In all seriousness

Most of my posts have been relatively fun and lighthearted, but this morning, as I am rifling through work emails like a zombie, I decided to put adult related serious activities on hold for a sec and talk about my night. See...I tend to be a creeper on a lot of blogs, just like you guys :), and never really post any comments, but enjoy reading other people's insanity. I suppose it makes me feel a little less psycho myself. During my train ride home, I furiously flipped through a blog called "Motherhood: A Descent Into Madness", and had to end with THIS post. Not because I think her writing is bad or that the topic was inappropriate; quite the opposite actually. She gives wonderful insight to women (and men) both with and without kids, about what it's like to raise 3 of her own. This post was a reflection about something horrendous she witnessed as a child, and how it has resonated with her ever since. I completely, 100% agree with her tone and view on the topic, and it will end up being one of my own fears raising kids as well.


I managed to wake up around 11:30 and managed to stay awake until roughly 2:30am, thinking about what was written in that post, what that mother went through, and her life moving forward. I then started going off on wild tangents about my childhood, and what it was like to be tormented by other kids, and at the same time, tormenting my own mother. And then of course; feeling completely horrible and guilty; managed to sob, rather elaborately (and probably overly dramatic, like I do best), face down into my pillow. Mind you, Bayou slept comfortably, inches away and never noticed, which is probably for the best because I can't imagine what he would be thinking to find his wife crying uncontrollably over, essentially, nothing, and then trying to make sense of it in a dazed stupor. I kept thinking about how mean kids are growing up; and how, I suppose, in comparison to other people out there, my torment was really pretty light considering what it could have been. And I'm sure I did my fair share of tormenting too; not knowing any better. I remember being punched in the stomach, getting the wind knocked out of me completely, by a boy with a rat tail, in first grade, because I beat him in Hangman. And then I remember punching a boy in the face and getting sent home with a white slip, only to be grounded by my Dad, because the boy "liked" me. Other times I remember being made fun of by other girls because of my clothes. I remember one comment...."What...do you get your clothes at the Salvation Army?" I had no. idea. what that was at the time, and it sounded pretty cool to me, so I said yes. And another time a boy asking me, in roughly 4th grade, if I was a virgin. Again, I had no idea what that was, but it seemed gross, so I said "No." How was I supposed to know!!!!???? I am pretty sure I came home from school crying on a daily basis, but luckily, had a good shoulder to lean on at home with my Mom. My Dad always said, "Don't throw the first punch" and then I ended up taking Tae Kwon Do with my brother, and I think all this helped build up my self esteem a little to brush off the bad comments from other kids. I mean, I get it, I was a little weird. And still am. And I realized I was okay with that. I liked art and music and math, and yes, I wore hand me downs and resale clothing items, but kids clothes are EXPENSIVE, and we were a single income family, so you get what you get. Instead of constantly trying to fit in; I started to just kind of...be. I had friends in all different types of groups; none of them too popular or too nerdy. I just kind of meshed without being overly cliquey with anyone.

And then the part that really got the tears going; was "reminiscing" about how terribly I started to treat my mom once I hit Middle School. My frustrations with school started to creep up on me and she was my outlet. This woman, who fed, bathed, clothed, and sheltered me for a dozen years...I turned against. The woman who taught me patience while braiding my hair. The woman who always put her make up on perfectly and I watched her do it effortlessly. The crafty woman that could redecorate an entire room with little to no budget. I can't believe the names I would call her. I mean; her heart must have shattered into a million pieces. Oh Jebus; here I go with the waterworks again....get it together TBag! And the silly thing is; as terrifying as all that is; and as terrifying as throwing a child into the world to be ridiculed by other people and put down, and stomped on, and possible hurt by others....I still want it. I still want to be a part of it. If my Mom could help turn me into the person I am today; then I am positive I can do it too. Love you Mom.....I actually kind of think you may be on the creepers on this blog (Gulp!) so if you do read this; just know I love you a lot. You are one strong, beautiful lady, and I hope I have made you proud enough to overlook some of the (major) screw ups along the way.

Now everyone go and call or hug your mom right now otherwise Jebus will punch a kitty!  

How's that for sappy?