Moving is a bitch!

So I promised you the moving woes of Scrub & Company (adequately named by Scrub's husband, Big Daddy) and of our mom and dad.

Here Dickhead and I were, dodging the moving bullet by being out of town the weekend the big fucking move should have happened. And then we get a phone call.

First, Scrub's closing in TX was a fucking nightmare. The day before they were to sign the closing paperwork and move here their agent called with news that the buyer's lender fucked up and things were on hold. Their shit was already packed on the moving truck and ready to roll as they were going to close on the new home in two days. Were. That shit got put on hold, too.

So Scrub & Company rented their TX house to the buyers, stayed in a hotel down there for a few nights, then headed on up and camped out...NOT at the Bitch household. My response to her request was something like this:

"Hell to the fuck no. Sorry little sis, but your cats aren't declawed like Princess Fiona and they aren't going to tear my shit up. Get a goddamn hotel room until you can board those fur balls. Then you'll be welcome to stay here."

Scrub & Company hit up a hotel until they could work out an arrangement to rent the house they were planning to buy here. The day they moved into the house was the day our parents closed on their home and began the five hour drive here. Their plans were to rent an apartment as they wanted to be snow birds.

I was stressed as a motherfucker dealing with all this drama - yeah yeah blah blah blah, Scrub was probably the stressed one, don't judge me motherfuckers - so I went for a manicure. Halfway through it my phone rings. Against better judgment I answered.

Scrub was in a panic. Our parents apartment had been rented out from under them. The apartment manager tried the old bait and switch. The next apartment was not available for 12 more days and cost more. I waited for her to drop the bomb I knew was coming:

"Can they stay with you. The movers are only halfway done unloading our truck so they can't stay here! I'll help you help them find a place...please please please!"

I told her she better start Googling shit and hung up. Yeah, I'm a Bitch. Here's your cookie for figuring that out.

Long story short on that part, my parents stayed in my house for few nights. Each morning I handed them potential places to check out. Again, yes I know I'm a Bitch. On the 3rd day while my parents were out looking, my sister calls.

I always know the conversation is going to be interesting when she laughs nervously and says, "You're going to think I'm crazy."

She didn't have to go any further. I knew that bat shit crazy Scrub was letting our parents move into her house. The gates of heaven opened and the sun shined down on my house as I laughed with joy that they were leaving my home. True, Scrub's house is less than a mile away, but IT'S A MILE AWAY!

Having my mom and dad here was like adding fucking teenagers to my household. They didn't clean up after themselves, they ate all the goddamn food in the pantry, dishes were left on the table. This is my house, not a motherfucking Bed & Breakfast! So yeah, I've done a happy dance each night they've been gone. And while I drank heavily while they were here so I could cope with the stress, I'm now drinking heavily with relief that they've been gone two nights. TWO nights of them living with Scrub, and she's already losing it. Haha sucker! Blame yourself.

Clusterfuck moving weekend

Scrub, Big Daddy and Little Scrub will be living near me in just a couple of weeks when they leave Texas behind and close on their new house here.

Having their two favorite daughters (I'm the favorite of course, then Scrub, with our oldest sister so far off the favorite chart she's lucky to still be considered part of the damn family), in the same place proved to be too much temptation for our parents. They put their house on the market. Scrub and I weren't worried though. Nah. We thought it would take a while for them to sell since they live in the fucking middle of nowhere. But within a motherfucking month the house had already gone under contract, and the new owner wanting possession ASAP. Cue the anxiety attacks for Scrub and I. Especially for Scrub though. Our parents move here the same weekend Scrub and her family are moving. So what does the Bitch household do? Offer up our house for that weekend so everyone has someplace to stay while they close on a new house, or in our parent's case sign a rental lease.

"Are you out of your goddamn ever loving fucking mind?" yelled Dickhead when I told him.

"Relax" was my response, "That's the weekend of Bestie's baby girl's 1st birthday party. We absolutely can't miss it....so we'll be five hours away while the clusterfuck moving weekend happens. Besides, I'm previewing places for mom and dad so they can sign without seeing it and just move the fuck in."

Dickhead's lightbulb went on as his pea brain processed what that meant. "So, we won't have to help with moving weekend? Not even a little?" At my confirmation he exclaimed "Fucking A!"

That's right Dickhead, fucking A! Sorry Scrub, not sorry.

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.

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.

We may be family, but you suck!

Everyone has that one family member that is the black sheep, the drain on the family, the embarrassing STD that no one wants to talk about, the self-entitled asshole that always wants to know what's in it for them. In my family that person happens to be the oldest child - my white trash, deadbeat sister.

That's right, I called my own sister white trash. I call her a lot worse the majority of the time. Things weren't always this way between us. We used to get along, back when I was younger...before I realized how worthless she is. But then the rose-tinted glasses were stripped away and I saw her for who she really is.

While White Trash's 2nd husband was off fighting a war, the part of her that had only shown up occasionally came out full force. White Trash began neglecting her three sons in order to go drinking all the time. She lost a stable job and began bouncing around to other jobs until she became a bartender. She began sleeping around with the customers and "fell in love" with a married man. White Trash stopped paying bills on time and when her husband returned from deployment they faced foreclosure on their home. During this time our parents stepped in and tried to help them hang on to the house. When White Trash filed for divorce my parents gave her a new place to live in. It was a rental property, and it wasn't as nice as the house she had owned, but beggars can't be choosers. Our parents paid for everything (food, clothes, utilities, they gave her a cell phone!) and even gave her a car after she wrecked her own while driving drunk. Guess what? That piece of trash expected them to pay for any maintenance and even the gas for her to get places. White Trash ran the car into the ground....and demanded a replacement vehicle.

Sadly, this has gone on for years. But wait, just like an infomercial, there's more!

White Trash married her 3rd husband and they convinced our parents to let them move into the larger rental house for which they would pay rent. One guess what really happened. For the last 2 years they have leached off our parents. Do they ever say "Thanks"? Hell to the fuck no! Instead, they bad-mouth my parents behind their back. If the dependent behavior hadn't already driven a wedge between us, this surely has. I haven't sat back and watched this shit happening without saying anything. Family gatherings are tense when the money-sucking, ungrateful pile of dog turds makes an appearance.

Yes, my parents have been enablers - they have big hearts and don't want to see any of their children do without - but they are especially concerned with any impact on their grandchildren. Not helping White Trash means her three sons suffer. White Trash has played that against their sympathies.

It has reached an all-time low though. Yesterday my little sister called, upset, to share something that our dad told her specifically not to repeat to me because he knew how I'd react. Well this is a fucking doozy, Bitches, so get ready. White Trash hasn't paid rent for months - sometimes she makes a half-assed attempt - and the stress of supporting White Trash, her husband and three sons has taken a financial toll on our parents. Mom and Dad have to cancel their vacation to see my little sister and her family because the financial impact is so bad that their savings has been entirely drained. In fact, they are now juggling bills to stall foreclosure on both houses.

This pisses me off for a multitude of reasons. I'm sure I don't need to actually list them out for you. I'm sick to my stomach with rage. It's a good thing I live 5 hours away because I'd probably be in jail right now for assault on the cunt rag. I'd like to punch them both in the throat, kick her in the taco and twist off his nut sack with my bare hands. I don't give a shit that we share the same blood. My older sister is a user. A loser. A piece of dog shit on the bottom of my shoe. She deserves to be smeared in the fucking grass. My parents need to evict White Trash and her equally white trash husband and be done with them. The boys pretty much live at my parent's home and they should continue to.

You know the old saying "you can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family"? Fuck. That. To all the leaching, douche canoe, loser, white trash family members out there....YOU SUCK!

Funny Farm, population: 1

My mom and I have a strange relationship. I'm sane and she's batshit fucking crazy. If this were the late 1800's or early 1900's I would have taken her for a Sunday drive and checked her into the loony farm. I can't begin to explain how delusional she is, but I'm going to try.

Before you think I'm hating on my mother, let me just say I believe my mom is a saint in the fact that as a divorced mother of 4 kids in the 80's she did what she had to do to raise her kids. She worked 3 jobs to provide for me and my siblings. She made a lot of sacrifices. I know she loves all of us, although I'd say I'm by far the favorite. And really I can't blame her there. But I can't say we are particularly close. Hell, I can't have a 5 minute conversation with her without wanting to hang myself. In fact, any conversation with my mother is rather painful because Mom can't stay on topic. By that I mean, I could be talking about a play that the Tween is in and Mom veers off onto government conspiracy. Half the time she can't focus her thoughts. On a good day a conversation with her goes something like this:

*ring, ring* I look at my caller ID. Shit, it's Mom. *press ignore* Five minutes later *ring, ring*
Me: "Hello?"
<dead air>
Me: "Hello? Mom?"
<silence>
Mom: *clears throat three times* "Hello?"
Me: "Yes mom?"
Mom: "Who is this? Is Bitch there? I thought I was calling Bitch."
Me: "Mom, it is me."
Mom: "Oh....."
Me (getting exasperated by now): "What did you need, Mom?"
Mom: "Huh?"
Me: "MOM, Why.did.you.call?"
Mom: "Oh yeah, I wanted to ask you a question..............................."
Me: *sigh* "And that question is....?"
Mom: "Are the girls safe? Where's Baby Shit?"
Me: "Yes the girls are safe, and Baby Shit is napping in her crib."
Mom: "Are you sure? I had a premonition. She was in the bleach under the kitchen cabinet. Was the cabinet locked? Oh god! Go check on her, right now!"

In case you can't tell by that last bit of conversation, Mom thinks she's psychic. The amazing thing is, she can predict things that really happen.....but it's always after the fact. For example, an airplane crashes. Mom calls me and said, "I knew that was going to happen. I dreamed about it. If only I had seen the plane number I could have helped them by calling the airline and telling them they needed to cancel the flight. I couldn't get the plane number though. The plane didn't look quite right, it looked like a paper airplane, but I saw it crash. The meaning is the same." Right.....

In addition to being an after-the-fact psychic, Mom sees dead people. If she can't see them, she can feel their spirit. Mom has had many a conversation with ghosts that apparently lived with us over the years in various houses we moved to. Imagine a 9 year old child being told a headless ghost hangs out in the house and then leaving that kid home alone...at night. That's a fucking disaster in the making. I should know. I was that 9 year old child. 911 doesn't take you seriously when you call to report a ghost terrorizing you even though you're scared out of your fucking mind, shaking and barely controlling your bladder. Now I think "talking to dead people" is actually Mom having conversations with the voices in her head.

Mom is an expert on many things. Don't cough in front of her because she will diagnose you. And god forbid you fart and it smells funny because she'll think you're dying of something. See, Mom was once a medical transcriptionist. She wrote up doctor's diagnosis based on their voice recorded notes and now she thinks she's qualified to diagnose anyone. Oh, and while being a medical transcriptionist, she learned a lot about medications so don't get her started on big pharma's because she'll let you know what a bunch of crooks they are. This from a woman addicted to Vicodin and a few other pain meds. Irony, anyone?

Every kid thinks their parents are strange. I know my mom is strange. And crazy. Certifuckingfiable crazy. I have my suspicions that too much pot and maybe a few bad acid trips before I was born started her downward spiral. As the years have gone on, more of her mind has tripped out. Even the Tween knows Maw Maw is "different." For several years now the Tween and I have joked that Maw Maw is the Mayor of her own little Funny Farm, population: 1.

Mom is coming to visit for 5 days. She'll be here tonight and I'm not thrilled. She hasn't even arrived and already I'm looking forward to her leaving. Don't get me wrong, I love her and miss her, and I'm glad she's coming to visit because the Shits have really missed her since her January visit. But the only way I'm going to make it through the next 5 days is by heavily self-medicating. In fact, I've gotta go to the store right.this.instant so I can stock up on provisions - liquor.

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?