I am a daughter. I am a wife. I am a mother. But through it all, I have been and always will be, a woman.

Archive for the ‘Girls’ Category

Why are Women MEAN???

I was scrolling through Facebook earlier (yes, I should have been working, but I was taking a short break) and came across a post from a friend of mine:

“Every year around Valentines Day there is one of our doctors that gives everyone who works here a long stemmed rose. “Because every woman deserves a rose on Valentine’s Day” This doctor is off tomorrow so they were passing them out today. Guess who they looked at and kept walking by???? Yeah me. True story.”

WHY??? What was the point of this? To make her feel small? To embarrass her?

All they really succeeded in doing was making me MAD!! Seriously. I promptly ordered her some flowers and had them delivered today with a card that said they were from “Someone who thinks you’re Pretty Special.” Now, yes, she know I sent them. But her co-workers don’t. ūüôā They just see some beautiful red tulips (because EVERYONE gets roses! I had to be different) on her desk.

Yes, part of me wanted to rub it in their faces. They got A rose. She got a bouquet of tulips.

I didn’t like the way they made her feel — or how I imagine she felt — because I’ve felt that way.

Left out.
Ignored.
Excluded.
Inferior.
Unloved.

But she is NOT any of those things. She is WONDERFUL. She’s Smart. Witty. Funny. Wicked (in the best possible way). Beautiful, inside and out. She’d drop anything and everything for her friends and family.

She goes out of her way to make people feel cared for. Included. Important.

For these “women” to try to take that away from her just made my blood boil!!!

L. has been a great friend to my husband for a long time (no, we’re NOT doing that math), and (lucky for me) extended that friendship to me, even though she barely knows me.

She is Awesome! I hope she doesn’t let their pettiness get to her. There are people who believe in her. Who know just how Important she is. How Kind. Generous. Compassionate. Loyal. Gorgeous. And certainly more of a Woman than her co-workers will ever be.

Mean Girls may get older, but clearly they Never Grow Up.

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Good Girls and Bad Boys

My husband has told me many times that “Good girls want a Bad Boy that will be Good for them. ¬†And Bad Boys want a Good Girl that will be Bad for him.” ¬†I’ve come to realize that there is truth in this. ¬†(But PLEASE DON’T TELL him that I said he is right!)

I try not to dwell in the past to much. ¬†After all, I have a husband who loves me at least as much as I love him. ¬†(We argue who loves the other more, but he clearly wins with all he puts up with from me.) ¬†I have two beautiful, smart, funny, charming demon-monkey boys that I adore so much I don’t know whether to hug them or strangle them. ¬†ūüôā ¬†I have a sweet, smart, witty step-daughter who comes to stay during summers and help balance out the testosterone laden house I live in. ¬†Both of parents are still alive, though quite happily divorced for almost 3 decades. ¬†I have a lot of happiness and sunshine now, so I don’t particularly care to look back in the past and shadows. ¬†But occasionally I do. ¬†This post is about one of those shadows.

I recently came across a link of Facebook to an interview with¬†Patrick Stewart. ¬†I had no idea he was a child of a domestic violence home. ¬†His advocacy work now is a great tribute to his willingness to remember his roots, and overcome them. ¬†He talks about his father suffering from undiagnosed PTSD (then called “shell shock”) and how it manifested in violet attacks against his mother. ¬†He talks about how his mother “did NOTHING to provoke him.” ¬†And I think about how close I came to being another statistic.

See, until my husband, I WAS that girl that wanted a bad boy who would be good just for me. ¬†I thought I could “change” him. ¬†Ha! ¬†Let me tell you, that is NEVER going to happen. ¬†A sheep is a sheep and a wolf is a wolf. ¬†And an abuser is an abuser. ¬†Unless they get professional help, they will not change.

My ex-husband was bad enough. ¬†He took his own insecurities and attributed them to me. ¬†I was the reason he couldn’t do well. ¬†I was the reason he got fired. ¬†I was the reason he gambled all of our money away. ¬†I was the reason he stayed out all night. ¬†I was the reason. ¬†And I almost believed him. ¬†But then common sense would return and I would remember his gambling addiction and his alcoholism. ¬†The final straw came when I found out he was cheating. ¬†See, I had stayed for 4 years. ¬†I took my vows seriously. ¬†I had promised “till death do us part” and, well, death had not parted us. ¬†Then HE decided he wanted a divorce. ¬†Then I found out about her. ¬†It was like I could finally hearing God say, “You’ve taken enough. ¬†You CAN leave now. ¬†It’s okay.” ¬†And I left. ¬†Happier than I had been in 4 years. ¬†It is really an eye-opener when the news that your husband is cheating on you is the best news in your entire marriage.

He was bad. ¬†But there was one worse. ¬†The ex just yelled a lot. ¬†Ridiculous accusations then gone again. ¬†But the boyfriend…..there was a sociopath for you. ¬†Seriously. ¬†He really did know the difference in right and wrong. ¬†He just didn’t care. ¬†Not only did he yell, and accuse, but he knew where to aim his words for the most damage. ¬†He knew exactly how to destroy my psyche. ¬†He obliterated any self-worth I had managed to attain. ¬†By the time I finally left him (I lied to leave and hid where I was safe and he couldn’t get to me), I was a shell. ¬†I knew the entire time that he would begin hitting me soon. ¬†Every time he lost his temper, I wondered if it would be then that he would hit me. ¬†But I actually, luckily got away before we reached that “milestone”. ¬†Lucky wasn’t it. ¬†Again, I believe God was watching out for me even when I wasn’t watching out for myself.

It took me over a year to put myself back together. ¬†It was over a year before I would even consider going out with a guy again. ¬†And honestly? ¬†I’m still not sure I’m completely healed. ¬†I still hear the echoes of his threats. ¬†He’s dead now. ¬†Dead before 35 of a stroke. ¬†Maybe God was watching out for his wife and kids then. ¬†I hope she doesn’t carry the scars that I do from him. ¬†But I’m pretty sure hers are worse.

Domestic violence is never right.  There is no reason to beat, abuse, humiliate, destroy your partner.  It leaves scars mentally, emotionally, and physically on not just them, but any children in the house, and any family members that know or can guess what is happening.  It is a self-perpetuating circle.  From the parents to the children.  From the abuser to the victim.  The victim then becoming the abuser.  And it continues.  It takes a lot to break that circle.

Leave.  Run.  Get help.  No matter whether you are the abuser or the victim, get help.  Neither of you deserves the anger, guilt, or torment.  And neither does anyone else.

My husband spent YEARS helping me put myself back together, heal the wounds. ¬†But there is still a lot of scar tissue to deal with. ¬†I wouldn’t fight with him for several years after we started dating. ¬†We were probably together for 3 years before I would actually disagree with him instead of crying and hiding in a corner. ¬†And he never raised his voice. ¬†He never said hurtful untrue things. ¬†It was just my conditioned response to a man I angered. ¬†Now we can fight. ¬†We argue. ¬†But these are healthy fights that every marriage should have. ¬†I no longer worry that he’s going to leave me. ¬†I no longer worry that I’ve made him so mad he might say something mean. ¬†He loves me. ¬†He really loves me. ¬†The way a husband should love his wife. ¬†The way a man should love a woman.

That is what every one deserves.  Love.  Understanding.  Compassion.  Trust that the person you give your heart and body to will not hurt you intentionally.

I want my boys to know that it is never okay to hit a woman.  And I want my step-daughter to know that she can never do anything bad enough to deserve being hit, or hurt.  Never

Vacation Fun

My husband and I just got back from taking our two sons, and his daughter to the Alabama coast for a long weekend of fun. ¬†It started off great. ¬†I made a promise to myself and my husband that I was going to TRY (pay attention to that word — it’s important) to not yell at the children much. ¬†Remember that word “try”? ¬†Well, let’s just say that some moments required more “trying” than others because the children were more “trying” at times than others.

I succeeded, which is a small miracle in itself. ¬†We all had fun. ¬†We went to the pool and the beach, we took the daughter shopping, we saw and toured a battleship and submarine, and we even rode a ferry. ¬†We came back tired and sunburned, but I think that is a rule of vacations. ¬†You MUST come back tired and sunburned or it wasn’t a good vacation. ¬†No one wanted to come back, so I take that as a good sign.

However, I learned a lot on this trip. ¬†Not just about battleships and submarines, or to remember to put sunblock on your shoulders as well as your arms and legs (painful lesson learned). ¬†I learned about the differences between boys and girls — other than the obvious.

1. ¬†Boys are messier. ¬†You would think that as a pre-teen girl, H would have wardrobe calamities, or accessories tossed hither, thither, and yon, and just be a complete tornado. ¬†Let me tell you, she was the NEAT one. ¬†Yes, there was a little mess on her side of the room, but that was due more to lack of space than her. ¬†The boys, on the other hand, covered the bathroom floor in dirty clothes (poor H had to step on them to take her showers). ¬†I’m used to the mess at home. ¬†After all, it only took 30 seconds after our return for the carpet in their bedroom to be covered in toys, clothes, shoes, and other things I’m scared to look at too closely.

2. ¬†Boys are louder. ¬†Again, you would think that a pre-teen girl would squeal and giggle and make all manner of noise to get her dad’s attention. ¬†Nope. ¬†She was quiet, polite, and waited her turn to speak. ¬†The boys? ¬†Wouldn’t / Couldn’t be quiet if they were unconscious. ¬†I swear they are even noisy asleep. ¬†Seriously. ¬†Z talks in his sleep (usually yelling at M to leave him alone), and M snores.

3. ¬†Girls are more polite. ¬†I know, this one is obvious. ¬†But after the boys burping, snorting, yelling, and making other various noisy I don’t even like to think about, H’s politeness and good manners were SO appreciated. ¬†She even knows what to do with a napkin!!!!!

4. ¬†Girls are cleaner. ¬†She combed her hair. ¬†Voluntarily. ¬†We have to chase down the boys. ¬†Her face was always clean. ¬†The boys get dirt on their faces climbing out of the bathtub. ¬†Her clothes were always neat. ¬†The boys? ¬†Let’s not even think about it.

Yes, I have discovered many differences between boys and girls. ¬†I’m sure most of you know these already. ¬†I ¬†actually KNEW them, it was SEEING them that was so amazing. ¬†Startling, really. ¬†It makes me realize what I’m missing having just boys. ¬†NOT enough to make me think of trying to have a third child. ¬†Nope. ¬†Uh-Uh. ¬†No way. ¬†Not happening, unless God Himself decides it. ¬†But it’s nice having her around. ¬†She helps even out the testosterone level at my house. ¬†And she even sides with ME sometimes.

www.awriterweavesatale.com/

Author and Editor of Literary and Arts Magazine, The Woven Tale Press

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That one little thought that catches on... and multiplies.

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I am a daughter. I am a wife. I am a mother. But through it all, I have been and always will be, a woman.