I DARE You to Protest Me

I got a really interesting email from my local Girl Scout Council today.  Apparently, someone out there is trying to make a stink about how Girl Scouts supports abortion.
Right.
Totally.  We talk about it every day.  I personally try to sneak in as much about abortion into our curriculum as I possibly can.  I teach them how to plant a seed, and then deceptively tell them its ok to pluck the seed if it sprouts up when you don't want it.

No.  Wait.  We DON"T do that at all.  In fact, one of the things that I LOVE most about Girl Scouts is their policy of having no policy.  See, Girl Scouts keeps that idea that some conversations are better left to each family, and have no place in Scouting.  This topic being on of them.
That makes me happy as a parent, not just a scout leader.
Girl Scouts adheres to the basics, supporting your community, growing up to be a strong, self confident your lady, things like that.  Everything else is left up to each parent.

The email I received in a way, let us know that people might try to talk to us about these views at cookie booth sales.  The letter said that we didn't need to talk back, but we could if we wanted to, and it give us a direct link to the online post causing the stir, as well as the real information on the official policy.  Basically, it let us know that we may encounter protests.  At a cookie booth sale.
Seriously.
No.  Really.

So, here is what I have to say to all those who might want to protest.
1.  Leave my girls alone!!
You want to see me go momma bear, go after my cubs.  (I know we aren't Cub Scouts, but I thought that would be cute here.)  Every single one of the girls in my troop becomes mine the moment they join.  You will not harm them in any way, that includes scaring them.  Nope.
2.  If you do want to engage, you engage me.  Just me. I will respond.  I will be prepared.  I will let you know in no uncertain terms that you are not only ignorant of the truth, but totally absurd for believing that Scouts would actually teach something like that.
3.  Recognize that the entire purpose of Girl Scouts is to raise strong young women who will stand up for themselves and what they believe in.  The Biggest One is a prime example.  Since she is mine, I'll let you try this one out.  Go ahead and tell her that you think Scouts is teaching her to murder children.  Then, be prepared for the wrath that ensues.  In that moment, I'll give her a pass on respecting her elders.
4.  One other "little" belief you may have missed is that we support God and country.  I think you will find, at least in this area, that many of the families of my girls are rooted in the Christian faith.  So, you are totally barking up the wrong tree here.

Some people have lost sight of Jesus in the name of Christianity.  If you think for a moment that the right thing to do is to go after a group if Girl Scouts in regards to abortion, then you may as well go join the Westboro Baptist Church.  That is their mentality.  If you think for a moment that it is ok to scare small children, then you are the one who deserves judgement, not a parent who is working to help her child go to camp.
What you need to do is sit in on a Scout meeting.  See what we really do and who we really are.  My girls are awesome.  The other ladies I work with are awesome.  My goal at every single meeting and in between is to do anything I can to support them in reaching their full potential.  I want them to learn.  I want them to grow.  I want to see the amazing people that they will become.

I hope they are all life long scouts and are always just as proud of the organization as I am.

I Could Have Sworn I Was Born Here......

I'm going to give you all a little piece of unsolicited advice.  You may do with it what you will, but if you choose to print this out and cram it somewhere, I don't need to know about it.

The advice I am going to give you is absolutly unoversal, and should you chose not to heed it, could make your life much more difficult.

Never.  Ever.  Assume you know where someone is from, where they were raised, how they were raised, or their background.  Always let them, or facts, tell you.  

Assumning you know someone will undoubtedloy get you into troiuble.  Or  fight at a PTA meeting.

Tonight, as I was being jumped on, I was told repeatedly that I didn't understand something because I wasn't from the Bible Belt.  

Ummm........

Wrong.

I was born and raised in North East TN, which is much more of a Bible Belt than this is.  I was raised in a town that had a massive protest when Applebee's tried to open up because the sign was going to say "Bar and Grill" and bars are to be hidden, never put out on display.  This was when I was in High School, too.  Not back in the 50's.

I was raised in a Pentecostal church.  Look it up.  

I get the religious side of things.  

My sister happens to be an associate pastor at her church.  Not that her job means anything as far as my credintials, but I'm pretty sure that if I do something totally antireligious, she is going to call me out on it.  

Howwver, tonight, I kept being told I just didn't understand.  I just don't get it.  I am not from "here".  

I am right now, personally offended.  Perhaps I should take it as a total compliment that people don't view me as being from "here".  After all, if this is the land of religious zealots who don't want to understnad technology for fear that Satan is always behind a cmputer, then I'm good with not being from "here".  

What, you may ask, was all the hub bub about?

Bar codes.  

You know how everyone has a bar code for everything now.  There are bar codes on your grocery store cards.  There are bar codes on every product you buy.  Really, look around, and they are every where.  People even have apps on their smart phones to be able to scan them.
However, when it comes to membership in a organization I am part of, they just won't fly. 

Apparently, people here would totally reject it, and at some point in time in the very contentious discussion, someone likened them to the mark of the beast.  

I kid you not.  

I couldn't make that up.  

All of this was thrown at me, me the person who didn't even suggest car codes but had looked into the feasibility for someone else, because I couldn't understand people.  I am an outsider.  So, I took the brunt of everything.

I may not sound like people do here, or act or think like them.  I may be open to change and multiculturalism, but that doesn't mean I don't know anything about here, too.  I've lived more, experience more, and been through more than many people.
Do not assume you know me.

I get that a lot of crazy things happen in California.  People out there want to ban Oreos, and that stands as evidence enough of some of the goofy things that happen, but goofy things happen everywhere.  Like people flipping out about bar codes.  It just so happens, though, that people in CA wouldn't be afraid of bar codes.  They are much more open to people of different cultures and experiences, because everyone in CA is from a different culture or experience.
So, if you want to call me that mom from CA, go ahead.  I may have been born and raised in East TN, but if being open minded and forward thinking equals being from CA, I'll take it in a heart beat.
In the mean time, if you want to know what I think, how I feel, or about my experience in life, ask.  I'll be glad to tell you.  All the while trying to plan my escape back to California, land of people who embrace bar codes.  

Good For Us All

The only time that The Big Girls will leave me alone is when i clean.  They know that if they come within eyesight, they will be given a task, and they don't want that.  At all.  So, they stay away.  Far away.  They tend to be quiet.  For that reason, I have taken to a few cleaning tasks that warrant me some small sort of peace. Vacuuming has become a favorite of mine, especially now that i have one i love.  I even find the white noise enjoyable, because it covers any noise The Girls make, and for some odd reason calms The Littlest One.
Today, though, the white noise just wouldn't cut it.  I needed more.  There are times that I just need to have that little something that is totally inappropriate for them, but totally fantastic for me.   Like any good Gen Xer, and I am though barely by the skin of my grungy pants, I love and worship Kurt Cobain like the tragic, godlike hero he was.  Nirvana is hands down the best band that ever played on this planet.  The problem therein is that the lyrics aren't quite rated appropriate for my children, or any children.
No matter what I wanted, I couldn't get The Littlest One to let me put her down.  She seemed to want to eat, or sleep, both while being held, all day.  On top of that, The Big Girls were pushing it with me.  After a particularly ire inducing episode of "I didn't get what I want from Mom so I will ask another adult" they were in the serious dog house.  I needed some space.  I needed some me time.  With a deployed spouse, that doesn't come easy, or at all.
So, I did the next best thing.  I gave up, recognized what I had available to me, and inspired by the words of Tim Gunn, made it work.
I pulled out my head phones, grabbed my phone, which has my Napster app all loaded up and ready to go, found the moby wrap, and strapped the baby on.  She will usually hang there for quite a while, depending on what I am doing.  As long as I don't bend down with her, which really pisses her off I might add, she tends to like it strapped to my chest.  Once i got her on, we pulled out the vacuum, and I turn on the music.  It was like heaven.  I could rock out to my 90's grunge play list, and no one was the wiser.  It was, in fact, pretty good for everyone.  I got a little exercise, and could almost pretend i was in my own world.  The Littlest One got some god bonding time and wrapped up and strapped on.  The Big Girls got to sit in the back room and not have to do housework.  They also got quite a show.  They thoroughly enjoyed watching me dance to music they couldn't hear.  I think they might have though I was a little nuts, but I really don't care.  I'm sure this won't be the last time they think I am just a tad bit crazy, and I kind of like it that way.  Thinking their mom might be just the tiniest bit nuts might actually help keep them in line just a bit.  I'll take all the help I can get, however i get it.

When is scary too much?

My daughter and I were walking with a group of friends on Halloween around the hood. We somehow ended up on the other side of our subdivision (I think that somehow was the kids following the blinking lights from one shiny house to another with out slowing enough for us to catch or stop them).

As we were walking across one street, I heard this crazy noise. It sounded like metal being drug behind a car. Like, maybe a piece of a car was dragging. It got louder and louder.

Then, I saw him.

There was some guy dressed up as what had to be the best/scariest Michael Myers ever outside of a movie house. The man looked scary. To me. A grown woman who likes vampires and used to be goth. He was scary. Anyway, he was dragging a shovel behind him. He walked down the road, not the sidewalk, dragging it, looking straight ahead, like he didn't even notice the people going by. Then, when he got close enough to a group, he would suddenly jump and scream at them. I am telling you that man was freaky.

When he did that to our group, one of the moms jumped about 3 feet backwards and nearly peed on herself. Three of the girls started crying. One got over it. One had to stay with her dad after that. One couldn't stop crying. Scary. He jumped at another group and a little girl literally threw her bucket of candy at him and ran. (As an aside, I was proud of her. If this had been a horror movie, she would have made it because she actually did the right thing!) She didn't get far before an adult made her stop. The man in the mask did take it off, and go over and help her pick it all up. He waited until he got a little further away before from that girl before he put the shovel back down, and started all over again.

As my daughter and I walked toward our house, I heard people start screaming behind us, before I heard the shovel. She heard it and took off. She wanted to get home before he could get near us again. Now, She knew he was fake. She knew it was a man. I think she enjoyed the drama more than she was really scared when she ran home.

In hindsight, some of what was transpiring around him was funny. The mom that nearly peed on herself. That was funny. The little girl who threw her candy, could have been funny, if she hadn't been so scared. Though, she probably would laugh if anyone had caught that on camera and they had won 10,000, but I digress.

The thing is, he was genuinely scaring people. Is that wrong, though? Isn't that what Halloween is about? At what point in time do you cross the line from being an enthusiast to an asshole?

I'm not sure if this guy crossed the line. I think he walked it. If he hadn't helped the little girl pick up her candy, he would have been way over it. Provided there are no nightmares, for me or my daughter, that arise from his escapade, I will forgive him.

I think this may be one of those things that live with her, in a good, memorable way. I hope she never forgets what an exciting night she spent with friends, getting candy, running, screaming like crazy and running from a madman in a mask, with a shovel. I hope that in years to come, she tells her own kids the story, and that they won't get nightmares from it either.