Shit ain't funny so STFU

Last week Little Shit was hospitalized with a very nasty UTI and severe constipation. I don't mean a little constipation as in she hasn't pooped for a couple of days, I'm talking 3 enemas required to clean her ass out. We've been dealing with this shit (no pun intended) for more than 2 1/2 years. To put things simply, Little Shit has suffered through 35 UTI's and ongoing bowel problems. We've been through multiple specialists and some procedures. And we still don't have any good fucking answers. My sweet little girl has spent more time on antibiotics than I have in my entire life!

Dickhead, MIL and I were discussing Little Shit's upcoming months of treatment which will include a scope up her rectum and a biopsy. For the procedure the GI specialist is going to put Little Shit out. My fucking MIL smarted off that colonoscopies don't hurt, and she should know because she's had one and they didn't put her out.

Shut the fuck up you stupid fucking twatwaffle troll.

Oh, you had something slipped up your ass and it didn't hurt? Should I infer from that you've had a lot of experience at things getting shoved up your rectal cavity? You want a goddamn cookie? I've had my own colonoscopies. I know how this shit works. You don't remember the insertion because they give you drugs. Not to mention we're talking about a 5 year old kid—her granddaughter!

MIL wants something up her ass...she's going to find my foot planted so far up it she'll be wiping between her shoulder blades when she takes a shit. Her opinion and cuntsicle comments are not appreciated.

If you'd like to read more about Little Shit's issues, read last year's blog post: How fucking dare you!?

Thirteen years ago life shit all over me

Tween Shit is no longer! She's 13 muthafuckin' years old now. Bend me over and ass fuck me with a rake because I have a feeling that would be less painful than the upcoming teen years.

13 years ago my crotch fruit sprang forth from my veej. Well, actually she was cut out of my stomach, but you get the idea. 13 years ago my life was forever changed when I brought that sweet little baby that resem...bled a wrinkled old man home from the hospital...where she projectile vomited and squirted runny shit all over me.

13 years ago + the pregnancy months of which the first trimester was pure hell with horrible morning sickness, my weekends of binge drinking and dancing on the bar tables became me fumbling through the darkened hallway to stuff a sore nipple into the crying asshole's mouth.

13 years of my life that I wouldn't trade for anything. Except now that TEEN Shit has arrived, I question if the parental shit can be reversed. Obviously I can't shove Tween back into my vaginal opening - she didn't rip out of it so there's no way I'd attempt shoving anything like that back up there - but maybe I can be excused from the following years and re-enter when she's graduating college.

Where the fuck is my magic lantern....and no Dickhead, you can't convince me that rubbing your dick will make a genie appear to give me a wish that's granted when his magic juice explodes. That's how I got in this predicament 13 years ago with my ex-asshole.

Happy Birthday, TEEN Shit. Here's to many more awesome fucking memories. Give your dad all the hell. Mmmmkay?

The truths of Christmas according to Little Shit

After eating dinner out for Dickhead's birthday, we decided to go look at Christmas lights. Dickhead, myself, all three little shits and Nana piled into my car and headed out.

Little Shit launched into a medley of Christmas songs as if we hadn't just seen her train wreck Christmas program last week.

"You know Dasher, and Blitzen and Cupid and Dancer and Conner and Ditzen" sang Little Shit....hey mommy, do you remember when Glo-bug used to come over and bring bagels and her son Connor came to play? But he's a human, not a reindeer." At my nod because I couldn't speak from choking on laughter, Little Shit continued on with her song ..."Rudolph the red nosed reindeer." Baby Shit punctuated the song with random "damn its" but Little Shit got the last of the lyrics right.

At the end of the song Little Shit matter-of-factly told us all that she sang that song so the "Tween would know that reindeer are real and the leader of them is Rudolph and HIS NOSE IS RED!"

The entire car erupted in laughter. Then Little Shit told us it was "time to get home because it's late for little girls" and she didn't want to miss Santa coming if she didn't get to bed soon enough "since he's bringing a kid's luxury two-seater electric car for me."

I don't know what muthafuckin shit the Tween has been telling her little sisters, but considering that it isn't even 8:00pm here....kids in bed sounds like a grand fucking plan.

Clusterfucked Christmas Program

The entire family just returned home from Little Shit's Pre-K Christmas program. We arrived early and snagged seats right in the middle of the front row. While we waited for the program to start, Baby Shit crawled around on the gym floor, danced and sang her own version of several popular Christmas songs. A few times, in her sugar-hyped state, she would jump in the air and fall on her ass. Baby Shit would announce her clumsiness by shouting "Oh dammit! I falled down!" To which I'd hide my face on Dickhead's shoulder in an attempt to disguise my giggles. A grandma approached with her grandson who was Baby Shit's age so they could play. The first time Baby Shit fell and yelled out "oh dammit I felled" the grandma tittered, but let the kids keep playing. After the third time she caught on that Baby Shit really just liked yelling "oh dammit." So she grabbed her grandson and hastily retreated to the safety of their seats....several rows away.

After all the parents, siblings and grandparents of 64 pre-k kids were jammed in the gym, our precious little shits made their grand entrance.

Cue the gong show...while it was a cute clusterfuck of 4-5 year old kids and teachers in their pajamas dancing and singing songs, they barely knew the words. But it was entertaining. Especially when Baby Shit joined in—at the top of her lungs—and made up words when she didn't know them. Taking a cue from Baby Shit, the Pre-K kids started making up words and the entire program became a fucking train wreck.

Best Christmas program ever. Ever.

Mommy's "meanness"

I was sitting on the crapper so of course Baby Shit and Little Shit barged in to disturb my sacred "pooping in peace" time. An unopened tampon was on the floor by my feet.

Baby Shit snatched it up and asked "Wha's dat mommy?" I reached for it, telling her it was mommy's.

"Dis a pen?" inquired Baby Shit. She backed away a little when I swiped at it. "Dis a color?" she asked louder, inching toward the door and bumping into Little Shit who grabbed it from her.

"No, Baby Shit, this is what mommy uses to soak up her extra meanness," explained Little Shit. As she handed the tampon back to me Little Shit further explained, "Then she drinks wine to make her happy the meanness is going away. Right mommy?"

Nailed it, Little Shit. Nailed it.

Parent of the Year Award...stomp it out!

Little Shit, Baby Shit and I were on the floor where I was reading a book to them. Apparently Baby Shit found the book boring because she got up and started marching around, playing with dolls and doing some more marching. I was focused on reading the book, and the racket she made became that droning noise in the background that parents associate with another child talking but block it out.

Dickhead came out of the kitchen and asked if I was listening to what Baby Shit was saying. Of course not, but I tuned in at that. The droning noise became.... "Sonovabitch! *stomping feet as Baby Shit marched* ...SonnnnovaBITCH! ...Sonovabiiittch!" *stomp stomp*

Dickhead and I stared at one another with our eyes bugging out of our heads. Of course Nana walked in on the loudest "SONOVABITCH!"

I covered my face with the book and tried to smother my giggles. Sonovabiiittch!" *stomp stomp*

Little Shit kept trying to pull the book down and finally asked me if I was laughing because the book was funny. That threw me into a giggling fit.

"Sonovabiiittch!" *stomp stomp*

Dickhead finally distracted Baby Shit and the Sonovabiiittch!" *stomp stomp* train ended. When I lowered the book and uncovered my face Nana was glaring at me. WTF? Like I'm the only one that says 'Son of a bitch!' in our household.

Nana: "Well, she sure does have some colorful language. Just the other day I said 'shit' and who do you think repeated it?" Another glare.

Me: "Well, shit, if you stopped cussing all the damn time maybe my girls wouldn't have the vocabulary of a fucking sailor."

Baby Shit: "SHIT!" Of course that earned me another glare.

In related news, I've already opened my first wine bottle of the day.

Let's fucking go!

I was sitting on the shitter after sneaking in the garage after work, minding my own business and trying to DO my business when I heard a shocked Tween yell "You can't say that!" to Little Shit who immediately burst into tears complete with uncontrollable sobbing. Then I heard the Tween trying to shush her only for the volume of sobbing to increase to an uncomfortable level - like a goddamned siren. Fuck me. My peaceful, toilet clogging shit needed to be put on hold. Like a responsible mom I pinched the loaf and headed into the living room to determine what the problem was.

All hell was breaking loose when I interrupted. After shutting everyone up I asked the Tween what the problem was. "SHE said a VERY VERY bad word!" The Tween accused and crossed her arms smugly waiting for me to flip my shit. I looked at Little Shit who was glaring daggers at her older sister and looking like she wanted to rip her head off and crap down her throat. Whoa! My toddler looked E-V-I-L. After some coaxing Little Shit finally told me what went down.

"Tween said we were going outside to play on the swing set but she wouldn't go outside because she was playing her iPad. I kept asking really nice, mommy. I asked really nice." Cue the big eyes tearing up from Little Shit and an exasperated sigh from the Tween. "So I told her we needed to go and tried to grab her iPad and she pushed me so I grabbed her and said..." at this pout Little Shit juts her chin out and stands her ground like zero fucks are given "let's fucking go!" At the look on my face Little Shit's zero fucks attitude falters..."is that bad mommy? I heard you tell daddy that earlier."

I'm in my room now with a bottle of wine and a straw, coping with the circus I live.

I kissed a...boy?..and I liked it

The Tween was searching her bag for Chapstick while we drove to meet her dad. As she applied it she looked at me and said, "I don't think guys should put Chapstick on in public. It's really disturbing. They need to do that in private."

This surprised me so I asked why she had a problem with Chapstick and guys. It's not like we were talking about guys wearing lip gloss or lipstick. "Well this one guy at daddy's church applies his Chapstick during service and he's all like <mimics a loose woman trying to be sexy by applying lipstick>."

I busted out laughing and told her that wasn't fair to all guys that one man's technique grossed her out. The Tween rolled her eyes at me because I obviously didn't get it.

When we met up with my ex-husband and were discussing upcoming events for the Tween, she interrupted us and asked, "Daddy, don't you think guys shouldn't apply Chapstick in public?" I started laughing at his perplexed look and gave a brief explanation.

Then, he looked at the Tween and said, "If a man wearing Chapstick bothers you then I better not tell you what I did last night while playing a game with a group of [church] friends." Of course the Tween perked up at this and, knowing my bible thumping ex and his hypocritical tendencies, my interest was also piqued.

My ex-husband proceeds to tell our daughter that a challenge in the game was for him to kiss someone else playing, but not his spouse. (What the hell kind of game were they playing??) Rather than kissing one of the other women playing and upsetting his own wife, he decided to kiss one of the guys. The Tweens eyes were bugging out of her head..."OMG DADDY! You kissed a GUY?!?"

He confirmed he did and then explained he kissed the guy's neck...near his ear. What. the. fuck? Did he really think that was better than a quick peck on the lips or the cheek?? A kiss on the neck is pretty intimate. Then the ex-hole floored the Tween with, "In hindsight I should have taken the point deduction rather than do the kiss."

It was obvious this disturbed the Tween because she pulled me to the side and whispered furiously to me. As we headed back to the ex-hole I pulled some lip gloss out of my purse and asked if his boyfriend prefers cherry or mint flavor. The Tween thought it was funny....the ex not so much.

Boo you!

After tucking Baby Shit into bed, Little Shit, the Tween and I went to "Boo" 2 houses in the neighborhood.  

In case you don't know what it means to "Boo" someone, during the month of October you sneak up to a house and leave a bag of treats on the doorstep then ring the doorbell and run like hell.  

With my college football team winning today you could say I've done a little (lot) celebrating (drinking) so I decided to keep to the shadows and let the kids do the tricking. The people in the 1st house we hit must have been anticipating a booing (or had been ding-dong-ditched a lot) because the Tween and Little Shit barely cleared the reach of the porch light when the front door was thrown open and the dad and 2 kids came barreling outside. The dad looked around for a few minutes until the kids noticed the bag of treats. As soon as the front door shut the Tween and Little Shit ran across the front yard IN THE LIGHT and the dad threw the door back open, yelling "caught ya little bastards!" My kids froze. Absolutely froze. I stayed back (sipping my beer), and listened as the Tween thought fast on her feet and responded to his question of whether or not they were the culprits. She gave a pretty convincing explanation of why her and Little Shit happened to be there right at that same moment. And then....Little Shit started giggling. Then it was full blown laughter. She looked at the neighbor and blew their cover with "Tween is just kidding! It was us!!!" More giggles from Little Shit as Tween yelled at her that she couldn't say that. I took another sip of beer and waited until the girls joined me. 

 As we headed to the next house, both girls talking excitedly about how they just got busted, I heard my phone beep and checked my text messages..."Did that scare the kids or what? I thought [Tween] was going to crap herself when she was busted for lying." Ah yes, it's so much fun when the neighbors play along.

Little Shit's swim lesson

Little Shit started swim lessons this week - 2 mornings per week. I wasn't able to go today since I had a conflict with work meetings so Nana took her. Apparently Little Shit was beside herself upset when the instructor was aggressive with her and pulled her into the water. I got a text message play-by-play from Nana who watched from the "parent's room." Once the lesson ended and they were in the car, Nana asked Little Shit how she liked swim lessons. Little Shit replied that she hated it. When Nana asked her why she hated it Little Shit replied, "That crazy bitch pulled me under water and scared the crap out of me, Nana." According to Nana that response startled her and made her jump a curb in her Cadillac. Trying to not flip out over Little Shit's language, Nana asked her why she would say such a thing. Little Shit promptly replied with, "that's what mommy would have said about that crazy bitch!"

....I'm in time out this evening.

How fucking dare you!?

Heads are going to roll at Little Shit's pre-school today. She goes 2 days a week, but is usually lucky to make it both days due to some health issues. When we selected the pre-school, we were very clear with her teachers and the directors on how Little Shit needs extra attention around potty matters because of the health issues - 25 UTI's in a 1 1/2 year period and bowel problems, multiple specialists and some procedures. She has spent more time on antibiotics than I have in my entire life!

Luckily, Little Shit's primary teacher had previously been a nurses assistant and was somewhat familiar with Little Shit's problems and understood the importance of our directions and what we asked. We felt lucky that the school and teachers were going to be accommodating - you'd be surprised at how many were not equipped or even willing to understand and meet our needs.

Lately when Little Shit has been dropped off at class, her primary teacher hasn't been there. Come to find out, she was transferred to another room. That wouldn't be a big deal except for what happened on Friday. We got home and I took Little Shit to the bathroom only to find dried poop on her bottom and in her pull up. When asked about it, she said she had pooped on the potty at school, but the teacher refused to wipe her. The teacher had told her that she was a big girl and needed to wipe on her own. Little Shit was upset over all of it because it made her feel like a baby that she doesn't wear big girl panties at school and needs help. Yes, Little Shit is 4. Yes, she is in pull ups. Yes, she is potty trained. HOWEVER, due to her medical issues she can't always make it to the potty so she gets limited time in big girl panties at home. And due to her medical issues, she is not to wipe herself when she poops.

I am so fucking pissed about the attitude of the new teacher. My 4 year old is not in pull ups because she has lazy parents that don't want her wearing big girl panties. My 4 year old has endured so much pain with infections and sickness, confusion at being poked and prodded by doctors, and shame at not being able to control herself like the other kids. How fucking DARE the teacher make her feel bad!?!

And it's not just the teacher's attitude. Other parents see my 4 year old in pull ups and judge me and my husband. They wonder why we wouldn't have potty trained our daughter by now. You can feel the condescending and superior attitude as they share how their own kid was potty trained early on. Kudos to them. I don't need to fucking explain my child's problems for them. For the rest of you reading this, when you see something you don't understand, something like this, think before you judge. Unless it's someone breastfeeding a 7 year old. Then judge all you want because I'll be doing the same.

Don't fuck with my kid or I'll fart on you

After Principal Douchebag ignored me and taunted me about the Tween's three day In School Suspension (ISS) over spraying fart spray in the school hallway, I scheduled a meeting through his secretary. I arrived a few minutes early for our appointment, but was kept waiting almost thirty damn minutes so the asshole could get off on his continual power trip.

When the cock bag sauntered out with a smirk on his face to introduce himself I stared at him completely unimpressed. "Hi, I'm Doctor Douchebag. You must be Bitch, the Tween's mom." Oh yeah, he stressed "doctor." While the other principals are Mr. or Mrs., he's the only fucktard in the massive middle school that insists on people addressing him as "doctor." Just for the record, anytime some asshole tries to make me feel inferior by inserting his education status (yay for you on getting that doctorate), I will go out of my way to ignore it. "Yes, Mister Douchebag. I'm Bitch. Let's have a chat."

After seating me on the visitor side of his desk, on a student's classroom chair, Mr. Douchebag settled down on his side of the desk and stared down at me. All of the nicety bullshit aside, I was ready to get down to business. I informed Mr. Douchebag that I had read the school's policy on disruptive behavior, detention, ISS and Out of School Suspension (OSS). Based on what the Tween admitted to doing, the punishment was severe. I told him I realized that the punishment has already been served, but my concern is the impact on her school record. During the discussion, Mr. Douchebag admitted the Tween's fart spray incident was just middle school silliness. "Well, gee, let me look in this handbook for discipline of 'silliness.' Hmmm. How about that. I don't see anything. From what you're telling me, at most this is disruptive behavior. And not even serious disruptive behavior. According to the policy, for a first offense, that means one hour of detention. Not THREE days of ISS."

As we debated over the complexity of the policy, which I held in my hand in black and white, Mr. Douchebag confirmed my assessment that he was on a power trip with his "latitude of discretion" in handing out punishment. Hold. the. fuck. up. It's within my latitude of discretion to determine how far your cock sack is going to get shoved inside you when I kick you in the nuts.

When it became increasingly clear that Mr. Douchebag and I were not going to come to a reasonable conclusion to his fucktardedness, I did what any other parent would have done. Without attracting attention, I slide a can of fart spray from my purse and down by my side where I let off one quiet and fucking stinky ass can fart. While the smell permeated the room I kept a straight face, waiting for Mr. Douchebag to acknowledge the skunk-mixed-with-other-road kill stench. With a little gag and "You should see someone about that problem," I dismissed myself from the meeting.

Lesson Learned: You're a Douche

Last week the Tween received 3 days of in-school suspension (ISS!). THREE DAYS. What.the.hell. did she do to get THREE days? My child who is a straight "A" student. My child who is popular with her friends and most of the teachers (although her sarcasm can get her in trouble at times). My sarcastically funny child who at most has only had to miss recess before middle school. WTF did she do??

A friend of hers brought a can of fart spray – yeah, there really is such a thing – to school and they were letting off farts. Stinky farts. Ass in a can. And blaming some of the boys for passing gas. And she gets THREE days of ISS for this?? Seriously? Too top it off, I later find out that it didn't happen in class as I was told by the principal, who was justifying three days due to disruptive class behavior. Oh no, I find out from the teacher that Tween and her friend were having the fun between class bells in the hallway.

How did the principal reply to my exclamation (string of profanities) of shock? "Well, Mrs. Bitch, there are kids that have asthma and allergies that this could have caused issues for." No shit Sherlock. Tween has some of the worst asthma you've ever seen and it didn't cause any issues for her. And if you're going to play that card with me then ban all scented lotions and perfumes from the fucking building. Oh yeah, and your cologne. That scent is so strong you could choke a whore in a whore house with it. Seriously though, lighten the fuck up. Grab the stick that's lodged in your ass and give it a good yank.

Of course I argued against three days. I told Principal StickUpHisAss that one day would be sufficient. He said he'd possibly cut it to two days provided the Tween had good behavior during ISS. What is this...jail? And you're the fucking parole board? When I called the second day to confirm there would be no day three of ISS hell, Principal Douche wasn't available and the asshole never returned my call. Since I couldn't get to the school to discuss it face-to-face, the Tween served three days.

But, at the end of the second day the Tween wasn't taking her punishment seriously anyway. Too many adults had laughed (not her parents!) in front of her over the incident and exclaimed that it was crap that she got three days over ass in a can. Wonderfuckingful. The asshole principal's attempt at making an example out of a straight "A" student just backfired. Instead of teaching the Tween to be more responsible and that ISS isn't something you want to be in, it taught her that the principal is a fucktarded cock sack who isn't to be taken seriously.

On Saturday a letter detailing the terrible ass spray travesty arrived from the principal. Underneath the three day prison sentence he'd highlighted and underlined "2 days is not an option!". That fucking chicken shit! It didn't save him from a visit from me. But that's another story....

The evil stepparent

The other day I was listening to a conversation between two women. One was complaining about how difficult it is to like her stepchildren. Since my oldest, the Tween, is from my first marriage and my ex and I are both remarried, my ears perked up. As I listened, I realized with much aggravation that she was bitching about two small kids. The more she whined about how insensitive they were, how they didn't listen to her, what a pain in the ass the mother was and the ungrateful brats she was raising, the more my ears burned and I struggled to keep my opinions to myself. After all, I didn't really know either of these women.

My breaking point was when the self-involved twat waffle said she couldn't believe how little support her husband gave her, and expected her to keep making an effort to develop a relationship with two kids that obviously didn't like her. Are you fucking kidding me?! My head spun around like Linda Blair from The Exorcist, and I butted into the conversation. "I've been sitting here listening to the diarrhea flowing from your mouth for the last half hour. I'm disgusted at what I've heard. You're talking about two kids! You are the adult. You have the power over how you act and react to the kids. You have the opportunity to develop a bond to strengthen your family. And you have the power to influence what those kids think about you. Do something about the situation instead of acting like a fucking victim." 

Nothing raises my fur more than hearing someone bitch and moan about their terrible stepchildren. When you marry a person who has kids from a previous relationship, you're getting a package deal. It's not like you didn't know that! The kids are never, I repeat NEVER, going away. And the younger the child, the more your attitude will shape and influence how you're perceived. So what if the ex-wife/husband is a complete asshole and you think they're turning their kid(s) against you? Pull the stick out of your ass! We're talking about children. You're the adult so act like one. Don't take your anger out on the kid. The child doesn't deserve your contempt. And the kid definitely doesn't deserve you making your spouse choose between you. If your spouse is any kind of person at all, the kid will win.

I was once really good friends with this funny, smart-ass woman we nicknamed "Red" for her short temper. While I was going through my divorce, Red was marrying a man with a 4 year old daughter. Red tolerated the little girl, who was with them about 50% of the time, but trash talked the kid even when she was in another room of the house. Since I had a small child who would one day have stepparents, Red's attitude really began to get on my nerves. She talked about her stepdaughter like she was an evil entity, like she consciously chose to piss Red off. When Red and her husband had their own daughter together, she began excluding the first daughter from everything including family pictures. She made her husband take pictures with his oldest child alone. How fucking insecure  and jealous are you to treat a kid like that? What kind of monster destroys a child's developing self-esteem by treating her like she's nobody? Red and I came to words over it. I'd lost all respect for her at this point and I didn't want anything to do with her anymore. Our friendship was over. And only a few years passed before I heard from mutual friends that Red and her husband were divorcing. I can't say I was surprised.

I've been very fortunate that my own daughter didn't have to live through hell with an insecure adult who couldn't stand her. My ex-husband remarried before I did, and his wife is great. She loves the Tween and has always treated her like her own. When they had their own kids, nothing changed with how she acted toward my daughter. My ex-husband and I are divorced for a reason, but we share a beautiful girl who deserves the best of either of us and who deserves the best of what our partners have to offer. As far as we're concerned my husband and the Tween's step-mom are just as important in her life as we are. Even when we don't agree on something, we put our differences aside and present a united front to the Tween. People usually remark on how refreshing it is to see all of us sit together and talk at the Tween's sporting events and how we all four show up for parent-teacher conferences.

I realize not every situation will be as amicable as what I have with my ex. But as I said to the twat waffle earlier, be the adult! Don't be an asshole. Put your feelings aside and do what's best for the kids.

Your past is not your future

Disclaimer: This week’s blog isn’t a hardcore Bitch session.

Sometimes something will happen and get you to thinking about how far you’ve come in life. That was the case for me the other day. It had me reflecting on the differences between my childhood and what I’ve been able to provide for my own children. 

My parents divorced when I was only 1 year old. My mother worked 3 jobs to support me and my 3 siblings, while my bio-dad moved out of the states and rarely communicated with us.  We lived in public housing and food stamps kept food in our fridge.  When I was 7 my mother married a real piece of shit, an abusive alcoholic asshole. He could never hold down a job, but my mom kept working 3 jobs to keep our family going. Everyone seemed to think my stepdad was a cool man – he could really turn on the charm sometimes. They would have been shocked to know how often he abused my mother, or beat me and my youngest sister with belts, fly swatters or even his hands. It leaves a hell of an impression on a young child to see her 3 year old sister gagged and tied up in her bedroom just so “daddy” could get some quiet time with another bottle of beer while mommy was working. Many nights my mom would lock me and my little sister in our bedroom before the asshole returned from the bar. Her instructions were always the same, “Don’t come out, no matter what you hear.” She tried to shield us from the worst of it yet I still saw him hold a shotgun to her head and throw knives at her. My mother tried many times to leave my stepdad, but it wasn’t until I was 14 that she was finally successful.  

When the asshole was finally out of the picture I started getting into trouble with the law. Go figure! I got into so much trouble that I spent a month in juvenile detention and then was removed from my mother’s home at the age of 15. Luckily, some family members stepped up and took me in so I wouldn’t be placed in a foster home. This was a major turning point for me. I changed schools, started participating in school activities and got back on the honor roll. I began to realize that I had been acting out in all of my anger and years of pain and frustration. I resolved that I would live a better life and that one day I would provide an environment for my own kids that would be so completely different than what I experienced.

I think this was really the start of my “Bitch lifestyle”. It was at this time that I knew I would never let another person treat me so horribly. It was when I knew I would always protect those that mattered to me. It was when I knew I would not become my past. I would do what it took to rise above everything I had been through.

My adult life has been so different from my childhood. I’m successful in my career. I have one college degree completed and I’m almost done with another. I have a great husband and three wonderful daughters who I instill with my beliefs of being strong, independent and determined women who won’t let someone kick them down. At the same time I teach them compassion for others. I give them opportunities to become confident in who they are.

So many people allow their past to become their future. They repeat patterns and stay with what is familiar to them. It doesn’t have to be this way. What happened in the past is not who you are in the future. It should shape who you become, but you have the power to make decisions that will change the course of your life. I didn’t have an easy childhood, but I don’t use that as an excuse as others do. I use my past as motivation for my future. You should, too. It’s never too late to be the person you want to be.   

Don't be a shitty parent

You know what I think is shitty parenting? Allowing your child, who doesn't even meet the age requirement of 13+, to have a Facebook account. First, you've taught your child it's OK to lie about their age - on the internet. Way to go, dipshit. Second, not even monitoring what your child is looking at on Facebook. Come on parents! Facebook makes it extremely easy to spy on other people's activities with little effort - it shows up right in your damn newsfeed!

The Tween has a friend (I'll call her Nelly to protect her) who signed up for a Facebook account when she was 10 years old. The mom rationalized to me that it was because she was tired of Nelly logging into her own account to play games, and she didn't want her daughter to see inappropriate things. Nelly's mom helped her set up her account and suggested me as a friend for her daughter. Not smart! The posts on my personal page are geared to a more mature audience since my friends are exactly that - mature. Because I wanted to be front and center when this stupid fucking idea backfired, I accepted the friend request and immediately assigned Nelly to a list that would never see my status updates. Eventually another girl in our little group of friends talked her mom into letting her join Facebook. And that little girl also sent me a friend request. Another child accepted and added to the special list with Nelly. How do you think this went over in my house? The Tween repeatedly asked me if she could have an account "because all of my friends do!" Uhm...hell to the fuck no!

Nelly is now about to turn 12. I've watched her online activities for almost 2 years now. It started out innocent enough. Over the last 6 months I've seen her behavior change. She apparently has figured out how to add people to her own special lists because her mom isn't seeing her status updates, which tend to be very suggestive in nature. Nelly has added over 200 friends. Many of which appear to be older. These may be friends of her parent's, just like me, but if so her interactions with them are inappropriate. Also, I often see that Nelly has liked pages with names and content that compete with my own "Bitch" is a Lifestyle. I see her sharing their photos and commenting on adult humor. Granted, those page admins should have set age restrictions as I have done in the Lifestyle, but the ultimate responsibility falls to Nelly's parents. Where the hell are they? Why aren't they monitoring what their child is doing? Even if they don't see her status updates, they can still see her activity. Are you slightly curious as to how Nelly lists her education in her "About" section? She apparently attends the "University of Sexy".

Guess who started talking to my Tween about sexual things? You bet...Nelly. I found the texts on my daughter's phone. When I told the mother, she laughed it off and then said it wasn't as bad as I made it sound. She also tried to deflect fault on me for “snooping” on my kid. Oh hell no! Bitch, the fucking texts are right there in the incoming messages on my daughter's phone! Just because your kid was smart enough to delete her messages doesn't mean it didn't happen!

For those of you that are going to get self-righteous and say that parents shouldn't "spy" on their children and shouldn't invade their privacy, turn your ass around right now and leave. I don't want to fucking hear it. Parents are meant to guide their children, to protect them and to make sure they're not being introduced to things that take away their childhood innocence. Parents aren't meant to be their kid's best friend. And parents sure as hell shouldn't introduce their child to an environment without monitoring them.

You can bet your ass I know what my kids are doing. I'm raising them and I'm going to make sure they follow my rules. Most importantly, I'm going to make sure I protect them and their innocence as much as I can.

Parents, pull your head out of your asses. Watch your kids. Make sure you know what they are up to. Don't jump into the running for the shitty parent award. You're going to hear it from me the instant your shitty parenting starts affecting my family.

Now who's showing some bad behavior?

My mother-in-law is not amused right now. She's forever trying to refine my kids - probably because they take after me. The toddler said (very proudly) "I just farted, mommy!" MIL said, "Tooted. 'Fart' is not a nice word. Little girls don't say 'fart'." With hands on her hips the little shit looked at my MIL and said very matter-of-factly "It was LOUD, Nana. It was a FART." Score one for the little shit.

Fast forward a few days later...

The mother-in-law is fuming. First we had the whole "toot vs. fart" thing over the weekend where my toddler scored some major (fart) points. Tonight I told the little shit it was bath time so she stripped down naked in the living room and yelled "Nana, can you see my butt crack?!" Luckily I was in the kitchen and able to disguise my loud guffaw with running water and a ill-timed cough. The Dickhead started laughing until his mom started in on how ugly that was and what bad manners my toddler was displaying. Then he started getting on to our toddler. Now hold the fuck up! The little shit was only repeating something she heard one of us say. And I guarantee "butt crack" was a lot less worse than the night before when the MIL said the Dickhead needed a butt plug for all of his tooting. And of course last night the little shit was running around all night saying "butt plug" while Nana cackled. You can't laugh at one thing and get mad at her for the other. Now who's showing some bad behavior?