I have recently learned my sister lives in the only house in all of Ireland that cannot obtain Internet service by “3 kilometers” (whatever the fuck that means) due to the location of her residence. I am both perturbed and amused by her ingenuity to elude her family. I moved to a gated community to keep them out, she moved to a different COUNTRY without an actual zip code and claims broadband issues to throw off our scent.
In a sordid attempt to establish a new identity and forget her past, my sister has allowed my eight-year-old niece to attend religious school. Despite the admirable undertakings to teach civility to her daughter, genetics are proving to be a fierce competitor. She recently sent me a text of a picture my niece had drawn which read: “God pitched his tent among men and poured his love over the children...” Even I know it is priests that do this, not God. Suddenly the future of United States educational system doesn’t appear to be quite as harrowing does it? Moving on....
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I was leaving Target the other day when I witnessed a teenage boy open his car door and dump out a bunch of trash in the parking lot. I yelled, “ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO LEAVE THAT THERE?!” He yelled back, “FUCK YOU!” I giggled. Omg, so awesome. I am officially NOT the world’s worst mother. I looked up at God and winked, “I got this Buddy, you just keep focusing on the hot mess in North Korea.” I redirected my attention to the little a-hole, “NO, FUCK YOU! EITHER YOU CLEAN THAT UP OR I AM CALLING THE POLICE!”
Realizing the police would totally find the prescription drugs he had stolen from his mom and his dad’s porn collection in his glove box, he grudgingly climbed out, picked up his trash and stomped over to the trash can. “HAPPY NOW?!” “YEP!” I yelled back while feverishly trying to hide my delight. Omg, he actually did it. No one ever takes me seriously. Ever. I called my mom to tell her what happened.
“Eriiiiiii-iiiiin, you could have been shot over a Taco Bell wrapper!” “Mom-I stopped a CRIME.” “You have balls honey.” “Oh Mother, I learned everything I know from you.” “Remember when you drove home from college one weekend and there was some neighbor’s dog barking and you couldn’t sleep? Well, you grabbed your car keys and left to tell him to shut his fucking dog up. I was too scared so I just stayed in the car but you went right up to his door and told him off. Hahahahahahaha!” “Wait what? Mom-You seriously allowed me to go up to a stranger’s house in the middle of the night by myself?” Long Pause. “I love you sweetheart! I have to go.” Annnnnnyway....
I didn’t always have balls. In high school, I was mercilessly and cruelly dumped by a guy under the pretense that I was “too nice” (well and he was cheating on me.) Whatever. I am not really that mad anymore because I have since facebook stalked him and discovered he is super fat and lives in a mobile home with his seven children, fourth wife and some chickens. Just kidding. He actually dates models, has money and no hair plugs annnnd we are friends. However, I do sometimes like to remind him that I grew up to become a fertile mediocre housewife with a Yorkie collection just to make him envious of Mike.
Because I am a woman, I typically do not accept criticism of any sort but the dude's lone insight stayed with me over the years. I didn’t realize it at the time, but being “overly nice” would be my chosen coping mechanism for much of my life. Not to be all braggy, but I was incredibly skilled at extrapolating external validation from others to ensure my worthiness as a human being. Fortunately, this technique grew wearisome before I became a pro bono prostitute because it is sad some guys can't afford them.
NEW ECHO DOT
I became so miserable trying to make everyone like me that I ultimately decided to change and this is when I really grew some balls (relax my feminist readers, it is a FIGURE.OF.SPEECH. I totally support breastfeeding, picketing, hating men or whatever you do), started setting boundaries with people and gained some self-respect.
I am still a genuinely nice person however I have a greater sense of balance now. When the people I love call me out for something I did, I am filled with a sense of appreciation because they cared enough to tell me. I extend the same courtesy to them. When I see something that is not right, I choose to take a stand. It doesn't always feel good in the moment and sometimes people get mad but not being afraid is incredibly liberating.
Go have a great week, go laugh, enjoy being human and for the love of God, pick up your fucking trash. XO
PS. HAPPY BIRTHDAY JEN LINDAMAN. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!!!
I am a writer, parent, and generally loose in the world. Yes, I meant what I said. Whatever. I handled it.
