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My Therapist Is On Vacation Post: Flower Girl

wedding-bouquet

In all my years of therapy, I only mentioned my former step-mother to my psychologist a few times which is kind of shocker because she was such a bitch. It was bad enough that my biological dad is schizophrenic, was an alcoholic, and would snort whatever he could find. My ex stepmother was bipolar and an alcoholic or as I experienced, a mean and vindictive drunk.

Every time my bio dad “Tom” would piss her off, “Kathy” didn’t just keep it between them. Oh, no, that’s too simple. The bitch would take it out on me and put me in the middle of whatever bullshit fight they were going through at the time.

I was only 9 years-old when it first started since that’s when I met my biological father for the very first time seeing how he was MIA all those years prior.

Blah, blah, blah, to the point.

Tom and Kathy were still engaged when I met my dad for the first time. 6 months later they married, and I spent three weeks seeing some very interesting chaos and dysfunction in the Kathy/Tom household. They would have the most fucked up, twisted fights in front of us kids… I had two step-brothers.

There was that one time when Kathy had a bitch fit when my dad came home from work and wanted to take me out to dinner. Just me and him. For the first time since he came into my life 6 months prior. The bitch had a fucking meltdown over the mere suggestion of Tom and I getting to know each other as father and daughter.

It became a Defcon 5 and my uncle had to pick up the three of us and get us out of that insanity. All because my dad wanted to take me out to dinner.

By the time we had gotten back, things had simmered down and my step-brothers and I huddled together on the couch while the two lovebirds went at it again well into the early morning.

The three of us fell asleep on the couch and had a rude awakening the next morning. The bitch was going ballistic and my brothers and I were hiding underneath the blankets on the couch. When the soon to be newlyweds ended up in the kitchen with their fighting, dear Kathy set a fine example by picking up a knife from the counter and threatened to kill Tom. I remember peeking out from the blankets while she was waving the knife around his face.

If that’s not true love. I don’t know what is.

So, despite the relationship from hell, they actually went through with the wedding.

Dear sweet baby jeebus.

The bitch made me flower girl and by this point, I was shell-shocked from my weeks of hell with Tom and Kathy but because it was the wedding day, people mistook it for me being overcome with emotion. Yeah, it was terror and the culprits were the two people who were supposed to be somewhat sane and stable adults.

The wedding was a shit fest for me and so fake. Especially after the absolute madness I witnessed over and over again within their relationship.

Okay, it’s time to toss the bitchy bride’s bouquet. I didn’t want any part of it. Mostly, I just wanted to get away from her crazy ass. I also found that most of her friends seemed to have hit every crazy, superficial, branch on the bat shit tree. Lucky me had to stand amongst these bitches who were ready to take down anyone who got in the way of the bridal bouquet.

I put my 9 year-old ass in the back so I wouldn’t be trampled on and then the flowers were thrown. I was running away from that mess like a quarterback doing whatever the hell a quarterback does.

That’s when it happened. I accidentally caught the fucking flowers. I couldn’t care less and just wanted some cake and an escape from Kathy. Not even a minute after I caught the bouquet, the superficial bitches started to whine about how it wasn’t fair that I caught the bouquet.

Yes, really. Something about how now that the bride is officially my step-monster, it wasn’t fair that I caught the flowers and I can’t even remember their lame argument over something so petty. Things like it’s not like she’s really throwing her bridal bouquet because it’s just going back home with her since I caught it.

????????

I have no clue but they were a bunch of whiney bitches who made a HUGE fuss over this. So much so that it took away from the wedding and other guests were trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

These were supposed to be grown ass women. I just wanted to give the flowers to anyone who would take them and get myself out of that ridiculous mess. But an even bigger deal had to be made and so cunty Kathy took the flowers back from me and decided to throw them a second time so it would be “fair”.

I refused to go back in with that group of assholes but my step-mother insisted I once again join the group while she threw the bouquet… again.

Guess who caught it?

Me.

Again.

What the ever-loving fuck?

And can you guess what happened?

Yes, those bitches freaked out again and were royally pissed that I caught the bouquet for the second time.

I have to admit that I somewhat enjoyed catching it again and since I picked up such colorful language while staying with Kathy and Tom, it would have pleased me to yell out SUCK ON THAT, BITCHES!

But I didn’t and I offered to give away that damn bridal bouquet… again.

There was actually talk of Kathy throwing the flowers a third goddamn time but instead those bitches complained how a kid caught the flowers twice and WAAAAAA! It’s not fair. It made for an extra fun wedding reception.

After that came our family honeymoon type thing. They took me and my step-brothers to Disneyland and it wasn’t the happiest place on earth. Why? It’s because Tom and Kathy fought their way from the entrance to “the magical kingdom” all the way to the tea cups and space mountain and the water slide thing and you get my drift.

They were saying fuck this and fuck that and fuck you… ALL in front of families and Disneyland workers and even the mouse himself.

It’s safe to say that it will never be my dream to go to Disney world if I ever win the super bowl. I’m scarred for life from going there again.

As I got older, Kathy did super fun stuff like spend some money on clothes or gifts for me but when Tom would piss her off and they would be fighting back and forth, she would demand those things back. I had quickly learned not to accept anything from her “generosity” but just like when I was a flower girl, it wasn’t so easy to tell this woman no.

And this is the type of stuff my poor therapist has to listen to. No wonder she goes on vacation as often as she does.

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10 Things To Do Before Christmas

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10. Battle it out with the tape and wrapping paper.

9. Get a sugar buzz from hot cocoa.

8. Get a buzz from spiked hot chocolate.

7. Curse out the Christmas lights.

6. Cry when hearing your favorite holiday song. Damn you, emotions!

5. Buy enough booze for a small army because family is coming.

4. Decide you want to get a jump start to a healthier lifestyle and don’t make it past dinner because CHRISTMAS COOKIES.

3. Wonder why the hell you’re sending holiday cards to half the people on your card list.

2. Say “I’m never doing this shit again!”

1. Watch Elf.

Happy Holidays!

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Beyond Belief

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I read the book Beyond Belief: My Secret Life Inside Scientology and My Harrowing Escape by Jenna Miscavige Hill, which was really good but so beyond belief. Jenna is the niece of Scientology’s COB, David Miscavige.

The things I read in that book just blew my mind. Jenna joining the Sea Org at age 7, signing a billion year contract, hard labor, seeing her parents once a week, if that, little education… mostly of Scientology teachings.

I got sucked into learning more about Scientology and read Blown For Good by Marc Headley. His wife was forced to get an abortion since she was a part of the Sea Org i.e. slave labor and pregnancy isn’t allowed. There was also a very fucked up account of David Miscavige, okay not just one account but many, and this one involved a sort of musical chairs with Bohemian Rhapsody being played. The ones who didn’t make it would be kicked out of the Church Of $cientology.

Before I finished that, I also jumped into reading Going Clear: Scientology, Hollywood, and The Prison Of Belief from Lawrence Wright. This is the book an HBO documentary was based on earlier this year.

Then I found out even stranger things that were so off the wall but after reading these 3 books, I’m much more apt to believe the former members of Scientology, like Paul Haggis, than the spokespeople of Scientology who dismiss them as having some kind of agenda against them or are attention seekers.

This shit is freaky.

For years I’ve heard bits and pieces about Scientology from Tom Cruise, John Travolta, and Kirstie Alley but holy fuck, these people don’t seem to have any clue about what really goes on in the “church”.

Any little thing, for instance just trying to leave the church, can send a member to RPF, Rehabilitation Project Force, which is like a prison or more like hell on earth.

What Katie Didn’t Know is an article about how one Scientology member was groomed to be Tom Cruise’s girlfriend and the woman, actress Nazanin Boniadi, made a mistake in the eyes of the church and was sent off packing after living with Cruise.

I’ll be honest, from the early days of Tom Cruise, I wasn’t a fan and never got the appeal of him. It always seemed like he put on a happy face but underneath he seemed like he would flip the fuck out over anything. I guess I wasn’t too far off.

I just got Leah Remini’s Book, Troublemaker: Surviving Hollywood And Scientology, and what I’ve learned is that anytime I read anything about Scientology, it still surprises me. I just can’t wrap my head around it.

The “Church” spokepeople always have the same old bullshit retaliations about former members who were “out of control”, they’re trying to further their careers, blah blah blah, but after reading three of these books so far, I find one thing certain. Scientology is full of shit. There’s way too many things in all of the books that really add up.

There were definitely certain parts of these books that got the little hairs in the back of my neck standing up. While a lot of the ways of the CO$ is beyond belief, the truth really is stranger than fiction.

~~~~~~~~~~

I don’t know about you but I need a palate cleanser after all the CO$ talk, so here’s a cute bunny.

cute-bunny

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Who Is That Frantic, Disheveled, Crazy Mom Dropping Her Kid Off At School? Oh, It’s Just Me.

When we moved over the summer, we ended up being only a few blocks away from the hummingbird’s school. I had these images in my head of walking her to school in the morning, hand in hand, with all the time in the world. Easy breezy.

In reality, I think that has only happened once.

No matter how much time we have in the morning before she has to go to school, time escapes us and chaos ensues. Every damn morning.

I make her lunch the night before and have her lay out her clothes for school. I make sure her backpack and school folder are all set to go. Most of the time, I even remember to put her lunch in her bag before we leave the house. Yeah, I’ve gotten the call about my 6 year-old finding that I forgot it. Whoops.

I’ve found that I am happy as hell when she actually wants to eat school lunch since that’s one less thing to worry about getting done.

Despite ALL of the preparation, that easy breezy walk to school ends up being a mad dash to the car and a drive only a few minutes away instead.

Me: We have to leave in 10 minutes! Have you brushed your teeth and hair? No? Well, please do that now. Sweetie, we need to leave soon. You can watch Paw Patrol once you get home from school. Why aren’t you dressed yet? Did you brush your teeth? Okay, we need to leave in 5 minutes. No, you don’t need to change your clothes. Wear what you have on. It looks fine. Please, we really need to go in a few minutes.

Go put your shoes on. Wait, you didn’t brush your hair yet. Go brush your hair. Little Hummingbird?! What are you doing upstairs? I’m ready to walk out the door. Well, come on! Let’s go! Please! We’re going to be late! Why did you change your outfit? And where did your socks go? We need to hurry! Pleeeeease, let’s go!! I don’t know where that other shoe is. Just wear your purple shoes. No, you can’t wear your sandals. Because it’s too cold.

Sweetie, please, please, pleeeease just put on your shoes. We really need to go. Okay, well, I’m leaving. No, you don’t need to bring your My Little Pony stuffie to school. Leave it here. Pleeeeease, let’s go!!!!!! I’m walking out the door for real this time. I guess I’m going to school by myself. Then, come on and put your shoes on. Hurry! It’s time to go!!!

This happens almost every freaking morning. Oh my god.

We end up rushing to school in the car, I park since they don’t have a car drop off/pick up area in front of the school, and we zoom across the school grounds and go inside. As we do this, I see the easy breezy moms walking their kids into the school. Some are pushing strollers and may have a meandering toddler, along with their school age child. These moms don’t even seem to be breaking a sweat. They look so put together and are often chatting with other moms even though time is ticking away before the late bell.

There are a few moms I see with their hair and make up on point. Wearing skinny jeans, ankle boots, and a shirt that isn’t wrinkled. The nail in the drop off coffin is that these moms are almost always holding a Starbucks coffee. The two Starbucks we have in the entire area aren’t close by.

It would be one thing if they had a coffee from a nearby place but they have time to presumably shower in the morning, put on full make up and have perfectly coiffed hair, wear clothes that could go from day to a night out with the girls, get their children ready for school, AND on top of that they have plenty of time to drive 20 minutes to and from Starbucks before dropping their kid off at school.

I’m jealous!

And then there’s me. I’m so busy getting my one child ready for school that there are days I can’t even remember whether or not I even brushed my hair. I’m usually in my pajama pants and ugly but oh so comfy Uggs, wearing my husband’s comfy and oversized warm jacket. I’m also usually starving since I was only able to have a few bites of breakfast in between yelling for my daughter to HURRY UP, and I’m in desperate need of caffeine.

What’s worse is that I’m not much better when it comes to picking my daughter up from school. Except for getting a shower. I’ll get so caught up in doing things around the house and running errands. When I check the time, I’ll be happy to see that I have an hour or two before the hummingbird needs to be picked up.

I’m not sure what happens in that time… maybe I’m abducted by aliens and my sense of time gets screwed up from it but it never fails that the next time I check the clock, it’ll be 10-15 minutes before I need to pick her up. Wtf? So, instead of that easy breezy walk to her school in the afternoon, once again I’m making a mad dash to the car to get there on time. And of course, the couple of times I’ve been a few minutes late are the days she gets out of class early.

I know I’m just not cut out to be that chill mom bringing my kid to school with plenty of time to spare but maybe some day, I will actually have time to put on some real pants. Probably not but I can dream.

*Anna Nalick

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As Yoda Would Say… Soccer Mom, I Am Not

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Okay, Yoda never said anything like that but if he had to use his car as a free taxi service and shuffle his kids around from activity to activity while they whined about being hungry, tired, mad about being rushed out of the door because they’re moving as slooow as slugs, etc., he’d be over that shit pretty quick.

Let me just start by saying, my 6 year-old hummingbird has a natural athletic ability that leaves me so proud and in absolute awe. Like I tell others, she may be small but my girl has spunk.

And yes, while I can say no to her doing an extracurricular activity, it can sneak up on me and before I know it, she’s involved in a buttload of things.

I’m all for the other activities she does… except soccer. For some reason, it makes me irrationally stabby. I’m fine with her gymnastics class, especially after being rid of the Type A mom master, and I love her ice skating classes. It doesn’t hurt that her dad usually takes her to ice skating while I’m snoozing in my warm and cozy bed. But, just like last year, I dread being a “soccer mom”.

Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing my little girl kick some ass on the field. I just find it much more pleasant watching her play soccer in our backyard. She’s more confident about being on a soccer team this year which is awesome and helps soothe my nerves since I don’t have to drag her kicking and screaming to her soccer games. I just find myself being the one who gets whiny when it comes to going to soccer practice and games this time around.

I don’t want to sit my ass out in the hot sun… soon to be the freezing cold and rain and snow… for an hour. I don’t want to be outside when I can be lounging on my couch on a Saturday morning, reading my mindless and very welcome US Weekly without pants and a bra. I don’t want to sign up for snack duty and feed 10 kids instead of just my own.

What’s up with that anyway? When I participated in sports as a kid, I felt like I won the snack lottery from saving my allowance and scoring a hot dog at the snack shack at the little league baseball field. Even a cup of cold water from a thermos that my coach brought along made me feel like I struck gold.

So, in other words, BAH-FUCKING-HUMBUG, soccer!

Who knows, maybe the little hummingbird won’t want to bother with soccer next year. One can hope. In the meantime, I will start pinning plenty of varieties of spiked hot chocolate to possibly take along with me to upcoming soccer games.

That’s what I call getting into the spirit of the game. Yeah, such a bad pun. Ahem, I’ll see myself out.

*GNR

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The Likeness Is Uncanny

Well, look at that! Donald Trump is on the cover.

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I already shared this fabulous photo of the misogynistic pig on my FB page, but couldn’t resist posting it here.

And if you need some brain bleach, here you go…

*The hummingbird and I can’t get enough of this song.

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Purrell Force Fields Would Really Come In Handy

Just when I felt like my writing mojo was finally coming back, time hasn’t been on my side. FYI, this post isn’t for sensitive stomachs.

The hummingbird has gotten sick countless times since she started Kindergarten. It’s one of the germiest places, apparently.

My 6 year-old has a few weeks left of school but has gotten two different ailments in the past two weeks. Last weekend, she had a stomach bug. I felt like I won the not very pukey child award prior to this since she hasn’t been much of a thrower upper. That’s a word.

Sure, she’s done it every now and then but nothing too bad.

Until last week.

After catching vomit in various ways… cupping hands, getting a giant bowl, grabbing her and sprinting to the bathroom, etc… I feel like I should get a barf badge to sew on my Brownie sash from when I was in the 4th grade.

Better yet, all new parents should be given a sash so we can receive badges for the milestones we go through with our children.

Pumping breast milk and accidentally spilling that precious liquid gold? There’s a badge for that.

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Potty training your child? There’s a badge for that.

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Surviving Toddler PMS without going through with your plans of running away from home? Get out the sewing kit… because there’s a badge for that.

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My husband ran and got a bowl. A tiny, little bowl that would be more suitable for a kitten with a hairball. He must have noticed my death stare because he said “What?”

And then we had a conversation I never thought we’d have. The conversation about what bowl would be best for Little Miss Pukey.

My husband’s side of it was any bowl is suitable and he had grabbed a bowl which he uses to take his lunch to work sometimes. Gag. But my side was the bigger the bowl, the better to catch any and all kinds of puke. And it would need to be a bowl we would never, ever, ever use again. But, it would be put in the medicine and towel closet and forever be known as the puke bowl.

I can’t believe we discussed this either.

These are only stunt bowls but the size I grabbed is on the left. My husband’s is on the right.

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So, I carried this bowl around wherever the hummingbird went for the next few days while she was home from school. At least it was better than using my hands or having vomit all over my shirt.

The bird was finally feeling better and finished out the school week. Yay!

And then she got sick again. Fuuuck. Of course it was on a weekend.

Her pediatrician has walk ins during the week for only half an hour at the ass crack of dawn. So, off we went. Things seemed to be looking up and then her doctor did a test.

A few minutes later, it came back positive for step throat. Fuckity fuck.

Poor kid.

After the pukefest and strep and all the school she’s missed this year, we can kiss that perfect attendance award goodbye. But really, how in the hell do some kids never miss one day of school from Kindergarten to their Senior year?

Are they surround by some protective barrier we can’t see? A Purrell force field perhaps.

I should start working on that before the hummingbird starts first grade. Wrap her in bubble wrap to prevent bumps, bruises, and scratches, put her in a hazmat suit with a built-in alarm system, and have a Purrell force field follow her everywhere she goes.

Then, I may not be so freaking anxious whenever she’s not in my care.

Who am I kidding? I’ll always be that way.

What kind of parenting badges would you like to receive?

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