This is the truth: There will be times in your life when just the Big Girl Panties ( Big Boy Boxers) aren’t going to cut it.
Some battles are too important. Any battle for YOURSELF, is the MOST important.
Find those Sparkly BGP, as Righteous Momma described them the other day, and learn to love and fearlessly be you!
Happy Monday Lovies!
PS- I just HAD to….
Happy Friday Lovies! This week was interesting.
Father’s Day went well, Babu got a big banner sign and the ability to stay in bed while The Destroyer and I fetched breakfast. We worked around the house and then went out to Mexican followed by a trip to see Madagascar 3. Afro Circus has been stuck in my head all week.
Tuesday brought the 10 year Anniversary of my Dad’s death and a trip to a park for lunch with my Mother, requested by her. I haven’t spoken much to my family since Thanksgiving of 2010. There was rudeness from my youngest brother towards Babu as well as a ridiculous scene where my Mother threw my then 8 year old of out her house for being rude to the same Uncle. I sent MiniMe to apologize as we were all awkwardly leaving and when she came out I asked her what Grandma had to say, her response was “nothing”. I love my Mother, but she and my brothers are not exactly well versed or very comfortable with emotional things. I have huge issues with my childhood, most of them are resolved, but isn’t it funny how in moments of anger or misunderstandings we can so easily fall back on our deeply implanted knee jerk reactions? My Mother and not being “hers” and thereby not treated as well or loved as much as my brothers is an easy go to for me. My solution to that pain has always been to get as far away from “those people” as humanly possible. Why bother to wish for better relationships that others are seemingly incapable of providing. Then there was a small scene at my youngest brothers wedding reception, the only time we have seen them, where my Mother repeated more than once that she couldn’t believe we came. This was after the woman called me and asked us to please sit in the front pew with her so she wouldn’t be alone. We got up when they released our table for food and quietly walked out the door without a word. I was not going to be a part of something that would mar my new SIL’s day, even if I never talk to her. I vowed to be completely done at that point. I’ve forced ( yes forced, because they are mad too) the kids to make cards on important occasions, we still send gifts for things. There have been a few awkward drop offs of stuff for the kids to Babu and an email from her here and there. The past 2 years have been kind of nice being able to celebrate any holiday however I choose and simply leave them to their own devices. I didn’t really like the broken relationship, but very much enjoyed the freedom that went with it.
She sent me an email over 3 weeks ago and requested Tuesday’s lunch. I took a few days to think about it and replied with a simple yes. Not knowing what her current emotional state was, I assumed it was going to be something confrontational, or some big news like she was getting remarried, or cutting me out of her will etc.. It was none of those things. We spent about 30 minutes making small talk about my oldest brothers impending wedding, to which my family is not invited, what the kids and extended family members are up to etc. I always prep myself for the worst with my family, it is the one group of people that can strip me of my confidence. As we were standing in the parking lot ready to leave she asked me, ” So Laura, can we be friends again?” My response, “ We can try it, but you’re going to have to make up to the kids on your own.” She seemed surprised they were mad at her. Then I spent the next however many minutes getting my points out as quickly as possible. This is how I have discussion with my Mom, she isn’t comfortable with all that open emotional sharing. We covered the Thanksgiving incident, turns out she had hugged MiniMe and told her it was ok, as well as didn’t mean to be snotty at the wedding. I told her we probably should of discussed it after it happened and made a barrage of points about how things would have to be moving forward because I am no longer a little girl I am a grown woman of 41. Before she held up her hand with the stop it’s too much signal. In the past, I would of pushed for a reconciliation of some kind on my own, the last two years I decided why bother, let them come to me, as you can see it took her a while.
While standing in the parking lot we covered me telling her I’ve forgiven her for anything she did to me as a kid, because it made me who I am and I now have a MUCH better understanding of how hard parenting really is. Every Mothers screws up, some more than others. I told her I recognized that finding out I was molested had to rock her, but there wasn’t anything she could of done about it. Given our relationship when I was 10-11 I was never going to tell her, for fear she would blame or punish me. I explained my dislike of the way everyone in my family handled emotions, we don’t have them, show them and we especially don’t talk about them, except me. I can’t keep things in, I have to get things out to feel better. It is easy, sometimes too easy, to tell exactly how I am feeling.
The family dynamic was different for my Dad and I. It took my husband to point out to me several years ago that the rest of family was jealous of the relationship I had with my Dad. That Vitamin E was different with me than with anyone else. I honestly had never figured that out, after I pondered for a long while I agreed he was right. I slung this back to my Mom on Tuesday with something along the lines of Dad was emotionally connected to me and I’m tired of the rest of you hating me for it. “You were the only one who could ever communicate with him”, was Mom’s response. It’s because at my core I am my Dad. I got my emotions from my ‘real” Mother but the absolute rest of me is all Vitamin E. What wasn’t passed along in DNA was taught to me by example and living with him. He wasn’t a perfect Dad, there are some areas the man was sorely lacking, but as an adult and a parent now I get it. He was human. He loved me, that was enough.
I apologized to my Mom for not reaching out to her and clarifying what had transpired between she and MiniMe. MiniMe inherited my emotional landscape and I was partially trying to protect her from “them”. I apologized for being overly sensitive to her remarks at the wedding. But seriously if people would just have mature adult open honest communications , a lot of bad feelings and unneeded drama could be avoided in relationships. It was when I got to the, “I’m not saying there can’t be any more inappropriate reactions (I’m the first person to recognize you cannot control how you feel about something upon initial reaction), but if things like this happen in the future we are going to have to communicate about it”. That’s when she reached her breaking point and put her hand up. In the past I would of gotten pissed off that she was shutting me down and pushed harder, but now I can recognize that she just can’t go any further. There is long mostly ugly with some bright spots history there, but she is trying and as long as she is trying this adult can try too. I hope I don’t end up regretting this, but I am glad for the closure and renewed peace.
Yesterday, out of the blue, I was suddenly ready to write and send a long overdue email of forgiveness and owning my screw ups to a friend who horribly violated my trust in multiple ways during the train wreck summer. I just wanted her to know that I no longer carried hate and anger because I could recognize my personal missteps and the situational issues of the relationship. I shared my apologies, let her have it in a respectful way because I’d never done that other than to throw her out of my life when things first came to light, professed my wish for her to have her best life possible because she deserves it and signed off. Shorty once said that losing a bestie is worse than a boyfriend break-up, I agree and this was my break-up closure letter. My karmic cleanser.
It’s been a banner week for the BGP, two pieces of open emotional business handled, which is good because I need that extra room to tackle my running plan for the next 4 weeks and the continued adventures in ADHD going on in my home. Hope you had a great week and plans to enjoy a fabulous weekend.
I had to/chose to bail 5 minutes into my 8 mile run last night. My left foot hurt from the first step, and even though it does it sometimes at the beginning of every run it usually goes away, doesn’t bother me for the rest of the run and I have minimal pain afterward. This is in fact the same foot injury that I swore many weeks ago I would go see Dr. hate for, but never did. It is also the same foot that hurt for a few days after last week’s 12 miles. I’m babying it while we are in taper. I have also not gone to a sports doc about my chronic muscle weakness. I have a race to run in less than 10 days; forecast is 73 and possible rain, I don’t want to miss. The next race isn’t until July 22 and if I have a boot or other some such nonsense I will have the luxury of the time to do that and still train for the Rock N Roll. I managed to get through all of Monday’s very windy 4.0 with no pain and no walking. My muscles actually felt pretty good yesterday. I ate well, I stretched, I hydrated. I drank my Herbalife Prolong and I packed my cherry extreme sport beans. I felt emotionally great and ready to run. I bailed 2 miles into the last 8.0 b/c of muscle and joint soreness. I was going to conquer this 8.0. In spite of the rain and potential for thunderstorms I was ready and excited for this run. I needed to enjoy this run. When I got hyper-focused on my foot pain and made the must be very careful so close to race day and bail decision I had a pretty steady heart rate going. I wasn’t pissed at myself or disappointed in myself so much as let down that yet another run didn’t pan out. I was dressed, I was lubed, I put in my part of the deal why couldn’t my foot cooperate. As I drove home not sweaty, spent and proud I had this sort of epiphany that it was like getting all of the foreplay and none of the fun. I haven’t had a high fiver at the end running high endorphin rush badass pace run in a while. My confidence is waning because I’m not enjoying running as much this year. Not being able to enjoy it is causing frustration and that frustration further erodes my mental state on runs. I have running blue balls! I need a good hard running O!
You may be wondering why the hell anyone would ever use running and O in the same sentence. Running is actually not just enjoyable when it is over. It is often enjoyable during if you can achieve the runner high. The Runner’s high is a wonderful release of endorphins into your body that trick it into thinking it feels no pain. It’s hard to explain but I got them on the treadmill all the time and quite often during last running season. This year not so much, and maybe that is why I’m not enjoying this year as much, but I am digressing. It’s when you mind and body take to you this beautiful badass running place. You can breathe, your heart is steady but pushing it, your body feels loose and everything is at the perfect temperature, It takes a while to get the running high. It depends on how it takes your body and mind to release and settle into the running, to connect with it. Oh once I do I first notice it is a pretty great day for running, then I notice everything on my body seems to be cooperating, then I notice that my splits are steady, then I start to feel it, it’s like this little ball of achy tension starting to become focused on by my body, It’s almost like all the other parts are strong and start to send their energy up to the spot at the middle of my shoulders, it’s a good ache and it signals the imminent nature of the impending release. This sweet state of running nirvana or my runner’s O carries me through a few more miles before the fatigue of running for hours at a time sets in. On a longer run the high can carry me through miles 5,6 and 7, maybe 8 and 9 with Extreme Cherry Sport Bean consumption. On the shorter runs I hope to get it before mile 2 but it often eludes me until mile 3 or 4. The most I have hoped for lately is to find my knees and just get started into the syncing process when the run is almost over and I’m not going to get through the full O. I’m not getting to, foxtrot uniform charlie kilo yeah that was awesome we rocked that high five after O. I finally found the source of my frustration!
Unfortunately running isn’t Babu so the responsibility to get my run O on and have the high five moment at the end of my runs is solely resting on me. It is my job to get myself off while running. I will not make any; good at fapping, jokes, promise. I have ability to control/affect my physical state but the rest is always a crap shoot. The brain is the most powerful
sex organ our bodies possess. I’m probably still going to run feisty, grumpy, pissed, and stubborn because motivation springs from many places. Where my head is at is more than half the battle so I need to find a way to ease this frustration and re-align my confidence. So I put on the BGP and listed out some logical points, nothing like logic to get a girl going.
- It is still early in running season, there are many more highs to come.
- It could be that my body has adjusted to the running and the highs are coming later, if I’m that desperate for it I can start putting in longer short runs after May
- I can and will finish next Saturday, in the end my motivation for any race outside of the bragging rights and pride is the bling and I’ll get that medal
- Sport doc for check up after Mini, still plenty of time to train for Jul 22 if there are 4 weeks of recovery, will make appointment now in prep
- Massage and chiro on Monday to stretch well before Saturday
- Massage and chiro on Monday after race for reward
- Just Breathe!!!
The SIL asked what “HAM” was, it’s “Hard as a Mofo” from this..
We are going to start today’s post out with some TMI. We haven’t nearly enough TMI since the AD story finished and I for one, think we are WAY past due. This morning, while I was kicking the ass of a 15k I was afraid of less than 12 hours ago, I chafed my gooch. Yes, my gooch, my taint, that very tender narrow pass between your honey boo boo and where your dude is always trying to put it. I know you are asking “how do you know?”. I know because when I went to lower myself gingerly without any cussing and settle demurely in the ice bath my brain promised my muscles at mile 8.0 if they would just go “HAM” for the next 20 minutes it would reward them with a luxurious 20 minutes in freezing cold water. You laugh at this run on of all run on sentences, but I’m not done with this run on thought so the joke is on you…Ha! The kind of freezing cold water that starts to give you hypothermia, the kind of freezing cold water that I must sometimes scooch my toes all the way out as far as I can, but only as far as to still be covering my big toe knuckle thingy where it joins my foot, which BTW always leaves my pinkie toe still mostly submerged. I worry about what this says of the freakishness of my feet and toes, as my feet and toes are in my opinion fat, pudgy and ugly, and I feel yucky about them only slightly more so than my ankles. They are the yin to the yang of my narcissistic obsession with my glorious naturally curly hair and light greenish/brownish but mostly green eyes. Oh crap, we are back to my eyes and hair and off my gooch. Back to my gooch. I know I chafed my gooch because as I was lowering myself into previously mentioned ice bath i felt that horrible awful stinging of water on chafed skin. You may also recognize this as what it felt like when you nursed and got a chafed nipple and didn’t figure it out until you went to get your once every 3-4 days shower for 5 minutes of the baby isn’t crying time. It’s.. i kind even describe it. Remember those Indian Sissy Burns we used to give ourselves with pencil erasers as kids? It Feels like that only multiplied by a factor of some sort of equation of the size of the burn times the area the burn is in. Oh? You never did that as a kid? Well then I feel badly for you because now you don’t know what chafing feels like. IT SUCKS!!!!!!!!! Unfortunately chafing is also one of those runner injury badass mofo thing that no one tells you about until you get one for the first time and wonder WTF do I have cancer? For the record, this did not happen to my but to a runner buddy in our Y training group. When I got my first chafing injury I knew EXACTLY what it was. I nursed two children on one boob. That is why one is about a full cup size bigger than the other one. It’s one of those weird quirks of my breast besides their size that made them so “popular” on the internet. Oh look it’s the trifecta, I have now mentioned my hair, eyes and boobs. Let me throw in that I am putting bling jeans on my ass and shaking it tonight t o close out the four horsemen of the Lolapocalypse and then I promise to stick to mundane running parts from now on. As soon as I am done talking about my gooch, I am almost done I promise. Chafing happens to men and women runners and can crop up in the oddest of places. I get it often on the underside of my arm or arms where t-shirt or my running band rub. It can crop up on your inner thighs when you wear a running skirt, unless you have factory air/hardwood floors, and if you do I salute you and covet your well shaped legs and ass. I don’t think I had factory air when I was 17 and weighed 121 pounds. The good news is they make a great product called Body Glide that you can rub on all of those tender vulnerable areas and voila, no chafing. I go through about a stick a season. I pick them up for about $6-10 at the Dick’s or local running store. If you, like me, forget to use the Body Glide and wear a pair of newer pants you have only previously put 4 miles in, just put Aquaphor on the affected area until it heals. DO NOT RUB LOTION ON IT!!!!!!!!!! And that Lovies, ends the first TMI portion of my running post today.
I woke up over and hour early for the 15K race today. 4;45 am, on the dot. I do it before almost every single big event morning of my life. It seems to be my body clock’s panic alarm clock base time. I stayed calm and followed my ritual for when this happens. I kept my eyes closed, worked on relaxing and stretching my legs. I tried to breath deeply and just rest, not obsess about going back to sleep. I trained myself to do this when the kids were babies. I should say I MiniMe trained me to be this way she she was a horrific not ever sleepy always pissed off infant. I think some parents call that colic, In our house we called it 2 hour shifts so the baby doesn’t die and/or the parent literally loses sanity. I also used this time to have a BGP talk with myself about the Race. It was only a race. I will be running 10,0 on Wednesday. I get to earn an ice bath. Hey maybe my legs aren’t as tight as they have been. I will run the whole thing. i am not sick so it can’t be as bad as the 10K. etc… It must of worked because when I got up I felt pretty alert and not too stumbly. I made my waffle, drank about 16oz of water, got dressed and started to stretch. Babu and I picked up bibs on Thursday so we weren’t leaving until about 1:15 before the race. I drank my Herbalife Prolong pre workout drink thing, another 16 ounces on the way there and about 30 minutes before the race I ate a packet of Cherry Beans with Caffeine. I stretched more right in the garage and before the race as we lined up, When we started I felt pretty good. I would say I felt great, but I was hypersensitive to my legs and probably cost myself a good 20% in confidence. On this course we always get a point within a mile or so in where one of the loops has the race leaders running. As soon I see them I get goose bumps every time. They are easily on mile 4ish. the race time was 17:xx in. Seventeen minutes and they have completed the first loop. As soon as I see them I start looking for the first girl. because sooner than some jack hole around me every time thinks, there is going to be one soon. And she is going to be in front of plenty of men who are also seriously fast. As soon as I see her i get overwhelmed with emotion, every single time. As soon as I see one I start to look for more, as the packs come racing past my barely sub 12:00 pace each one will be filled with more and more girls. There are some seriously committed athletes in those packs. I’m not saying I’m a running slouch, but you don’t get to that pace without dedicating yourself to the training required to make your body, your heart, and your lungs obtain and maintain that speed over distance. Each time I see those glorious role models of this sport I am so absolutely insanely in love with I get so filled with emotion I start to cry a little bit. I might have tears just writing about it now. I start to tear up and my pace starts to pick up. I start to run faster and faster and my will, which is 70% of the running battler, is buoyed by their mere presence. I’m the crazy curly haired chubby older lady screaming “GET IT GIRL” at that first female runner every single time. I want her to know what she and every one of those ladies behind her do for me. They help me run faster and stick it to that one due in every race, without fail, you gets all offended when I am outrunning him and suddenly starts pumping up his game to keep up or catch up. Every time without fail we leave him in the dust. Babu gets the biggest kick out of it and has started pointing them out to me when he finds them. He found today’s dude and started laughing. “he’s worried about you”, he told me.
Today’s Mantra was “Get This”, ” I Got This” and a lot of ” It’s just a little hill, it will all be over soon”. We ran well and hard mile after mile. I had to pee at Mile 2, we got water and did the swish and spit. I allow myself to walk for water and I just kept pretending I only had to run to the next check point and I could get a little break. I wanted to run well today. I wanted a sub 12:00 race. within 4-5 miles it looked very possible. When I was able to hold to mile 8 I just knew I could put in the work to get 20 more minutes out of my body and get to the 9.6 before 2 hours. Babu was an amazing runny partner this morning. No spats and he did a good job of keeping an eye on my pace. He is always the one who snaps me out of my first female runner crazy emotion driven super fast pace. You’re running way outside your pace is his cue for that one. He was pushing me today and I knew it. I didn’t mind because he has to downgrade his pace to stay with me and that is actually more work for him than running at his naturally faster pace. My internal goal has always been that I would grow and strengthen as a runner to get to a 9 minute mile over a 13.1. That would be nirvana for me. At mile 8.o I promised my muscles an ice bath if they went “HAM” for me for the next 20 minutes and helped us to finish with a pace under 12:00. They did. We rocked that run. That is the longest I have ever run without doing any walking. I’m no longer afraid of the 10.0 on Wednesday.
I Hope you all enjoy your Easter weekend Lovies. I’m going to take a nap and go listen to a band play with SIL, Baker and Fun Size later.
I think some people in my life think Babu and I just jumped back into being together, that I lost Paul, immediately begged Babu to take me back, and that he just stupidly and willingly came. This used to bother me slightly because I was still carrying around the new shame of the whole ordeal, now it just makes me laugh. Let me write it out for you another time, it would have been emotionally easier to simply go on and get divorced. That printed out; ready for the notary Divorce Decree was the weapon of choice in those first weeks when we didn’t know what we wanted to do.
It’s time to revisit communication. First let’s review. Remember way back in something like Part 2 when I said that I should of run to Babu and poured my heart completely out about what I was going through and the emotionally issues it was causing? I’ve mentioned the hours and hours of awful conversation we had as we started down this journey, all that time spent discussing one yucky situation after another. We collectively smoked through a pack a day because of all the time we spent in the garage having Mommy and Daddy are going to go in the garage and talk time while the children literally ran amok inside the house.
After we spent a weekend together at the Chateau, we came home and went back to our regularly scheduled lives as separate people. We still switched the kids on Fridays after school; the opposite parent still had dinner with the kids on Tuesday’s. We did make an effort to talk more about what was happening to us, and to spend more time together as a couple and as a family. What this looked like to the kids was small things like Mommy being invited to dinner at Daddy’s house and vice versa, or the babysitter coming so Mommy and Daddy could go out. We didn’t talk to the kids about what any of it meant, or act like it was anything special, we just did it. We also took a lot of time during those visits to engage in many conversations of varying degrees of emotional discomfort and potentially explosive results.
When we were ruining our marriage and getting divorced we went through lots of anger and yelling, had heart baring, gut wrenching talks. We learned through all of that practice to get better. We had no choice if we were going to become any kind of amicable co parents and all of that drama of our journey helped to teach us how. Now that we were trying to figure out if we wanted to be a couple again we had to sit down and have more of those talks. Two people who only weeks ago were ready to move on had to sit down and re-hash their separation, what we learned about ourselves, each other, our relationship. It was like we were attacking it on two fronts. Offensively with things like both of us writing down what kind of relationship we want (with anyone) and then meeting to discuss and share. Then the defenses of anger, grief and confusion that arose when things like: I realized I never tried anything new and when I did I was a douche about it, so while we were separated I hung out with this friend girl and did all this amazing shit I’d never do with you; or how many guys did you sleep with were addressed. This wasn’t 2 high school kids getting back together after a stupid fight about what Betty said in the lunch room, this was a 12 year relationship that was ripped apart in an amicable but deep and ugly fashion, scars were being reopened, new wounds were being drawn, we still had the “Fuck you, I’ll sign those papers right now and meet you at the bank at noon and we will get divorced anyway”. We both pulled that line MORE than once before we realized if we were going to have any chance, we had to take that card off the table. I’d end up divorcing him on proving I don’t bluff alone and that would certainly have been obstinate and stupid stubborn. We didn’t do anything about the filing, but we had to remove it from our conversation. Removing it from the conversation forced us both back to communicating emotionally uncomfortable things in an as safe and open and environment as we could provide for each other. My opinion is this communication intimacy is the inner glue that keeps any relationship together. Intimacy deeper than just I know a lot about the other person and how their mind works, what is really in their heart, what are their triggers and issues. True intimacy allows you to communicate the scariest thing you can imagine and trusting that no matter how awful it is, sharing the fearlessly be yourself BGP truth of it and trusting that the other person is engaged, committed and capable of loving you in spite of whatever it is. You become a team that sharpens each other, trusts each other, knows when to let each other be and holds each other up in times of need. True intimacy requires the not always pleasant truth. I have some level of this intimacy with many of my Besties. There is no relationship more important to have this in than with the person you plan on making a life and children with. I have close to 12 years of marriage in and I will tell you that life and children will do everything they can to tear you apart. They say pick a mate that is easy to be with in the beginning because “they” know it gets a lot harder as time and life changes are added. The stakes are greater and Babu and I both seem to understand that now.
We baby stepped our way through week after week, then month after month until one week he went for a visit to Florida and when he got home he came to the house and never left. Eventually he made the decision to let the apartment go and move all of the displaced stuff back home. I’ve mentioned some of the miss-steps and distractions of our reconciliation path before. The first year was a little bit of a roller coaster, but we got through it, each on our own, as a couple and as a family. We are not perfect people, we don’t have a perfect marriage, our family has flaws, but we work to be engaged, committed and capable of loving each other to keep that intimacy glue strong in our marriage. This doesn’t mean we go around having these kinds of talks all the time these days, or that when we do they are as emotionally charged or as yucky as those from our almost divorce. Lives always have set backs but are not always in a state of crisis.
I think we have reasonably reached the end of our story Lovies. Never one to close a door, I may write an epilogue or random AD post from time to time if I have something I need to say or add. Thanks for reading it, I hope you laughed, learned, and loved.
Happy Monday Lovies! I’ve really been enjoying participating in the Photo a Day Challenge for February created by Fat Mum Slim. It’s fairly quick and easy to do because it takes a lot less time to follow a pre- ordained theme and snap a few pictures than it does to write a post. Yesterday she released the themes for March and I had to stop and think.
Am I going to keep doing this photo a day thing? I’m not a photographer by trade or hobby. I haven’t taken daily pictures since the Gonewild days and though I enjoy coming up with ways to capture the theme, it seems a little silly to keep doing it if I’m not going to grow or make it more meaningful somehow. I’m only using my iPhone and instagram even though Babu got me a new point and click camera for Christmas. Should I maybe work to get technically better at photography if I’m going to keep taking daily pics? I haven’t written nearly as much since I embarked on this project and though I like providing daily, quick content , it isn’t nearly as satisfying as sharing my writing with you. The AD story is in the reconciliation phase and isn’t going to last forever. If anything ever develops on the Paul front I would probably write about it, but this isn’t a movie and there is no big movie gesture coming so the subject is drying up and folding into my life. I’ve got plenty of other things I write about, but do I really have time to commit to pics daily and writing 2-3 times a week? I was working through all of these things in my head last night as I was falling asleep when it hit me, what if I tried to take some of the photos and after I post them for the day, expand upon them and tell a story? As it just so happens today’s photo is a perfect example of how I can do that. I’m going to tell you the story of how the phrase BGP came into my life!
About 6 years ago when The Destroyer was a tiny baby and I was much fatter I started looking for local Mommies Groups to join. Now most of these groups are predominantly for Stay at Home Mom’s, of which I am most assuredly not. So I had to find a group or groups that were working mom friendly, and it was harder than you’d think. Also once I’d find one, I had to try to work their events into my schedule, determine if there was anyone I clicked with etc. Not to mention that running a Mom’s group is pretty much a thankless job and bitches are catty, so even if I found a group I liked, it didn’t always stay in existence or active as long as I’d like. So sometimes I would be in 2 or 3 at once as I navigated my way through the world of Mommy groups.
If you only know me through reading this blog or you don’t yet know me very well in real life you may be under the mistaken assumption that I go though life with my IDGAF ( I don’t give a fuck) if you like me amour permanently on. Let me tell you this is absolutely not the case. My, and I think most girls, preference is to be liked, to click with other girls and to have that initial click grow into a meaningful relationship. The truth is not everyone can like you, nor probably should they. As I have gotten older I’ve become much more comfortable with that realization, what other people think of you does not define who you are to anyone but them. If I care about you I absolutely care about what you think, I want your honest call bullshit opinion about things. If I don’t, well you are more than welcome to your opinion and to however strong your feelings about your opinion are. I’m not about to tell you how you should feel, only that if you’re hating you may want to find a better more productive outlet because hating is a lot of work and it’s sad that you spend time poisoning yourself and/or others on my account.
How does this tie in with joining new mommy groups? Well duh, when you are putting your self out there to a bunch of new people, you certainly hope it is an enjoyable experience, not a sucky one. When I joined Righteous Momma’s group I went to 1 or 2 events before it became obvious that this one bitch was seriously HATING on me. As in being obviously mean and trying to be a bully directly to me. I think she was jealous or alpha or whatever, but it became a, she was causing drama about me problem, and I was the NEW GIRL!! I didn’t let her bully me, but I didn’t get in the bitches face either because I was the new girl. I won’t go into the drama bitchy girl details, but the way it worked out was Righteous Momma called me or we ended up at an event where Bitchy wasn’t there and all the details came out. Turns out Bitchy had been causing a lot of other drama as well and Righteous reserved judgement on me until she got to know me better, and when she did she liked me. She is a prime example of fearlessly be yourself and she recognized that in me. She also recognized my BGP attitude. So Bitchy left the group and I stayed and made some friends I still have today . Her group fizzled but one of its main tenants was basically no drama and no bull shit. Put on your Big Girl Panties and own it. It was like God shined down from heaven and put words on how I think we all should conduct ourselves. I adopted the mantra and I have been seeking to live it to the fullest ever since. I can’t remember if I or Righteous added Big Boy Boxers to that mantra but I have ingrained it into my life and I seek to spread it to others as much as possible. Nothing bad can come from putting on the BGP and owning it. And if something bad does come of it, you will get through it, but it all starts with finding them, putting them on and seeking the fullest extent of ownership you are currently capable of. The flip side of that is learning to still love and forgive yourself when you can’t find them, or don’t want to put them on. We all go through times like that. Just keep trying 🙂 ❤
Love you Righteous Momma and now I have given you the rightful credit for bringing the mantra into my life!