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A “no” is the first step toward a “yes”

“Beth. People want to help. People like to give. You need to put yourself out there and let those who can, help you.”

Variations of this statement have been said to me year after year. Is it my pride that makes it difficult? Society’s “don’t expect a handout” knee jerk response with every need? Either way, the above statement is true. People do like to help. I like to help. Even with as little as we have, if I know someone is in need, I try to help. I don’t think less of a person in need. I definitely don’t hold it over them or against them. 

Do you feel like I am buttering you up for a request? That’s because I am. I’m trying to sell you on the idea that I deserve help. I think that bothers me the me most about being poor. That panicked feeling you get when you’re trying to convince someone you are worth their time or money. 

This morning I went to my grandma’s for a cup of coffee. We talked about how we’ve been treated during the years by those with influence or money. “I know a lot of people just assumed we were hillbillies and were beneath them. They didn’t even try to get to know us.” My grandma said. “So what? What if you were? Should that even matter? Grandma, hillbillies are people too.  To suggest that a human is less worthy of help or kindness because they are “poor hillbillies” is saying that rich = superior.” People justify withholding love and generosity, due to social standing, by suggesting the poor are poor because they deserve it. And that the rich are rich because they deserve it. When we all know amazing people who have almost nothing and disgusting humans who are very wealthy. 

Ten days ago my kids and I started a St. Joseph Novena. For those non-Catholics out there, it is 9 days of prayer for a special intercession. Our Novena was to find a home. I told my kids on day one, “This isn’t magic. This isn’t superstition. We will get a yes. BUT. It may not be the yes we think we need. So we need to remember to not be sad when we hear no. No is a good thing, because that will point us to the yes that is waiting for us.” 

Today I went to the bank to try to get pre-approved for a mortgage. I was told no. This sweet lady looked as if she wanted to cry for me. She shared with me a personal story of hardship she went through when she was younger. And I told her, “It’s ok. This no just means there’s a yes somewhere else. I had to start somewhere.” 

I need a house. I cannot afford to rent any longer. For a house big enough for my family, I will have to spend twice what I am spending now. Throwing money away. I have spent 7 years doing what I’m supposed to do. Working, paying bills, and taking care of my family. No bankruptcies. No foreclosures or evictions. No repossessions. Student loans and defaulted medical bills are all the debt I have. All of these things mean nothing to the bank. The bank says I should have a credit card. The bank says I need to wait another 2 years. The bank says I am too poor to have a house. Do I have a family member able to help with a down payment? Someone who would be willing to do a land contract? They cannot help me. I would need someone else to help. A family member? A friend of a friend? There is is. This “no” just pointed me in the direction I need to go to find my “yes”.

I need a house. I need someone who knows my situation to say I am worth investing in. I honestly believe we are all connected. That all that I am going through in my life is bigger than I am.  This is not just about me. It’s hard to explain. I have never felt so confident about anything. There is someone out there right now with the desire and ability to help my family. There is someone who has it in their thoughts or in their heart. They will know the moment they read this. 

Now, my children and I will wait to see what our “yes” will be and start preparing for our next life adventure! Because, whatever “yes” we are given, will most definitely be a positive, life changing yes!

Bringing it down to the Basics

It was 2011. I was newly divorced, in school full time, working as many hours as I could get, and raising 3 kids. Looking back, it’s almost comical that I thought I could have an organized house as well. 

“What do you need?” My friend Kris asked me. She had come over with the intention to clean/organize/help. I was drowning in my life and I desperately needed someone to throw me a lifesaver. 

“I don’t know. I mean. I guess the toys. I can’t think because there is so much everywhere. The toys go there. Top drawer is dolls. Second is dress up. Bottom draws is everything else. I don’t know. They’re all mixed up.” I told her showing her my organizer. “And art stuff goes here. Paper in this drawer, crayons and markers in this one, and the other stuff in that one.”

“No. That’s too much. You need to simplify it. How about toys here, and art stuff here.”

“But. Everything has a place. I just…”

“What a your goal? What do you want in here?”

“I want the toys off the floor. I want to walk through my house without stepping on stuff.”

“Beth. The girls can help. They need to. You can’t do it all, so we need to find a way that is simple. So the kids can do it.”

I had to let go of some control. Here’s the thing, (for those who don’t know how it is to function with ADHD) I have to be that uptight about things. Chaos around me gives anxiety. I forget things. I lose things. Everything has a place, because otherwise, nothing has a place. 

So I changed the rules. Instead if having such strong stipulations on where the kids put the toys, I just made sure they were put away. It worked. The kids didn’t feel overwhelmed with helping. So I started simplifying other aspects of my life. 

Sorting socks? Nope. I don’t have time. My goal is to have clean socks when we need them. Boom. New rule, sock basket. All the clean socks in the house are in there. Find your own. While thes things were not ideal for my house, I found the amount of stress that was lifted was definitely worth letting go. 

Sometimes, when I feel overwhelmed, I like to bring it down the the basics. Not forever, just for long enough to gain some perspective. Not just with household chores, but with friendships, parenting, work, and everything else. 

Parenting. What is the goal? I’m sure your response would be something about love, or God, or kindness, or being strong or something like that. No. Those are not the goals. Those are the personal details you have set for what are actually the goals. 

There are 2 things your kid needs from you. Two. Taking it to The basics. These 2 things are the backbone of why you make any and all decisions regarding your kids. And if they’re not, you need to reevaluate your motives in parenting.

The first, let them keep their innocence as long as possible. We protect them from the horrors of the world so that they can develop into who they are truly meant to be. Life has a way of hardening us. Our children need to keep the tenderness, and awe for life and the world as long as possible.

The second, produce functional adults. Our children need to be able live and function in society someday. We cannot shelter them forever. They need to be able to socialize. They need to be able to work a job. They need to be able to keep themselves safe when you’re not there. They need to be able to think and make choices. 
These goals sound contradictory. You can see why teenage years are so tough. Constantly trying to balance protecting our teen while at the same time knowing in a few short years they need to be able to function in the world. 

Now, what is your definition of innocence? What do you consider a functioning adult? This is where our parenting styles come into play. We make choices every day with these in mind. “No, sorry, Sally isn’t allowed to sleep over until she’s older.” Or “Rinse your bowl.” Or “Sure, Jimmy can definitely go out with his friends after the game.” Based on our childhoods, usually, we decide what we will or will not do with our kids. 

If you are an overwhelmed parent, bring it to the basics. Ask yourself, is this helping them keep their innocence or helping them develop into a functioning adult? If it doesn’t fit one of those 2 things, quit fretting about it. Quit being angry about it. Quit wearing yourself down over it. 

Someday I will sort socks again. And you know what? The toys in my house are now sorted. The art stuff all has a place. It took 7 years, but I got it back slowly. Just because it’s not ideal, doesn’t mean it’s bad. My house is a disaster. Why? Because I want the kids to help clean. And honestly, they don’t do a great job. My kids need a mom who helps show them. Not a mom who yells and shames them. 

You know what your kids need. You know what type of adult you hope they become (or possibly one you don’t want them to become). Have a little faith in yourself. Take a deep breathe, and let go. 

 One of my worst nights.

I want to tell a story.

A few years back, on Halloween, I went to a costume party with my sister, I dressed up as a Marvel character. We met my mom and step dad there. It was a BLAST. I drove and the plan was that my mom, who wasn’t drinking, or my sister were going to drive me. The plans were vague, but we knew we would figure out a safe way home. No biggie.

One of the best Halloween Parties I’ve ever been too. And I am glad for that. It was the last time we all went out with Dad before he died. It was adorable to watch him watch Mom. Just love and awe as he watched her dance with her girlfriends. Of course my sister and I took turns buying him shots of Crown, and tried to get him out there dancing with her.

Just all around a great night.

Then I ran into someone who recognized me from a play I was in. We started talking and laughing. I was DRUNK. Everyone was my friend and great. Everything was great. But I was getting tired. I better find my family.

They were gone. I grabbed my dying phone and tried to call. Straight to voicemail. Panic starts to set in a bit as I look around for anyone I know.

A guy approaches and starts to talk to me. I smile and try to keep my level of drunkness at bay. Then a couple of his friends walk up. They all start talking to me. The first guy asks if I want to go to a party with them. I feel my stomach drop. The bar lights are on. There is only a few ppl left and I don’t know any of them. I don’t know what to do.

You know that “gut feeling” we are always told to listen to? Mine was saying run. Get. Out. Now. I was absolutely terrified that these 5-6 were guys going to rape me. I told him I couldn’t, but thanks for the invite! He was not taking no for an answer. He wouldn’t leave me alone and kept getting closer. All of them were around me. Finally I said, I would go. I faked a laugh and asked where it was at. “Oh, we’ll drive you. Don’t worry about it.” I HAD to get away. I agreed and leaned against the wall. The main guy told me he needed to go to the bathroom and then we would leave. He turned and I ran.

I ran to my car quicker than I’ve ever ran. I started it and left the bar. I started to cry. Why the fuck am I driving. I am going to go to jail. I would be so mad at any friend driving drunk. Maybe I over reacted? I shouldn’t be driving. If I get pulled over they won’t care that I was stuck. What if they raped Me? I shouldn’t have dressed as Domino. I need to park my car. But they saw this car. Where can I go? I need to go somewhere public. A gas station.

I pulled into a gas station. Turned off my car, threw my keys on the seat, locked the doors, texted my (then) fiance where I was and closed my eyes, still shaking. I slept there for about an hour. 

Officer: Knock-knock-knock “Ma’am? Are you alright?”
Me: Yes I am fine. Thank you.
Officer: I need you to come inside.

I spent the next hour and half with this man drilling me. I was cooperative. I told him I was drunk. I had friends that cared about me. My fiance would be stopping here in the morning to give me a ride home, so this was a safe place for me to sleep. I thanked him for his concern. And agreed to wait inside for my fiance. At this point my phone had died and I told him I just had to wait I couldn’t call him.

He had me call him from his phone. I called my fiance and explained that I’m not safe to drive, I was sleeping, they were concerned about me sleeping in my car, and he had to come get me. This seemed to appease the officer. So I thanked him again, he left, and it went into the bathroom to wash the Halloween makeup off my face.

When I came out he was there again. He wanted me to take a breathalyzer test. At this point I am feeling harassed. And I told him so. I did not deny my alcohol consumption. I came in and I called. I did everything he asked. I was not belligerent or uncooperative. So I asked him why he wanted a breathalyzer after all of that.

He could have asked at any point. Why did he leave and come back to ask me for one? He said he just wanted one and I had to do it. I told him no. I did not have to do it and, because I was intoxicated, I did not feel comfortable having any more interactions with him without my fiance or a lawyer present.

I was terrified. This was one of the scariest nights of my life. Everytime I think about that night and makes me sick to my stomach. It was such a great night. Then, it wasn’t. I think about all that could have happened. What if I decided to do the right thing and not drive? And those guys took me? What if I fell asleep on the road or hit someone? What if I did do the breathalyzer? What if the officer decided to arrest me?

I’ve only told a couple people about this night. I was so ashamed and embarrassed. Everytime I think about that night I am affirmed in my mind that I did the right thing. But I still feel so hurt and angry about it.

When I hear stories about women being assaulted and the defense being that the woman was dressed provocatively, I realize how close I was to being that woman. Would these men have gotten away with it because I was in a Domino costume? Because I was drunk? Why is my only option in the situation to break the law or potentially be raped?

I went out for a night of drinking and dancing with my family. One little misunderstanding about rides could have potentially changed my entire life. 

I don’t know why I wanted to share this. I guess I just feel like people should know that even if you plan and do everything right things can change very quickly.

And that it really sucks that as women, we have lingering fear of harm and guilt of pleasure with everything we do. That those men could have been excused due to intoxication and poor judgement while I would be blamed because of the same things. 

The Original “Participation Trophy Winners”…and Losers

My children go to a Catholic school. They have a huge auction every year.  It’s the biggest fundraiser the school does. My kids are able to go to this school only because of the amount of tuition help we receive (shout out to all those who have helped over the years). Because of this, I feel that I need to make sure to volunteer for the auction in some capacity.

A couple years ago I was super involved with the auction. I helped with the decorating, spent most of my spring break there, and worked the auction itself, both nights. This was the first time since my kids started at the school, that I felt included. I felt like I finally had mom friends. I felt like an asset to the school. I felt like my kids could be proud of their mom being there and being involved. Then, a well-meaning mother said something that snapped me back into the reality of how I’m seen by those at that school.

“You know, I decided this year I was going to give you a chance. I mean it’s not really fair that (Genevieve’s dad) is made out to be such a stand up guy, and your painted to be this homewrecker. I’m really glad I gave you a chance!” 

I smiled and politely said thank you. I could feel my face become flush and my blood pressure rise. I could feel my hands start to shake and could feel the quiver in my voice. I was the homewrecker. We both did the same thing. But I was the homewrecker. His home was still intact. He still had his wife and his children. But I’m the homewrecker. He still got to take his trips and vacations and still got to be accepted by all the parents at the school. But I was the homewrecker. I had sole responsibility of her for over 2 years with no financial help, emotional help, or even a smiling face to treat me kindly there. But I was the homewrecker.  My home was the home that was wrecked, but I was the honewrecker, and he’s a stand-up guy.

If you don’t know the situation with my third child, I will explain it in simple terms. Her dad and I both cheated. Neither of us have any desire or intention to be with the other. It was a night of too much alcohol and terrible decisions. Neither of us have ever tried to dismiss it as an okay act. Everybody involved in the situation agrees it was wrong. People were hurt. Lives were changed.  But, we took a potentially dramatic experience and kept it very drama-free. Our daughter has a great relationship with both families. She loves her dad and she loves her step-mom. This blog is not a blog to bash her father, or to try to justify something as hurtful as infidelity.

So just to restate, cheating is always wrong. Our daughter is loved and taken care of. We do not condone what happened but we do not dwell on it.

I know the people in my life are aware of what I went through those first few years after she was born. I was treated terribly. My kid’s school, the church, and anybody else that knew the situation and very strong opinions of me and who I was. I don’t know if you know this, but if you do something severely wrong, and there’s a consequence, you don’t get to explain yourself. I realized very quickly that if I try to explain myself, it sounded like I was trying to defend infidelity, which I most certainly was not. So, I just had to take it. I had to let people think awful things about me. I had to let them say awful things. I had to let them exclude my children from things because they didn’t like me. I had to pretend I didn’t notice and pretend like it didn’t hurt my feelings. For years. 

But this mom was going to give me a chance. She decided. It took years, but something sparked in her mind that I could possibly be a good person. That MAYBE this one thing I did years ago, didn’t define who I was as a person. She literally verbalized what, I’m sure, many had felt and thought. He and I had done the same thing. We both were unfaithful. We both hurt people we loved. And, we both we’re honest and humbled by this awful thing we did. Neither of us try to excuse it. But his actions were much easier to forgive. I, as the woman, deserved the hurt and pain as additional consequences. 

It was a sobering realization that I will never be able to be one of those parents. The ones that are super involved at the school. I have had a lot less involvement since that year. I can’t, and wouldn’t want to, force anyone to accept me or my children. It is what it is. 

Let’s fast-forward a few years. I have a 1 year old. I am not with his father. I am Unapologetic about this situation. The pregnancy took us both by surprise. It was not ideal, but there was no betrayal or hurt involved. We both were consenting adults. We co-parent well together. Harrison is thriving and we have a very good situation. His father and I had had many conversations about our ultimate goal with Harrison. I’m a firm believer that (as long as it is a healthy situation for the child) the ultimate goal should be that both parents should be involved equally. Eventually, I hope that Harrison will be able to spend equal amounts of time with each of us.

This last weekend his dad and I got into a slight argument. There was a miscommunication about drop-offs. He was upset because of how inconvenient it was. It messed up his plans for the day and he felt I was being inconsiderate. At first I felt bad. I should have confirmed the time, I should have texted, I should have been better at communicating. Then I got mad. Wait a minute. Everything I do in life, I plan as if I had my children with me. I let him have Harrison anytime he would like, but also don’t force him to have him when it’s inconvenient for him. If I pick up work, I also have to pick up the bill for the babysitter. If I want to go out, I have to ask if it’s ok with him, or I have to pay for a babysitter. He is allowed his work week, his social time, his hobby time, and also his cleaning and laundry day without the inconvenience of a toddler. 

Now I would like to point out that he is a great father. Harrison loves to be with him and he loves to see his son. He doesn’t babysit, he parents. There is a difference. I honestly believe this. And like I said, eventually Harrison will be spending half his time with both of us. But the reality is, right now I have the brunt of the responsibility. That’s part of having an infant and/or toddler.

“He’s such a great dad! He’s SO involved with him!” 

Cringe. Here’s the problem. He most definitely is a great dad. He would never let Harrison lack. I know if I need ANYTHING, I can ask.  But there’s this double standard with parents that drives me absolutely bezerk. He spends 15 to 20 hours with him a week. Sometimes more, sometimes less. But always at his convenience. If he has anything planned, he can just do it. I am the one who figures out a babysitter if he can’t be with with his dad. Or I have to cancel what I have planned. 

The reality of having a baby or a toddler is, that the mother is going to get the brunt of the responsibility. I know this. I know it’s temporary. I’m not expecting more from his dad. (except maybe having a little more understanding or compassion when things don’t go as planned). Like I said, I feel like we have a good thing going right now. And we have great goals in mind for Harrison. Eventually these days of chaos will be nothing but a memory. 

There is a double standard that I’ve had to deal with the entire 12 years of being a mother. We have such low expectations for fathers. And we have almost unreasonably high expectations for the mothers. I’m a damn good mother. I’m not a great housekeeper, I’m a little flighty, I talk a lot, I have no volume control of my voice, and I’m easily distracted. But I am a great mother. And if I decide I want to go out for drinks with the girls, or to a movie, or to a hair show in Chicago, or be in a play, it does not take away from my ability as a mother. 

If you’re at a father, think about what this mother must be going through. Appreciate her. Acknowledging what the mother has sacrificed and what her reality is, is one of the best ways to show her you appreciate her. It may be temporary, but she has been sacrificing her body, her sleep, her social life, her dating life, her time, and sometimes her sanity. It is an investment into your child. Thank her for that.

Family and friends. Keep your bashing to yourself. I have had people say nasty things about my children’s fathers. And I know nasty things have been said about me to them. You are hurting our children with your words even if they don’t hear them. If I decide to go to a movie with friends, don’t say to his dad “Doesn’t that bother you that she’d rather go out and be with her son?” Or “Poor baby just misses his mommy! She’s away too much!” Would you say to the father, “What do you mean you’re going golfing? Shouldn’t you be with your son?” No? Of course not. Because being a parent doesn’t mean you can’t also be social. Quit with the double standard. I did the math. I have my son 81% of the time. His father has him 7% of the time. The play that I’m in has brought me down to 74% of the time and his father up to 12% of the time. Just to give you a visual in case you’re still not understanding how involved with my children I am, even when I’m in a play.

Do not suggest and I’m a neglectful mother. Do not try to turn my children’s fathers against me. We maintain an open line of communication and if your words are not encouraging, keep them to yourself.

Now, everyone else. Acquaintances, passerbuys, etc. Try to notice the double standard. We all do it. We shame the mother, but then see the father as a saint for literally just being there. We need to stop doing this. We don’t need to bash the father, but we need to acknowledge how much more of a hardship the mother has for those first few years. 

I was hesitant to write this blog. Because I am very thankful for the co parenting I have going on in my life. And I don’t want people to see these men negatively. But I have been hurt through the years by this. 

I know there are other women out there who notice this as well, but can’t quite articulate what they’re feeling. These women worry that they will seem ungrateful or whiny if they voice how under-appreciated they are. If they stand up for themselves they seem demanding and rude. We are told we should be thankful, no matter how little the father gives in the way of help, and that this is what having a kid is, so we need to just accept it. 

I will accept that the responsibility of a child is not always equal. And that’s ok.

I will accept that eventually it will be more even. The burden will lighten.

I will accept that socially we are making huge strides in the way of fathers involvement. This has been wonderful for the mothers, the fathers, and the children involved.

I will NOT accept this double standard. 

I will NOT accept the implications of laziness or neglect that is given to mothers who need a break and ask for it. 

I will NOT accept the shame and guilt handed to me for having a child out of wedlock.

I will NOT accept the expectation of gratitude for the father doing something that every parent should do.  It is not my job to cater to the fragile male ego.

I will love my kids. I will continue to put them first. I will continue to work with their dads for what is best for them. And I will tell you to kiss my ass if you feed this double standard around me. 

Beggars can’t be…at Gymnastics 

I am poor. I just spent a ridiculous amount of time looking up Michigan’s average costs for bills. It has been confirmed. Poor. I know, we’re not supposed to talk about money. But today, my financial state was brought to light in front of a bunch of people I didn’t know. It embarrassed me, so I decided to blog about it.  

I know what you’re thinking. “Duh, Beth. You’re a single mother of 4. Of course money is tight.” No. Money isnt tight. Money isnt there. See, I learned something today as I sat there looking at numbers and averages. My income allows for no extras. At all. Zero. Zilch. 

I have said no to almost everything for over 7 years now. No internet. No TV. No extracurricular activities for the kids. No vacations. I have done this with the belief that if I work hard, if I keep sacrificing, I will get ahead. I will be able to give my kids a house, a car with A/C, a garden, sports equipment, etc. Maybe not a vacation, but at least a full fridge. Maybe not college tuition, but new shoes. I have a more realistic goal now: I want to choose to say no, not be forced to. 

It is impossible to obtain this dream with one income. I did the math. My income will never allow for a yes. I have to turn to others for help. There is a family that loves us and has decided to give my kids some of those things I cannot. They pay for guitar, gymnastics, or whatever, so my kids can have some memories of joy. So they can do those things other kids get to do. 

My 7 year old is in gymnastics and loves it. Today was her long awaited recital. She has been talking about it for WEEKS. I rushed her in, pulled her hair into a ponytail, sent her to her group and turned to the desk. Shit. This was not a free event. 

“Oh. I didn’t realize I had to buy tickets….How much are they?” I asked as the panic set in. 

“$12.00”,  the lady behind the desk said. 

“Oh. That’s a lot…I can’t afford that. I have 2 more kids coming in too. I…I didn’t bring any cash.” I said, trying to salvage my pride. 

“We can just add it to your account if you’d like. It will come out in your next payment.”

“I can’t do that. I don’t pay. My friend. I have a friend that pays for me. For her I mean. I mean. I just. I have 4 kids. I’m a single mother of 4…I can’t afford it. I didn’t know it cost anything to watch her. We can just wait for her here in the lobby.”

“Let me check when she goes on….it looks like she’s in the 4th group. You won’t have to wait for too long.”

I choked back tears as my older 2 children walked in. I told them that I didn’t have enough money. I told them to take my phone into the car with them. That they could watch videos while I waited for her to finish. They left and the tears started. I walked to the corner and pretended to look at the leotards hung on the wall while holding my 1 year old. I was so embarrassed. I felt like a failure. My poor daughter. She would be looking for me. She wouldn’t see me. Her heart would be broken. 

After 10 minutes of shame, the lady at the desk said, “I guess I can allow you to go in without paying.” She made it very clear she was doing me a favor.

I said thank you and rushed in, just as my step mom was coming out to find me. I told her what had happened, and couldn’t control the crack in my voice. I told her, I couldn’t afford it and they embarrassed me, but eventually let me in. I told her I was angry it cost money to see my daughter’s recital, and I was mad at myself for missing it on the note. Then, I smiled at my son, and pointed to the balloons he was reaching for. *breathe*

I did the math. I’m poor. I didn’t need to do math to know that. The lady at the desk let me stew in my poverty for 10 minutes. I am poor. I had to ask my step mom if she knew if the ice cream from announcement was free for the gymnasts, or if it was just them advertising it. Because I couldn’t do it again. I couldn’t wait in line with my daughter, only to find out I didn’t have enough money for it. I am poor. I was made very away of my financial situation. But I still did the math. 

I divided a household budget into 3 parts. You’re Poor, You’re Maintaining, and You’ve Made It. 

YP: Rent, utilities (electric, gas, water, sewer, trash), cell phone, food, and car maintenance (gas, oil change, registration, insurance) $2,870

YM: YP stuff, Heathcare/medical, internet, TV, pets, clothes, entertainment, car payment, Christmas. $4,570 

YMI: YP stuff, YM stuff, life insurance, family vacation, retirement. $5,500+

A single parent needs to make over $22 an hour to be able to be considered poor. They would need to make $35 per hour to maintain a comfortable life. And to actually make it in life? $43 per hour. 

This does not count daycare. This doesn’t count sports. It doesn’t count field trips. It doesn’t count life changes, like a death or pregnancy. It doesn’t count your car breaking down. It doesn’t count winter gear for kids. Or back to school supplies. It doesn’t count saving to buy a house. It doesn’t could student loans. It doesn’t count overdrafts. It leaves no room for any change or mistake. 

I make much less than $2870 a month. But, I found a place for cheaper than the average rent and I don’t buy as many groceries. Also, I neglect my car maintenance. I am so far away from the YM group, it’s laughable. I will not own my own house. I will not be able to afford the internet or TV. I will never be able to take my kids in a family vacation or save for my retirement. This is my life. This is my reality. 

We’re not supposed to talk about money. But today, I was made to feel like dirt. Today, I was reminded that poor kids don’t get to have their mothers with them. Today I was reminded that no matter how strong I feel, no matter how much I love my kids, I will not be able to give them the life I want to give. Today I was reminded, that money is power, and that not having $12 made me powerless. 

I do not want your pity. I do not want you to treat me as a victim. I maintain that i am a strong mother who loves her kids and will do anything for them. What I want is understanding and awareness. If you are at the desk at an event, and a single parent can’t go in because of $12, let them in the effing event. And you are not morally obligated to make sure they know they are an inconvenience to you. Trust me. They know. They are ashamed. They feel the eyes watching them. They don’t need your help. They are embarrassed. They will cry to themselves about it later. So please, just be kind. Me watching my daughter didn’t cost them anything. They lost nothing by letting me in. But the way I was treated ruined my entire day. It showed my daughter’s that their mother was at the mercy of a lady behind a computer. And it made the pit in my stomach, the one I had almost completely removed, come back. 

So now, I will put on a movie, make some popcorn, sit with my kids, and enjoy my night. Even if I am poor. 

Ignorance is Bliss…er…Business 

“No body owes you anything. If you want something, work for it.” 

I agree with this. If you’re waiting for someone to rescue you, or wanting to just relax your way through life, you’re going to be thoroughly disappointed. 

That being said, I’m not heartless. Sometimes things happen and we Americans have the ability (and in my opinion, the duty) to help someone. A lot of times, I hear fear about allowing too much welfare help. The fear being that those on welfare will become content in their lifestyle and leech off of the hard working Americans (middle class) while having no intent to ever rise above. 

So here are a few scenarios I think most people can support or relate to. (Read and answer to yourselves. I could be wrong!)
Scott has 3 children. He has custody of all 3. He works 2 jobs trying to make enough to support them, but needs some help with childcare because it is so expensive.

Should there be a program to help him? 

Chad has 2 kids he has custody of. He’s been employed at the same job for 3 years, but due to some cuts at the company he works for, his hours were cut in half. He is looking for a second job, but needs to be able to feed his kids. 

Should Chad get food assistance? 

Brett’s wife of 15 years, Mary, makes 65K a year. Brett has spent the last 8 years staying home with their 3 kids and taking care of the household. He finds out Mary has been cheating and she wants a divorce. 

Should Mary pay spousal support as well as child support? Should Brett qualify for government assistance until he can find a job?

Larry, husband and father, has been working at the same company for 20 years. He recently was laid off and is having a difficult time finding a job. 

Should Larry get unemployment? Should he qualify for food assistance and Medicaid? 

Steve had an injury which caused him to lose his job. He is well now, and wanting to get back into the job market. The problem is, he has no phone or internet and cannot afford the bill for either until he gets a job. He can use the internet at his local library, but wants to have a phone number to leave on his applications. 

Should we help Steve get a phone? 

Todd’s wife, Amanda, died unexpectedly. They were young, so their life insurance policy only covered funeral expenses. Without her income, Todd cannot afford their mortgage. He soon finds the house will be foreclosed. He has 2 small children and needs to find a place to live while he adjusts to his new life as a single dad. 

Should there be housing help for him? 

Those sound like good men. Trying to support their kids. Trying to contribute to society. I think most would say that it would be an investment to help these guys out. 

Now. Sub in the name Trevon and/or Ladonna. Seriously. Scroll up and reread them with only the name change. This isn’t going to work if you don’t.

I’m not in your head. You are. So be honest with yourself. Where do you imagine they work? Did the company/line of work they were in change from the first time you read it? Do you believe they are contributing to society? Do you assume the kids have different mothers/fathers? Do you assume they have no desire to strive for a better life? Do you feel like they are leeching? Is your gut response to withhold help? Do you feel it’s a waste of tax dollars?

When you hear people talk about racism, THIS is what we’re talking about. This is white male privilege. That purely being a white male means that people will initially assume the best. You are worth investing in. 

You are not against welfare. You are against minorities receiving help from government programs. You have been conditioned your entire life to have these knee jerk responses. I have them too. I have to CONSCIOUSLY decide to not feed into them. 
Years ago I had a conversation about a woman and that was the moment I realized my white privilege. 

Her: She has 3 kids with 2 different guys. But That’s how they do it in Benton Harbor. They have kids with whoever just so they can get the benefits.

Me: Oh. You mean like me? I’m from Benton Harbor. I have 3 kids by 2 different guys. Heck, my youngest’s dad is married. And I get food stamps. 

Her: No no no. Thats not what I meant. You’re a hard worker! You made a mistake. You’re doing what’s best for your kids! You are am amazing mother. It’s temporary for you! 

Me: And why isn’t it temporary for her? What makes her a lost cause?

Her: No. You’re misunderstanding. I know you’re a good person. But she is from a culture that encourages living off hard working Americans. 

Me: So if you didn’t know me, you would assume the same thing as you are with her? That I was lazy and lookimg for free stuff by having kids?

Her: No no no. That’s not what I’m saying. I can tell you’re a hard worker! You do anything for your kids. You are using the welfare system for what it was set up for, to get yourself on your feet again! 

Me: And I’m white. 

Her: *uncomfortable* 

Me: She’s black. 

Her: I’m not racist. It’s a cultural thing. That’s just how they live in Benton Harbor. 

No. That is racism.  That poor woman has to work 10X as hard as me in life. She will be assumed to be lazy, and a leech everywhere she goes. You will sit there and make mental (or verbal) judgements on whether or not you believe she is worthy of help. She will have to pay the same taxes as you. She will have to work the same amount of hours as you. But you will know, that you are more deserving of every break you get in life. And your attitude toward her is just a form of “tough love”. Her hard work doesn’t count because her culture encourages laziness. That has to be what it is. 

You will talk to others like you, and set imaginary goals for this woman. “If she really cared about her kids, she would get a degree.” But offer no way for her to obtain a defree. “She should get an additional job. If she put her nose to the grindstone, she could rise above.” But condemn her for leaving her children or for asking for a raise. Any hardship she has is deserved. You are punishing her for not being a white man like you. 

Are you really against food assistance? Or are you against the woman who “obviously” just having babies to live off the state. Are you against housing help, or are you against the black guy who probably just works at a fast food place part time and should just work harder if he wants a place to live. 

You Are not against welfare. If you were in any of these positions, you would feel completely justified in using government assistance “for it’s intended purpose”. To get back on your feet. But if it’s a minority, you are immediately skeptical on their motives. Ask yourself WHY. Why do you feel you need or are entitled to an explanation for anyone’s reasons? Why do you feel you get to be a judge on whether someone deserves to eat or have medical care? 

And just throwing this out there. “Getting back on your feet” is not the intended purpose of the welfare system. The intended purpose is to make sure that the lowest income people in our country have their basic needs met. It’s to have a lower class that is fed, housed, and medically well. The basics. Because some cannot rise above some imaginary line you’ve drawn in your head to indicate success. Some will always work sweeping floors, cleaning toilets, or serving fast food. And they should still have heat. And their kids deserve to have full stomachs. The value of a life is not determined by annual income. 

You have been lied to. You have been told your whole life that you are superior and deserve what you have because you  a hard worker and they are not. So who is telling you these lies? I’ll give you a hint. It’s not the lower class…and it’s not the middle class…you guessed it! The top 1%. They want you to be mad at those who “leech off the system” so you don’t notice them…leeching off the system. Does a black man, who works at a grocery store, getting $1500 worth of food  a year piss you off? What about a white man getting a $30mil tax break? Smart businessman?

Do not tell me that racism doesn’t exist. Say what you really mean. I don’t care that racism exists because it benefits me. Don’t tell me you don’t see color. Say what you mean. I don’t want to acknowledge others are treated differently because then I have to change my internal dialogue. Don’t tell me you care about the poor. Say what you mean. They are poor because they deserve it. 

Four Quarters vs A Dollar 

Today, I want to talk about sex. And feminism. I know. Sounds exciting, eh? Oh it will be, my friends. So join me on this enlightening experience. 

I am currently not having sex. Obviously not right this second, but also in general. I haven’t had sex in over a year. Personal choice. I’m happy. End of story. 

Did you guys know that even as a single woman, my choice to not “do the dirty” was not my choice to make? I did not know this. I have had to explain, justify, downplay, joke about, and even lie about my OWN sex life to appease random men who approach me about getting frisky. Since I am not allowed to have my sexual desires remain private due to some unwritten rule that any man is allowed to push the subject, I am just going to write a blog about it. 

Jumping to feminism real quick. Just so you can see where my mind is going with all this. 

I have always explained feminism as 4 quarters vs a dollar. They are completely equal in worth. You can buy the exact same amount of goods with both. BUT. They are made of completely different materials. Woman and men are different. Our hormones are different. Our bodies are different. Even the way we think is different. But we are completely equal. That being said, you HAVE to have a respect for how the person is made and how that affects their day to day life. I mean, for fricks sake. I am wearing a bra that is 2 sizes too small because I refuse to spend $50 on a bra I will only wear for a couple more months. Do you know that pain dudes? Do you realize there are shirts I won’t wear in case I have a nip-slip?  No you don’t. Your underwear comes in a multi pack for under $10. Does me not having a bra that properly fits cause my worth to go down? Nope. Even a wrinkled dollar has the same value.

Back to the sex part. 

Disclaimer: I have most definitely had flirtatious messages with men where their comments are encouraged and welcomed. I am not talking about those consensual conversations. I’m talking about the unsolicited ones.

Men. Do you have any idea the level of irritation woman face with you attempted sexual advances? Guess what. I don’t have to give you a reason. Maybe I just don’t want to. Maybe I’m not attracted to you. Maybe I’m on my period. Or have a yeast infection. Or maybe I don’t want to shave my legs. (Ew gross. You mean woman are people with bodies that aren’t always “sex ready”?) Quit pushing. No means no. You being a man does not entitle you to any explanation at all. We’re equal, right? So ask yourself. Do you ever feel you HAVE to explain your sexual choices to random people? I don’t mean do you feel comfortable with discussing it. I am actually quite comfortable discussing sex. I’m asking do you ever feel that you don’t have a choice. Do you ever feel the person won’t back off until you answer. It’s bullshit. 

Now. As most woman know, I can say all day long, “I don’t owe you any explanation”. But men can be relentless. So most times we do give a reason. I used to just make something up. “I have a boyfriend” is the most common. Because for some reason, these guys have more respect for an imaginary man and his ownership over me than they do for me as a woman. 

Today a man messaged me. I almost didn’t bring it up in this post. In case he read my blog and knew I was talking about him. Then, like an out-of-body experience, I realized. Eff that guy. Why are we woman conditioned in such a way, that this man’s fragile ego just about censored what I was going to write? I told him. Repeatedly. I am not having sex. Every conversation was turned to sex. Working out? Sex. Going dancing? Sex. Doing improv? Sex. I finally just told him again, I have no intention of having sex. The last time I “hooked up” with someone, I ended up pregnant. It was traumatic and life changing. It’s not going to happen. His response? We could use a condom. And a comment on how big my boobs must be since I’m nursing. 

I hear men say all the time: I wouldn’t care if a woman talk to me that way. I would rather woman be upfront like that. If I didn’t want it I would just say no. I don’t see what the big deal is. Women are overreacting, if somebody said something like that to me I would just brush it off.

A man just prioritized a sexual want he had for me over a life-changing experience I had. Pause. Let that sink in. I just expressed a life-changing occurrence to somebody and he still felt that his desire to have sex was more important.

Why is this socially acceptable? I feel like, since woman have this possible outcome from intercourse, men would be more like, “Oh shit. I hear ya on that. No problem. Do you want to go for a bike ride instead? Or to the theatre? Or really anything that doesn’t have a long term consequence like a child? Good looking out lady.”

I feel like women everywhere or banging their heads against a wall. It’s really not that hard of a concept. We are not your sexual objects. We deserve the same respect you would give any man. The equal does not mean the same. Meaning, we make choices based on having a vagina and uterus. Does that make you uncomfortable? Do you think it’s unfair? You’ll be okay. Believe me. Women have been having to adjust what works for them to be in a man’s world since the beginning of time. Half the population does not have a penis. Just because you don’t have to watch your drinks at a party, or worry about being raped in an alleyway, or have a fear that telling a man no will result in physical retaliation, doesn’t mean those things don’t exist. I feel like I speak for all women when I say I am so tired of having to deal with the fragility of the male ego. 

I was not put on this earth for a man. My purpose in life is not to fulfill some man’s purpose. My purpose in life is to live MY LIFE to it’s fullest. Woman can, in fact, just be single. Our ultimate goal does not have to be to find a man. I know. I know. What the hell will I talk to my girlfriends about? Or daydream about?  Aren’t men ALWAYS the topic of conversation? 

Equality does not mean us women have to become men. Let me say that again. Equality does not mean I have to become a man. Equality means I should be able to function daily as a woman without feeling I owe a man anything. Equality means you men need to acknowledge the fact that we are different and with that, comes different needs that must be met. We’ve all heard the quote, “When you are privileged, equality feels a lot like oppression”. It’s going to be uncomfortable for you guys to change. But guess what. It has been uncomfortable for us women. Next time you’re rejected, just drop it. Then, think to yourself how awesome that must be for the girl. That you going through a few moments of rejection, just reaffirmed in her that her voice matters. That no means no. That she deserves respect. Don’t worry. It will get easier with time and practice. 

We’re not asking for free soft drinks. We’re simply saying that the vending machine should be functional for both dollars and coins.

Welcome to Our Home

I love analogies. One of my favorites is viewing our country as a household. First off, the family/house you’re born into is completely by chance. We (Americans) were born into a wealthy family. Or adopted into it. We have running water, food, a place to sleep, and amenities. While other households (countries) may be lacking some or all of those things. Secondly, we all disagree with our other family members at some point. But having the “house rules” (Constitution) makes sure that everyone is heard, and no one is taken advantage of or treated unjustly. 

I’m not going to go into our relationship with our neighbors. Or exactly how our family started out here, since we know there was bloodshed.  I want to talk all but what’s going on right inside our house right now. Because I feel like people are so busy looking out the window that they’re not noticing what is happening to our family. 

I want to know. If your child told you they were being poisoned by the water in their bathroom, would you call a plumber and pay to fix it? If your child lost their job and couldn’t buy their own food, would you feed them? If your child couldn’t get to school, would you make sure they got there? If your child had strep throat, but couldn’t afford an antibiotic, would you pay the bill? Of course you would. They are your family. You know investing in your child is going to help set them up for success. Plus, it helps the rest of the family to have a child that can read, isn’t ill, and is thriving. 

Obviously, I’m saying that every American has a right to have their basic needs met. And don’t start this “you’re not entitled” bullshit. Yes we are. Being born (or adopted) into this family means we don’t have to (or shouldn’t have to) worry about basic human rights. 

Now what about the extras. If your child wants to play baseball, do you let them? Piano lessons? The Internet?  Remember, this isn’t about money in your household. Your house is rich. This is about whether you think a child should have to pay for the extra stuff, or if it should come out if the budget. One parent may say, “Yes! We’re able to give this kid experiences and privileges that others can’t have. I say we go for it.” While the other parent may say, “Absolutely not. I didn’t have those things when I grew up and I turned out fine. They will grow up spoiled if we don’t make them work for it.” So what’s the solution? We find a compromise. A budget. 

Now what if you have a kid that stealing food out of the pantry. They’re taking more than they need. They’re wasting. They’re selling the food to other kids in the house. Should you disallow all the he kids who can’t buy their own food from eating? No. Because you know who will be hurt? The ones that can’t work. The ones too young. The ones with disabilities. The ones who are struggling. 

Now, one of your neighbors is blowing something up. Threatening to blow up your house and your kids. And you notice that a few of your kids look a lot like this neighbor. You know they are your kids. They work, contribute, and are ready part of your family. But….they do look are really lot like those bad people. Do you kick them out? Do you tell them they are unwelcome? Or do you protect your child, because they are part if YOUR FAMILY. 

Our family. Our household. America. We need to stop acting like we are in competition with each other. There is no reason every American shouldn’t have every basic need met. Why does Flint still not have clean drinking water? Why is higher education considered a luxury? Why the hell can’t I drive down my road without fear of messing up my car because of the pot holes? Why are there people that have ongoing medical issues that are untreated because they can’t afford the bill? 

I am not saying every American needs a new ipad or should be issued a new car. I’m saying we need to stop sending our family to the neighbors house to fight with them and maybe fix our effing roof, make sure everyone’s getting food and water. Maybe we need to ask the ones that are making these decisions for our house why they are eating lobster and sitting in a warm room while there are people downstairs that are thirsty and cold. 

I will never understand why there is SO much fear involved in helping people. Always scared someone is going ro get something you’re not getting. They hold on to these stories of someone abusing the system, and clump EVERYONE who needs assistance under it. I have needed food, medical, childcare, and even cash assistance at one point or another in my adulthood. And I don’t feel bad about it. Because America is my family, and I had needs my children and I needed met. And I will be damned if someone is going to tell me that I am a leech off the system or make me feel guilty about it. 

Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

Story time.

I got my driver’s license when I was 17. It was quite exciting to be able to drive my fellow cheerleaders and myself to get food after school and stuff. So, one day, I decided to get something to eat. I was running late, and speeding. I see a police officer…oh shit. I quickly turn down a few streets and hope to lose him. He catches up to me, pulls me over and comes to my window. I apologize and explain that I was a cheerleader and I was running late and I was SO sorry for speeding. He gave me a warning and before he walked back to his car said, “Hey. And a little piece of advice. If you see an officer, don’t try to run from them. We’ll always find you, and it’ll just make us mad.” I was embarrassed and said thank you.

Fast forward a year. At this point I am 18 and living in Grand Rapids. I have now been pulled over more that 15 times. (Seriously. I was pulled over 3 times in one week once) The only ticket I had ever received was a fix-it ticket for my plate being expired. I was driving around with my friends and I see the lights of a police car light up. On this occasion, I had most definitely done nothing wrong. He came to the window and proceeds to ask us what we are doing/where we are going. I am internally freaking out. My friend sitting next to me says, “Excuse me officer, what’s your badge number? You are pulling us over for ‘looking suspicious’? I would like to report you for harassment. We have complied, and answered all your questions. You pulled us over because she has pink hair, I have a mohawk, and we’re all teenagers.” After muttering some irritation, he told us to stay out of trouble and to go on our way.

So many stories. I have so many examples of being pulled over. I’ve been respectful, and I’ve been an asshole. I’ve been at fault, and I’ve been pulled over because the officer is just being a dick. I’ve had my proper paperwork, and I’ve had to search endlessly in a car full of junk and trash only to find I don’t have it with me. My car has broke down, ran out of gas, and I’ve had multiple tires blow out. So many stories.

You know what story I don’t have? One where I was shot. None of my stories end with someone thinking I had a gun and shooting me. When I unbuckled to climb over to search for my purse in the back seat, still alive. When I grabbed something out of my glove compartment, still alive. When I sassed the officer because he pulled me over for 5 over ths speed limit, down a hill, and got shitty with me, still alive. When the old couple slammed on their brakes because they thought they saw a stop sign and I slammed into them, still alive. When I got out of the car to see if they were ok, and my plates were expired, and my mom saw and came running down the street to see if we were ok…all still alive.

Stop telling me people are being shot because they broke the law. That they are being KILLED because they didn’t comply. Being a bad driver, having a broken down car, even being an asshole, is not punishable by death. It is absolutely asinine that people are suggesting that these people deserve it because they “could have” been a threat. I have never ONCE had a gun pulled on me. And I have never felt if I moved a certain way in the car, it would cost me my life. Why? Because I’m such an amazing driver and respectful human? Not always! Sometimes I’m an absolute terrible driver. And sometimes I’m a jerk to the officer because I’m irritated he pulled me over. I have never had a gun pulled on me because I am white. I look non-threatening because I am a white female.

I want you to stop what you’re doing and just think. Think about that time you drove home drunk. Think about that time you were an asshole to the cop. Think about the time you saw the cop car and cut down a street hoping they wouldn’t pull you over. Think about any youthful decision you made involving the law. Aren’t you glad it didn’t end with being shot? Aren’t you so thankful that you feel so safe in life, that even breaking the law doesn’t make you fear death?

Now, think about that time you were completely compliant. Did you reach in your purse for you license? Your glove compartment for your registration? When you were pulled over for speeding, did you feel the need to show your hands until the officer got to the window? Did you feel that your life was in danger if you moved at all?

What many of you think, is that #blacklivesmatter is about letting people get away with breaking the law. People honestly think that the reason these lives are lost is because they must be doing something suspicious or wrong. But here’s the thing, if a black person gets pulled over and is an asshole to the cop, they should get the same consequences as me. A stern lecture and a citation. Because our officers do deserve respect and I was breaking the law. They do not deserve a bullet in the back.

#Blacklivesmatter. People should be allowed to walk suspiciously, wear hoodies, have their cars break down, get pulled over for traffic violations, and even talk back and be assholes, without the threat of dying.

All I’m asking is for others out there to try to comprehend what that must be like. What it feels like to be at a store and feel that all eyes are watching you constantly. To not be able to be oblivious to your surroundings. What it must feel like to have a constant anxiety in your stomach that someone thinks you’re up to something. Purely based on how you look.

I do not think that the officers are making it up. I do feel that they think they are threatened. But why do they feel that way? This is what #blacklivesmatter is about. Changing people’s first response. We need to ask ourselves why these officers feel that their life is in danger when they see somebody with dark skin. We CANNOT change this until we chose to see it.

Last thing. I know so many that have preached loudly against #blacklivesmatter. You have you already taken the “racism doesn’t exist” or “I’m colorblind” or the “They deserve it. Maybe if they didn’t break the law” stance. Maybe just now you have realized you were wrong, it’s ok. You are allowed to change your mind. You are allowed to tell the world that you had a realization and see how blatant the inequality is. I will never, ever, belittle or demean somebody for changing their stance on something if it means lives will be saved. Let go of your pride, help save lives.

I wasn’t shot, and they shouldn’t be either.

I Get it Now

My family is comically large. We have it all going on. Siblings, half siblings, adopted, step, etc. Growing up this way, none of the labels mattered. It was just “my brother” or “my sister”. Many would look at the complexity of our family and just be happy we didn’t try to complicate it more. I won’t bore you with a list, because today I’m just focusing on my little sister Kaylene.

Kaylene and I hated each other growing up. We also absolutely loved each other. I felt like she got away with everything, and I’m sure she felt like I was mean and picked on her. Just your basic love/hate sibling stuff. But there was one detail, that until recently, I didn’t realize played such a large roll in our relationship. I was from a broken home, she wasn’t.

I have 3 daughters close in age. It mimics my family dynamic growing up. My sister Lynda and I would go to our dads every other weekend. My sister Kaylene stayed home with my mom and step dad. With my girls, my eldest 2 only see their dad a couple times per year. My youngest daughter goes to her dad’s every other week.

See, I knew my pain. My older sister and I would feel torn and left out. We only saw our dad twice a month. I would get so mad at Kaylene. She has her mom and dad ALL THE TIME. What does she have to complain about? She should be happy! So ungrateful. She has no idea the emotional stress that would cause us! She would whine about how unfair it was that we got to go to Cedar Point with our dad. She would get jealous if our dad sent us a letter, and she didn’t get mail. She would pester to hear about all the fun stuff we built with legos or which video games we played. I would just tell her it was none of her business. I would get angry and purposely not tell her things so Lynda and I could have inside jokes and stories. She just didn’t get it. We would have given up every single toy, video game, vacation, and letter to have what she had. I loved my step dad. A ton. But only kids from broken homes can truly understand how torn you feel. How you can love both parents and feel happy at both houses and still feel like somehow you’re not whole.

“But Nadia! I never get to go to Las Vegas! Can’t I just go and see your dad’s house sometime? I want to see his dogs!”

“No Genevieve. It’s OUR dad. You get to see your dad all the time. Las Vegas is our special time with him! And Ziggy and Pepper probably wouldn’t like you because they only like certain people. ”

My heart broke. For both of them. Nadia is so mean to Genevieve. Not because Nadia is a mean kid, but because she is hurt. She is jealous. She is trying so hard to make herself feel like she has something special, when in fact, she is terribly jealous of her baby sister. She has anger that her dad has missed the majority of her childhood, while Genevieve has her dad and stepmom involved in almost every event. She is hurt, so she is choosing to take it out on Genevieve. And my poor little Genevieve doesn’t understand. She just feels left out. She feels alone. All her siblings (on both sides) have someone. She wants to feel connected and is purposely being excluded.

Genevieve came to me a couple weeks ago. She gave me a bracelet that was half a heart that said “Big Sis” on it. I asked her why she was giving it to me. She originally bought it for a one of her sisters at her dad’s house. She told me both her sisters told her to give it to someone else. So she tried to give it to her sisters here. Neither wanted it and told her to just wear it herself or put it on a stuffed animal. She then said to me, “When I’m a grown up, can you be my sister? Because then you can wear it.” I put it on, gave her a big hug and told her I loved it.

Then I cried. A lot. Siblings are mean to each other. That’s nothing new. They get sassy, bossy, and sometimes they’re just little assholes to each other. But this is more than that.

I talked to my older kids about it. I told them they need to be kind to her. That she’s only 6 and needs to feel love from her sister’s. To try to remember being that age. Try to remember how it felt to feel excluded by older kids. To try to remember how it felt to want them to think you were cool or funny. Just try to be compassionate.

I am so sorry Kaylene. I have always loved you, but I never realized the pain you went through because of us. I always felt that my home was broken, but yours was not. And I was jealous of that. So jealous. Jealous to the point of anger. I did not realize that we were your home. That every other weekend, your home was broke too. Because your sisters left and had a whole different life and home. I see now that mom and dad weren’t “favoring” you. They were protecting a little kid from a mean bully of a sister. They weren’t letting you get away with stuff, they just understood that you were acting out because, honestly, your sister Bethy was kind of an asshole who liked to push your buttons.

When I see Genevieve, with hurt and loneliness in her eyes, I can finally understand why you didn’t feel like the “lucky one” who had both her parents. You felt like the forgotten one who was pushed aside. And while my actions as a child are completely understandable and probably expected, it doesn’t take away from the fact that it hurt you. I’m sorry.

Love you baby sis.