Young Love: Confessions Of A Broken Housewife

We’ve all been there..young and in love. We think, “This is it. This is going to last FOREVER.” We are so ready to grow up and start a family. I’m here to tell you, it’s not that glamorous. Also, it doesn’t always last forever. I wouldn’t trade my kids for the world, but if I could go back and have them later in life, I would. They would more than deserve it.

When I was 16, I met The Ex. He was The BFF’s boyfriend. We all went out to shop one day and, when we returned,  The BFF decided he was too shy for her. I told her he was nice and she should give him a shot. She promptly handed over his number and said, “If you like him, then YOU CALL HIM!” When he called her later, she handed me the phone. We became good friends. Right before my 17th birthday, he became my boyfriend. I will never forgive The BFF for that. (just kidding)

Our rocky, on/off high school relationship ended for a good 4 months right before graduation. I graduated and moved to Baton Rouge with a good friend for about a month, moved back, started nursing school, and was working full time at a dry cleaning place. I eventually reunited with The Ex, moved in, and decided I was in love. “This is it. This is going to last FOREVER.” Before I knew it, I was 20 years old, pregnant, unemployed, and had long quit nursing school.

Now, I’m 26, going through a dirty divorce, 2 kids, unemployed, and no degree to fall back on.

My advice?
*Stay in school. Finish college.
*Find a good job. Keep it.
*Birth Control. Children are wonderful. Have them later.
*DEPEND ON NO ONE BUT YOURSELF. The longer you wait to do it, the harder it gets.

As it turns out, Domestic Goddess doesn’t really have a spot on resumes.

And when you meet that guy that thinks you are beautiful with no makeup on, pushes your hair back out of your face so he can look you in the eyes, kisses your forehead, sends you “Good morning, beautiful.” texts, and does all the other things facebook quotes tell you guys should do, do me a favor:

Look deeply into his eyes, smile..then punch him in that pretty face and yell, “LIES!” Then go do your homework.

Am I Being Punk’d?

*Disclaimer: I’m writing this from my phone. My screen is cracked and extra punctuation is going to happen. This is not a typical post, it’s more of an explanation.*

It’s been a while, but I can explain..

I’m getting divorced.

Remember this post? Yeah, I’d just found out Hubby–who will be referred to as “The Ex” from this point on– had screwed my crazy crackhead neighbor. He didn’t “screw her over” or “screw together some furniture for her”. No, he straight up screwed her, baby makin’ style.

After almost 8 months of trying to work it out, other issues (with him) crept up. I realized I had never forgiven him for the affair, I was still bitter..resentful, and just not “in love”. Considering he called me a “cry baby” in February for not already being over it, we REALLY weren’t doing too well when I wasn’t over it 6 more months later. His new issues were too much and I was tired of trying to piece together something that had been FUBAR’d for months.

So, yeah, that’s where I’ve been. I didn’t quit writing for lack of material (he’s given me SO MUCH). I didn’t quit because I’ve been wallowing around in.self-pity. Trust me, I don’t need sympathy. I’m better than I’ve been in 10 years. No shit, my face is even clearing up. It’s just that– I’m still waiting on Ashton Kutcher to pop out and tell me that I’m being Punk’d. Not over the affair, but over the divorce filing aftermath. It’s been insane. I could legit be on Jerry.

In August, The Ex moved out. He begged me to hold off filing until he had more time to process what was happening. Somehow, even with my months of unhappiness, his numerous fuck-ups, and me admitting that I wasn’t in love with him, this was a huge surprise to him. HUGE. After he HACKED MY FACEBOOK and told everyone what he’d done, admitting to snooping through my things to see if I’d cheated (I’ve never in my life cheated and never will, not after having been through it myself), and begged me to take him back, I knew I was DONE-done. I know his intent was to apologize, but–you know–nothing says “I love you” like hacking a facebook, snooping, and humiliating your wife. Hellllo? I hadn’t told people what was going on FOR A REASON. Either way, out of pity, I decided to give him until the following Monday. Friday morning, I was served divorce papers. He was divorcing ME. Okay, that’s fine…on what grounds? Well, because I’m crazy. OF COURSE. Why else would I have stayed married so long?! I did see a psychiatrist for the ADHD and, after the affair, when my anxiety got bad again. Luckily, he was nice enough to write a letter stating that I was not insane.

All through September, I got calls and texts begging me to give him another chance. I didn’t respond. So, he took to harassing friends and family and spreading viscous rumors. More begging to take him back. Really?! Did you even READ the divorce papers you filed? Did you HEAR the things you were telling people as they came out of your mouth? Are you drunk? High? Probably. Probably both. Who knows, really.. Either way, NO! Just…no.

October comes and, suddenly, the calls stop. He isn’t calling the kids either. Toward the end of the month, I was in a wedding. I stayed at my grandmother’s so she could help babysit and so I would be closer to the chapel. While there, I brought all mine and kids’ clothing to do laundry. I had pretty much lived out of my car over the weekend out of fear that I would forget something for the wedding. After the wedding, I didn’t unload the car. I was too tired. While I was in bed, The Ex came and stole the car. Allllllll our stuff, including the carseats, were in there.

Early November, I got several calls that a female “friend” of his was driving my car around. Bitch was DRIVING. MY. CAR. Word was, they’d been seeing each other since early October..when the calls stopped. Let me make this crystal clear: I legit PRAYED that he would find a girlfriend. I had no issue with that. I wanted him to find someone else to obsess over, anyone but me. I was over it. Mid-November, we went to court. The car was to be returned back to me the following weekend.

Here it is, first week of December, and still no car. Supposedly, the girlfriend took my car and ran off with her ex. Fantastic. Fan. Fucking. Tastic.

So, there is the drahmz. It doesn’t take up quite as much of my life as you would think. I struggled a lot in the beginning, but not so much anymore. I made a decision a few months ago:  I’m 26–a lot of life left, and I will keep nothing short of AMAZING people in my life from now on. I have some pretty amazing people in my life that make me far happier than he makes me miserable.

If we have a good relationship (friend, family, or otherwise) of some sort now or in the future, rest assured that I fucking love you and your presence. If you start sucking, you are out. GONE. Ain’t nobody got time fa dat! I’m not wasting anymore time on being miserable. 10 years was long enough.

If you, by chance, wonder if I will change the name of this..maybe. Maybe NEXT YEAR. This bitch is paid up until July!

Oh, The SHAME!

This photo is going around right now and, not surprisingly, many are calling it abuse. Mental abuse. Humiliating, yes, but..abuse? Ehh…

What say you good people out there? Is this mental abuse? What is your opinion on this type of discipline, in general?

Here is my comment on the post on Babble.com’s Facebook (plus a little more detail), summing up my opinion:

I can’t believe this is seriously being dubbed as abuse by some people. That’s laughable, at best. I got caught at a party when I was 15. My dad carried me and my best friend out over his shoulders. I was forever known as “the girl whose dad busted up the Hope Lake party”. It was humiliating! HOWEVER:

1.) Nothing my parents did led me to that party. I lied and left a football game to go. Peer pressure led me there.

2.) I didn’t lose respect for my parents. I still trusted them, though I was temporarily (very) angry. I understood even then WHY they did what they did.

3.) I learned a valuable lesson: don’t sneak off to parties, I will get caught. It wasn’t my last party, but it definitely slowed me down.

4.) To compare being humiliated for making a stupid choice to being abused HAS TO BE a serious slap in the face to anyone who has ever been mentally abused. My parents were not abusive and, in my opinion, neither is this mother.

5.) My parents are wonderful, amazing people. I love them and respect them. I have never feared them, but I did expect to be appropriately punished for things I did wrong. At 26, my mom is NOW my best friend. I thank God she didn’t try to be my BFF back then.

According to one reader, the mom said this in response:

“Some said the public humiliation would have long-term effects, that she would hate me forever for this. You have to know your child. I wouldn’t do this on my middle child because I don’t think she can emotionally handle it. But this one, she’ll be just fine. Yes, I got the ‘you’re ruining my life’ rant, but after a few hours, she was trying to figure out how she can start an organization at her school to raise awareness about social media responsibility.”

Your thoughts?

Cue Panic, Chaos, Confusion

Last I noticed, the kids were holding hands and dancing in the kitchen, directly in front of my open door. Unbeknownst to me, while I was Facebooking, the son acquired a screwdriver (Stop it. I know you are judging me. Stop.). Next thing I know, son runs toward something and stabs it. After a loud popping sound, Sugar screams, “You stabbed a hole in it!!” I see a cloud of something that looks like smoke…maybe aerosol something or other being sprayed. I jump up and run towards the cloud, screaming, “Get away from it! GET AWAAAYYY FROM ITTTT!!!! “…I don’t know what, exactly, I think is about to happen. Surely, it’s going to explode or something. The kids are inhaling toxic fumes of a substance not-yet identified!! It’s probably blinding them right now! Oh, GOD! It’s going to EXXXPPLLOOODDDEEE! RUN!!!!

So, as I approach the exploding aerosol can of toxic substance, I nearly bust my ass and get sprayed in the face by this stuff! I’m going to be blind, too! We’re all going to be BLIIINNNDD! I finally see the bottle of the deadly, blinding gas…

 

 

 

 

/areyoukiddingme

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s sprite.
/dead

When The Broom Sweeps The Floor By Itself, I’ll Actually Be Impressed

Spo0o0o0oky...Right?? (ignore the towel in the floor..the little shits spilled water)

So, the latest Facebook craze is Magical Broom Standing. For the last 2 nights, I have seen countless posts about how this phenomenon will “only work TONIGHT!!!1!!1!eleventy!”–because of something regarding the perfect alignment of the planets. After last night’s craze, I got up this morning and I took the above picture of my broom standing and posted it in hopes of debunking the myth. Unfortunately, my newsfeed is still full of broom pictures from people who only heard of it today, encouraging everyone else to try it–again–because it will only work tonight. /facepalm

I admit it, this is pretty cool and a great way to freak people out. My husband thought I had some Juju magic going on when I casually let go of the broom, leaving it standing on its own, while we were chatting. It was funny, but not magic. I’m going to let you all in on a little secret: What Hubby didn’t know was that, while I was holding the broom, I was also carefully…

BALANCING IT!

That’s right, y’all. It’s a freaking balancing act! The thing is, the bristles are flexible enough to spread to distribute the weight evenly, yet firm enough to support the weight..allowing it to balance and stand up all by itself. Okay, okay.. that explanation is totally just my own theory, but it definitely isn’t planet alignment.

*****UPDATE*****
Well, y’all, it is morning of March 4th (originally posted this last night) and I have some shocking news…

MY BROOM CAN STILL STAND ON ITS OWN!!!1!1!!!

My eggs stand, too!

Go ahead, try it. You know you want to…

Leave me a comment and let me know if it works for you..

When two people love each other very, very much..they make a baby. Or two.

I know I have been MIA again lately, but..nothing. I have no excuses. Well, I have one..sort of. I intended on this being a light-hearted and somewhat humorous blog (which is why the last post is gone..too much dramaz!), and the truth is: I don’t think I’m all that funny that often. Others tend to agree. In fact, my younger sister told me that the first time my dad read this blog, he said something along the lines of, “Huh. I didn’t know she could be funny.” Thanks, dad.

Annnnyway, I have a lot on my plate right now. Some of it is so top secret that my husband won’t let me even talk about it yet. If those who knew me did not know that I wrote this, it wouldn’t matter. BUT, I have friends who know and like to use my name when leaving comments or writing on the facebook wall. Thanks, guys! 😉 Now that I have gone off on another ADHD tangent, I’ll try to get back to what I was saying.

Ahem. I have a lot on my plate right now. I know they say that opposites attract, but that isn’t always the case. It isn’t in MY case. Aside from politics (SO not going there), my husband and I are pretty similar. We have a similar sense of humor, we like the same music, we were raised with most of the same values..I could go on. We also both suffered from anxiety as children (I still do) and both have pretty severe cases of ADHD. Apparently, when two people like us procreate, they end up with one child with such severe anxiety that she no longer wants to leave the house, and another who will ask you the same question 152 times and still say “What?” each time you answer with the exact same answer..all because there is something shiny in his peripheral prohibiting him from processing that answer.

Right now, the only time The Samurai’s issue is REALLY difficult for me to deal with, is when I tell him to go pee after catching him doing the I Need To Potty dance and he comes back soaking wet because, on the way to the bathroom,  he turned into Spiderman and his spidey-sense led him to another room where he had to hurry and defeat some bad guys before he turned into a transformer and had to save the world from a tyrannosaurus rex and OH, LOOK..shiny object!!!

My Sugar Boog’s anxiety is a bit more troubling. It is awful for her and, pretty much, for the rest of us, too. Even if it didn’t feel like a knife through my heart every time I had to watch her shake, scream, and cry in fear, it would still be difficult. If I don’t put her in the cart when we are shopping, she holds onto my jacket or pants so tight that it’s hard to move. If I do put her in the cart, she has a meltdown anytime my hands are not on the cart..even if I am staring at her. Do you know how hard it is to shop without being able to remove your hands from the cart? It is Pretty. Damned. Hard. She constantly reminds me that I “have 2 little children and you might lose them if you don’t hold onto the buggy!” Thank you, Sugar. I almost forgot that I spent months in agonizing pain before delivering each of you. She can’t help it, though. She says she knows I would never lose her, but she can’t make her brain stop thinking that I will. Oddly, while that really doesn’t make sense, I know exactly what she means. So, yeah, right now, her main fear is–getting lost. Her other fears: being locked in the car or other small areas (like bathroom stalls), being left at home by herself, and lastly–she is terrified that one of her parents will be put in jail. Reading that, you are probably wondering what the hell kind of parents we are to cause her to worry about those things. Really, it’s nothing we have done. She has never been lost (she has thought she was, when we were actually standing no more than a foot behind her), I have never locked her in the car or left her there alone, I have never left her home alone, and I’ve never even gotten a speeding or other traffic violation citation before! I’ve never even been pulled over for a busted tail light or anything. While I’m not 100% sure where her other fears originated, I DO actually know where her fear of police putting her parents in jail comes from. She told me. It came from “that baby show you were watching where those parents went to jail” (DON’T JUDGE ME!). F#CKING JENELLE AND KIEFFER!! It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been watching my guilty-pleasure show in front of the kids. I tried to turn it off, but Sugar wanted to look at the babies. I didn’t know this would be the outcome. /facepalm

Sugar hasn’t had any major episodes like this is a long time. It has probably been at least 4-6 months.This one is by far the most crippling. She just doesn’t want to leave the house, nor does she want anyone else to leave the house. She tells me bye, that she loves me, and reminds me to pick her up 538 times before she will walk into the school each morning and her teachers say she recently started having meltdowns there. Tuesday, she had 4-5 inconsolable meltdowns while there. Makes me really want to pull her out of school. It’s just pre-k anyway, right? Anyway, right now, she is at my mom’s. They had their Christmas get together with my grandmother yesterday and I didn’t want them to have to miss it just because I did. I was terribly worried about how she would do, but she is doing surprisingly well. My mom says the only meltdowns she has are when they are in the car. She doesn’t want my mom to get out until Sugar is unbuckled–so she can ensure that she will not be left in the car.

We have an appointment with a psychiatrist at the end of January. I made sure to be put on the call list in case of any spots opening sooner due to cancellations. Until then, I am instructed to pretty much do what I can, within reason, to appease her. If she doesn’t want to leave to have a playdate at her friend’s house, she doesn’t have to. If she doesn’t want to accompany me to the grocery store and another option is available (staying with her father), we will go with the other option. We’ll do this until we are told otherwise (IF they tell us otherwise) at her psychiatrist appointment. It might be a long road, but we are going to do everything we can before resorting to medications. In the end, though, if medication is needed to make my sweet girl feel safe and not constantly terrified, medication it is. I just want her to feel safe and secure again!

Alright, enough rambling, too little cleaning. My house is a disaster and I’m about to go all Cracked-Out 50’s Housewife Who Also Suffers From OCD on this bitch. It needs it. Bad.

P.S.
I just realized that I thanked people a lot in this post. Ha! Guess I was feeling thankful. I’m so nice.

Toddlers aren’t really "my thing"..

I have decided that I’m not a huge fan of toddlers. Many of them don’t talk, they hit, they cannot wipe their own asses, they have no understanding of the word “no”, they are messy eaters, they are just messy in general, they hate nap time more than any other age group.. oh, and, they bite. Don’t get me wrong, I love toddlers. I just do not always like them. I used to. I used to see a kid aged 4 or under, and immediately wish I could pick it up…without seeming creepy, of course. Now, I keep toddlers in my house everyday. Now, they scare me.

The Hitter: Well.. she hits. All. Day. Long. My other kids are terrified of her. She cannot walk into the room without every kid in there bursting into tears, anticipating getting hit in the face with a car or other hard toy. I have tried redirecting, firmly saying no, time outs…she still hits. She can’t talk and some think that she hits because she doesnt know how else to communicate. Well, yeah, she is communicating loud and clear by hitting. She is saying, “I’m a tiny asshole!”


The Pooper: How many times can one kid shit in a day? Well, this kid goes at least 4 times in the short amount of time I have him. I’m not exaggerating. Everything goes STRAIGHT through him. I have a break from keeping him for a while since custody is split between his parents..and thank God. If I had to hear “I’m DONNNNEEEEE!!!” come out of his mouth one more time, I was going to lose it.

The Creeper: This kid creeps me out. He gives me evil glares and is never just.. nice. I try my damnedest to sweetly talk to him and play with him and I just get a cold, mean stare back and a, “NO.” He will also kung fu your ass in the face if you even attempt to get him to take a nap. He is completely relentless..he will cry until you finally say, “fuck it” and let him up. On top of everything else, his poop is rancid. I only keep him part-time, but I swear he saves up his shit for me. I can’t even double bag the diapers to keep the stench out. I keep a garbage can near me just in case I lose it and puke. RANCID.

The Manipulator: She is such a sweet child. She, however, has some serious, constant demands and follows them up with big puppy dog eyes and a “Pweeeze.” Nap time is a bitch with this one. She puckers up and pulls out all the stops. Makes you feel like shit for even considering making her nap. When you deny her requests, she drops to the floor and squalls.

The Baby: I have nothing negative to say. Best baby ever.

In conclusion, I’m an awful person.

Ewww, FREAK!

I haven’t posted much lately because I have been working on a few things.
Number 1: In-home Daycare. It deserves its own post, so I’ll get to that next.
Number 2: Adult Day Care

When my neighbor suggested opening an Adult Day Care, I still had THIS STORY  burnt into my brain and thought, “Ewww, FREAK!”

…And before I move on, let me just say–the person in that story with the REAL mental disability is the one taking care of the weirdo.
Anyway, she was actually talking about a place where the elderly go for care and socialization during the days when family members are working or just aren’t available to care for them. Whew!
After a lot of talking and researching, we decided to do it together. I never knew how much work goes into things like business plans. Holy shiz! When I’m not watching children and even during nap time, this is what I’m working on..phone calls, research, business plan, research, emails, and more research. I really hope my neighbor is better about staying on track with her ideas than I am. If its left to me, there will be a half written business plan or a half built building..I’ll half ass SOMETHING major.
Anyway, after a few weeks of all this, I’m not sure where it is going or if it is even going anywhere. Being a housewife just started sounding better and better. Still, that is one major thing that has been going on with me. It isn’t nearly as interesting as the adult baby story, so I’m going to touch on that with this picture that says EXACTLY how I feel about the freak. (F being PC, you know you are thinking the same damn thing.. F-R-E-A-K!)

Did I already say that I think he is a huge FREAK? Yeah, total f’ing freak.

Now, off to write my second post about how much I dislike children who didn’t come out of my vajizzle.. or, in my son’s case, out of a custom created hole in the area just below my belly button.

.

What was I thinking?

Beware: This is incredibly boring. I started writing it about 2 weeks ago, so I dated it for when I wrote it. Yeah, that’s how much time I get to actually write.

The lady who has a hard enough time wiping asses, cleaning up after children (and husband), and just maintaining a household in general..has decided to start watching kids in her home. I’m the lady. Today, I’m the lady with 7 kids all by myself. Those of you that choose to birth this many..baffle me. I wake up at 5 am, I take my medicines and go back to sleep for 15 minutes, I then get up and shower. At about 5:45, I get dressed and start straightening the house back up plus sweep..I do this the night before, but it’s always necessary again in the mornings. At 6:05ish, I make my kids and the early birds breakfast. The samurai is usually up by now and destroying my hard work. At 6:25 am, I take a deep breath, say a prayer to ask God to help me keep my sanity throughout the day, and then…I open the door. Shortly, lots of little feet are clonking around my den. Sugar gets up, I get her ready for school, and then, my neighbor-whom watches the kids with me (but is in hospital sick this week)-shows up and one of us runs my kids and hers to school.

We do breakfast, ass wiping, story time, outside play, snack, sneak into the liquor cabinet, activity time, quiet time, lunch, wipe an ass, nap, pull my hair out, more outside time, wipe ass, free play, and clean-up. Seriously, the amount of times I hear, “I’m through!!” from the bathroom..from ONE CHILD in particular…is ridic. As much as he shits, you’d think he could wipe himself by now. Another child is only here for 7hrs a week (2 days, 3.5ish hours each day), but I swear, it’s the only time he poops. It’s the “bring a trash can to the changing area because you might puke” type. Shoot me. He’s just not a nice..or cute.. kid either, so I think it makes it worse. Kids are like any other person: attractiveness can totally depend on personality. A not so cute kids can be adorable with the right attitude. Let’s face it, not all kids are cute. They just aren’t. I keep one (or two) of those kids.

By 6pm, most kids are gone and it’s time to really cleanup. I have to do the dishes, cook dinner, sweep, mop, vacuum, clean up the table, do the dinner dishes, and sanitize. Before I know it, it is 8:30. Kids go to bed, I get Gracey’s stuff ready for school, wash some clothes for the next day, cry, then pass out. Wake up at 5 am and start all over.

I don’t usually have 7 kids. In fact, after this week is over, I’ll only have 3 full time kids and one part time. Right now, school is out for Fall Break and I have a little boy who has only needed care for the last month. I kept him until 7:30 in the evening. Whew. Wears me out just thinking about doing it. That little boy is WILD and I hate to say it, but I won’t cry when he leaves. I can’t handle this many on a daily basis. I don’t know how long this lack of sleep can last, but it’s wearing on me. I promise to blog more, but it’s sleep or blog during nap time and sleep is usually the winner. Now, I must go. A kid needs wiping. Awesome!

I’m 0 weeks and craving a more effective way to raise breast cancer awareness.

This was my status message last night. It had 21 “likes” by morning…way more than I could have expected.

Everyone seems to be playing this game:

Hey!! This is what its about…Ok pretty ladies, it’s that time of year again, in support of breast cancer awareness!! So we all remember last years game of writing your bra color as your status?…..or the way we like to have our handbag handy? Remember last year so many people took part that it made national news and, the constant updating of status reminded everyone why we’re doing this and helped raise awareness!! Do NOT tell any males what the status’ mean, keep them guessing!! And please copy and paste (in a message )this to all your female friends to see if we can make a bigger fuss this year than last year!!! I did my part… now YOUR turn ! Go on ladies…and let’s have all the males guessing! .. It’s time to confuse the men again (not that its really that hard to do :)) Everyone knows it makes their brains work wonders on what we’re talking about!! The idea is to choose the month you were born and the day you were born. Pass this on to the girls only and lets see how far it reaches around. The last one about the bra went round all over the world. So you’ll write… I’m (your birth month) weeks and I’m craving (your birth date)!!! as your status. Example: Feb 14th= I’m 2 weeks and craving Chocolate mints!!January-1week Febuary-2weeks March-3weeks April-4weeks May-6weeks June-8weeks July-10weeks August-12weeks September-13weeks October-14weeks November-16weeks December-18weeks Days of the month: 1-Skittles 2-Starburst 3-Kit-Kat 4-M&M’s 5-Galaxy 6-Crunchie 7-Dairy Milk 8-Lollipop 9-Peanut Butter Cups 10-Meat Balls 11-Twizzlers 12-Bubble Gum 13-Hershey’s Kisses 14-Chocolate Mints 15-Twix 16-Resse’s Fastbreak 17-Fudge 18-Cherry Jello 19-Milkyway 20-Creme Eggs 21-Pickles 22-Skittles 23-Gummy Bears 24-Gummy Worms 25-Strawberry Pop Tarts 26-Starburst 27-Mini Eggs 28-Kit-Kat Chunkie 29-Double Chocolate Chip Crunchy Cookies 30-Smarties 31-Chocolate Cake

That’s fine, whatever.. their facebooks, their lives. I’m not personally hurt or offended by the silliness, but I am lucky not to have lost anyone to breast cancer or suffer from infertility. So, yeah, I won’t be playing. At least, no more than I did–with a sarcastic version. I just don’t get it. If you are like me and many others, you saw all of your friends announcing pregnancies, knowing they weren’t pregnant, and scratched your head. Later, I got the email and was all, “Ohhhh, okay.. wait.. what? What does that have to do with breast cancer? How does tricking people into thinking I’m pregnant raise awareness? I’m not even ‘allowed’ to tell anyone what it’s about, so how am I making anyone aware of breast cancer?” It’s strange.

Have you seen this blog post? It’s a good read. http://cgwardphotography.blogspot.com/2011/08/regarding-facebook-breast-cancer.html?spref=fb

Here are my own, personal reasons:

• If my family thought I was pregnant again, they’d probably all be devastated. Not because they do not want more babies in the family, but because another pregnancy could very well end up killing me and, even more likely, kill any babies I became pregnant with. I wouldn’t do that to them.

• When I was in high school, I was best friends with “M”. Her mother had colon cancer and was always in and out of hospitals for a while. Eventually, she was just cared for at home. I watched this sweet woman, rapidly it seems, lose her battle to cancer. When I would go over to M’s on good days, she would call me back to say hello… on bad days, I would hear her moaning in pain from the living room. There was nothing fun or funny about it.

• I have 2 friends, “J” and “L”, who are both suffering from infertility. Each badly wants a baby and, after several, several months of J trying for a second child and several years of L trying for her first, neither has had a successful pregnancy. I can’t imagine how they feel seeing all the “Gotcha!” pregnancy posts. J not only suffers from infertility, but also lost her mother to breast cancer. I hate to speak for others, but I’m fairly certain that she doesn’t find the games beneficial at all, and instead–finds them rather hurtful. I do know for sure that she doesn’t like them. The fact that the game has to do with faking a pregnancy just adds insult to injury. Here is another (similar) great post on why this game sucks for the infertile: http://infertility.about.com/b/2011/09/03/im-pregnant-just-kidding-new-facebook-meme-for-breast-cancer-awareness.htm

One of the comments on that article implies that the article is suggesting that you shouldn’t even talk about your dinner because someone may be hungry and offended. The f^#k? How does someone get that from the article? I think what it’s saying is more along the lines of: If you knowingly have some starving, homeless people on your Facebook (which would be odd, but go with it), it would be flat out evil to be all, “Guess what? I just had an awesome steak dinner in my warm, comfy home!” as a joke.

When you add all of that to the awkward feeling one must get after genuinely congratulating a person they think just announced a pregnancy, only to find that it’s a game..well, the game doesn’t seem very fun or funny anymore.

I apologize for the fact that this post isn’t funny or entertaining..but, you know, neither is cancer. Let’s spread some real awareness. Post some links with some real information on breast cancer. Here is one link the has multiple links conveniently pasted on the same page:

http://www.nbcam.org/patient_free_information.cfm

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