A Rant....

When I go "trolling", not necessarily to be a douche bag but no better word for it, to check out other pages, it is usually late or early morning and I am tired and get pissy.
Most times, they are decent pages, looking for numbers and some sort of pat on the back....
Not all pages are like that. We are NOT all self serving narcissistic fuckers looking to brand some shit on the stupidity of others...nor are most of us riding the coat tails of others. Some of us worked hard for our numbers and we are liked because we are fucking funny, witty and sincere.
SO....I cannot stand when I come across some fucking jack hammers page and he is a fucking tool, slippery dicked motherfucker and I read his/her posts and A. they make NO SENSE and B...MY FUCKING friends, likes on my page, folks I know, swoon like they are in heat.
How on EARTH...How can you not spot a fucking douche?!?!?

Here are some hints:

1. ALWAYS telling you how great they are and how they saved the day.
B) Make sure YOU know how humble and amazing they are.
next....
They always have "fans" that have kids so their "kid" posts seem realistic...but what fucking 8 yr old knows and tells her dad she wants a thong and belly ring?

WAKE FUCKING UP.

End Rant..........................

Questions...

Writing this blog today comes with a myriad of emotion....ANGER being number one. What I have learned through AA is that under that ANGER, that I cling to like a rabid dog, is FEAR.

I am a good mother. I have regrets, of course, after all, I am a mother. We live for these kids, don't we? We laugh and cry...our hearts break for them and our hearts live for them. They are 50% of everything we are. When my daughters laugh, there is NO better feeling on this earth, no greater sound I have heard.
 I am a strict mother. There are rules and you WILL follow them. Your best friend doesn't have to take the trash out? too bad for her. Too bad she will never learn the importance of that task in her life....you WILL. I am a firm believer that kids live up to our expectations of them and if we are calling them names and treating them like assholes, they will give us what we expected. <I say that KNOWING kids will be assholes regardless. They are kids and human and have bad days....I am hoping you are following me here.>
I am NOT friends with my kids. Friendship comes after lessons. Years of learning and lessons. We have fun...pj day, movie night, board games, cake for dinner, running, sprinklers, waking up at midnight to play in the snow.....
I have bathed them, held them, cried with them, screamed with them, read with them, fed them, rushed them to the ER, kissed boo boos, laughed and laughed with these girls of mine. We have come back from bad, made it through stresses and I pray they are learning good from me. I say all of this because I know you are the same kind of parent. I write this because this CAN happen to ANYONE.

So I will begin with a question....If you were to pick up your child's iPod, cell phone/smart phone, computer, notebook, iPad...lifted up their mattress and go through their drawers, What would you find? Do you know? Do you know where to look, the nooks and crannies of a kids mind?

Do you know that they can skype, facetime, eamil, tumblr, Text+, KIK, facebook, message, instagram, all without your permission? They can hide that shit....they can create profiles and send out pics and have it all to be seen by the public. BY ANYONE.

They can do it all without you knowing. All for free.

Do you know the passwords to all of your kids shit? From iPods to smart phones to facebook? Do you know all of their usernames? DO YOU CHECK?  Do you SURPRISE check? Do you go through drawers and under mattresses?
Are you laughing and running around with your innocent child/teen just to discover, hours later, everything she/he has said is a fucking lie? That when you checked shit out, you were not going deep enough, far enough to find the hidden truths?
Did you know that in Illinois, sending out underaged nude pics is child porn? The sender and receiver can spend the rest of their lives registered as a sexual predator. Let that soak in a sec. 12,13,16,18,24,38,45....a life sentence, really.
Did you know if your kid downloads that shit onto YOUR computer and you do not know, for some reason your computer is searched and it is found, YOU are now the one with kiddie porn?

Have you Googled your kids name? Have you surprised searched every single place possible? Is your answer NO because they are honor students? Never been in trouble, Polite, kind, funny, good citizen/sibling/person?  They have never given you a reason to check?.........

CHECK. Go NOW. Go search through their shit. Go get those passwords, usernames....they play moshi monsters? Oh, they "know" johnny? Guess again....
I recently had to call my daughter's bestie's mother to inform her that her daughter, who "does not have access to those sorts of things like facebook" was talking to "someone" she met via Moshi Monsters. On the phone. For some strange reason, he did not want to facetime or skype with her, just to talk. How FUCKING terrifying.
She is a good kid. An honor student. Polite. Her mom is a teacher. Good family.
I will avoid the horrors of what may have been, what could have been, and the fact that the "boy" vanished after a call from her mom.
These girls can be blackmailed if sending out photos. Racy photos. Blackmailed by peers. Blackmailed into doing things so nobody tells their parents, manipulated and FEARED into doing things they would NOT normally do. Oh, your kid would come to you if being threatened or manipulated or was scared...Your kid knows what a bad guy is and what to do, what to look for. Your kid isn't "stupid" or "knows better"? Your kid has been "raised right" and can be trusted. Your daughter has high self esteem and feels too good about herself for that nonsense? You keep your kids so busy they have to stay out of trouble. We monitor everything and have parental controls.....

So. Did. I.

Why I don't talk about it....

I have been questioned quite a bit lately as to why I do not blog more or talk more about my drinking days and how and what happened to get me here to sobriety.
I understand curiosity. I ask a zillion questions, and not because I am rude, it's because I am teachable. I need to see how others have done A,B,C....no matter what abc are. make sense? I understand the need and desire to hear other people's stories.
The thing is, it's all too raw yet. Too real. Too painful to share. Every time I sit back and think "ok, I can do this today, I can write about what happened when I passed out on the kitchen floor in front of my 2 and 3 yr olds" but the breakdown that happens...I cannot let the thoughts continue. I end up in a very very bad place.
So, slowly, if you stick with me on this journey, I will be writing more, as it gets easier and easier to feel the pain involved with sobriety. The incredible damage I did to my precious girls.....

Do you laugh at funerals?

I know, I know, it's rather cliche to say I laugh at funerals....but I do. I also say the WORST things EVER. I mean, I laugh until my belly shakes, tears are pouring down my face and I LOOK like I am fucking freaking out from grief. If you ever question my honesty on this one....ask my sister. We have to talk ourselves into NOT laughing. FYI...that makes it worse. 

At my Uncle Jim's funeral when I was 9, I laughed first when I was told this young man had died. He was 38, an alcoholic, and believed not only that he was Jesus but that Barry Manilow was his brother. True story. The bowling alley where he hung in the city STILL talks about him 30 yrs later. My uncle was nuts and I cherished him. He was a bad ass as well. He won awards in body building in Chicago....He was good to me.
I remember what I wore to that service and I remember laughing so damn hard that I was removed from the service. My fucked up family thought I was as nuts as he was..........

My "cousin" Cody committed suicide. He had a fucked up life, became an addict, blew his brains out. I was at the service talking to his girlfriend when I blurted out "I just wanted to blow my brains out" which made me LAUGH so fucking hard......I know, I know.

When my grandmother passed away, I was heartbroken. I knew nothing in this family would ever be the same. I missed her before the words came out of my ex's mouth that she had passed. She was the best kind of crazy and funny and gorgeous. She was not the hugs n kisses kind of lady, rather bad ass really but you knew you were loved. On the drive to her funeral I had my mom and sister with me. Driving with my mother is about as much fun as driving blindfold in the rain, but as soon as we got to Michigan, mom buzzed, it was game ON. From the priest to my mother to my sister.....I laughed hard. The one second I cried here was when my brother who was raised by her, broke down in choking sobs. I never, ever wanted to end someones pain as badly as I did that minute. 

My grandfather passed shortly after....He had Alzheimer's. My granfather was a drunk for years, quit and stayed sober for a long fucking time. He was mean and kind and once convinced us kids he was going to murder santa....he even had the gun. Funny ass fucker, right? (seriously, I think so)
When he died, it was the end of the end. My family had officially split apart. I knew my grandpa was NOT happy about a catholic burial but what made this HYSTERICAL was the fucking priest didn't know his name. He kept referring to Emanuel, his name is Samuel. I laughed so hard i had to get up and leave....some thought I was weeping and fucked up. truth is, I was glad he didn't suffer anymore and I knew he was pissed as shit this guy could not get his name right.

My BIL's dad was murdered in Chicago. He was a security guard and got detailed to a white castle. He was murdered by a schizophrenic man. NOT FUNNY. this is awful....My sister talked me through not opening my mouth for any reason....but I did. I said to T's mom "It's SOOOOOOO nice to FINALLY meet you!!!!!" K just looked at me, shaking her head. 

My father in law passed away in 2010. I even cared for him in the hospital for a couple weeks. I was sad and loved him. At his funeral, he was a fireman, when they started with the bagpipes and speeches....I almost threw up from laughter. The speeches, drunk fireman, crazy family, it was INSANE.....My sister, sitting next to me had tears streaming down her face. Now, I know that was because she was laughing with me, most people thought we were hysterical. How can one NOT laugh when one speech entails how John left his first wife and "snuck off with poopsie".....I am telling you guys, That's in my top 5 best funerals. EVER.

It could be my discomfort with death, awkward situations, not knowing what to say and feeling the need to say ANYTHING...but if there is a funeral, guaranteed I'll be the one laughing and saying stupid shit.

It's not a lack of love or compassion....it's a sense of relief to get any emotion out.

Disclaimer* No, Alzheimer's, suicide, death is not funny. If you think that's what I am saying, move along. 

My top 10.

Via our girl over at: You Know It Happens At Your House Too, who has written a blog about gratitude and thankfulness, she asked as a challenge that we follow suit. 


So here are my 10:(not in any order)


1. My new jobby job!


2. I was able to get up and go running this morning.


3. That run felt DAMN good.


4. My beautiful and sometimes frustrating, yet healthy daughters.


5. Wonderful friends who "get" me and let me be myself. 


6. Healthy kitties, whom I love and adore.


7. My car, my lovely car. It's the 3rd car I have owned outright and paid for all by myself.


8. Sobriety of course. too many reasons to list here....


9. My ex. 


10. My family...they crack my shit up constantly. All of them.


Your turn...you know, if you want.

When saying thank you just isn't enough, I try and live it.

So, Here we are folks. I am on day "it doesn't even matter, it's been so fucking long" 145 of finding a job with ZERO luck. 
It's sad. It's hopeless most days. It's a feeling of utter despair and huge fucking fear. It's knowing that very, very little separates you and your children from being homeless. 
Yet, there are these people. these people whom you have NEVER met face to face. These people who feel your struggle, KNOW your pain right down to it's core...people for which I can never say thank you enough. Thank you isn't even a real statement at these times. You know who you are...countless people have prayed, chanted, given suggestions, run with me, send msgs of hope and laughter, shaken chickens, and various other good juju things my way. Some of you have sent me things. Paid for things. Helped me in ways I am not deserving of but incredibly grateful for. You, this page of people have rallied around me, loving me, hoping for me, carrying me when I cannot go on another minute.  
In all of this all I can do to repay and say thank you is to live it. What does that mean? That means to honor all of you. To practice what I preach. To be kind to strangers. To go to meetings and stay sober. To pull my head out of my ass and find solutions...even painful ones. 
I am grateful....I am honored to know all of you. 
Love you guys...

The courage to change...By Betsy Why, guest blogger and Tripper.

Thank you again for letting me have this space on your blog - it really is so sweet of you!  Now, on to the post:

If you're reading this, you should know that I'm fat.  Not one of those size 4s who think they're fat, not even the "I sure would like to drop about 50 pounds" kind of fat - more like "does your circus sideshow know that you're missing?"  (and yes - you can laugh at that.  I did!)  I'm also 35 years old, and I've been overweight since I was 7.  Anyone who has ever been this big can tell you that it is about far more than putting down your fork and going for a jog.  There is a lot of self-hate and low self-esteem and emotional "stuff" involved.  Up until very recently, I was someone who hated herself.  Not just hated - loathed.  I was ashamed of myself.  I saw no value in me at all - all I could see was my fat body.  And I have finally learned that what I look like and who I am are not the same thing.  (That is SUCH an important lesson!)  I had to get *there* before I could feel like I was worth doing something about my weight - but I still lacked the motivation.  (So if I can do this - you can too!!)

Life, the universe, whomever you believe is in charge of this kind of stuff, has a funny way of giving us what we need, right when we need it.  I randomly happened upon the Tripping While Standing Still facebook page, and found the page owner to be charming and funny and most of all - inspiring.  One day she posted pics of herself before and after running - and I thought the after pic was even more beautiful than the before.  I wanted that glowy, "just worked out" look, that "I DID IT" look, for myself!  Then I read a quote she posted that says "dead last finish is greater than did not finish, which trumps did not start" and I decided enough was enough and I needed to get up off the couch.  For lots of reasons (health-wise and just personal preference) swimming is my exercise of choice.  So now I was faced with the knowledge that I was going to pour MY self into a bathing suit and go to a PUBLIC pool and let myself be seen by OTHER PEOPLE.  lol  I knew it was going to be tough - after all, I'm not exactly a supermodel.  The first day was a bitch, not gonna lie.  I was nervous, and self-conscious, and I hit the pool when it opened (5:30 am!) in hopes that I'd be the only one there.

As it turns out - there are only two other people silly enough to hit that pool at that time, and they are serious-pants lap swimmers who are training for a competition.  So there I am in my granny swimsuit, doing water walking at my slow poke pace, and these graceful fishes are over there looking like Michael Phelps!  For the first week, I showed up every day, slipped unnoticed into the water (or so I thought) and went about my business.  But then one day, as I was doing warm-ups, I was watching these two guys swim...just watching their form and speed and ok yes one of them is super hot lol but I guess he saw me watching because when he finished his last lap, he came over to my side of the pool and introduced himself (we'll call him D) and asked my name, and we had a really nice chat.  I told him that I was just starting out, and was envious of his speed and agility and perfect form - and he said that he was impressed by ME (!!!) and was very encouraging and sweet about me hanging in there and that one day soon I'd be joining them over on the lap swimmers' side.  It just felt like...validation.  Like I really AM doing something good, and important, and that I will make progress.

I've been going daily now for about 3 weeks, and I've added swimming a few laps to my walking routine.  And I'd love to say that it's gotten to be habit, that I just leap out of bed and think "Oh goodie!  Time for the pool!" lol and some days are like that -- but some days are like "Ummm...NO."  Tuesday was one of those days.  I woke up in a horrible mood, spent a lot of time crying, and finally forced myself to the pool, still trying to suck up the tears.  As I was walking out of the locker room to the pool, D was coming out of the mens' side.  His face lit up and he said "I have something for you!" and turned around to go back into the locker area.  It turns out that he had been so...impressed, I guess, by me that he had gone home and told his wife about me - and she made me a lap counter!  It's the cutest thing -- a little suction cup on each end, and sealife-themed plastic beads strung between them.  It sticks on the end of the pool and you slide a bead over each time you complete a lap.  It's a little thing, but it was a HUGE gift, and I managed to thank him without becoming a puddle of snot and tears.

So it's funny to me how the inspiration I needed got dropped into my lap at just the exact moment I was ready for it - and in the form of a facebook page that I started reading for its humorous content.  In turn, I have somehow inspired D and his wife, and their gift to me could not have come at a better time.  It's still hard - today I needed someone to shove me out the door because I was feeling so sorry for myself about how pitiful my little workouts are and how far I have to go to reach my goal weight, and because I tend to give up on myself very easily.  But it doesn't matter how long it takes. I am *doing* this!  

I asked Betsy to write because she inspires me every single day. I know she is embarrassed, like me..I know her struggle and yet, she pushes herself to get out there and move. It's the first step to any problem that creates a solution. Thank you So much Betsy! Much love....