Coleton Michael, clean the front room, do not go outside, do not get a snack, do not get water, don’t go pee or poop. Just clean the front room.
Me: Give the phone to Boone
Me: Boone, clean the front room, do not go outside, do not get a snack, do not get water, don’t go pee or poop. Just clean the front room.
Me: Give the phone to Gracie
Gracie: Hi Mom
Me: I told them all. Do you need anything else?
Me: Okay. Love you
Thank goodness school starts next week.
Respecting our elders.
General kindness and courtesy.
Minding your own business.
Giving the benefit of the doubt.
The Golden Rule.
Not judging a book by its cover.
Owning and Rectifying our mistakes.
Getting to know someone ourselves.
Growing up it was expected that I lived by this list of expectations. If there wasn’t enough of something for everyone to go around, I’d go without. Whispering was rude. Inviting myself anywhere was never okay. Excluding someone intentionally was not acceptable. Gossiping was bad manners. I was raised with sayings like: “Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see.” “Be kind to strangers, and to those who appear to have less than you. For those who appear to have less, their hearts have more.” And, my personal favorite “Pretty is as pretty does.”
While walking into work, I hurried past an elderly woman who was being helped by what I am guessing was her daughter to the door. Once to the door, I stopped and held the door for them. The look of surprise on her face in that moment was incredible. Here I was a young able bodied woman quickly passing her by. In her mind, I was just going to blow through that door and leave her in my dust, possibly like others had done before. But, I didn’t, and I never would. Her smile, and exasperated thank you, affected me in two ways – it made me feel good to have helped her and sad that her faith in humanity had shattered so greatly that this act of general kindness was abnormal.
The simple rules we were raised by seem irrelevant and non-existent to many. Offering a helping hand is too much to ask to those whose hands are full of selfishness. Making time for our children, and our families, is too demanding on a schedule filled by personal appointments that reek of empty moments that will amount to nothing when the hands of time can’t be rewound.
It is as if we have all lost sight of what is most important. We’ve lost the desire to care, to show compassion, to go above and beyond for a friend in need – to allow room for our loved ones and friends to make mistakes. We have created such an uptight and demanding society full of worthless objects and sentiments void of any real volume or validity.
Living in a small town people here think they know someone because they have heard about them. They chastise and make a mockery of those whose lives are not their own, and whose choices do not affect their lives. They volley conversations about personal matters and misfortunes as general topics for enjoyment. Making remarks such as “Oh did you hear about so and so?” “Oh here look at this picture, or mugshot, can you believe it?” Why is this acceptable? Why are we blindly passing judgment? Who do we think we are?
We have become obsessed and consumed with not only finding out but revealing everyone’s skeletons hidden in their closet – that we forget our closet has a few of our own. Are we the mean girls and bullies from high school, hanging posters with peoples pictures and labeled mistakes for enjoyment? Why is the benefit of the doubt and the golden rule being tossed away in a gutter without any real remorse or understanding for what we truly are losing.
How many people do you know of, verses know? People whom you don’t like or associate with, solely because of what you’ve heard of them? Who is really missing out there, you or them? In my opinion – you are at a loss and they are at a gain. Personally, I would not want the company of a person who wishes me well, but not that well. Or a friend who would rather calculate my value beginning with my past. If today you are a kind to me, and a good friend to me – I care not what you did yesterday or a year ago.
Life is about making a difference, sharing a voice, loving, caring, and raising our children to do the same. When someone falls, you help them up. You don’t stare, point and laugh. What is that teaching our children?
Our society cares more about the why, than the who. We share judgment before giving the benefit of the doubt. We condemn and chastise rather than commend and praise. Our conversations are overflowing with condescending overtones instead of respectful dialogue. For what? What do we benefit from this? A rise out of someone, a battle of wits and distorted temporary feeling of superiority? If that is what you want, go for it honey! But, I am not interested.
I say we, because I know I am not innocent. I too fall have fallen victim at times. However, I’ve made mistakes, I have, both on a small scale and a large scale. But, I will never choose to dislike someone because someone else does, or told me to. Others misfortunes will never be a gain in my eyes, and it is my choice to not pass judgment where compassion could prevail. I dare you to do the same, and to get to know someone for who they are to you – and not their past or their mistakes that were made yesterday or the ones they will make tomorrow. Mistakes are made from trying and they provide a lesson learned, and an experience gained.
Pride means nothing without humility. A little respect and compassion goes a long way.
Have you ever awoke from a dream that was so intense and real that your heart breaks as you open your eyes?
I dreamt about him again, and its such a double edged sword because even though for the duration of the dream we’re together again, there is always the waking up that rips him away.
Divorce sucks, everyone knows that, divorce with your children involved even worse, but nothing is worse than divorce with a stepchild. Nothing.
Ethan was only one when he blessed my life. Having had a hysterectomy after my son, I always believed God wasn’t done with me as a mother, therefore he brought me Ethan. We had him in our home every other week for a week at a time, which is virtually unheard of at his age.
At first, it was hard to get used to, because my children were 5 and 7 at the time. Diapers, sippy cups and highchairs were a thing of the past. But, it took no time at all to fall in love with this blonde little sweetheart.
He always called me mom, because he copied my kids. It was hard because his mother hated it. It was something he chose and though I was uneasy with it at first, I grew to love it and to call him my son. Raising him was a joint responsibility in our home. In every definition and action I was his mother, and I loved him dearly, and still do.
Through battles in court, battles between my husband and his mother, I fought hard for this little kiddo. My love for him and my relationship with him, is what started my blog, and my parenting page. My children took to him instantly and we were a family. And then after three years, we weren’t. He was gone.
His dad left for another woman. He left while my kids were not at home, and while Ethan was with his mom. There was and has never been a goodbye on either end. My children were left heartbroken by the dual loss of a stepfather and brother. And, I, well…I haven’t seen Ethan since. Except in photos here and there.
That is probably why I still dream about him. In my dreams Ethan calls me mommy, and hugs me so tight as if to hold me over until our next date in our dreams. He caresses my face and tells me “I love you mommy” the way he used to do. This time I was so happy to see him that I was crying, and woke up feeling as though I was going to cry. My heart hurts, still, a year later.
It makes me hate his father, and the woman he left our family for. The woman who informed me it was better for Ethan and my children, to not see eachother or the man that was a father type in their life. She has no children of her own, how does she know? She made the rules and he followed them.
While I’m thankful my ex is gone, and even more delighted that they two now are eachothers karma; I miss my son. I miss his laughter, his silliness, his sweet breathy voice and the way he loved me so. I miss him crawling into my lap, caressing my face and telling me stories about bullriding and hockey with his excited little boy voice. I miss him holding hands with his brother and sister and how excited he was to see them when he came home every week. I miss the 3 am tapping on my shoulder, saying “mommy can I snuggle you?”
Now, awake and emotional, I will go on about my day dealing with the loss of my son again. The sinking feeling in my heart, that dull aching pain which will exist unbeknownst to anyone throughout the day. I’ll suffer quietly because noone understands it and everyone expects it to go away because its been over a year. But, guess what? It hasn’t.
It hides away until we meet again in our dreams. I miss you Ethan, and love you always.
This past week, I took my daughter Grace for a sports physical/well child exam. (apparently insurance providers are kinder to you if its simply a well child exam) I’m guessing a case of karma may have bitten Grace’s nerves since she had to wait in the hall during her brothers physical last year. Which she spent laughing and taunting him while the doctor was making him “cough.” There was simply no reassuring her conscience that reassurance was nothing for the doctor to check down there, or to make her cough!
He did as any mother would expect, he checked her reflexes, her weight and height, breathing and bones, diet and exercise etc. he made her walk heel to toe, and to the other side of the room on her tiptoes – which resulted in my telling her that the shorts she was wearing are going in the garbage as soon as we got home! They were way too short for my liking. After her doctor stopped laughing he then did something that shocked me. He didn’t fill out our paper and send us on our way. Nope, instead he folded his arms, and started a conversation with Grace. How fantastic is that? Does your pediatrician do that?
He started asking some rather valid questions. Questions such as: Can you talk to your mother, and father? Are you ever sad, lonely or depressed? Do you have a best friend? Do you have the confidence to say “No” when you feel pressured to say yes? Do you like what you see when you look in the mirror? To say I was impressed, was a huge understatement. Then when she joined in on this conversational rally of sorts with him, I just sort of sat back and took it all in. Man, is she growing up I thought to myself.
She trusted him, and was open enough to answer any question honestly and humorously – which might I add, she totally gets from me! For a second, it did make me wonder though, how many parents sit and ask their children these same questions? Could they answer these questions about their children? A slight sadness came over me in the thought that not every child has the opportunity or the openness that Grace and I have. The sadness was met with the appreciation for this moment though, and the realization that one day, it may change.
Quickly my thoughts were interrupted by her answers to his questions which she met them with such poise, intellect and witty retorts. During their talk, I was careful only to chime in when necessary, or an unavoidable humorous answer was necessary. Like, when he asked her “Do you worry” Are you a worrier?” I couldn’t help but share the answer of “Yes! She worries! She is terrified that if she doesn’t re-post those forwards on Facebook that says your mother will die at midnight, that I’ll die! Yet, here I am, alive in the flesh!” We all laughed, and he explained as I have numerous times – those aren’t real.
He talked to her about periods, which I did ask if he could rush along, because the hormonal pre-teen stuff is simply too dramatic at times, he said no, damn it! He talked to her about sex, birth control, drugs and alcohol – literally these two talked about everything. He mentioned teen pregnancy and she responded with the hand gesture of throwing a ball into a basket and said “ I’m not throwing my life in the trash!” Laughing he said “Okay, I think were good then.”
The best part of this appointment, besides her overall good physical and mental health, was what he said as was left. He looked at me and said “You are doing a good job Mom, you have a really special girl here.” And, while I fought back the desire to dodge the compliment with a hilarious remark of “Yes, the helmet kind of special” I instead simply thanked him, and agreed.
Sure there is the possibility he says that to every mom, but I took it as the truth. It’s truth and validation come from the fact that I know she is a phenomenal little girl. As well as knowing, that I am a phenomenal mother to her. We as parents owe it to our children to know our worth as parents. Our worth in ourselves as individuals and parents translates them as their own worth. Take the time to be that parent who takes the time. The parent who makes the effort, who has the strength and maturity to answer those questions, remember when you yourself were a child, think of what you needed, desired and wished your parents would have done. And, by that I don’t mean letting you sneak out and drink at fifteen!
Look at yourself in the mirror, right into your eyes and say this “You are doing a good job!” Your kids will thank you for it.
Patience tested √
Give a damn busted √
Over ev.er.y.thing and e.v.e.r.y.one! √
Job sucks √
Money sucks √
People suck √
Trapped in life √
Well, there you have it! My weeks checklist of negativity. Actually, I loathe negativity, which is ironic because being a realist is basically being a bi-polar bestie with negativity! Go figure!
A dear friend of mine, Amber, whom you can’t help but completely adore, is just one of those happy go lucky, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, kind of gals. Her home is built with rose colored walls, shutters and doors. The sun literally shines out of this girls ass, I kid you not! And, even she is having a bad week! Do you understand now, that we are dealing with some serious bullshit here?!?
If you watch Big Brother, you know one of the HOH’s is Frankie Grande (yes, Ariana Grande’s brother) he is the one with a pink mohawky hairstyle, who is fabulously…well, fabulously Frankie! A.n.y.w.a.y.s. he has coined a term whether he is aware of this or not, that I have taken hostage. The term: “I’m going to freak the frankie out!” And, well, not only has that become my new saying, but I’ve also totally considered changing my name to Frankie! Okay, that’s a lie, but I’m willing to bet you sense my level of dedication to my new-found term!!
At random moments this week, I have wanted to freak the Frankie out, maybe Frannie and Farley too, who knows, with this week anything is possible! Have you ever just let yourself go, and lose it? Maybe screamed out loud, or into a pillow? Maybe cried, you know the sobbing kind of gut wrenching – snotty – gonna throw up – hyperventilating cry? I would actually completely advise against it, if you can avoid it, because I did that once, after my ex-husband left, it was really – SUPER – pathetic! It felt great after I’ll give you that, but the “during” part was bad, and I am sure I looked hideous, because I am not one of those pretty criers. BUT, I got it all out and could move forward. This week though, I can’t do even a little of that. It is as if I am re-living the horrible movie “Groundhog Day”, and its skipping, in an old worn-out dvd player! The energy it would take to get up, walk over to the dvd player, and either beat it, or take the disc out, break it or fling it out the window, just feels like too much work, you know?
Here’s the deal, if I could get away with it, I would tell off probably four, maybe five people. One would cost me my job – so can’t go there, plus it is unprofessional (input eye roll here). Two people, wouldn’t give a shit, and would laugh at my allowing them to live rent free in my head – so my pride refuses a visit there. One of the two remaining is just being an immature selfish ass – and usually they are blissfully unaware and unaffected, making any attempt of mine – pointless. And, the last person, well poop on a stick – I can’t even remember who it is after writing about the other four. Ugh! See . what . I . mean? I can’t even formulate a freaking thought this week.
I suppose it is my own fault for not listening when my grandfather used to tell me “stop being so affected!” Apparently that advice helped me immensely, since I am now, thirty-four and still freaking affected! I am pretty sure I’m stuck this way! There is no hope for me, I cry at commercials, I am a FEELER, people! and I love that.
Hi, my name is Jessica and I am a feeler. There, now can we move on to step two? I mean, who wants to not feel?
When life is happy – I feel happiness, when life sucks – I feel sucky, and so on with every other emotional fruit in the messed up fruit basket of life! I would rather feel than eat that basket of fruit though, because I have a pretty good feeling “sucky” tastes shitty! Just sayin’ (P.S. that was for Austin Blood)
This may very well be the first blog that I have written that lacks any real point – other than to bitch, complain and vent. Oh, by the way, I now remember the last person I wanted to go off on, and here is what I would say to them “If you are my friend, be my friend! Be my friend all the time, every time, all the way…period.the.end. Pretty freaking simple if you ask me, if you haven’t figured it out yet, I am – who I am, that is NEVER going to change. Want to know why? Because, I LOVE ME! I do. I don’t want to be you, or her, or him, or them – just me. My life is just that, mine. Don’t waste your energy judging me, worry about your damn self. Not that there is anything wrong with them or you – I just have this prior life-long commitment thing going on with myself already, you know? Why would I throw that out the window to be anything different?” <—- See, I am funny – sometimes I crack myself up with my thoughts. Too bad there isn’t a Facebook relationship status of: Prior commitment with self.
Last night, laying in bed with my favorite, (who is one person who didn’t end up on my shit list this week, thank goodness) I said: “Sometime’s I feel like you are the only person who likes me” and he said “That’s cause I am.”
While, realistically I know this isn’t true, I have friends that love me, blah blah blah, I didn’t care. He was the only person I wanted to like me, because then I wasn’t alone in liking myself already. No wonder we fit so well. In the end, it is FRIDAY, I made it another week, and so did you, pat yourself on the back a toast something yummy to that!
We were, or I guess…I was nominated by someone, somewhere for my blog. It was entered into a Step-parenting contest with fifty…yes 50! other stepparents who share the same passion as I do. And…we ranked in at #5! How fantastic is that? And, how do you thank someone that you have no idea who they are? My best guess would be to continue doing what I have been for the past few years – and one day when my first book is published it can include this anonymous person who believed in me – because it has made a monumental difference.
Its hard to share the love of what you do with people who register writing and blogging as rather insignificant. “What is blogging? Who cares about that? Big deal! I have better things to do with my time” are all things I have heard people say – and while I let it affect me way down somewhere – those comments don’t matter to me today. You, the readers and followers, the stepparents, parents, friends and family are who matters. If we all went off of what the naysayers say – we would never follow our dreams. Besides, the fuel in my life has always been “those people” who didn’t think I could do it, because I love the moments like this…where I do.
So, for today I am going to relish in this small step towards the life impacting writing I hope to do in the many years to come – and to thank you for your continued involvement and support in my blogging.
Read the article here on all of the Top Ten:
Being a mom of a child who plays sports, is much more than practices, games, snacks and dirty uniforms. We are first and foremost, a supporter! I will forever be my son’s biggest fan – he can twirl in a rainbow tutu, at noon, in the middle of Times Square and I would scream with pride!! Okay, maybe that is a little much – but you get my point.
My son can play baseball, he can hit, catch, and slide with the best of them. Some days he makes great plays, and some days, well, some days – he doesn’t. Either day, the best part of the game, is supporting my player, my son. All I ask is for him to do his best. His best is good enough for me, and no one else out there matters. Besides, at this age there aren’t any scouts in the bleachers – so who freaking cares?!?
My son was not raised to be the best, on purpose! He was and is still raised with the goal to do HIS best, not my best, or the coaches best, his. My desire for my son is wanting him to have fun, to enjoy the game, and to learn that sometimes in life you get a home run, and sometimes you strikeout – how you handle that is what makes the player!
Any kid can swing a bat, and catch a ball – that is not what baseball is about, at least not to me. My son spends hours at practice, he listens to his coach, and plays his best like every other player. But, what some parents forget is that baseball players aren’t made on the diamond alone, that diamond follows us home. It is the coaches job to mold the player on the field, and the parents job to mold the boy off the field.
Our boys needs to know that one bad play, one strikeout, or missed catch, doesn’t make him the worst, and that a one home run doesn’t make him the best! So many parents forget the importance of building the foundation of the child, before the purpose of life. The errors in life today, are lessons for tomorrow – that is what builds character in our boys, and makes them better players.
We need to remind our children that games aren’t won or lost by one player, they aren’t won or lost because one child is better than another, and no child on a team – makes or breaks the team, period! If that were the case, the game would not have teams, positions, or a batting order. It would be golf, or tennis…and be boring!
We as parents need to ensure that our kids respect and understand the importance of a team and their coach. Being part of a team means rooting for each other, backing each other and supporting each other. When someone misses a hit, you don’t encourage your child to tell them they suck – you encourage them to say “nice try buddy, you will get it next time” and to give a high five or smack on the butt! Just make sure they know not all sports welcome the smack on the butt!
It our job to show our children how to respect their coach as well. This is not done by coaching from the stands, yelling at the coach for making the choice to send or hold the runner. It isn’t done by yelling at your child about what mistake he made, or by going to the dugout to rip them sideways for mistakes either. I wish parents stopped and thought about being nine and ten years old, standing in a batters box, or even in the outfield, and what goes through their minds at that time, especially if they just messed up. They are already so far into their own heads, doubting themselves, then they hear their coach critiquing them – and now you want to chime in? Why?! You are the person that is supposed to make them feel better – not worse! A strikeout or missed catch – is not the end of the world, a lost game is not the end of the world. However, a child with zero confidence is.
My point here is that sometimes we get so carried away with winning and the score – that we forget what’s really important. Next year it won’t matter what the score was, or which team beat who – but the character of the player, the confidence of the player and those who supported the player will matter. You never hear a kid thanking a coach or parent for making him a winner – he thanks them for hours of practice, for showing the love of the game, and for believing in him – when he didn’t believe in himself.