Monday, February 14, 2011
I just recently labelled this blog as "Adult" and gave it a Content warning. Why? Because sometimes I don't have the cleanest mouth. Sometimes, I go on a rant and start using some pretty bad language. I don't always do this. Or even often. I just want this warning there in case you come across it.
This week's QOTW over at Multiples.... and More! is:
How did you meet your Valentine?
I actually met my now husband for the first time when we were 10. This first meeting was not anywhere close to being friendly. My husband was a cocky thing, even back then. He walked up to me on the school bus and dared to utter the words, "I'm God. Worship me." Being the sweet little girl I was, said no with a fist to the face. Ooops.....
Fast forward about 7 years and there we were again. This time as lab partners in Earth Science class. After 5 months of following me around like a little puppy dog, he finally asked me out.
The rest, as they say, is history.......
This was us in October 1996, 5 months after we started dating (and 4 months before our first Valentine's Day together).
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
For the first time, I may even make it to link up this week! I have been trying for months now and just never get the post ready in time. So, here goes....
I could think of a hundred topics to write about today. I had even narrowed it down to one. Then the bottom fell out. All hell broke loose, so to speak. My kids had done it. They crossed the line that they had been dangerously close to for a long while. The disrespect had gone to far. I was accustomed to being called names under their breath. And just out of my (so they thought) earshot. I was used to breaking up more fights than seen during a UFC card. I was used to the demanding little voices, "Let me watch...." "Let me do..." "Give me now..." But, today. Today was it. The end. I had taken all the disrespect I could take. And quite honestly, its more than any one person should ever take. My 12 year old wants to call me a Bitch under her breath. Well, fine. Say hello to Mama Bitch. And that's when it all came pouring out.
"You want to know what I was doing when I was YOUR age?" Well, guess what. Your little 12 year old butt is going to sit there and listen to a hard life. When I was YOUR age, missy, I was babysitting my 7 year old brother, alone, for 8+ hours a day. When I was YOUR age, missy, I was cooking dinner for me and my brother. Alone. When I was YOUR age I was cleaning a whole house by myself. When I was YOUR age, I was doing the laundry for 3 people. When I was YOUR age, I was babysitting my newborn nephew. When I was YOUR age, I was taking MY babysitting money and paying for my little brother to have ice cream at school. Since, you know, that wasn't a priority to our mother. When I was YOUR age, I was still expected to get straight A's while doing everything at home.
Tears start streaming down her face. I say, "So, let's recap YOUR life." I don't leave YOU here alone except when I walk OUTSIDE the door. I don't let YOU cook except the occasional microwave meal. I only ask YOU to clean a little each day. An hour tops. YOU do not do the laundry; I do it all when everyone is asleep. YOU are not required to babysit. YOU are not asked to pay for anything. And I only ask that YOU do the best YOU can when it comes to school. So, exactly where is YOUR life so freaking hard?
She got ready to say something. But, I wasn't done yet. It was MY turn to be heard. So, let's go on. When I was OLDER, I was left to fix tacos or hamburger helper for me and my brother. And then I still had to wash the dishes from where our mother had cooked steak dinners for her boyfriend du jour. Oh, how do YOU think that made me feel? How about when I was 18 and had a job earning MY money? I was expected to buy her dinner at work with MY money and bring it home. Or risk being kicked out. Do I do that to you? Would I ever? Hell no! I ask that you help out and earn things that you want. You know, the things I am NOT REQUIRED to give you. I am required to put a roof over your head. ^POINTING UP^ Look, roof! I am required to offer you food. It doesn't have to be YOUR favorites. Just nutritious food. I am required to offer you drink. There's water. I am required to give you clean, correct size, weather appropriate clothing. It doesn't have to be expensive name brand crap. YOU earn the upgrades! Am I a tough parent? Perhaps. But, why am I going to let YOU walk up to me and tell me, "I AM going to watch such and such TV show.", but tell me that you deserve it cause its YOUR right! WRONG! You want to watch it, help out a little. You wanna talk back when I ask you to pick something up? Well, don't expect a reward.
So, you know what, little girl? YOU are not the adult. YOU will not tell your parents, who pay the bills, what they are going to do and let you do. YOU will do your chores without a complaint. When YOU become the adult and move into YOUR own house, then YOU can do what YOU like. End of discussion. And now, my dear. YOU are on bathroom detail. Step to it....
*Just a brief reminder that I am pouring my heart out and please be respectful in your comments. ;)*
Linked up at Things I Can't Say