God Save the Queen (and Our Secret)

Last week, Gretchen a.k.a. Texan Mama discussed how watching Say Yes to the Dress is a guilty pleasure of hers.  She likes to see all the drama surrounding selecting a wedding dress and is absolutely appalled at the price some pay for their dresses.  She issued a call for everyone to write a post this Monday about our wedding dresses and their accompanying stories and link up over on her blog.

I had loads of drama surrounding my wedding, but not my dress.  I messaged her telling her what happened but that there was no way I could post that story on my blog.  She wrote back saying it was a great story and couldn't I find a way to publish it anyway?  Why yes, yes I can!  So.. I headed over to The Clothesline to dish my dirt.

One summer, more than a decade ago, I went to visit my then-boyfriend who was stationed overseas.  I stayed a month and while there, we decided we couldn't live without each other any longer and began making plans to marry.  We called his family and they freaked the hell out.  Until that moment, I had no idea his family didn't like me.. they were always very nice to me.. but impending marriage brought out their true colors and war was declared on me.  His mother actually called back a little later and tried to talk him out of it.  We knew right then that the wedding- which we were planning for four months away would not go well.  And it didn't.

There was so much drama surrounding the wedding it was ridiculous.  Two days before the wedding, we all went to see my husband's nephew play hockey and in the middle of the game, my future sister-in-law decided to lay into me(completely unprovoked).  She just started telling me off in public.. telling me how selfish I was and how she didn't think we should get married.  She was yelling at me in front of everyone and I totally didn't see it coming.  I was mortified and upset that my fiancee wasn't coming to my rescue.  He told her a few times to stop it, but she wouldn't and he just sat there and let it happen.  I found out later that these tirades were very typical for his sister and he thought nothing of it because he was used to it.  When I started crying, she started taunting me, "Oh.. go call your mommy... baby!  See?  A BABY shouldn't get married."  I will NEVER forget it.

It caused a huge fight between my fiancee and myself and the night of the rehearsal, he called me to ask a question.  While on the phone with me, his mother was in the background and said she was running by the florist in the morning to pick up the flowers she ordered for the altar and was there anything there I wanted her to pick up for me.  I told him yes, the flowers I had ordered for my mother and for his were there and could she pick them up and bring them to the church.  He relayed the message and his sister was in the background and started mouthing... " No!  I'm not picking up SHIT for her!  She can get it herself...." etc etc.  It caused another huge fight and we went to the rehearsal that night barely speaking to each other.  His sister did not come... she made a grand scene before all their family that had travelled in for the wedding announcing she did not support the marriage and would NOT be attending any of it. Which in turn caused all of them to BEG her to go, which is what she wanted.

The day of the ceremony and the reception were equally as drama-filled because, of course, she decided to go and show her ass.  If I wrote the whole story, this would be a novel, so I will just leave it at the fact that I was thankful we were leaving and moving far far away from them all.  My wedding was NOT a happy event and not anything I care to remember.

But, here's the juicy part:  In a flash of brilliance, we anticipated the wedding might include drama amongst the families ( we didn't anticipate that it would be THAT nasty!) and four months earlier, after the phone call with his mother, we made a very important appointment.  And three days later, at the Shire Hall with our British neighbors as our witnesses, we married- just the two of us- in a beautiful old village in England.  And afterwards, we walked through the town centre- Ricky in his suit and I in my white dress- and had lunch at McDonald's.

So, I will always tell you my anniversary is November 21- but I'm telling a white lie.  It is actually July 25.  And I DO have a happy memory of my wedding after all.

Here is a photo our witnesses took of us walking through town centre on our way to McDonald's.  I think it is far enough away, that you can't see any distinguishing features.

(image is of the actual Shire Hall where we were married and the actual McDonald's where we dined, but are not my own- they were obtained from a google search online)

~Lucy

Accident at the Disco

Remember when you were growing up and you would play outside for hours? You would come inside for a quick snack, and then hurriedly rush back outside again so that you didn't miss a minute with your friends? And remember "holding it" as long as you could, to avoid having to rush back inside to go to the bathroom? It was such a nuisance to have to go allll the way back home just to pee.

Scarlett recently went to "the disco" with a bunch of her friends and had a blast! They saw a play; there was dancing, choreography, and singing. She went with other friends that are her age, along with a few adults for supervision - they had a great time. The performance was at a mega arena where there were also plenty of concessions, souvenirs, and other exciting treasures for the taking, in exchange for a pretty penny, of course.

The adults let the girls get a drink and a snack before the play, took the mandatory potty break, and then went down to find their seats. Scarlett got a drink and an icy/slush. "Lots-o-Liquid" might be the favorable term for her snackage choices. *CHEERS!*

Anyway, after the play had been going for a while, the next event in the sequence occurred...Scarlett needed to go to the potty. My little darling, who has a bladder the size of a nickel, had reached her limit and was in desperate need of a bathroom...QUICKLY. She let one of the adults know that she needed to get moving and the adult told her to just sit tight. After another minute or two she mentioned AGAIN that she needed to go to the potty and was told, "If we leave now we'll miss part of the show". Well, DUH!! So she sat there....trying to hold it....and finally, when she couldn't hold it any longer, she told the adult, but they didn't move fast enough and she went. Scarlett didn't just go a little bit either, she went A LOT. So much that she had to wrap a jacket around her waist.

Once the adult finally got her ass in gear and began trying to do damage control/clean-up, she had the audacity to ask Scarlett why she didn't speak up earlier. WHAT!?!

I found out about this embarrassing fiasco after Scarlett got home. And I was PISSED. Scarlett hasn't had any accidents in YEARS! Yes, she tends to wait until she almost "pops", but not ACCIDENTS, for crying out loud! Which makes me even more irritated, because she told her leader that she needed to go to the bathroom THREE times - not just once.

I knew that if I made a phone call to the adult/leader it not only wouldn't go down well, but it wouldn't pack the wallop of a face to face "discussion". So I waited. It was hard though. Nobody jacks with my kids and gets "a pass", it just doesn't happen.

Finally we saw them last weekend. I kindly asked what had happened and gave her time to explain her side. To which I replied, that my daughter hasn't had an accident in YEARS, and it was infuriating to hear that she had told "you" three times that she needed to go to the potty and was told to "just wait". There were other comments and issues addressed, but it was discussed face to face, and the adult could not hide from the issue or avoid the confrontation.

It still makes me angry.

Once it was all said and done, I talked to Scarlett about it one last time. The embarrassment of the incident still stings, but she is okay. This particular situation also gave us a great segway into discussing how she is ultimately one responsible for taking care of herself and her body as she gets older. If someone isn't providing for her, treating her with respect, or ignoring her needs, it's HER job to get their attention and not just sit back down and wait for something that may never happen.

If you want something, sometimes you have to stand up and fight for it!!

~Ethel~

The Insufferable Family of Assholes

Hi.

My name is Laverne. And I have a problem with Insufferable Assholes.

(Hi, Laverne)

A few weeks ago, Lucy and Ethel kindly asked me to write a guest post, surely in the hopes that I would bring my hilarious wit and wisdom to this fair blog. Not that I think they need it, I just like to toot my own horn here people. I quickly RSVP'd with a "frackin' absolutely" and then, like any etiquette-minded woman of the south would do, I buried it in my inbox and promptly forgot.

Obviously, I do not have much room to talk about rudeness here. But, let's pretend that I do, okay? Because, I feel obliged to tell you all about my traumatic experience at the local picture show Saturday morning featuring none other than The Insufferable Family of Assholes.

Here's how it started.


My oldest son's orthodontist was kind enough to rent out four screens at the movie theater in order to let his patients see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows free of charge. Pretty sweet, huh? Parents were allowed to reserve as many tickets as they wanted and upon receipt, I discovered that we would also be getting a large popcorn and drink. For free. Not a bad deal, especially for opening weekend.

Me being the nerd that I am, snapped up three tickets. One for me, one for Boy Number One and one for BNO's best friend, though feeling a tad bit guilty over our three whopping tickets. After a few minutes of internal debate, I decided that I'd probably paid for those three tickets more than enough over the course of BNO's orthodontia experience. And apparently, I was not the only person who felt this way.

The theater was a madhouse. Packed to the gills for 8:30 on a Saturday morning. The three of us quickly grabbed our snacks, made a break for the potties and then headed for theater eight.

Now, I should point out here that I am an awesome mom. Awesome. Because, even though it made me absolutely, terrifyingly nauseated, I let the boys pick their seats in the middle of the second row. I did not encourage them to sit in the back, where my feeble eyes could see. I did not ask them to anything equally lame, like hold my purse. I even hid my tears when Dobby died (look, if I'm giving something away at this point in the game, it's your problem, not mine).

So, we sit down and I immediately take note of the Insufferable Family Of Assholes sitting in the row in front of us. That's right. Insufferable. Family. Assholes. This adequately describes the scene.

Honestly, it's not like you could miss them. A family of six. All roughly 350lbs. All squeezed into their seats with their tubby little hands clamped down on the popcorn like someone was about to steal it right out from under them. Little boy whining because he wanted more soda. Parents fighting over who has to go to the bathroom before the movie starts. Yelling. Cursing. General bad behavior that would have embarrassed Grandmama had she stopped making love to her damn pickle for two minutes and taken notice. Pretty sure someone smelled too.

And as if that weren't enough, they made four (yes, that's quatro for our Spanish speaking friends) trips out to the lobby for more popcorn and drinks in the twenty minutes before Harry, Ron and Hermione made their appearance onto the screen.

Yes. Really.

Satisfied, though apparently not stuffed to the gills because they all kept complaining, they settled in just as the theater went dark. And that's when it started.

You know how when you're in a movie and you're tryin' to get all comfortable and you might accidentally lean back too far and smush the poor person behind you? And, you think to yourself, "well crap, that was kinda rude...my bad." Yeah. Apparently, Grandpa didn't have the good sense (or human decency, your pick) to stop doing it.

The first time, I let it go.

The second time, I might have sighed or rolled my eyes.

The third time, I cleared my throat.

The fourth time, I loudly whispered "seriously?!"

The fifth time? I kicked him back.

By the time Junior got scared and started whining to sit with Grandmama (which caused all of them to heave themselves from the chair and change places), I was ready to scream. I may have also been gearing up to kick some Insufferable Asshole hiney. But then, Nagini the snake jumped out and scared the living daylights (and possibly a few other things) out of me and I'd momentarily thought about excusing myself and running to the Southern Belle's Room.

Thankfully, that shut them the hell up and the rest of the movie was relatively pleasant.

I hope they thanked their damn lucky stars.


So, let's recap here.

Someone does something nice for you, which makes the following things unacceptable:

Inviting the entire county to this free event.

Enjoying an all you can eat buffet at the expense of the host and other guests.

Irritating a room of 300 people by yelling, "MAKE HIM TAKE A PISS ALREADY!"

Airing out your dentures (although, this is basically never okay in public).

Using your cell phone to text the person next to you, check Facebook or Tweet that you're watching Harry Potter for free and wish you could have another pickle.

Ramming the woman behind you in the knees with your seat to the point where she's about ready to beat the shit out of you with her hot pink Croc.

~Laverne~

*Disclaimer: I'm not hating on fat people. I am one. Though, I'd describe myself as cherubic, chubby, adorable, pleasantly plumped, voluptuous. Surely you get where I'm going here.

Are You Really That Stupid Or Are You Just Fucking With Me?

The other day I was looking through Junior's school folder and looking at the grades on his papers.  As I was flipping through I came across a class project that the kids had obviously done in groups of three, because there were three little names scrawled across the back of the construction paper.

What REALLY caught my eye though, was the fact that Junior's name had been misspelled.  For instance, (since this is an anonymous blog) his name was scribble down as JUSTIS instead of JUSTICE.

A bit later, after getting the homework phase of our afternoon completed, the kids went out to play and I started getting dinner ready....and then it hit me!  My husband was once an idiot like that too!  But he was an even BIGGER idiot, because he thought he could play stupid, not use his brain even a little bit....AND GET AWAY WITH IT!!!?!  Dumbass!  My bullshit-o-meter is much to good for the likes of him.

Here's the crux of it.

Fred went through a phase where he SPELLED MY NAME WRONG.  You got it!  Your mouth is hanging wide open right now isn't it!?!  And to make it even MORE insulting, this wasn't even when we were dating, getting to know eachother, or "warming up".  This series of fuck ups happened over the course of SEVERAL YEARS, after we'd already been married for a while.  I wanted to administer a crushing blow to the nads every fucking time I would see "DarcIE" written down, rather than "DarcY".

Fred, you fucking derelict, my name ends in a Y, not and IE.  And if you ever think that I'm going to spread faster than hot butter for you EVER AGAIN, you will get that shit straight!!!

But he didn't.

And I would just continue to show my disgust and irritation.

And he would still "forget" every now and then.

And the cycle would continue.

UNTIL the day that he wrote JUSTIS instead of JUSTICE on our son's paperwork.

I.  HAD.  A.  F-I-T.

There was screaming, name calling, arms were waving....it was UGLY.  It basically got down to this primary point...  "If I matter, if your son matters, and IF THE PEOPLE IN YOUR LIFE MATTER, you will spell our names correctly, or this charade is OVER."

My name is spelled correctly EVERY time now.  And Fred pays must more careful attention to the way he spells people's names.

Dumbass.

~Ethel~

Ahhh... The Holidays are Upon Us!

Every year, our families ask for Christmas lists for the kids.  I always have a few items written down to dispense upon request, but I never just give out the list.  I know times are hard and I don't expect anything from anyone.  If requested, I will provide a list.

My sister-in-law emailed me the other day requesting a list for both kids.  I complied by suggesting a DS game for Little Ricky and a tutu and/or ballet slippers for Sprout.  I thought those were reasonable suggestions.  A few days later, she called and spoke to my husband and suggested she get those items AND a trampoline for the kids.

Now, we go through this EVERY CHRISTMAS.  EVERY FLIPPING YEAR SHE WANTS TO BUY THEM A TRAMPOLINE AND EVERY YEAR I REMIND HER THAT OUR YARD IS TOO SMALL TO ACCOMODATE ONE.  It's like she doesn't believe me (and she's seen our yard).  And then, to further drive the point home, I also tell her ( EVERY DAMNED YEAR) that while it might be warm where she is almost year-round, here, they would not be able to play with the trampoline until at the very earliest March, but most likely, April.  Who wants a Christmas gift they can't play with for three months?

I was not home, so Ricky told her he would talk to me about it.  Just like he does EVERY YEAR because he doesn't want to be the one to fight with her, leaving it up to me to look like I just don't want to let her get a trampoline.  Fuck.  I am sick of this shit!

So, I politely called her and reminded her (ONE MORE TIME) that it would not fit in the yard and even if it did, they couldn't play with it until spring.. blah blah blah.  So, she asked me to come up with something equivalent because she wanted to get them a joint big gift in addition to their small gifts.  I said I would think about it and let her know.

The next day, I emailed her and told her that the television in Noah's room has finally died, and perhaps she could get him a little 19" flat screen tv because they can be purchased for about the same price as a trampoline.  She agreed and hung up.

She called back last night because she knew my husband was home and she spoke to him.  He said she is going to send US the money to pick out the television (more work for us- YAY) and then began to complain about how her husband didn't work for six months and although he is working now, money is really tight.  Then, she implied that I was asking too much but she would send us the money anyway.  HOLY SHIT!  I didn't ask for A SINGLE THING.  She asked ME what to get and I suggested small things.... and she was unhappy with that, so I suggested something bigger.  GODDAMMIT I cannot fucking win!  And I don't know why this shocks me because we have been married twelve years and I have never been able to make her happy.  Someday I will have to tell you the story about how she made our wedding miserable and managed to make it all about HER and was successful in focusing all the attention on herself for the rehearsal dinner and the reception.

But, for now.. Happy Holidays... I can't fucking wait.

~Lucy

Awkward Conversations

Barnes is getting ready to leave for school right now.

I was up late lastnight reading an awesome book making the kids' lunches, and I am dragging.

When he comes into the kitchen every morning it's always a surprise to see how the morning will unfold. Will he be chipper, chatty, a little on the bitchy side, or quiet. God forbid he's quiet!

So this morning he drags his barely dressed self into the den and grumbles a little bit about how tired he is. Then he bangs around in the kitchen to find something to eat. At some point he realizes, "hey, I need to get some new music on my mp3" so he rummages around, brings it to me, and I get him loaded up with some new tunes.

This is about when he drops it on me...

What's a douche? Is it really shaped like a baby bottle?

REALLY?!? It's not even 6:00am and you throw this at me?!

UGH.

So I did what I always do... I took a deep breath and told him all of the nitty-gritty details. I felt awkward, I'm not gonna lie. I don't know if HE did. But hey, now he can get on the bus and have an educated conversation about feminine hygiene, cootchie stank, and what a douche REALLY looks like, and how it works, right?

It makes me feel better knowing that that he heard the correct information from me, rather than the maybe-not-so-accurate bullshit information that he has obviously heard from someone else's idiot child at school.

I need more caffeine...

~Ethel~

Bullying- Part2

If you missed part 1, you can read it here.  I was new to my school and two classmates started bullying me on the playground unexpectedly.  When the incident was over, I thought and hoped it would never happen again.  It did.

A few weeks later, a classmate invited my best friend and I to her slumber party.  We were so excited and quickly made plans to stay up all night-giggling and doing all the things girls do at slumber parties.  I couldn't wait.

The day of the slumber party, my best friend was sick and didn't go to school and was unable to attend the slumber party.  I was sad, but still looking forward to the party.  The girl that invited me lived in my neighborhood, we got along well and there were others from my class invited, so I was feeling pretty good about it.  That is, until I actually showed up.

The two mean girls were there.  I hadn't even considered the fact they might be invited.  My heart sank, but I was already there and didn't want to leave.  The whole evening was a blast- we had pizza and cake and watched the birthday girl open presents.  There were games and laughing.  Her dad and stepmom were there the whole time and everyone was really nice and the two mean girls, just didn't really interact with me.  They weren't ugly to me or anything, they just kept their distance.  I figured I could make it through the night by just hanging out with the people I liked and avoiding them too.  I was wrong.

After my friend's parents went to bed, it was like a switch was flipped.  All of the girls assembled in the living room and sat on the couch to watch television.  The two mean girls spread out a little so that there would be no room for me on the couch.  I noticed, but pretended I didn't and went to sit on the other end of the couch at which time one of the other girls kicked me off.  Literally kicked, with her foot.  They told me that babies couldn't sit on the couch. And, still too stubborn to leave, I sat on the floor to watch television (secretly feeling sick to my stomach) and one of the Meanies, turned off the television and announced very loudly that she wanted to play a game.  They went down the line on the couch one-by-one and basically said something about me.  "You have chubby thighs."  "You're ugly."  "You're stupid." " You're a baby."  "Those are ugly pants!"  and the abuse went on.  They laughed and giggled and went down the row over and over throwing insults at me.

I couldn't understand what I had done to deserve this.  Why did they dislike me?   Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and I felt the tears welling up and I got up and ran back to the girl's bedroom.  I have a very vivid memory of sitting on her bed trying to nonchalantly play with her Rubik's cube while staring at tears falling on the brightly-colored squares of the toy.

They followed me back there.   " Oh look! She IS a baby!  Cry baby, cry baby... go home to your momma!!"  And that was really all I wanted at that point, but it was almost midnight.  I didn't care, and I picked up the phone to call my mom to come get me.  As soon as I picked up the phone, the girls continued to taunt, but the birthday girl panicked.  I don't know if she was afraid she would get in trouble or what, but she started begging me not to call my mom.  By then, I already had my sleepy mother on the phone and I asked her, through sobs, to please come get me.  She said she was on her way.  About ten minutes later, her car drove up an I left.

I don't know what the birthday girl told her parents about why I left, but I do know that the following Monday at school, she told me that her stepmom said I wasn't allowed over at their house anymore.  Leaving me to feel that I had somehow done something wrong and that I was to blame for the whole incident.

For reasons unexplained, the bullying from those two in particular let up a few weeks later.  I don't know if they felt I was sufficiently tortured or if they found someone else to go after, but it stopped and I was thankful.  One of the girls moved a few years later, but the other one went to school with me all the way up until we graduated and she never liked me.  And I never knew why.


**Note- Until that point, I had never even considered myself fat (and I wasn't) but I suddenly started seeing extra skin as fat.  I WAS fat and I WAS ugly.  Stupid too.  I began to believe what they were saying.  And this caused undue stress as a teenager when I weighed NINETY EIGHT POUNDS and thought I was fat.  I don't care what people say- bullying does have lasting effects on those that were victimized.


~Lucy