The Most Conflicted Loss

Today, my older sister passed away.

I'm not sure what to do with everything I feel.  So, I thought I would give it to you, the universe, etc, and hopefully let it go.

My older sister is really my older half-sister.  Sometimes that half matters, and sometimes it doesn't.

For us, that half meant she wasn't raised with us, and was raised by a mother who chose to lie about our father.  Her mother told her that our father was an alcoholic, and that was why she divorced him.  She said that he used to beat them.  She said they were poor, while we were raised with everything, because he didn't want to take care of her.

All of it was lies.  The truth is that they were divorced because she chose to cheat on him, and he caught her.  So, he filed for divorce.  The truth is that my dad was is a pretty rough guy, but he never was an alcoholic.  He didn't get drunk like that.  I'm not going to lie and say he was perfect, far from it, but I can tell you that what she said was far from the truth.  We weren't rich, either.  Her mom was just money hungry.  We grew up with very little by the time my dad paid child support for her, and took care of the three of us,and our mom.  We wore hand me downs.  My mom can make a meal out of nothing.  Seriously.  The woman has an unbelievable talent for being cheap.  Most of all, my Dad did want to take care of her.  he gave my sister the choice of living with us, but she wanted to stay with her mom.
That choice was poison.
She was raised to see bad things.  So, she saw them.  She let that affect her relationships with all of us for the rest of her life.  She was always distant.

In college, I tried.  I went to school close to the salon she owned.  It was very, very highly thought of.  All the drag queens in the area went to her to help them get started.  She was someone in that town.  I would go to her shop, where she also lived in the top floors of her building, after my classes, and i would spend time with her.  I wanted that big sister relationship that we never had.

It didn't work though.  Time goes on.
Eventually, I washed my hands of it.
I quit when she would tell me that she wanted to see my child, and then didn't show.  That was it.  You could break my heart, but you can't break hers.
She saw Middie only once, when she was very small, at my brother's wedding.
She never met The Littlest One.
Ever.
We have lived in state for two years, and I haven't seen her since we came back.
These are the choices we make in life.
I realize that she was raised negatively, but eventually, we all become adults and have to make our own choices.
I chose to quit beating myself up over it.  I chose to finally move on.
Then, she died.
All those friends that she used to have, the ones she chose over us, weren't around.
In fact, no one was there.  My parents were on their way.  Her mom and other half sister, with whom she did have a relationship, weren't in the room.
She quit.
She had been battling problems for a while.
I think her demons were just stronger than her this time.  Sometimes, that is how it is.  Sometimes the demons are stronger than us and they win.

I had been checking in nearly constantly to see how she was doing, and then the phone rang.  My mom said she was gone.  Done.  Over.
I was really angry when mom called.
I am angry with my sister for giving up on us.  I'm hurt that she threw us away.  I'm livid with her mom for poisoning her for all those years, and robbing me of the big sister relationship I never got to have.
It hurts.  I'm sad.  I'm sad for my kids who will never know her laugh, or big blonde hair.  They won't get to have their hair done by her for their weddings.
I'm mourning.  In all honesty, though, its the relationship that was never there that I mourn the most.  I'm really heart broken over the fact that it will never be.
I'm sure I will go to her memorial service, because I want to be there with my dad.  I want to give him a kiss on the cheek, and tell him that I know the truth about who he is, and even though he isn't perfect, I would never throw him away.

So, I lost a sister today, and its complicated.  Please, don't offer to send something, or do something.  Please, don't try to pressure me to be more upset for you than I feel like I need to be in the moment, because I'm really not sure how to feel.  A simple,"That sucks" will be fine.  I'll appreciate it.  It does suck.
Also, I'm probably calling into work Friday (for my volunteer jobs).  So, if you could just excuse that with out any ado, that would be awesome.  I'll let you know if I need anything else.

I'm leaving you with a picture that I do love, from when I was little.  My sister and I, back when I used to think she was the coolest thing ever, and looked forward to every single time she came over like it was my birthday, even if she did accidentally pop my shoulders out of socket once.  Something I can now do all the time thanks to her.  This picture brings up the good memories, and this is what I'm choosing to keep.

You will be missed.

If You Have to Hide To Be Hatefull, Don't

I was saddened to learn today about the passing of Cassandra Lynn Hensley.  You might have seen it on TMZ, or somewhere else on the web.  She was a Playboy Playmate, a beautiful girl, and also an acquaintance.
We actually had a mutual very good friend, and it was through this friend that I met Cassandra.  All three of our families made a very memorable trip to Disneyland once.  Yeah.  I went to Disney with a Playmate.  Not, I'm sure, the first think most people think of.
That is reality, though.  She wasn't all done up in her makeup and such.  She was there with her daughter and we were celebrating a birthday.  Again, reality.  People who are in the public eye are still real people, with families, husband, children, etc.
Cassandra wasn't perfect, but back to the whole reality thing, no one is.
So, when I began to see articles about her online, I was shocked at the horrible things people were saying.  I do mean horrible.
This was a tragedy.  Regardless of how it happened, it was still a tragedy.
When Cory Monteith died, people wept.  They celebrated his life on television multiple times.
However, when a beautiful young woman died in a seemingly similar manor, the claws came out.
The anonymity the internet provides let people rip her to shreds, just because.  Probably because they are jealous of her beauty.  Probably because they made a lot of assumptions.  Probably most of all, though, because they feel the need to dig at other people to make themselves feel better inside.

These people didn't know Cassandra.  Admittedly, I didn't know her well, either, but to think of being so disrespectful to anyone who died like that just blew me away.

Those of you that wrote the nasty comments, so vile and full of vitriol, should look deep down inside yourself.  When you do, I hope those comments make you feel as ugly as you looked online.  You are shameful trolls.
The first one of you who is perfect, who hasn't ever made a mistake can be the first one to condemn her now.  Go ahead.  By all means.  Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

I don't see any rocks flying.

Cassandra was a daughter, a wife, and a mother.  Many people loved her dearly, and those people are hurting.  I mourn for her loved ones.  I am saddened by the tragedy.  I pray that none of you find yourself in a bad situation, and pass.  Should you, I also pray that no one is so disrespectful to you in death that it would hurt your family as they try to move on.

Cassandra was a beautiful girl, inside and out.  I hope she has peace now, and I hope somehow her family and loved ones can find peace as well.

Thank you, Paula Deen, From The Bottom of My Southern Fried Heart

There are certain things, or people in this world that can easily move me to tears.  My mom is one of those people.   Without a doubt, I love my mom more than I could possible truly express in words, either written or spoken.  She has done more for me than so many would ever be willing to do.  She has given so much, and I don't mean things of monetary value, but things that are worth far, far more.
So, when something upsets my mother, I take note.
The other day, we were discussing the great Paula Deen witch hunt going on.  I do believe it is a witch hunt.  For whatever reason, people just want to take her down.  I'm not saying she is perfect, but I believe that reactions should be appropriate, and not outlandish.  It is, of course, one of those things that make you shake your head, but rarely do they have you truly emotionally upset, unless you are personally involved.
My mother, it seems, does take it very personally.
As we were discussing it, she became very upset.  Her words were almost shocking to me.  I had no idea how much she really likes Paula Deen.  Paula Deen means a lot to my mom in ways that I never understood.
Several years ago, my mom found out she had breast cancer.  It was bad.  She waited, though, until after I had given birth to her first grand child to allow any treatment to begin.  She wouldn't even tell us what was going on.  She, knowing that we had problems during the pregnancy, didn't want to take any chances of upsetting me.  So, three days after her first grandchild was born, she had a partial mastectomy.  After that, she started radiation and then Chemotherapy.  She did radiation for a few months, but years of chemo.  First a long bought of IV chemo, then pill form for years afterward.  It was a tough battle, but one that she has been victorious in so far.  She is a survivor.
It was also during that time that Paula Deen really came up in the TV world.  She was on TV all the time.  My mom, who works for herself in a very small business, hadn't ever had the time to sit down and watch much TV, until then.  She loved Paula on TV.  Paula was joyous and happy when mom was struggling to keep that herself.  She made great food, and my mom is a recipe addict.  She was uplifting to my mom in a time when she desperately needed that, just by doing what she wanted to do and being herself.  Paula Deen every day gave my mom something to look forward to when she wasn't allowed to leave the house, see her friends and family, or even go to church because her immune system had just bottomed out.
Paula Deen became a sort of friend to my mom, just through the magic of television.
Now, people have taken something that Paula Deen did years ago and blown it up beyond belief.  Everyone makes mistakes.  Everyone.  As Paula herself tried to say, and to paraphrase the Bible, let he who is without sin cast the first stone.
She apologized.  She says she has mended her ways.
My mom says that as long as she meant it, then she should be forgiven.  That is good enough for God and if it is good enough for God, it should be good enough for all of us.
My mom believes in Paula Deen, and I believe in my mom.
So, to Paula Deen, I want to say thank you.  From the bottom of my heart, Thank you for being there for my mom.  Thank you for giving her joy in the hardest time of her life.  I appreciate you now so much.  Just like my mom, you may never know how many people's lives you have touch in ways that you will never know about.  I'm glad you were there, though.
Thank you.
I hope you keep having your cooking classes.  I would love to be able to send my mom one of these days.  She would love it.
I really hope you decide to self publish that cooking book that was supposed to come out.  This is one I would buy two copies of, one for mom and one for me.
I hope you come back, better than ever, so that you can be a great, smiling face that the world needs.
Keep your head held high, and please keep on being you.
And most importantly, thanks again, for all those smiles and laughs you gave my mom.

You Hateful Bunch of .....UUGGH

(Alternative post title: "Don't ever go to CafeMom for support")

I'm not sure how else to say this, but how dare you?  How dare you be such a judgmental bunch of hateful people?
Of course, I'm not speaking to everyone out there in the whole wide world.  I'm speaking directly to those ass wholes (yes I said it) women out there who insist on tearing each other down for no good reason.
This is what I'm talking about.

Now, let me tell you, we all have tough days.  There are many days where I have cried into my pillow at night.  There are many times that I have hated how hard things are sometimes as a parent, but never would I lash out at someone for feeling like that.

What I would do is give this mom a big hug.  Maybe suggest a mom's group which can make a world of difference in your mindset.  Having other mom's tell you its ok and that we have all been there is something we all need to here from time to time.  I might tell her to go see someone, too.  I mean, parenting is hard, and sometimes we can all use a little help.

However, these bitchy moms think what they need is to tear this mom down.  What they need is a good smack of reality.  Words hurt.  A lot.  When you are reaching out for help, they cut like a knife.

These horrible women have wounded a kindred spirit for no good reason other than spite.
To all of you judgement people like that, I hope you never have a bad day.  I hope you never have a day when you need to complain about how awful moments in parenting can be.  When you do have one, I hope you remember how hurtful you were.  I'm sure you are far too self absorbed to realize any of that, though.  So, even though you have done something terrible, i really hope that when you do have a bad day, because we all do, that someone shows you more kindness and mercy than you showed.  The cycle has to stop.
We teach our kids not to bully, and now it's time that the mommy circle learns the same thing.

I Wrote an Angry Letter

When we moved here, we rented this house almost entirely because of the schools it was zoned for.  Most of the schools here are crap, and I mean crap.  We picked a house outside of the city limits just because it happened to have a very highly rated school.  The PTA seemed to be super active.  Their academic scores were great.
I have to say though, that I have realized so much of your experience really depends on the teacher you get, and there are great teachers, and not so great teachers, at every school.
If I were able to separate the experiences I have had with Middie and her teacher, and The Biggest One and her teacher, I would swear we are talking about two different schools.  Middie has had a great year.  Her teacher is fabulous.  Really.  I am in there helping as often as I can.  I would do anything for this woman.  She has the worst class out of all the Kindergarten classes because of the way classes were selected last year, and honestly, she does a fabulous job with what she got.  Middie loves her and loves school.
The Biggest One, not so much.
I have actually spoken face to face with her teacher four times, but in those times, I can tell you that I have been labeled a pain in the butt, and I am totally disliked by this woman.  I also think she doesn't likes The Biggest One, though I would never let her know that.  It just shows in her actions.
Our first time talking was the first open house about the first or second week of school.  I offered to help her with anything I could.  She already had a home room parent.  So, I let her know that I scrap booked, and I would be glad to make things for the class, come in and help with paperwork, really anything I could do, just please let me know.  That was pretty much it.  She never said she wanted help.  Never communicated with the me.  I have since learned that her home room parents take care of everything, even the food for parties which I have to beg to be allowed to help with.
Even though we haven't spoken, I was learning a lot about her.  I realized that her demeanor in class wasn't exactly what I would have wish for in a teacher for The Biggest One, but that's just how it works.  We are all different people, and I just let all the fart jokes she makes, and that type of thing go, thinking it was tacky, but sometimes we meet tacky people, until she made a big boob joke.  The class was working on improper fractions, where the number on the top is bigger than the number on the bottom, and she called them Dolly Parton fractions.  When I was helping The Biggest One with her homework, and she called the fraction that, I nearly flipped my lid.  I ask where she heard that, and she said her teacher.  I couldn't believe that a teacher would make a boob joke like that to her class, not at this age.  I was totally offended.
My intent was to talk to her about it at a parent teacher conference, which was coming up.  However, when we got there that night, my plan flew out the window.  The second time I spoke to her was this night.  She had requested the conference.  She said that she wanted to talk to us about The Biggest One's personality.  She explained that in the beginning of the year, The Biggest One was being picked on some.  She told her to stand up for herself, and she felt like that advice had been taken too far.  Now, The Biggest One was sort of like a brick wall.  She always took definitive charge of any group they were working in, and wouldn't always take her classmates ideas into consideration.  She was bull headed.  I ask if my child was being rude or inappropriate to her, because that wasn't ok.  I happened to know, though, that the kids she wasn't listening to were the kids who were picking on her the worst.  She was taking charge and refusing to listen to them as a defense mechanism.  She wasn't about to give them the chance to be mean to her when she had to work with them, which was all the time.  The teacher said that in her classroom, she expected everyone to get along and like each other.

Yeah...No.

This is the real world.  Those kids aren't all going to like each other.  They can all be civil to each other, but that doesn't in any way mean that they will get along all the time or actually like working together.  You can forget that.
Anyway, the seriousness that she approached the issue totally took me off guard.  I know the The Biggest One is bossy.  I live with her every day.  In part, that is absolutely my fault, and I even told her teacher that.  I explained that as a military child, whose father has been gone most of her life, she had to often take charge of a lot of things that other kids haven't.  That was her life.  That is how she has been raised.  I don't think that is bad, either, but I do think it makes her different than a lot of kids these days, especially those not raised in that environment.  Last year, if she was being bossy, her teacher would make some kind of humorous comment to me as I picked her up, to let me know we had an extra bossy day, and The Biggest One and I would talk about it.  We would work on it.  That's all that was needed.  One sentence. One statement.  We understood and tried to work on it.  Instead, I get a fed up teacher who eventually tells me that maybe I should take my daughter to see the guidance councilor, then, if she has had such a hard time.

I think it was about that point in the conference that my husband got up and walked away.  He didn't want to be present for any more of our discussion.  At that point, it was two brick walls just banging against each other, both of them saying the same thing over and over again, with nothing really being heard.

And I totally forgot the big boob thing.

Anyway, after that, our only two other face to face interactions have been very positive.  I ask to come in and make ceramic Christmas ornaments with her class, something I do every year with my girls' classes if I can, and which she let me do.  I also saw her on math night, and we chatted a little.  It was pleasant enough.

So, this week, when she went off script again, I just about lost it.

I had to write a letter to another teacher, The Biggest One's science teacher.

I know this post has already been long, but hang with me a bit more.

Every week, we have Girl Scouts on Tuesday right after school in Middie's kindergarten classroom.  Her teacher put both of her daughters in my troop, and she helps me out.  It is awesome.  So, all of my troop girls come straight into the room after school, and the ones on that hall are actually in there before school is totally over since they come in when all the other kids are getting in their bus rider/car rider lines.  I have to be in that room right away while the teacher takes care of her dismissal duties.  It isn't a big deal normally, and most of my girls come right in.  The Biggest One, though, is almost always my last one in.  The problem is that they won't always let her come.  Some days they make her sit in the car rider line until those kids start leaving before she can go, even if the bell has already rung.  I wrote her teacher a letter reminding her that I was in the class room we meet in and couldn't get her from the line.  I really needed The Biggest One to be dismissed to come straight to me.  After my letter, that's what she did.  Since dismissal duties rotate, though, she isn't always there.  The other teachers don't just let The Biggest One go.  She has to ask each teacher when she can go, and then they tell her that day what she can do.
This past week, it didntt work out.  The Biggest One ask a teacher, and heard "after the bell rings".  What she didn't hear was "wait until the car riders start leaving" because of all the other kids talking.  Regardless, she waited until after the bell rang, which meant school was over, and came to me in Girl Scouts.  She was early.  She was happy.  Then a boy came to the door and told her to go back to her science teacher.  In about two minutes, my child walked back in to me, hysterical.  She was sobbing and couldn't stop.  She said that this teacher had jumped all over her.  I know the teacher is very strict, and comes across as pretty mean.  The teacher told her that she hadn't listened and would be sitting out recess the nest day.  My child was horrified.  She tried to explain that the other teacher she had ask to leave that day, a fifth grade teacher, not even the teacher who called her back to yell at her, said she could go after the bell rang, but this teacher refused to listen.  She didn't want to hear anything from my child.  My child did wrong, and she was in trouble.  Period.  End of story.

No.
No.
I don't think so.

I was mad.  If The Biggest One really did something wrong, I would expect her to be punished at school.  However, I don't think misunderstandings, especially when you are talking about inconsistent policy, should count.  Most importantly, though, is the fact that this woman chose to punish her with out ever listening to her.  That isn't ok with me.  In fact, they yelled at her for asking to go every week in this whole debacle.  It was clear that it was irritating to them she needed "special treatment".
I had to make it through an entire Scout meeting super pissed and not let my kids know.  That was hard. It took everything I had not to just walk down the hall and speak with her science teacher right then.
Instead, I talked to my husband that night, and decided to write a letter to the science teacher, the one who chose to punish her.  I slept on it to have time to think and calm down.
I wrote very carefully.  I said that it had been a misunderstanding.  I said that the biggest problem was the inconsistent policy.  I ask that every teacher give her the same dismissal routine, even if it meant that should would be the latest in the room, just so that The Biggest One would have a clear set of instructions to follow each week ,and she could stop asking them what to do.  I did say that she was almost always the last one in the room, and I would like to see her dismissed when the bell rang, like her teacher does, but if they feel that is unsafe for any reason, that we would take what ever was best.  I also said that if there were more concerns, then I would be glad to meet with the teachers who have dismissal duty over her, and the principal if needed, so that we could come up with a safe plan of action for dismissal for the rest of the year that would work for everyone.
It wasn't mean.  It was firm, but there is a huge difference.
I had my husband read it, and let me assure you, when it comes to my being bitchy, he can spot it from a mile away and would never fail to call me out on it.  He said the letter was fine.
So, since I had missed writing it by the time they left, I took it in to school.
There is a great little side story about me seeing this teacher as I was getting there, but I will save that for later.
For now, what you need to know is that I got it to The Biggest One right before lunch and recess when she was supposed to stand with her science teacher.  She went back to class, and before recess, she ask her teacher if she could go ahead and give the letter to the other teacher.  Her teacher ask to see it and read it first.  That pisses me off right there.  It wasn't addressed to her.
She read it, and according to the Biggest One, made a big eyed face.  She called the other teacher over, and said, "Here, her mom wrote you an angry letter."

I will let that sink in for a second.

You good?

Ok.  She said, in front of my child, that I wrote her teacher an angry letter. I ask if she had been kidding.  The Biggest One showed me the face she made three separate times.  She was absolutely not kidding according to my child.

Well, if I wasn't angry before, I was the moment my child relayed this.
It wasn't an angry letter.  I promise you.   Even if it had been, that was totally inappropriate to say in front  of my child.  You can bitch about me behind my back like all the people who have sense do any time you want, but not in front of my child.  What she did was just set up an adversarial position for the two of us.  She said I did something mean to that other teacher.  The teacher parent relationship should never be adversarial, and setting it up that way goes against the grain of everything I think schools work for.

How dare she.

So, this time I decided to take a couple of days and cool down.
I'm thinking a conference with the principal is actually in order.
That really wasn't ok with me.  I don't know exactly why she dislikes me so much.
I swear that if you got Middie's teacher together with The Biggest One's, and had them each describe me as a parent, you would think they were talking about two totally different women.  I would do anything for the school and my girls' classes that I could.  If you know me, you know that.  Last year, I went in no less than once a week for a couple of hours with two kids in tow to do paper work in the parent room because I feel it is my responsibility to help out any way I can.  That's my job.
Instead of viewing me as an asset, though, for some reason, she has chosen to make me an obstacle.  It honestly makes me want to cry.  I just want to help, not to be treated with out respect.
Anyway, this post has been super long.  Sorry.  If you made it through, thanks.
I'll let you know what happens from here.  I'm hoping for some kind of better.  Any kind of better.