Frenetic/Sincere

"You've got an attitude on you!"  he smiled.

 

 

Not really, sweetheart, I have a personality.  One I can switch on and off depending on whether I'm trying to drive people away or tolerate me a little longer.  And, you with your sparkly eyes and adorable smile can definitely not be allowed to get any closer than this.  You scream "player".

 

So, my frenetic energy side is on with you.  The side that causes me to say absolutely every inappropriate thing that pops into my head.  The side that makes you think I have an "attitude".  The side that doesn't get attached.  The only side you will ever see.

 

Frenetic Sarah is fun.  I take her to bars, clubs, parties & BBQs.    She wears bright pink stilettos and clothes other people have picked out.  She walks differently and talks a lot. She fake smiles and insincere laughs her way through the night. Then, I take her home and tuck her into bed because she is exhausting.  Really, how do people live like that?!

 

Sincere Sarah is quiet.  She truly doesn't like to draw attention to herself.  She thinks before she speaks.  She listens.  She waits.  She feels.  She sucks.  So, she gets left at home most of the time.

 

When I meet someone and feel the instant attraction and/or chemistry, Sincere Sarah gets locked in the basement - for her own protection.

 

"You've got an attitude on you!"  he smiled. 
"Yeah, but you like it."  I challenge.
 "Write down your number for me."

 

Here we go again.  Thankfully, I know I can't keep up the act any longer than he'll be able to tolerate it.

I am not helpless

I spent the last morning of "Spring Break" shoveling several inches of snow off of my driveway.  Because NOTHING will stop me from taking these children back to school tomorrow. 

Halfway through, my neighbor from a few houses down drives up and rolls down his window.  This neighbor has a snow blower, and I've watched him clear his driveway and his next door neighbor's driveway several times this winter.  I've watched him while I've shoveled mine all by myself.  I've cursed him under my breath several times for not even offering to help me.

"Sorry I didn't come help you, my wife said I can't."

"Huh?  May I ask why she wouldn't let you."

"Ummm... she says that's what you get for kicking your husband out."

"Hahahahahahaha.  Tell your wife I said thanks, but I wouldn't have let you help anyway.  I can do this by myself.  Obviously."

 

Seriously, lady?  You can keep your husband around to shovel snow if you want to, but I got this.

 

I wasn't raised to be helpless.  My grandma did everything on her own, and never once did I hear her long for the days when she had a husband around to do it for her.  It never even occurred to me to need someone.  I've been taking care of myself since long before I should have, and I imagine I always will.

 

Was it nice to not have to mow or shovel or change the oil in my car?  Sure.  Did I enjoy being able to stay inside and make hot chocolate and get pelted with snow against the kitchen door.  Sure.  Do I long for those days?  Not even a little.

 

My husband and I split for a lot of reasons, but not one of them can be overshadowed by my desire to stay warm and dry during a snowstorm. 

 

I am not helpless. 

I can shovel my own driveway.

Take out my own trash.

Take my car to a mechanic.

And anything else that lady's husband might do for her.

 

I can also breathe easier knowing no one's going to come stumbling in drunk at 3 am.

No one takes over the remote control.

The recliner is mine.

Salad is on the menu.

Everyone who judges me lives outside of my house.

 

I'm a lot of things.  Most of them not very nice.  But I am not helpless.  And, I've got the cleanly shoveled driveway to prove it.



Why do you look so mad?

This is my face.  My natural, relaxed, all the time, no matter the season, morning/noon/night face.  And, apparently, I look mad.  Apparently, this is intimidating.  Apparently, this causes complete strangers, mild acquaintances, and close friends to wonder who I want to kill.  But, it's just my normal expression.  And, I only want to kill someone about 67% of the time.  So, calm down people.

I've seen the people who walk around smiling all the time, and I don't trust them.  Who's happy all the time?!  I prefer people who look like they're living in the real world.  People who don't see fairies and gumdrops everywhere they go.

But this is me.  And, maybe I like that my expression makes most people leave me alone.  Maybe I don't want to be friendly and approachable.  Maybe I've been through some stuff that makes me not want people to get close.  Maybe I don't want you to feel like you can walk right up to me and become a part of my life.  Maybe I don't want to watch one more person walk through my heart leaving nothing but pieces in their wake.

I recently tried smiling more.  Well, I wasn't really trying - it was more like I was inspired to smile more.  Know what happened?  It was uncomfortable and awkward.  It made my cheeks sore.  And, I got hurt.  So, no thank you.  I'm back to where I belong and this melancholy is so much more fitting.  It even works in my favor sometimes.  It weeds out the weaker links and allows the stronger ones to shine.  The ones willing to walk right up to you and say "Why are you so mad?".  The ones who will accept the unspoken challenge and try to make me smile.  The ones who will insist they are winning when it happens.  Those moments make this natural face of mine right.

So, the next time you see someone who doesn't look like the sun shines on them all the time, try to remember that maybe it doesn't.  Maybe that person is trying to keep everyone at arm's length (or evil stare's length) for a reason.  And, maybe, don't point out how angry they look... unless you plan on changing it.

"What did you do?!"

After yesterday's post, I got a lot of people asking what exactly I did after overhearing the conversation between the bigot and his son.  Honestly, I didn't put my reaction in the original post because I didn't think I had done enough.  But, after a lot of thought, I don't know that I could've done a lot more.  So...

When he stopped to cross the street, I got as close as I could without holding my breath and said "You're a f*cking idiot".  I said it loud enough that he could hear me but (hopefully) not loud enough for too many others.  Again, we were surrounded by little kids, including two of mine, and I don't speak like that in front of them.  After a long blank stare, he came up with "F*ck you too" and we went our separate ways.

Was this enough to say in that situation?  Was it too much?  Should I have accosted him two feet from the school principal?  Should I have walked away silently so as not to draw attention to his ignorance?  Does this make me a better parent?  A worse one?  I don't think there is a right answer.

Of course, my first reaction was to want to put my hands on him.  There were several problems with this, though.  First, he outweighed me by at least half a semi of Coors Light and several buckets of chicken.  Second, the cigarette stench alone took out half of my lung capacity.  Third, I had dinner to make so a trip to jail would've been quite inconvenient.  Fourth, I am raising three little girls and I stress every single day the overwhelming power of words.

Which brings me to my word choice.  Should I have cussed?  Probably not.  I may speak it with impressive fluency, but vulgarity is not something I choose to use in front of children.  I don't think the girls picked up on that part; but, if they did, they know not to repeat it.  And, in that moment, a simple "Shut up, stupidhead" was not going to suffice.  And, I was limited by the number of syllables I could use.  Remember, I was trying to get the moron to understand me.

So, that was what I did after witnessing the racism that surrounds us still.  I am not one to bite my tongue and that sometimes gets me into trouble.  He could have reacted differently and it could've gotten uglier.  However, in my experience, any man willing to run his mouth is too insecure to use his hands.  And, a mama bear will not go down without a fight.

I'm truly not a confrontational person.  I avoid it at all costs most of the time.  But I'm a single mother working my behind off to raise three strong, self sufficient girls who won't be backed down in the face of anything.  Including big, greasy, ignorant, rednecks with small minds and smaller futures.

It's not the brown one, is it?

I tried and tried to let it go.  Really, I did.  Then I thought: Why?  Why let it go?

After school yesterday, the girls and I got stuck in a long line on the sidewalk. There was a man in front of us walking with a third or fourth grade boy.  The boy was talking about his new "girlfriend".  The GROWN MAN said "It isn't the brown one, is it?".  The boy said, "no".  The GROWN MAN said "Good, cuz that's gross."

GROWN MAN to little boy.

In front of my two little girls and countless other little open minds.

What should I have done in that situation?  I couldn't do what I wanted to because I was holding hands with my Kindergartner.  I couldn't say all the things that were rushing to my mouth because I was surrounded by children.  And, I couldn't just do nothing because I was holding hands with my Kindergartner and surrounded by children.

In our tiny town, I would guess that it's approximately 95% Caucasian.  In the elementary school,there are maybe 20 kids of color.  So, there's a 10% chance this GROWN MAN was referring to one of my two children.  (If so, I assure him that there's a 0% chance his son has a chance in hell of getting one of mine to be his girlfriend.)  But it's not about my girls, it's about that little boy.  The kid who is growing up in a house that still believes that you can judge someone based on the small facets of themselves that they can't control.

Their skin tone.
The number of chromosomes they were born with.
The sexuality they grow into.
The country their parents were born in.

That little boy is being abused.  He's being verbally and emotionally beaten every time that GROWN MAN opens his mouth.

Judging people isn't all bad, but let's do it the new-fashioned way.  Let's do it based on every single thing they can control.

Their stupidity.
Their small minded-ness (and you know what they say about a man with a small mind...).
Their limited vocabulary (brown... really?).
Their complete lack of parenting skills.
And, their incessant need to wear camouflage every single place they go (hey, we can see you in the Wal-Mart checkout lane).

May that boy grow up to be a GROWN MAN better than the one he was shown.