Another word for Motherfucker?

We recently moved, which resulted in the kids having to switch elementary schools within the district.  At first we were going to allow them to finish out the school year, driving them the 5 miles the other direction to stay with their friends.  But after the first couple days, they (namely Iced Tea) decided that getting up earlier wasn’t worth being with their friends for a few months.  So they were registered in the new school and started on Monday.

They were to arrive home on the bus at 3:45 so of course I called from work at 3:47 to get the scoop on the first day at the new school.

Iced Tea:  “I love my teacher, she’s almost too nice.  (Note to self have the “she smells fear” conversation with said teacher). I finished all my homework in class so I just have to read for my homework time this afternoon and ALL the boys REALLY like me.” 

Come again?

“Yeah, we were at lunch and this one bully kid was pouring another kid’s milk into his ketchup and since I had a free milk for helping at lunch I gave it to the boy.  I also pushed the bully off the bench where we were sitting.  So the boys thought I was pretty cool.”

To myself: Ok…umm…you are ½ the size of an average 5^th grader and yet your pint-sized ass is defending other 5^th graders from bullies?  **Remind me to get her some kickboxing lessons or something, she’s gonna need it when one day a bully decides to haul off and clock her.  To her: “Honey there are other ways to handle bullies without getting physical, but I am proud of you for standing up for the other kid.  Glad you had a good day.  Let me talk to your brother.”

“I really like my new teacher mom, but she was only there ½ the day and the substitute was super mean.  She yelled a lot.  Then on the bus a big kid told me I was stupid and a weenie and that I am going to marry boys.”

SAY WHAT?!?!?!  (Mother cat claws engage.)  My poor, sweet boy had a horrible 1^st day!!!  “Lemme talk to your sister.”

“Please tell me that as a 5^th grader you are not allowing your 2^nd grade brother to get bullied on the bus – especially when you are defending complete strangers at school!!!”

“Mom, I watched the whole thing.  He had a control of the situation.  The big kid called some other kid a name and when no one said anything Pepsi stood up and said ‘That’s not very nice, you shouldn’t call people that.’ So the big kid called him ‘gay’ and a couple other things and finally Pepsi told him to ‘shut up motherfucker’ and the kid sat back down.”

Ummm, WHAT??  Not such a sweet, defenseless boy afterall I guess (sure am glad I am investing in martial arts classes for him though). I can’t be mad at my kid for cursing, when the other kid really deserved it.  Pepsi received a “we don’t say that word” speech and I moved on.

So my kids, on their first day of school, have not only identified but pissed off the bullies.  Awesome and scary all in one, this is going to be a fun year.  (I see a lot of wine in my future)

This weekend’s project – finding other words for motherfucker that pack the same punch (suggestions are more than welcome), so my 2^nd grader isn’t suspended next week for excessive profanity because, let’s be honest, that kid truly was a motherfucker.  GO PEPSI!

Cheers to my kickass kiddos! - Mimosa, M.D.

I am here to help. Please let me.

I have a friend, whose personal marital problems kept me tossing and turning last night, so I have decided to write about a not so fun and not so entertaining topic –

My Personal Experience with Spousal Abuse.

I am a firm believer in teaching my kids by example.  I try my best to be a caring friend, to be aware of my community, to show concern and compassion for others – including the less fortunate.  I try to show them that working hard does pay off and that you can do anything that you set your mind to do. 

I have worked hard to make sure that they see the best of me, but still know that I am human and that I make mistakes.  My biggest mistake??  Marrying and staying with their father.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids and I wouldn’t give then up for anything in the world.  The pain and suffering that I went through with their dad has given me the strength to reach out to others that are in the same situation and feel just STUCK.

My ex-husband began putting me down about 4 months into dating.  He was overseas, he was cheating on me with a new whore (or 3 for all I know) in every port, and he was scared/jealous/whatever that made him call me a slut, accuse me of awful things, and stalk me incessantly via email (and text when he could) if I didn’t answer him within 20 minutes.  He was so overbearing and abusive, that I was sure when he got home that we would end it and I would move on – so I actually DID begin to date.

But he came home, it was an emotional reconciliation and I decided to give him another chance.  Neither of us knew at the time of the “cheating” so we each buried our secrets and tried to move on. 

He would go out with his friends 2-3 times a week without me, come home drunk and call me every name in the book.  I spent many days in tears because (with my buried secret still looming) I started believing that I was a slut, whore, bitch – no one else would want me – I needed to stay.

He would get angry, threaten to leave, I would beg him to stay.  He would shove me, push me, and once he smacked me in the face.  He ran into me with his car as I chased him out the door once.  He tossed me down a hill; he shoved me into walls and strangled me.  The physical abuse though, was not as bad as the emotional.  It’s the emotional that hurt more – I wished for the physical, if it meant he would apologize and hug me and tell me he was sorry and how much he loved me.

We eventually married and shortly after found out about each other’s transgressions.  We spent many months fighting and hanging on to a marriage that should never have begun.  I had finally decided in my mind to leave when I missed my period.  I was pregnant.

Having always wanted kids, he was happy, overjoyed and promised to change.  Then he went out and got drunk, came home, woke me from my sleep with a hand around my neck and a fist at my stomach – threatening to kill the baby “that probably wasn’t his” and me along with it.  And still I stayed.

We moved to WA after he got out of the military – a new life, new scenery, a change – this would make things better right?  No, worse...  I now know that he was cheating on me pretty much from the moment we touched ground – he came home angry and upset, abusive and mean.  I was a bitch and a whore and a bad person.  I was lucky he didn’t leave – but he was “too good of a man to leave a pregnant woman” – not too good of a man by the way to live off my money and make me work ‘til the day I had each kid and pretty much HAVE to start working right after to make sure our bills were paid.

Then one day I found out about the cheating.  So I had the abuse, the lack of motivation and contribution to our household, the gambling (oh, did I not mention that earlier?  Yeah, he had a poker problem) and now I had the proof he was cheating – it was time to go.  This time it was him begging me to stay, I was done but he “loved his kids, he was sorry, he would change”.  I came home after a very rare night out with friends to desperate rage “why won’t you talk to me?  Let me explain.”

“Please move, I want to go to my room.  I don’t want to talk right now.”

“But if you just let me explain.” As he lunged forward my instinct kicked in, he was going to hit me again.  I raised my hand to defend myself.  The next thing I knew he was above me, on the phone with the police “I think I killed my wife” with my 3 year old daughter standing behind him crying.  I reached my hand up to find warm, sticky blood on my face – my teeth had gone through my cheek and oh lord did my head hurt.  And still…I stayed.

It took me just over a year after that horrible incident, after my daughter would tell people in the grocery store that “her daddy killed her mommy” to finally leave.  We went through all sorts of court ordered counseling, he was convicted of assault by the state, but it just wasn’t going to work.  He never hit me again, but I knew I could never trust that it wouldn’t happen.  I began to look within myself and realize that if I didn’t leave – I was teaching my daughter it was ok to stay.

This man, the father of my kids, is not a bad person.  He is a fear driven child.  That final incident broke him and he was a shell of the person he used to be, after that.  Our chemistry together was like oil and water, we just did not work.  He is a kind person inside and does try as best he can to be a good dad – he is just not made to be a husband.  I know now that he was intimidated by my strength and self-confidence and went to work immediately to squash it – and I let him.  I will not let that happen again.

If you, or someone you know, is currently subjected to abuse – emotional, physical, or otherwise – PLEASE GET HELP!  There are options, counseling CAN help in some situations, but staying and letting it continue will not only hurt you – it will hurt your kids.  They will continue the cycle.  Your sons will grow up thinking women are objects, that they can treat them like 2^nd class citizens.  Your daughters will grow up thinking it is ok to let a man trample on you – as long as he tells you he loves you when he’s done.  This is not the life that I wanted for my kids; I am pretty sure no one else does either.

I am here to help.  Please let me.

A sober and somber – Mimosa, MD