It’s been a couple of years since I posted. In my last post I asked the question whether I should stay or go in my then current career trajectory. I chose to stay in the career but change employers. And that was a growth and learning experience. But now, as I right this, I’m sitting in hospital room where I will spend the night as a companion to my mother who had a bone marrow transplant last week. And she’s talking in her sleep. And she’s saying really random and funny things that I can’t share with the targeted audience that would appreciate it because It violates her privacy. So thank goodness for anonymous blogs. 

I’ve heard about exhaustion, naturally. But I’ve also heard about adultery. And I swear to god, she succeeded in saying flibbertygibbet in her sleep. She’s also sleep conducting like babies do. So in a really taxing and stressful time, at least there is a little bit of humor to ride me over. 

This weekend I mentioned that I have a super seceret blog that I share with super seceret other people. This person told me that she too has a super seceret blog. And we didn’t tell eachother what these seceret blogs were, so they’re still secerets.
My question is, why do we feel the need to keep this seceret? We have those messy moments and thoughts we want to work through. We generally have the people with whom we are able or willing to share with. So why do we also need to post publicly and anonymously? Is it done with the greater hope that someone else, someone outside of our circle will read it and tell us it’s ok? Are we simply needing catharsis, and using this platform as a journal?
Since this is a super secret seceret, maybe I’ll never know….

More and more it seems like my friends and I are becoming well-behaved. Not in the sense that we’re not being obxnious drunk girls or angry toddlers, but that we’re conforming. We’re becoming the people we once said we’d never become. We’re not there yet, and not all the changes are bad.

Age and experience. These are good teachers. But what if we can learn our lessons without compromising who we are?

Or is it just me that feels the creep of compromise? One more family engagement. Another explanation that I am not yet a parent to a human. One more time that I have to cover my tattoo. A second thought before I tell someone what I really feel. The concern about long-term ramifications of change.

I spent a refreshing weekend with people who seem to not be experiencing this creep of compromise. I felt more alive than I have in years. I felt a sadness in the leaving of the situation, and since leaving have a yearning to return.

Was it the situation? Celebrations are not every day life, of that I am very aware. But what if it were? What if every day was lived like a party -not that type of party-but simply full of energy and joy?

What would happen if we chose not to conform? What if we laughed too loud, took a leap of faith, and acted to make ourselves happy without the concern about long-term consequences, or how it might look to others?

Is it selfish or self-care? Age and experience haven’t taught me this lesson. Or maybe they have and I’m not yet ready for it. The feeling of creeping regret has become more heavy, and the desire to misbehave is strong.

As Laurel Thatcher Ulrich once said, “well behaved women seldom make history”.

I am going to rant about arguably some misguided anger at the mommy-ization of today’s women.  Recently on Facebook, there has been this story about an Omaha, Nebraska female police officer being killed.  Now when this was first released it was a short article written by the Omaha Police Department about Orozco and her contributions to the police department and gang unit, and briefly discussed her surivors.  Her participation in the gang unit is what eventually ended her all too young life.  A link to that Omaha Police Department article is here:  https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10153330831189096.1073741898.194674844095&type=1

When the events of Officer Orozco’s death were reported here in Oklahoma reads:  “Nebraska Officer killed in line of duty hours before maternity leave”.  See article here:  http://kfor.com/2015/05/21/nebraska-officer-killed-in-line-of-duty-hours-before-maternity-leave/

Essentially the articles relay the same information, but each article does it differently.  Omaha PD and the news in Omaha directed this story to Orozco contributions as a officer and as a person to the community.  But look out, cause Oklahoma only thinks “oh my god!  She died before giving us more kids!”  Ignoring the fact that she was capable intelligent woman, that earned her way into a man’s world and was successful.  I am flabbergasted that this news outlet would use the fact that the police officer is female to elicit a response in people.  I do not understand what the maternity leave or the birth of the baby has to do with the fact that Orozco was a top notch gang unit police officer that fought with her life to protect the people of Omaha.

We live in a ridiculous society where the first thing asked of a woman is “how old are your kids?”, “how many do you have?” “when are you having some?”.  I am the proud step-parent of two wonderful boys.  And I enjoy almost every minute I get to spend with them, but a mom is not who I am .  It is not even what I do.  I am so much more than a mom.  My friends that are stay at home moms, are so much more than just a mom, they are doctors and lawyers and brilliant artists.  We need to be treated with the equal respect a man would get in this same world.  Had the roles been reversed and Officer Orozco was male with an infant ready to leave the hospital, there is not a media outlet that would report the infant first.  It would be an article focused Orozco’s achievements and contributions to society.  Not that the fact that he could get his dick in a hole and reproduce.  Please stop treating us as if housing a baby for 9 months is the only thing that qualifies females for news worthiness.

Life goes on and it is hard to carve out time to write out an angry rant. For myself, I’ve been working two jobs and starting a small business. So the terrible injustices of the world don’t really infiltrate my bubble anymore and I don’t rant on. (Part of that is choice– selective and intentional ignorance is part of the self care to maintain the ability to work three jobs.) The other Angry Ladies are in very similar situations. In my spare time I’m searching for a single that can replace the two jobs, or provide an adequate crutch until the business can be built up to support level. Maybe a rant will emerge in the near future.

We spend so much time on here bitching and moaning about our frustrations.  Today I wanted to share a funny story. 

I work in an office that abuts a wooded area.  Because of this wooded area, I get to see lots of wildlife.  That wildlife includes, ducks, geese and beautiful peacocks.  We have about seven peacocks that roam around and strut outside the office and in the parking lot.  One day talking to the receptionist,  she tells me about a cougar that’s been hanging out in the parking lot.  

Now I don’t really believe her because cougars,  mountain lions,  and Bob cats are not really fans of people.   And I live in a city with a bunch of people.   The wooded strip is just that a strip of trees between highways.   Also, i think cougars would eat the ducks and pracocks.   So, the likelihood that a cougar is hanging around is slim.

I go on about my business for weeks, forgetting what she said until last night when I am leaving work right at dusk.   I am walking to my car when I hear it.  The rustling in the trees,  too heavy to be a peacock or a duck.  So I start to get worried,  remembering the cougar story.   The rustling is getting louder, I can hear it stalking me.   Making dinner plans out of me.   I start to panic,  fumbling to get in my car,  to safety.   After dropping my phone and keys,  I finally see him.   He is a really fat squirrel. 

I spend far too much of my time angry.  I’m conscious of it and have been trying to work on it.   But yesterday was a true test of my love for my husband and dedication to not get divorced.   You see, his birthday was earlier this week,  which means his parents and children came over to stay this weekend.   The children,  both boys are wonderful and I actually had a lot of fun with them.   However, my in-laws are awful.   I’m sure everyone’s in-laws are awful, but I feel like I got an extra special batch.   Mostly its the mother, my father in law isn’t bad. 

So they always stay with me when they come to town, even though their daughter lives 3 miles from me and they definitely act affluent enough to afford a hotel.   But they stay with me,  every single time.   And my husband works, every single weekend, so I don’t have a buffer.   It’s just me and the wicked witch of Seattle or California or wherever else she’s lived that better than me and my country roots. 

So the list of lovely events from her recent visit.   You know,  I should probably wait till the wench leaves before I write the rest of this.   But oh well,  here goes.

1) WITCH:  You know for being a mother to teenagers, your house really isn’t equipped for feeding visitors or teenagers. 
  IN MY HEAD:  I am their step-mother,  and the house is equipped for feeding me. Because the teenagers are here once a month.
  OUTLOUD: I know,  we haven’t had time to go shopping.
2)  WITCH: Let’s go the mall and at least get some physical activity.   YOU need to stop being a bum on the weekends and watching tv.
       IN MY HEAD:  The Mall on a Saturday, the week before thanksgiving.  Who in their right mind would willing go to that place.
    OUTLOUD:  Of course, let me grab a jacket. 
3)  WITCH to her husband:  You shouldn’t  give him your sports.   It is her job to find him shorts to wear.  
   IN MY HEAD:  Bitch, better be taking about their real mom.
4)  Before the trip to the mall:
    HER:  you need to make sure those boys drink lots of water and milk,  they are growing to fast and they need the milk to keep from hurting. 
  AT THE MALL:  She buys them both Mountain Dew. 
  IN MY HEAD:  What the Fuck? Why would you give a 10 and 12 year old Mountain Dew?
5)  When we get home from the mall,  I sit down and the 10 year old and I decide to watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the original, on Netflix.  I start the movie and start playing on my phone.   She freaks out because the beginning scene is April being attacked.  She flies off the handle screaming, yes screaming,  at me to change it because “the boy” doesn’t need to see gang rape.  What?  It’s the fucking Ninja Turtles.  About 6 hours later she apologized, but it was really too late.  I’m angry still and not really sure I can do this with her.