Boys basketball championship games yesterday. The athletic association that we deal with, the one affliated with our elementary school, does football, cheerleading, boys and girls basketball, baseball and softball. The cheerleaders operate through the football and basketball seasons, but only cheer for boys basketball. Girls basketball always gets screwed. I don't think my high school cheerleading team ever cheered for the girls basketball teams. I will say, though, that the athletic association didn't have enough cheerleaders to cheer for all of the boys basketball teams, much less the girls basketball teams. From what I could tell on the county youth basketball website, our athletic association had about 13 basketball teams. We had exactly two cheerleading teams, and we cheered for four different teams, three games per weekend. So what this meant was that there was one basketball team per weekend getting screwed out of having cheerleaders. Since I had a daughter on each cheerleading team, this meant that I got the benefit of going to three games per weekend, and a couple on week nights. Talk about having to be organized with my stuff. I am proud to say that only two hairbows and one sweatshirt were lost during the entire basketball season and that's because they never came home from the weekends when The Ex had the children.
What I did not realize is that unlike football, every basketball team makes it to the playoffs, so the standings throughout the season don't really count. Because of this, I'm not even sure why they even bother keeping up with the standings in the first place, unless the coaches from the other athletic associations try to look at separate statistics for individual players to try to recruit for their athletic association the following year. Which is entirely possible because each athletic association has the option of waiving a player so the player can then join forces with another athletic association not in their elementary school district. Basically, you can have your child declared a "free agent" if you want them to play for someone else. From what I've heard, this can happen for several reasons: you don't like the athletic association in your school district, your kid wants to play with their friends who are playing for another athletic association, your child has very specifically been recruited by a coach of another association, you don't like who the coaches will be or you've missed sign ups in your own association, or maybe even you can't afford the sign ups and need to go with another team that has cheaper sign ups or will waive their fees or have a partial waiving of fees due to financial hardship of the parents. Either way, the whole thing is really much more complex than I would have expected going into it.
And I'm just on the cheerleading end of it, but my overwhelming need to understand the complexities of shit like this has led me to research and retain all of this information.
I love basketball. I loved basketball in high school. Watching and cheering from the stands, not playing. I would totally suck at playing basketball because the only way I can make a basket is to stand squarely in front of the hoop and throw the ball underhanded with both hands. Weak wrists and all. But my personality is aggressive enough to appreciate the game and the complexities of the game. I did not expect that these youth leagues games that my daughters would be cheering at would be so well played. I guess I was kind of imagining what soccer was like when my daughters played in the three and four year old divisions. I was sorely mistaken.
We've played at a variety of elementary schools throughout the county, and a few middle schools. In looking at the whole season, running willy-nilly around the county, I've realized that our best games have been played in the older gyms. For whatever reason, even when a school is given a complete makeover and upgraded and capital improvments and all that shit, the makeover doesn't generally make it to the gymnasium. The games that we've played in new schools with new gyms, there has been an air of sterility to the whole experience. But the games played in old gyms have been totally different. I am convinced that a building can take on a certain atmosphere and psyche. Thanks for reinforcing this in my mind, Hotness That Is Zak Bagans on Ghost Adventurers. I was actually convinced of this far before ever watching Ghost Adventurers, what with me working in some of the places I've worked and going to school in some of the places I've gone to school.
Anyway, the new schools we've played in - totally sterile in personality and atmosphere. I truly believe that our best games have been played in the gyms that are at least twenty or so years old. Those are the gyms that have that slightly sour smell of decades of pre-pubescent sweat, hormones and childhood angst. The gyms where the walls are scuffed up and the wooden floors a little warped here and there because of the roof leaking during the summer when no one was around. The gyms with the old, painted wooden bleachers and holes drilled in the cement block where the equipment has been moved around depending on who the PE teacher or athletic director was. The gyms that have seperate doors going downstairs to the boys and girls locker rooms, which I am sure has the exact same tile as the locker room at my high school gym. Those are the gyms where the basketball games have taken on a life of their own, gyms where the intensity of the players and the crowd has meshed early in the game, and where all of the kids playing and cheering belonged to all of us in the stands.
Our championship game yesterday was played in a new middle school with a new gym. This might sound stupid, but what was going on in the crowd was completely over-writing, if you will, the newness of the school. You could tell it was a championship game because there were several officials from Parks and Rec on site, three refs versus the normal two, a couple of guys from the youth basketball league commission to announce the game and one Sherriff's Deputy. I mean, this shit can get unruly. Doesn't even matter that's it elementary age kids, some of these parents have excessively high expectations for their progeny and don't take kindly to being told to shut up and sit down. Hence, The Man was there to keep order.
The elementary school that my daughters attend is one of the largest in the county, and since we don't have a ton of apartment complexes, it's a fairly decent sized geographical area. Me being the astute observer and sometime pooh-pooher of socio-economic statuses, our district pretty much runs the gamut from HUD housing to half a million dollar developments. What this means, and probably the absolute best thing about our elementary school, is that it's pretty diverse. My kids go to school with white kids, black kids, middle easterners, asians, indians, native americans, hispanics, you name it. I know there are some kids who have parents who have learned how to really work the system and those kids live in the inner city projects. And no, I'm not capitalizing anyone's races. I don't care how offensive it is, we need to lay off the capitalization of races. We are Human. On a complete side note, I've worked really hard not to use other people's race as a description for them, because I really don't want my kids to know that there's a difference. I think I've been successful in this because earlier this school year, my older daughter described a black kid in her class as brown when she was trying to tell me who he was and that I'd already met him. The conversation went like this,
"Hey, Mommy, you know so-and-so from last year? He did such and such at school today."
"No, I don't remember him. Was he in your class last year?" I am proud that I volunteered so much in her class last year that I knew each kid by name.
"No, he was in kindergarten with me."
"Hmmm, I don't remember him. What does he look like?"
"You know, Mommy. He's brown."
"Brown? You mean he's black?"
"Noooo, he's brown."
"I'm sure I would probably recognize him if I saw him."
And that was the end of that conversation. I still haven't figured out who that kid is that she was referring to, but I was pleased that I've obviously done well in not using race as a descriptor for people. Of course, if she's ever the victim of something she's going to have a hard time providing an accurate description. Well, sometimes we have to sacrifice something small for something big.
So our athletic association is pretty diverse, and we'll take kids from anywhere. I think the individual directors have an unspoken rule that if a kid from another district wants to play for our association, they need to bring a friend, because we are trying to grow this thing, baby! We will take kids who missed the sign ups, we will take kids who can't get along with their district, we will take the kids with parents who can't get along with anyone else, and we will take kids who can't afford it and then we'll run around and take up a collection from the other parents to pay for them to play. That's what I really love about this athletic association. None of the other shit matters. Let's just get these kids out on the field and on the court and watch them shine.
The team we were playing against could only be described as the elitest and wealthiest athletic association in the county, and... not so diverse. This is probably the only athletic association in the county that not only has football, cheerleading, basketball, softball and baseball, but also field hockey and boys and girls lacrosse. I can't figure out who in the hell the field hockey and lacrosse teams play unless they are playing teams from other counties. This is the athletic association that runs along the very wealthiest corridor in the county, where entre requires an irrigation system and a wife with the MRS degree. This is the school district, and I know because I've looked it up on the county school website, that has 0% of students participating in the federal free lunch program. I have yet to go to a sporting event or competition where this athletic association is participating and seen a kid involved who is NOT white. So not a very diverse group of kids, in my opinion. Because this other athletic association is quite wealthy, they've been able to pay for the best uniforms and the best equipment, and probably the best football-basketball-cheerleading-baseball-softball camps. I always get the impression from overhearing these parents talk at whatever events I've been at standing in line behind them, that winning is expected. Winning is a given. Because they are the wealthiest, they are therefore the best. Money can buy anything, right?
But back to the game. Our team trailed throughout the first half of the game yesterday, and while I was a little concerned, I have also seen our team play enough to know that they generally trail through the first half of the game. By halftime, the coaches have figured out the other team's plays and have adjusted for our cockblocking to begin. The third quarter is usually where we tie the score up, and the fourth quarter is where we take over. This was the case yesterday. Our team that was playing yesterday also has a pretty cohesive group of parents who can get the crowd all riled up with defense cheers and bleacher stomping, led by the wife of one of the coaches who has ten children of his own. Being that the wife is missing a few front teeth (I am totally not kidding) and has been known to yell at the refs throughout the entire game, and her husband/coach goes stomach to stomach with at least one ref once per week, and they all have red hair (plus ten kids), I'll have to assume they are Irish-Catholic. I've decided this because the wife curses sporadically, along with her children, and so they can't be Mormon. But this woman, and all of her rag-tag bunch of kids can get the stands rocking.
It was so loud throughout the game that I was sitting on the second row of the bleachers and couldn't hear the cheerleaders, who were right in front of me. When the game got tied up, it got louder. And when we creeped past the other team, it got even louder. Our boys knew we were rooting for them, and they picked up the pace. One of our kids made a quick break, stole the ball and made the basket. Score, motherfuckers! Three minutes left! And then he did it again! It's a cliche, but the stands erupted. At what seemed like a somewhat quiet moment in the game, the cheerleading coach saw an opportunity to lead the girls in a cheer. But then, the parents from the other team started their chant and overcheered the cheerleaders. Our parents all started looking at each other in that "OH NO THEY DID NOT JUST DO THAT" kind of way, even the basketball parents, because in that moment of time, those cheerleaders were their kids, too. Collectively, I think our boys knew what just happened. Two and a half minutes left to go and we were up by one. The other team could still win this thing. It was a David and Goliath moment, even if it was just in my own head. The game continues, and at a minute and a half left, one of our kids gets two foul shots. Swoosh and swoosh. Yeah, bitches. I wanted to stand up and turn around and look at all those parents who just overcheered my daughters and yell at the top of my lungs, "How's it working for you?"
End result? We managed to keep the other team from scoring and won the championship. The team coached by the really short hispanic guy and the really tall Irish-Catholic with ten freaking kids, the team that is a veritable rainbow of Humaness, triumphed over wealth and entitlement. Man, that shit felt awesome, because we came from behind (like always, but the other team didn't know that) and won the game. The boys were over the moon and the cheerleaders were excited, but even more so because they got to eat lunch together before the coaches goose-stepped them back to the gym to cheer for the second game. All in all, it was a great season.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Stupid Stuff In My Head
I had planned to sit down and write this awesome piece on the youth basketball league game I went to this afternoon, but it will have to wait until tomorrow night because I've got too much other stupid stuff in my head just dying to come out.
First of all, to pic or not to pic my blog out. I'm so undecided on this whole thing I just don't even know what to do. I want to have some pictures to break up the monotony of the writing, and because I think I'm the only person in the world without any pics on my shit. Not OF my shit, but ON my shit. Big difference there. But then I don't want to try too hard and have obvious and contrived pictures that go with the writing and so it ends up being ho-hum in the end. Or maybe I'll just randomly find some crazy ass picture and then I'll write around the picture. Which I can totally do.
Some crazy ass picture of a crazy ass cat with some crazy ass curly hair. This totally looks like a cat that could be living in my house, if it weren't for this Screaming Mimi Siamese cat that already lives here. The kind of cat that would very nonchalantly wander through the living room when I've got people over, and the conversation would stop short and heads would turn in unison to watch the cat walk by, flop down in the middle of the living room and then lick where it's testicles used to be, since pets only seem to lick their genitals when company is around. I mean, I would totally do that too if I could. Um, yeah, not. I don't play for that team. But the end result would be someone saying, "What the fuck happened to that cat's hair?" or "Oh my god, did you curl your cat's hair?" And then I would explain, no, I didn't curl the cat's hair because I don't have a curling iron that small, but I do put scrunchies on their tails every now and then to see what happens, kind of like when you put napkin-booties on a cat. Napkin-booties on a dog don't work quite as well because a dog will just lay down and eat the napkin off of it's paw. A cat will act highly insulted and pretend like nothing is happening here, and will limp off in the most offended manner.
Marital statuses on facebook. I think they might have added to the list. This is what it used to be:
Single - I think we all know what this means. Not taken. Or pretending to be not taken.
In a relationship - I think we all know what this means. Taken. Or pretending to be taken.
Engaged - Only one or two steps away from the wedding ring. Rethink! Rethink! Rethink!
Married - You failed to rethink, or you rethought and decided it was too late to get out of it because you've already put down a non-refundable deposit on the honeymoon.
It's complicated - Finally rethinking and deciding it's not all that it's cracked up to be.
In an open relationship - This says, "My other half and I have decided to just go ahead and sleep with other people. It's cool."
Widowed - This might happen if the other person didn't really agree to sleep with other people and doesn't really agree with you doing it, either.
This is where the list stopped, until sometime last year, late summer-ish, I think.
And then they added:
Separated - Revisiting the whole rethinking part.
Divorced - Rethinking has been completed. Who knew that filing fees through the Circuit Court were so fucking expensive? I bet there would be a lot less marriages (and consequently less divorces) if the goddamn marriage license cost $750 instead of a mere $25. Just saying.
And I think they've most recently added:
In a civil union - This one actually means I'm gay and had to choose this one because "In a Relationship" really doesn't define this level of commitment and I'm not legally allowed to marry in my state. And I want to make a socio-political statement to everyone who already knows me.
In a domestic partnership - And this one means we are SHACKING UP, baby. Why buy the cow when the milk is free? Hellllll yeahhhhhh!
Here's how the last twelve years of my life would be in facebook relationship statuses. I say twelve because I was with The Ex for twelve, married for ten. Yes, we had a very strained ten year anniversary two days before I moved out. I bought him a set of plates at Wal-Mart to make up for the ones I was taking with me. Just to define boundaries, I told him two days prior to the anniversary I would appreciate NOT getting a card. That I would then feel obligated to sneak off and throw away.
Single - The Army guy I just fell in like with went back to his regular stationing in Texas. I'm lonely and you're available.
In a relationship - I am still lonely and you're still available. Sure, we can call this a relationship.
Engaged - I've convinced myself that no one else will ever want to marry me and my biological clock has become a ticking time bomb. Yeah, we can give this thing a whirl.
Living together - This was about when I became The Housekeeper and Laundress.
Married - Everyone said that getting married on a rainy day is good luck. In my heart I knew it wasn't true.
Thinking I don't really like you that much but I can convince myself otherwise - This phase lasted until the birth of the older daughter.
Oh, God, now we're stuck because we have a child together - You are effectively stuck with me forever because I am not putting my child(ren) through a divorce. I don't really care if we don't get along and have nothing in common. We now have DNA in common so let's just suck it up.
Making it work - This was the phase of me really trying hard to fall in love and make it stick.
Second child on the way - This might just cement the previous relationship status.
In my head it's not working - Realizing that I have two children I gave birth to and one I married.
I wish he would just cheat on me because maybe then he would leave me alone - Does this really need a description?
I don't even remotely like this man - This might have come into fruition around year eight of the marriage.
I am miserable - Year nine of said marriage.
Separated - Oh, sweet light at the end of the tunnel. Oh, agonizing guilt for doing this to my children.
I will never date again - Because I am really scared this might happen again.
I need to get laid - Well and often. Because a girl can dream, right?
Dating website - Which worked out very nicely after I finally stopped changing my mind. Mad props to Guy #1.
Pending depositions and divorce - Again, why are these court fees so high? That's almost two months worth of before and after school care for the one child I am responsible for paying for.
Divorce - I anticipate it will be a sad and sobering relief. Life lessons do not always come cheap. Maybe that's what the court fees are trying to tell me, or it's the government's way of trying to restrict divorce without really restricting it.
There we have it. My marriage in facebook relationship statuses.
And I'm still looking for that ghetto necklace that says 'I heart midget porn'. I could totally rock that out in a suit with some spectator pumps, but not the platform spectator pumps, because then it would look like I was just missing my stripper pole. Nah, I'll stop talking shit. I would never, ever wear that to work, just because of what I do. Which is not stripping. But I would wear it to the mall to eat a quick dinner at the food court with Guy #1 before I slide up in my favorite big box bookstore to get a second grade science workbook for my older daughter.
Stay tuned for other good stuff about the the championship youth league basketball game I went to today, Mrs. Second Grade Teacher, and Lunchtime Musings and other stupid stuff in my head.
First of all, to pic or not to pic my blog out. I'm so undecided on this whole thing I just don't even know what to do. I want to have some pictures to break up the monotony of the writing, and because I think I'm the only person in the world without any pics on my shit. Not OF my shit, but ON my shit. Big difference there. But then I don't want to try too hard and have obvious and contrived pictures that go with the writing and so it ends up being ho-hum in the end. Or maybe I'll just randomly find some crazy ass picture and then I'll write around the picture. Which I can totally do.
And this is what I've ended up with.
Some crazy ass picture of a crazy ass cat with some crazy ass curly hair. This totally looks like a cat that could be living in my house, if it weren't for this Screaming Mimi Siamese cat that already lives here. The kind of cat that would very nonchalantly wander through the living room when I've got people over, and the conversation would stop short and heads would turn in unison to watch the cat walk by, flop down in the middle of the living room and then lick where it's testicles used to be, since pets only seem to lick their genitals when company is around. I mean, I would totally do that too if I could. Um, yeah, not. I don't play for that team. But the end result would be someone saying, "What the fuck happened to that cat's hair?" or "Oh my god, did you curl your cat's hair?" And then I would explain, no, I didn't curl the cat's hair because I don't have a curling iron that small, but I do put scrunchies on their tails every now and then to see what happens, kind of like when you put napkin-booties on a cat. Napkin-booties on a dog don't work quite as well because a dog will just lay down and eat the napkin off of it's paw. A cat will act highly insulted and pretend like nothing is happening here, and will limp off in the most offended manner.
Marital statuses on facebook. I think they might have added to the list. This is what it used to be:
Single - I think we all know what this means. Not taken. Or pretending to be not taken.
In a relationship - I think we all know what this means. Taken. Or pretending to be taken.
Engaged - Only one or two steps away from the wedding ring. Rethink! Rethink! Rethink!
Married - You failed to rethink, or you rethought and decided it was too late to get out of it because you've already put down a non-refundable deposit on the honeymoon.
It's complicated - Finally rethinking and deciding it's not all that it's cracked up to be.
In an open relationship - This says, "My other half and I have decided to just go ahead and sleep with other people. It's cool."
Widowed - This might happen if the other person didn't really agree to sleep with other people and doesn't really agree with you doing it, either.
This is where the list stopped, until sometime last year, late summer-ish, I think.
And then they added:
Separated - Revisiting the whole rethinking part.
Divorced - Rethinking has been completed. Who knew that filing fees through the Circuit Court were so fucking expensive? I bet there would be a lot less marriages (and consequently less divorces) if the goddamn marriage license cost $750 instead of a mere $25. Just saying.
And I think they've most recently added:
In a civil union - This one actually means I'm gay and had to choose this one because "In a Relationship" really doesn't define this level of commitment and I'm not legally allowed to marry in my state. And I want to make a socio-political statement to everyone who already knows me.
In a domestic partnership - And this one means we are SHACKING UP, baby. Why buy the cow when the milk is free? Hellllll yeahhhhhh!
Here's how the last twelve years of my life would be in facebook relationship statuses. I say twelve because I was with The Ex for twelve, married for ten. Yes, we had a very strained ten year anniversary two days before I moved out. I bought him a set of plates at Wal-Mart to make up for the ones I was taking with me. Just to define boundaries, I told him two days prior to the anniversary I would appreciate NOT getting a card. That I would then feel obligated to sneak off and throw away.
Single - The Army guy I just fell in like with went back to his regular stationing in Texas. I'm lonely and you're available.
In a relationship - I am still lonely and you're still available. Sure, we can call this a relationship.
Engaged - I've convinced myself that no one else will ever want to marry me and my biological clock has become a ticking time bomb. Yeah, we can give this thing a whirl.
Living together - This was about when I became The Housekeeper and Laundress.
Married - Everyone said that getting married on a rainy day is good luck. In my heart I knew it wasn't true.
Thinking I don't really like you that much but I can convince myself otherwise - This phase lasted until the birth of the older daughter.
Oh, God, now we're stuck because we have a child together - You are effectively stuck with me forever because I am not putting my child(ren) through a divorce. I don't really care if we don't get along and have nothing in common. We now have DNA in common so let's just suck it up.
Making it work - This was the phase of me really trying hard to fall in love and make it stick.
Second child on the way - This might just cement the previous relationship status.
In my head it's not working - Realizing that I have two children I gave birth to and one I married.
I wish he would just cheat on me because maybe then he would leave me alone - Does this really need a description?
I don't even remotely like this man - This might have come into fruition around year eight of the marriage.
I am miserable - Year nine of said marriage.
Separated - Oh, sweet light at the end of the tunnel. Oh, agonizing guilt for doing this to my children.
I will never date again - Because I am really scared this might happen again.
I need to get laid - Well and often. Because a girl can dream, right?
Dating website - Which worked out very nicely after I finally stopped changing my mind. Mad props to Guy #1.
Pending depositions and divorce - Again, why are these court fees so high? That's almost two months worth of before and after school care for the one child I am responsible for paying for.
Divorce - I anticipate it will be a sad and sobering relief. Life lessons do not always come cheap. Maybe that's what the court fees are trying to tell me, or it's the government's way of trying to restrict divorce without really restricting it.
There we have it. My marriage in facebook relationship statuses.
And I'm still looking for that ghetto necklace that says 'I heart midget porn'. I could totally rock that out in a suit with some spectator pumps, but not the platform spectator pumps, because then it would look like I was just missing my stripper pole. Nah, I'll stop talking shit. I would never, ever wear that to work, just because of what I do. Which is not stripping. But I would wear it to the mall to eat a quick dinner at the food court with Guy #1 before I slide up in my favorite big box bookstore to get a second grade science workbook for my older daughter.
Stay tuned for other good stuff about the the championship youth league basketball game I went to today, Mrs. Second Grade Teacher, and Lunchtime Musings and other stupid stuff in my head.
The Drama of Cheerleading
When my daughters first said last summer that they wanted to do cheerleading for their fall activity, I had no idea exactly how much of an undertaking this would be. I didn't plan on being a coach, I didn't plan on spending two nights per week during the summer at cheerleading practice and for some stupid reason, I just didn't even think about the fact that I would spending three plus hours every Saturday at a football field. I also didn't know that basketball season would see me driving to three separate games every weekend for two months. I didn't know that little girls could have so much drama to them. Well, okay, I knew that part. But I didn't know about the whole social aspect to it, the alpha female jockeying that my older daughter would engage in, and that there was a whole other social game being played by the moms, the coaches and the cheer director. I just thought we would all go out there, whether it be at practice or at the games, do what we had to do, either as coaches or parents, and that would be that.
I forgot that any time you have four or more women together the possibility for drama is increased exponentially. Actually drama can happen if you have the wrong mix of two women together, as witnessed by every reality show since the early 90's. Now, I feel like I'm fairly intelligent. However, there are just some social nuances that I am completely oblivious to, and the drama created by some of the women in this cheerleading organization has been one of them, at least until basketball season. I've been oblivious to this kind of stuff in my career and personal life as well, and I'm always somewhat astounded that all of this drama is going on. Now, as a disclaimer, don't get me wrong. I've started plenty of my own drama and sucked many other people into it, but I find that as I get older and more mature, it's largely just bullshit that isn't that enjoyable and takes my focus away from my kids or whatever the job at hand is. Like my job. But that's only if we were talking about work, and I'm not.
Since we've moved into basketball season and I'm not coaching, I've had the opportunity to really sit back and watch the dynamics of all of these women. I think the reason I didn't notice any of this during football season was that I just didn't have time. Too tied up with trying to figure out what the fuck I was doing and which little cheerleader had their skirt twisted around the wrong way. So here are the women I've been dealing with and assiduously watching, though not in that creepy stalker kind of way:
The older daughter's coach - I first got to know this woman during football practice. Imagine my surprise (consternation?) to find out she is the older sister of The Ex's best friend, so she's known the bastard longer than I have. Hmmm, there's a mole on the team. That was my first impression, so I was very careful about what I said to her. But over the months we've developed a loose kind of friendship, all of it revolving around cheerleading and I've gotten the impression that she's about as unimpressed with The Ex as I am. She and The Ex were voted in by the association as co-chairs of the Ways and Means Committee, and now he's giving her the run-around about some fundraising stuff. I am glad that he's spreading the joy of his bullshit around. I feel vilified when she bitches about him.
The older daughter's team mom/assistant coach - This is also the mother of my older daughter's best friend, and she and I are good. She takes no shit off of anyone and doesn't mind the drama queen that is my older daughter.
The younger daughter's coach - This woman was my assistant coach during football season, but then said she would be the coach for basketball. Knock.Yourself.Out is what I told her, because I needed a break and was relieved that someone else was willing to step up to the plate. I've since realized that this woman can stir up shit like no one's business, and I probably disappointed her when I didn't fight and argue over who was going to be the coach for basketball season. She's stirred up shit with the basketball director, the older daughter's coach, one of the mothers of the cheerleading squad, the athletic association in general, and is probably going to work on the new cheer director and the football director. I've come to the conclusion that most people who engage in such a high level of shit stirring generally have miserable lives. The fact that this woman's daughter still poops in her pants kind of drives that point home. And yeah, the daughter will be six this year. I really feel more sorry for the daughter than for anyone else. But whatever, I've learned to give this woman wide berth and make no comments about anyone around her.
The younger daughter's assistant coach - She stepped up in basketball season and then shared that she was a cheerleader in high school. Uh, why the fuck didn't you step up in football season then? She has taught the girls some cute cheers and knows all of the movements, but I think her personality is too gentle and kind for a complete bitch like me to ever really like her completely. For some reason I felt like she was extra soft and sensitive with the girls to make up for the fact that I was a complete drill sergeant with them. "Peanut butter, jelly, spppppprrrrreeeeeaaaaddddd out!!!!" versus me yelling, "Stop talking! Spread out! You don't need to be touching each other!" Whatever. They knew how to stand and walk in a straight line (kind of) and some level of cheer etiquette by the time they got to her. Boot camp always the worst part, but it's the part you remember the best.
The outgoing (or outgone) cheer director - This woman makes me look like an organizational genius. Which I am and all, but really. My younger daughter could run a tighter show than this woman. And stop sending me Flicker invites, or whatever they are. I don't want to join to look at pictures of your daughter.
The incoming cheer director - I still haven't felt this woman out yet. She recently sent me an invite on facebook and I accepted, after actually giving it some thought, because my first instinct was that she wanted to spy on my life. But then I wasn't quite sure if there would be repercussions for my daughters if I ignored the friend request, so I went back through my comments and deleted a few of them regarding cheerleading because in retrospect they seemed a little catty. I then went through the comments on the older daughter's coach's facebook and her comments about cheerleading were way worse and I felt better, especially when the older daughter's coach didn't delete the comments on her page before accepting this woman's friend request. facebook can really complicate some shit, but I keep going back obsessively.
The clique-y moms - I am not in this group, because I haven't been invited and if I were (it's always "if I were", right?) I wouldn't want to because I feel like this group is a little too gossipy and I'm just not involved with the whole athletic organization to gossip. When it comes to gossip, I'm a taker and not much of a giver. I consider this to be me having finally refined the whole gossiping thing. When I say I'm a taker, I'll listen to anything and make sympathetic noises. But I don't put much out, unless it's something I wouldn't mind saying to that person's face. So about the gossip, I have a few people (and none of them affiliated with this athletic organization) that I will get down and dirty with, because those are the people that I can trust to either not repeat what I've said or at least not attribute it to me. And my skill at this, yep, this is how I know so much of what's going on in my workplace. Making sympathetic noises and mmmm-hmmmm noises is what it's all about. I've determined that this skill alone would take me at least halfway through a reality TV show. Skillz, baby, skillz.
So we have three championship games tomorrow and the girls are cheering at two of them. Lunch will be served in between the games and I plan on sneaking the three kids I am in charge of (two of mine plus one more) outside after lunch and very sneakily giving them some Coke as a bribe to behave and cheer nicely for the second game, too. We have our banquet next weekend and cheerleading will be over. I bitch about it incessantly, but for real, I've really enjoyed the whole thing. Even if my daughters don't do cheerleading next year, I'll be doing the whole athletic association thing and dragging them along with me to the games.
I forgot that any time you have four or more women together the possibility for drama is increased exponentially. Actually drama can happen if you have the wrong mix of two women together, as witnessed by every reality show since the early 90's. Now, I feel like I'm fairly intelligent. However, there are just some social nuances that I am completely oblivious to, and the drama created by some of the women in this cheerleading organization has been one of them, at least until basketball season. I've been oblivious to this kind of stuff in my career and personal life as well, and I'm always somewhat astounded that all of this drama is going on. Now, as a disclaimer, don't get me wrong. I've started plenty of my own drama and sucked many other people into it, but I find that as I get older and more mature, it's largely just bullshit that isn't that enjoyable and takes my focus away from my kids or whatever the job at hand is. Like my job. But that's only if we were talking about work, and I'm not.
Since we've moved into basketball season and I'm not coaching, I've had the opportunity to really sit back and watch the dynamics of all of these women. I think the reason I didn't notice any of this during football season was that I just didn't have time. Too tied up with trying to figure out what the fuck I was doing and which little cheerleader had their skirt twisted around the wrong way. So here are the women I've been dealing with and assiduously watching, though not in that creepy stalker kind of way:
The older daughter's coach - I first got to know this woman during football practice. Imagine my surprise (consternation?) to find out she is the older sister of The Ex's best friend, so she's known the bastard longer than I have. Hmmm, there's a mole on the team. That was my first impression, so I was very careful about what I said to her. But over the months we've developed a loose kind of friendship, all of it revolving around cheerleading and I've gotten the impression that she's about as unimpressed with The Ex as I am. She and The Ex were voted in by the association as co-chairs of the Ways and Means Committee, and now he's giving her the run-around about some fundraising stuff. I am glad that he's spreading the joy of his bullshit around. I feel vilified when she bitches about him.
The older daughter's team mom/assistant coach - This is also the mother of my older daughter's best friend, and she and I are good. She takes no shit off of anyone and doesn't mind the drama queen that is my older daughter.
The younger daughter's coach - This woman was my assistant coach during football season, but then said she would be the coach for basketball. Knock.Yourself.Out is what I told her, because I needed a break and was relieved that someone else was willing to step up to the plate. I've since realized that this woman can stir up shit like no one's business, and I probably disappointed her when I didn't fight and argue over who was going to be the coach for basketball season. She's stirred up shit with the basketball director, the older daughter's coach, one of the mothers of the cheerleading squad, the athletic association in general, and is probably going to work on the new cheer director and the football director. I've come to the conclusion that most people who engage in such a high level of shit stirring generally have miserable lives. The fact that this woman's daughter still poops in her pants kind of drives that point home. And yeah, the daughter will be six this year. I really feel more sorry for the daughter than for anyone else. But whatever, I've learned to give this woman wide berth and make no comments about anyone around her.
The younger daughter's assistant coach - She stepped up in basketball season and then shared that she was a cheerleader in high school. Uh, why the fuck didn't you step up in football season then? She has taught the girls some cute cheers and knows all of the movements, but I think her personality is too gentle and kind for a complete bitch like me to ever really like her completely. For some reason I felt like she was extra soft and sensitive with the girls to make up for the fact that I was a complete drill sergeant with them. "Peanut butter, jelly, spppppprrrrreeeeeaaaaddddd out!!!!" versus me yelling, "Stop talking! Spread out! You don't need to be touching each other!" Whatever. They knew how to stand and walk in a straight line (kind of) and some level of cheer etiquette by the time they got to her. Boot camp always the worst part, but it's the part you remember the best.
The outgoing (or outgone) cheer director - This woman makes me look like an organizational genius. Which I am and all, but really. My younger daughter could run a tighter show than this woman. And stop sending me Flicker invites, or whatever they are. I don't want to join to look at pictures of your daughter.
The incoming cheer director - I still haven't felt this woman out yet. She recently sent me an invite on facebook and I accepted, after actually giving it some thought, because my first instinct was that she wanted to spy on my life. But then I wasn't quite sure if there would be repercussions for my daughters if I ignored the friend request, so I went back through my comments and deleted a few of them regarding cheerleading because in retrospect they seemed a little catty. I then went through the comments on the older daughter's coach's facebook and her comments about cheerleading were way worse and I felt better, especially when the older daughter's coach didn't delete the comments on her page before accepting this woman's friend request. facebook can really complicate some shit, but I keep going back obsessively.
The clique-y moms - I am not in this group, because I haven't been invited and if I were (it's always "if I were", right?) I wouldn't want to because I feel like this group is a little too gossipy and I'm just not involved with the whole athletic organization to gossip. When it comes to gossip, I'm a taker and not much of a giver. I consider this to be me having finally refined the whole gossiping thing. When I say I'm a taker, I'll listen to anything and make sympathetic noises. But I don't put much out, unless it's something I wouldn't mind saying to that person's face. So about the gossip, I have a few people (and none of them affiliated with this athletic organization) that I will get down and dirty with, because those are the people that I can trust to either not repeat what I've said or at least not attribute it to me. And my skill at this, yep, this is how I know so much of what's going on in my workplace. Making sympathetic noises and mmmm-hmmmm noises is what it's all about. I've determined that this skill alone would take me at least halfway through a reality TV show. Skillz, baby, skillz.
So we have three championship games tomorrow and the girls are cheering at two of them. Lunch will be served in between the games and I plan on sneaking the three kids I am in charge of (two of mine plus one more) outside after lunch and very sneakily giving them some Coke as a bribe to behave and cheer nicely for the second game, too. We have our banquet next weekend and cheerleading will be over. I bitch about it incessantly, but for real, I've really enjoyed the whole thing. Even if my daughters don't do cheerleading next year, I'll be doing the whole athletic association thing and dragging them along with me to the games.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Lunchtime Musings
I decided to change the title to my new column to Lunchtime Musings, because Lunchtime Trolling sounds too much like I'm trolling around on craigslist at lunch. Which I'm not, because the guv has blocked the good stuff on craigslist. And I haven't been trolling around on craigslist at all recently because I guess I just feel like it's more of the same. People looking to get laid. And I am no longer one of them, although let me just say I never looked for that on craigslist. No, no, no. I would not have touched craigslist with a former nameless president's dick, and god only knows where that thing has been.
Lara Logan. The East Coast Rapist. Mint.com. Five castles in France that cost less than an apartment in New York City. Farmville Herald obituaries. Former coworker's Livejournal (Ah-ha!). Christian bookstore website. LLBean. Wait, go back. Christian bookstores? Uh, what? No, I was not trying to find the secret link to the Christian Porn Network, or CPN as I like to call it, namely because it doesn't exist other than me trying to convince the telemarketer from the cable company that I needed that channel because HBO was too vulgar.
I was talking to a girlfriend a couple of years ago who has daughters roughly the same age as mine about when is the right time to talk about the birds and the bees. This girlfriend goes to church on the regular, and she was telling me that she got a set of books for different age groups for girls on the whole thing. The set starts off with a book about our bodies, modesty, etc, and then another book moves into puberty, and then at least one book for older girls about how a boy saying that he will die if he can't just stick it in for a minute is a damn LIE. Which boys never really grow out of, I've discovered.
I have no idea when to broach this subject with my kids. I've bought bad-touch-run-away-quickly-and-tell-a-grown-up-you-trust-right-away kind of books, but nothing that comes near to covering the birds and the bees. I know that this is something that I must tell them, because if I don't tell them then some other kid, at some point in time, will be available for a demonstration. I absolutely must beat that other kid to the punch. But when? The schools have started phasing this stuff in beginning in third grade, I think. It was fourth grade when I was growing up. They seperated all the boys and girls and herded us into separate classrooms to watch a film strip about our private parts. I distinctly remember this in fourth grade because it was my first year at Prince Edward and I was like, what is this about? I had absolutely no clue what was going on and my mother's inability to explain this shit to me didn't help. Looking back now, I think I could have gone another year without that information. Ultimately, I don't think that information was my downfall into promiscuity, beer drinking, experimental science fair drug usage and generalized hell-raising in high school, but I think I could have gone another year of my tender life without having been exposed to that information at that age. I will say that fourth grade seems old, unless you started school when you were four like me.
I look at my daughters, full of innocence and naivete, and I know they aren't ready for this information, even though my older daughter is starting to develop breasts and when she hits nine later this year I guess I can medically call her pre-pubescent. I have enough problems keeping them from being exposed to generalized sluttiness, all versions of Degrassi, and cheer organizations that not only buy uniforms that a stripper could wear, but hire an obscene amount of male coaches (why is that not weird to so many other moms?) Hello, get a fucking clue. There is a very specific reason that some men position themselves to work professionally in gyms with girls of this age range wearing leotards.
I don't know what I'll do when that special piece of paper comes home from school next year with my older daughter for "The Session About Our Bodies" or whatever they're calling sex education nowadays. Do I refuse and say maybe next year? Even if all of her friends are going, and me saying no will make her a pariah? Do I say yes even though I feel like it's too early because it's better to be armed with correct information than ignorance? Add drugs, alcohol, gangs, guns, internet safety and all the other shit kids have to deal with these days and my god, what a messy world we are sending our kids out into every day. And that was just generalized for kids. For my daughters, I will have the additional issues of birth control, date/acquaintance rape/sexual assault, sexual harassment, the glass ceiling, why it's okay to be smarter than boys, body image, eating disorders, girl bullying (which is FAR WORSE than what boys do to each other unless it's locker room tea-bagging), makeup, hormones.... Yeah, a lot of those are boy issues, too, but it's a whole other world out there for girls. I don't know if I'm ready for all of this, but I can't seem to get the calendar of life to slow down on me.
Lara Logan. The East Coast Rapist. Mint.com. Five castles in France that cost less than an apartment in New York City. Farmville Herald obituaries. Former coworker's Livejournal (Ah-ha!). Christian bookstore website. LLBean. Wait, go back. Christian bookstores? Uh, what? No, I was not trying to find the secret link to the Christian Porn Network, or CPN as I like to call it, namely because it doesn't exist other than me trying to convince the telemarketer from the cable company that I needed that channel because HBO was too vulgar.
I was talking to a girlfriend a couple of years ago who has daughters roughly the same age as mine about when is the right time to talk about the birds and the bees. This girlfriend goes to church on the regular, and she was telling me that she got a set of books for different age groups for girls on the whole thing. The set starts off with a book about our bodies, modesty, etc, and then another book moves into puberty, and then at least one book for older girls about how a boy saying that he will die if he can't just stick it in for a minute is a damn LIE. Which boys never really grow out of, I've discovered.
I have no idea when to broach this subject with my kids. I've bought bad-touch-run-away-quickly-and-tell-a-grown-up-you-trust-right-away kind of books, but nothing that comes near to covering the birds and the bees. I know that this is something that I must tell them, because if I don't tell them then some other kid, at some point in time, will be available for a demonstration. I absolutely must beat that other kid to the punch. But when? The schools have started phasing this stuff in beginning in third grade, I think. It was fourth grade when I was growing up. They seperated all the boys and girls and herded us into separate classrooms to watch a film strip about our private parts. I distinctly remember this in fourth grade because it was my first year at Prince Edward and I was like, what is this about? I had absolutely no clue what was going on and my mother's inability to explain this shit to me didn't help. Looking back now, I think I could have gone another year without that information. Ultimately, I don't think that information was my downfall into promiscuity, beer drinking, experimental science fair drug usage and generalized hell-raising in high school, but I think I could have gone another year of my tender life without having been exposed to that information at that age. I will say that fourth grade seems old, unless you started school when you were four like me.
I look at my daughters, full of innocence and naivete, and I know they aren't ready for this information, even though my older daughter is starting to develop breasts and when she hits nine later this year I guess I can medically call her pre-pubescent. I have enough problems keeping them from being exposed to generalized sluttiness, all versions of Degrassi, and cheer organizations that not only buy uniforms that a stripper could wear, but hire an obscene amount of male coaches (why is that not weird to so many other moms?) Hello, get a fucking clue. There is a very specific reason that some men position themselves to work professionally in gyms with girls of this age range wearing leotards.
I don't know what I'll do when that special piece of paper comes home from school next year with my older daughter for "The Session About Our Bodies" or whatever they're calling sex education nowadays. Do I refuse and say maybe next year? Even if all of her friends are going, and me saying no will make her a pariah? Do I say yes even though I feel like it's too early because it's better to be armed with correct information than ignorance? Add drugs, alcohol, gangs, guns, internet safety and all the other shit kids have to deal with these days and my god, what a messy world we are sending our kids out into every day. And that was just generalized for kids. For my daughters, I will have the additional issues of birth control, date/acquaintance rape/sexual assault, sexual harassment, the glass ceiling, why it's okay to be smarter than boys, body image, eating disorders, girl bullying (which is FAR WORSE than what boys do to each other unless it's locker room tea-bagging), makeup, hormones.... Yeah, a lot of those are boy issues, too, but it's a whole other world out there for girls. I don't know if I'm ready for all of this, but I can't seem to get the calendar of life to slow down on me.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Psychologist, Heal Thy Child
I came to the conclusion that I needed to put my older daughter in counseling around November. Behavioral issues, problems with her attitude, problems at school... It was not pretty. My beautiful little almost eight year old was not doing well and I didn't know what to do to help her. Every time I think about all the shit I've been through in the past year, I know that what she has been through has been a thousand times worse. I remember when my parents split up and it sucked.
For whatever it's worth, I've tried to do better by her and her sister than my parents were able to do. I found a place to move to in her school district so she wouldn't have to change schools, and I did my best to make sure her father could keep the house so she would be able to go back to the only house she had ever lived in. I have worked really hard to just let all of his passive-aggressive comments roll off my back, and I arranged a special birthday dinner for her with The Ex and The Girlfriend (see, capitalized!) so she would know that Mommy really can get along just fine. I've answered her questions as best I can about the divorce, and tried to explain it in the most honest way possible. I've worked freakishly hard to hide my love life from her, because she's so busy dealing with all the shit The Ex is throwing at her that I don't know if she can handle anything new from me. I've tried to be there with just hugs and love, and be as consistent and stable as I can be.
The latest thing that she mentions, weekly, is when The Ex and The Girlfriend get married and fill in the blank here. Her psychologist thinks that this is her way of preparing herself for it. She asked me a couple of weeks ago if I like The Girlfriend. I told her that I thought The Girlfriend was very nice and she seems like she sincerely likes my daughters. I also told her that if she liked The Girlfriend, then that's all that mattered. And for real, The Girlfriend seems pretty decent. I suspect that I will end up liking her more than I like The Ex. The psychologist says that The Girlfriend will probably help The Ex to be a better parent, but I am a little doubtful of this, because The Girlfriend doesn't have children. There have been a few times at sporting events, etc., where I've caught The Girlfriend looking at my children like they're little aliens. Whatever. They'll break her ass in.
I wish I had known when I got married that The Ex wasn't going to shake out to be the most dedicated father. But I suppose my mother wished the same thing about my father. The Ex asked me, early in the separation what he could do to not treat our daughters like my father treated me. I explained that all he had to do was make the children his priority and not blow them off for something stupid. I just didn't think accomplishing that would be hard. Apparently it is, because I just read on his facebook that the reason he couldn't come and see his younger daughter cheer tonight was because he was at a local bar. Obviously way more important than his child. Kind of like when he picked the children up from before and after care last week for his weekly night with them and took them straight to the neighbors house (where he left them to be fed dinner by the neighbor) because he had to take care of buying a car. Seven days in the week... you have them one night... that leaves six whole other nights for you to buy a car, and you do it on the one night you have the children? Anyway, thanks, Mom, for never unfriending him and then giving me your password. You rock!
Sadly, I almost think the children are getting kind of used to it. He's stopped calling every night, and the children have stopped asking. I don't remind them because I don't really want them to notice because I am scared that when they do notice, like I did with my father, they will then be able to do the math and figure out they aren't a top priority. But when he does call at about ten minutes before bedtime, he acts confused about what time they go to bed and tells me they get to stay up later at his house. Did I mention that he also got shitty about having to pay the co-pays for the psychologist? Um, how about I pay ALL of the health insurance? But it's all good, because I've just realized that I can itemize medical expenses and insurance on my taxes and I will be making sure I throw away all of the medical receipts for the child I erroneously agreed to let him claim on taxes. How you like me now, douchebag?
And so our visits with the psychologist continue, and we've even spread it out to three week intervals. I am seeing my beautiful little girl with her beautiful little personality return to me, and I hope that this is something that she will come out on the other side stronger for. I hope.
For whatever it's worth, I've tried to do better by her and her sister than my parents were able to do. I found a place to move to in her school district so she wouldn't have to change schools, and I did my best to make sure her father could keep the house so she would be able to go back to the only house she had ever lived in. I have worked really hard to just let all of his passive-aggressive comments roll off my back, and I arranged a special birthday dinner for her with The Ex and The Girlfriend (see, capitalized!) so she would know that Mommy really can get along just fine. I've answered her questions as best I can about the divorce, and tried to explain it in the most honest way possible. I've worked freakishly hard to hide my love life from her, because she's so busy dealing with all the shit The Ex is throwing at her that I don't know if she can handle anything new from me. I've tried to be there with just hugs and love, and be as consistent and stable as I can be.
The latest thing that she mentions, weekly, is when The Ex and The Girlfriend get married and fill in the blank here. Her psychologist thinks that this is her way of preparing herself for it. She asked me a couple of weeks ago if I like The Girlfriend. I told her that I thought The Girlfriend was very nice and she seems like she sincerely likes my daughters. I also told her that if she liked The Girlfriend, then that's all that mattered. And for real, The Girlfriend seems pretty decent. I suspect that I will end up liking her more than I like The Ex. The psychologist says that The Girlfriend will probably help The Ex to be a better parent, but I am a little doubtful of this, because The Girlfriend doesn't have children. There have been a few times at sporting events, etc., where I've caught The Girlfriend looking at my children like they're little aliens. Whatever. They'll break her ass in.
I wish I had known when I got married that The Ex wasn't going to shake out to be the most dedicated father. But I suppose my mother wished the same thing about my father. The Ex asked me, early in the separation what he could do to not treat our daughters like my father treated me. I explained that all he had to do was make the children his priority and not blow them off for something stupid. I just didn't think accomplishing that would be hard. Apparently it is, because I just read on his facebook that the reason he couldn't come and see his younger daughter cheer tonight was because he was at a local bar. Obviously way more important than his child. Kind of like when he picked the children up from before and after care last week for his weekly night with them and took them straight to the neighbors house (where he left them to be fed dinner by the neighbor) because he had to take care of buying a car. Seven days in the week... you have them one night... that leaves six whole other nights for you to buy a car, and you do it on the one night you have the children? Anyway, thanks, Mom, for never unfriending him and then giving me your password. You rock!
Sadly, I almost think the children are getting kind of used to it. He's stopped calling every night, and the children have stopped asking. I don't remind them because I don't really want them to notice because I am scared that when they do notice, like I did with my father, they will then be able to do the math and figure out they aren't a top priority. But when he does call at about ten minutes before bedtime, he acts confused about what time they go to bed and tells me they get to stay up later at his house. Did I mention that he also got shitty about having to pay the co-pays for the psychologist? Um, how about I pay ALL of the health insurance? But it's all good, because I've just realized that I can itemize medical expenses and insurance on my taxes and I will be making sure I throw away all of the medical receipts for the child I erroneously agreed to let him claim on taxes. How you like me now, douchebag?
And so our visits with the psychologist continue, and we've even spread it out to three week intervals. I am seeing my beautiful little girl with her beautiful little personality return to me, and I hope that this is something that she will come out on the other side stronger for. I hope.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Stay Tuned
Since I am getting laid on the regular now (and correctly, too! Bonus!) I really have no desire to go trolling through craigslist looking for freakshows. I think I will be bringing in a new column to fill the gaps, and that column shall be called Lunchtime Trolling. I eat my lunch at my desk at work and just troll around on the internet. Well, to be honest, sometimes I'm not eating lunch because I've decided at 9:41am that the internet might be more interesting than my work, but that's another story. So I just spend 30 minutes or so farting around on the internet looking for random stuff to read. Except for adult content unless it's like that one time I clicked on random article on the Wikipedia website and ended up on anal bleaching. Oh my god, people do that? I guess instead of it being the chocolate starfish it's the bleachy starfish. Either way... N.A.S.T.Y.
So stay tuned... Lunchtime Trolling is coming your way.
So stay tuned... Lunchtime Trolling is coming your way.
Just Because
Flowers were delivered to me yesterday at work, along with an awesome lunch. And a Coke. And a smile. And yes, they were from Guy #1, delivered personally. I need to come up with another name for him, to go along with all of my other capitalized names, but I am struggling on this a bit. I mean, I have The Ex, Mothbrain, Mrs. Second Grade Teacher, Mr. So-and-So from daycare, The Daycare Nazi (Mr. So-and-So's mom) and a few others here and there. There was Emotional Cancer, but he only got that capitalization once, because he didn't deserve capitalization more than that, and then there might be The Girlfriend, because I think The Ex's girlfriend will probably be mentioned more and more, unless she becomes The Wife. But I don't think The Wife will be the right title for her. I will probably go with The Third Wife, because that just seems so much more descriptive and telling of his First Two Epic Failures. So technically this would make me The Second Wife, which I may at some point decide to refer to myself as periodically in third person. Personally, I could also call myself The Dumbest Wife, since I am the one who stuck it out the longest. So far.
The flowers were gorgeous--15 long-stemmed pink roses. The flowers were delivered in person, accompanied by a note that was hand-written on a really pretty shade of purple legal paper that I provided right there in my office. I have found that having a really pretty shade of purple legal paper kind of negates some of the shit I have to write on said paper. Kind of negates it, but not all the way. The reason for the flower and lunch delivery? Just because. This man has given me more flowers in four months than I've gotten in the last fifteen years. No, he wasn't in the doghouse, and no, he wasn't looking to get laid because I was at work and he got plenty of that over the past weekend. Just because.
The Ex never gave me flowers because I insisted he not spend the money on something so trite, something that was going to die in a few days, especially when we needed to save our money for stuff like diapers and daycare. I have learned a couple of lessons from this. The first one is that I will never, ever have a joint checking account exclusively again. If, if, if I ever change my marital or shacking up status, there will be my money in my account, his money in his account and house money in a joint account. Of course, if I had known that the money I wanted to save for diapers and daycare would end up getting funneled over to a World of Warcraft account and gaming apparati (is that the plural for apparatuses?), I would have said, yeah, go ahead and get me flowers. Except I wouldn't have, because every gift from The Ex came with strings attached and every card that he signed with some flowery bullshit felt contrived. Contrived to the point that I secretly started throwing the cards away a few years ago. I have saved almost every piece of paper and every card that's ever been given to me, except for some of the ones that he gave me because they just didn't mean shit. Maybe instinctively my gut was telling me that it felt contrived because it was. Maybe it was my gut telling me I had married a psychopath. Who knows?
My other lesson learned on the whole refusing the flowers thing in my marriage is really the larger lesson, because I realized sometime early on in the separation, and I think deep down I knew it during the marriage, I didn't let The Ex do anything for me. Because of the attachment of strings and all of the other dysfunctional shit. I didn't let him do anything nice for me, and I was such a complete bitch that it probably turned into him not wanting to do anything for me. So I knew before I was even ready to start dating that this was something I needed to change within myself, because I didn't want to be that kind of bitch to anyone else. There is really only one person that I want to reserve that level of bitchiness for, and I am pleased that I can still dose it out as needed to The Ex. Seriously though, I knew that if I ever wanted a relationship or whatever to succeed, I would have to learn how to let a man do something nice for me and just be gracious and appreciative.
I've worked really hard to say goodbye to the Steph who didn't want flowers because I deemed it a waste of money while I was secretly jealous of all the other women at work who got flowers. I've worked really hard to learn how to let someone do something for me, just because, and just go with it. I've worked really hard to be appreciative and grateful that someone wants to do something for me. Just because.
The flowers were gorgeous--15 long-stemmed pink roses. The flowers were delivered in person, accompanied by a note that was hand-written on a really pretty shade of purple legal paper that I provided right there in my office. I have found that having a really pretty shade of purple legal paper kind of negates some of the shit I have to write on said paper. Kind of negates it, but not all the way. The reason for the flower and lunch delivery? Just because. This man has given me more flowers in four months than I've gotten in the last fifteen years. No, he wasn't in the doghouse, and no, he wasn't looking to get laid because I was at work and he got plenty of that over the past weekend. Just because.
The Ex never gave me flowers because I insisted he not spend the money on something so trite, something that was going to die in a few days, especially when we needed to save our money for stuff like diapers and daycare. I have learned a couple of lessons from this. The first one is that I will never, ever have a joint checking account exclusively again. If, if, if I ever change my marital or shacking up status, there will be my money in my account, his money in his account and house money in a joint account. Of course, if I had known that the money I wanted to save for diapers and daycare would end up getting funneled over to a World of Warcraft account and gaming apparati (is that the plural for apparatuses?), I would have said, yeah, go ahead and get me flowers. Except I wouldn't have, because every gift from The Ex came with strings attached and every card that he signed with some flowery bullshit felt contrived. Contrived to the point that I secretly started throwing the cards away a few years ago. I have saved almost every piece of paper and every card that's ever been given to me, except for some of the ones that he gave me because they just didn't mean shit. Maybe instinctively my gut was telling me that it felt contrived because it was. Maybe it was my gut telling me I had married a psychopath. Who knows?
My other lesson learned on the whole refusing the flowers thing in my marriage is really the larger lesson, because I realized sometime early on in the separation, and I think deep down I knew it during the marriage, I didn't let The Ex do anything for me. Because of the attachment of strings and all of the other dysfunctional shit. I didn't let him do anything nice for me, and I was such a complete bitch that it probably turned into him not wanting to do anything for me. So I knew before I was even ready to start dating that this was something I needed to change within myself, because I didn't want to be that kind of bitch to anyone else. There is really only one person that I want to reserve that level of bitchiness for, and I am pleased that I can still dose it out as needed to The Ex. Seriously though, I knew that if I ever wanted a relationship or whatever to succeed, I would have to learn how to let a man do something nice for me and just be gracious and appreciative.
I've worked really hard to say goodbye to the Steph who didn't want flowers because I deemed it a waste of money while I was secretly jealous of all the other women at work who got flowers. I've worked really hard to learn how to let someone do something for me, just because, and just go with it. I've worked really hard to be appreciative and grateful that someone wants to do something for me. Just because.
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