Inner Bitch

The other day, I unleashed the bitch.  I haven't allowed her out of the cage for about two years.  Last time I let her out to play, it was ugly!  Quite frankly, my inner bitch scared me, so she's been under very tight ropes and chains.

 

Now, for those of you who know me well, I'm sure you've heard me say I come from a long line of nasty bitches.  And I do.  Honest.  Have you ever seen a movie called "Throw Mama from the Train"?  It's old, probably from the 80's.  Anyway, the mama in this movie is the spitting image of my great grandmother, on my father's side - especially in physical appearance.  My first experience with a soul-deep, terrifying meanness was with her.  She often stayed with my grandmother as she was not very well, and grandma took care of her.  My sisters and I were young, and I do mean young!  I'm the middle sister and was about 3.  This old woman, who stayed in bed all day, was quite the curiosity to such young girls.  The three of us were peeking around the door frame at this grumpy pariah, when my younger sister decided to run into the room yelling "beep-beep-ba-bop-bop"!  Startled, my older sister and I pulled away from the doorway, and my little sister streaked past us like a bolt of lightning.  What she didn't bother to do was warn us the ancient lump in the bed could -- and was -- moving!  Throw Mama from the Train was suddenly filling the doorway, a red, plaid slipper in her hand.  She paddled our little backsides all the way to the entrance.  To clarify, it didn't hurt.  The all-encompassing fear is what I remember!  Our mother burst into laughter.  No doubt it looked hilarious!  We collapsed into terrified tears.  And Grandma?  Well Grandma, was angrier than a cat thrown in the sprinkler!  To this day, I get a jolt of fear when I hear intense displeasure in an old lady's voice!

 

Anyway, the rest of the women on both sides of the clan are of the passive-aggressive mean.  You know the sort -- snide comments, buried beneath a thin veil of humor, with the odd blunt flourish.  Which, by the way, I really do prefer blunt because I really hate wondering what the hell you really meant!  Now, that being said, I also possess a healthy dose of passive aggression, but I do try really hard not to let that bitch out.  However, the bitch I do let out on occasion is the border-line psychotic, overly blunt one.  She's the one who is so verbally aggressive -- although, rarely the one to pick the scrap -- people usually call the cops on her!

 

I'm full circle to the day I unleashed this nasty side of me.  We live near the hospital, and we all know hospitals never provide enough parking.  For any of their patrons. We constantly have battles with hospital workers who block driveways, crowd streets, park too close to corners, crosswalks, and fire hydrants.  All pretty major safety concerns.  Neighborhood children must be dangerously exposed before they can determine if it is okay to cross streets.  Same issue when driving -- it really is a crap shoot whether you'll make it safely into the roadway or be hit by a vehicle you were unable to see until it's too late.  And the fire hydrant.  I don't think I need to say more on that one.  So we jumped through all the City's hoops and brought up solid into a brick wall.  Same wall with Alberta Health Services,  only that wall is higher and thicker because NO government agency gives a shit about the little guy.

 

Frustration had been building up for weeks and months, along with a feeling of powerlessness that sinks anyone's ship.  I came home from work, to a hospital worker hogging the space in front of my home.  She'd been asked nicely to park elsewhere on another occasion.   I squeezed my car behind hers.  There was roughly one to two inches between my bumper and hers, and I wasn't blocking my neighbor's driveway -- a.k.a. parked legally.  I marched into my house and wrote a note that this was not a commercial parking lot, park at your place of employment. 

 

Unfortunately, I had just gotten comfortable in my deck chair when she finished her shift.  She put her kid in the car, then asked me why I parked so close to her.  Um, duh.  I live here.  She informed me she has the right to park wherever she wants to and I shouldn't park so close to her vehicle.  Really?  Well, I'm ashamed to say the reins on psycho bitch snapped.  I'm surprised the missus didn't hear them go!  I called her many unsavory names (compliments of working with rednecks for many years and a certain Newfie who taught me many more) with many of the options she could CHOOSE that homeowners cannot.  At which point she called me white trash, I called her something even worse and to keep her vehicle away from my property permanently. 

 

Well, I guess she forgot her big girl panties that day.  Or maybe this piece of white trash outsmarted her with unsavory words and a heavy dose of common sense!  Either way, an RCMP officer showed up at my door and was swiftly told to do something a little more useful with her time -- it was said a bit more politically correct than that, but you get the drift!

 

You know what I had forgotten?  It feels really good to let psycho-bitch off her leash!  She didn't scare me this time.  She wasn't all the way free of her chains, merely a snapping, snarling wild thing on the end of a rope.  And I think she made a very clear - albeit, rude - point.  After all, we homeowners have rights, too.  It felt great to fight back because I've been tolerant so long.

Lesson learned.  Let your inner bitch out and take her for a run once in a while.  You'll feel better when you're not just being a doormat for muddy shoes.  :)

Positions of Authority

"With great power, comes great responsibility. "

Truer words have never been spoken.  Why then do people -- such as the RCMP -- abuse their power?

I think just about everyone nation wide has heard about the flooding in southern Alberta.  A little town called High River was completely devastated by this flood.  Thirteen thousand people are homeless.  Homeless.

At first firefighters, military and RCMP were part of the solution, ensuring flooded residents reached safety.  All that has changed.

RCMP have been illegally entering homes and confiscating weapons, in the name of safety.  There are blockades set up.  There is tight control on those allowed to enter this devastated zone.

It is the RCMP and military who have forcibly entered many homes, presumably to ensure residents' safety, yet they have allowed some residents to stay because they refuse to evacuate.  They have made people's formerly secure homes unsecure; thereby giving them an excuse to remove weapons in the interest of public safety.

I believe this act would be called break and entry, with a few theft charges rammed in there.  Why are the officers committing these crimes not being charged? If they were not wearing a uniform, they most certainly would be charged for such lowly crimes.

If you have authority, don't aggravate a volatile situation.  These people need kindness and understanding.  They need communication.  They need to see their properties so they can begin making decisions and moving forward.

Quit riding the ego train and start being part of the solution.  Quit abusing the power of your authority by stealing the few belongings some have left.  Quit destroying property that Mother Nature so nastily abused.  Actually, RCMP Officers, do the world a favor -- pull your heads out of your asses and grow a heart!!!

Parental Responsibility

This subject is nearly as touchy as racism.  Maybe more so.  Yet, I feel compelled to write about it.

My youngest daughter has Type 1 Diabetes.  When she was first diagnosed, my husband and I decided I would stay home and learn to manage this life-long, chronic disease.  I had an okay job with great benefits and good pay, but I was willing to give this up to better support my entire family during this huge learning curve.  After two years, I am back to work part-time.

When I say huge learning curve, I mean it.  You have to learn to poke fingers and interpret blood glucose readings.  Match insulin needs to food requirements.  Learn to make appropriate increases or decreases in insulin to maintain a very fine balance between "good" and "evil" glucose levels.  This disease leads you into one of the hardest juggling acts you will ever perform.  You have to fight a child who doesn't want another needle but must have it to live.  Your heart is often ripped from your chest and stomped on in this constant battle to preserve a decent quality of life for your child. 

With this on-going battle against a disease you have no control over, you must remember to give enough love and attention to your other child or children.  Even though she may understand the medical need, your non-diabetic child needs you just as much as the diabetic child does.  She's emotional, too.  No one likes to watch someone they love suffer.  No one likes to feel someone is more important than they are.  I think a tight-rope would be easier to walk than to maintain this balance.

Don't forget your spouse, either.  They are sad and struggling with this ugliness life dealt our daughter.  An ugliness he can't protect her from.  It's hard.  Hard to carry the weight.  Difficult to turn something so negative into a positive.  Lots of blood, sweat, and tears have been shed in the two years since diagnosis.  Oh, and sleep deprivation, to the point of insomnia.  I rarely sleep a full six hours.

By now, I'm certain you're thinking what does all of this have to do with parental responsibility?  Where the hell is she going with this???

Lately, I have been reading too many complaints about parents with Type 1 children who are upset about the lack of support for their children at school.  They are upset about not being able to have an educational assistant in place to help their child at school.  They are upset when a teacher is a little later testing than is required.  Angry about an educational assistant who made a decision that was incorrect in the treatment of their child's disease.

My first question always is:  are you available to go to your child's school at key points throughout the day?  Many times I receive a "yes", followed by many excuses as to why they can't/don't want to this.  From younger siblings at home; to it's a human rights issue and everything in between.

I'm fully aware not all families can manage this ugly disease the way we have.  I get it's hard to pack up two or three younger siblings a couple times a day.  I even get that it is the right of our children to be safe at school.  I understand the single parent who must work with no one else to rely on.

What I don't understand is my perception of parents insisting on passing their responsibilities to medically untrained educational assistants.  Many of these same parents with complaints like to spout about how Type 1 is a life-threatening disease.  It is.  They like to point out mistakes these assistants make during a treatment and how they would have handled it differently.  Demanding that schools train personnel how to handle this disease in five minutes.

We live, eat, breathe and sleep this disease.  We learn to make decisions based on previous history.  Many decisions are made on gut-instinct alone - with a very sincere hope it was the right choice.  Some of us have been battling diabetes for many years; some for mere months.  How can we possibly expect an educational assistant to learn all they need to know from a half hour meeting at the beginning of the school year?  How can we expect them to make a good decision based on the protocol we have written for them, yet often twist knowing we will achieve the desired result?  We can't.

If you truly want the best care your child can have, I believe parents are the only ones who can deliver this.  We should not be passing it off to someone who doesn't understand - or care - on the same level we do.

If you are unable to go to school to care for your child based on your life's circumstances, then fight for trained medical staff at your child's school -- not for an educational assistant.  I, for one, would not pass this responsibility to a person who has no medical training or real understanding of this chronic, life-threatening disease.  For any reason.  Fight to be welcomed into your child's school to help whenever they need it - a battle I had to fight in another province and won.

Don't complain when someone makes a decision, even if it isn't the right one.  You've chosen to trust them with your child's life-threatening disease because you are unavailable during those hours.  Use it to further educate them.  Make yourself 100% available to give assistance or to answer questions.  Remember how difficult it was to make the right decision in the early days of diagnosis?  Don't criticize those of us who choose to happily deliver the care our diabetic child needs by sacrificing our jobs or choosing to come and go from the school at key times during the day. 

Are you a bad parent because you need help to manage your child's disease?  No.  But neither am I for choosing to be a fully hands-on parent who refuses to delegate the responsibility of my child's life to another because it is their "right".  I get tired of listening to what everyone "thinks" society should be doing for them, rather than what they should be doing to improve society.  We don't need everything legislated.  Our world has too many rules, and it certainly hasn't improved because of it.

Schools have the responsibility to educate.  Parents have the responsibility to keep our children alive and well.  Don't pass that responsibility off so easily.

Happy Moments

Life has a habit of making us feel dragged down, but perhaps it should be interpreted as the kick in the ass we need to move forward.  We've all been there.  A job that makes us unhappy.  Personal circumstances that make us feel "stuck".  Living in a city we despise.  Too many expectations placed on us we cannot live up to.

How do you get out of this vicious circle?  It's a simple question - with no simple answers.

Most of us are in a position where we must support our family.  The job that's been making you miserable must be replaced with one of equal  - or better - measure because we need to pay the mortgage and keep food in our family's bellies.  Maybe you have the experience required to obtain a new position, but your future employer requires the education to back up your experience.  Maybe you want to go into a new field altogether.  Which direction do you choose?  Maybe you take an on-line course or two, preparing yourself slowly for a change you need.  Maybe you're a "head first" kind of person, jump in and hope life will work itself out - because life usually does have a habit of working itself out.  Maybe you have an amazing partner who doesn't mind carrying the financial load while you better yourself.  So many directions to go - no clear answers.

What about those personal circumstances?  Your child is still too young to be left home alone after school, so you've chosen to continue with your part-time job and not take a great, full-time promotion.  Or your kids are almost to college.  You want to re-model the basement but don't want to dip into a college fund.  Maybe your kids are at an age where you are starting to have a bit of freedom again, but you feel guilty for being away.  Or your child has a medical condition, stripping your ability to go away for a vacation without first extensively training someone so your child's quality of life is maintained?  These are the truly hard questions.  After all, we chose to have children; therefore, it is up to us to raise them to the best of our ability.  I envy parents who so easily pass their parental responsibilities to others.

My favorite stressor is the expectations placed on us by family and friends.  The expectation to be perfect.  To show up for every family function, although I'm tired.  Or maybe I'd just like to sit and drink a glass of wine with my hubby.  Friends who get mad at you because you've been too busy to call for a few weeks.

I think we need to remember one simple rule:  life has no happy endings;  only happy moments.  Hold onto the happy moments.  They get you through the rough patches of indecision.