I’m about to feed the trolls. I know, I know, it’s naughty and beneath me. However, one of the truly fabulous things about being a grown-up is being able to make your own decisions and waste your own precious time any way you want. This is great news, folks! Because if being an adult was only about doing laundry and paying bills, it might be a hard sell.
So, please, (please, please, please) if you’ve been reading this blog and have concocted an image of me wherein I am always charitable, kind, intelligent, and accommodating, SKIP THIS POST. I’ll never be able to live up to that image, but I really like the idea that there are people out there who think that I can.
If, on the other hand, you’re shocked by how mean people (especially anonymous Internet people) can be; if you occasionally stand in the shower thinking, “I should’ve said…”; if you think you could like me even if I was just your ordinary, hot-tempered, foolish girl; well, please, read on. But, remember: You’ve been warned.
Hey Mr. Laz
That’s quite a moniker you’ve come up with for yourself. Speaks volumes, really. I’m
not so impressed.
It’s 2am and I’ve just finished greeting the Easter Bunny. He’ll be gone by the time my children wake, but he left his regards for them all over our house. There are baskets, of course. That bunny, he’s so thoughtful, he fills the same ones every year, the ones my children (I have five of them, by the way, not seven – learn to read) leave out empty the night before. Interestingly, my kids don’t think this is cheap. They also don’t think hanging the same stockings by the fireplace every Christmas Eve is cheap. They think it’s magical. They think it’s familiar and homey and comforting and safe.
The Easter Bunny has also stashed eggs all over the place. There are plastic eggs (recycled from years past, of course) tucked in between the pedals of the pianos, peering from the hip of cutaway guitars, balanced on top of great works of fiction and poetry, as well lesser, lighter reading. The bunny does not discriminate. He doesn’t seem to mind that 99% of these books came from yard-sales or Goodwill. Neither do my children.
ystradamus, I should be in bed now. Tomorrow is a big day. We will go to church to hear Pastor Jay talk about redemption and resurrection and another chance to try again – another chance to love our neighbor and ourselves, another chance to help those who need us in whatever way we can. I’m not sure exactly what he will say. But I do know it will be a message of hope, of inclusion, of rising to fight another day.
I also know that tomorrow morning, unlike most Sunday mornings, (when the family trucks off to church in whatever we pull out of our drawers), I’ll be getting up early to dress everyone in their Easter finest. It’s true that the Easter dresses were collected (some, years ago – that’s called forward thinking) from thrift stores and hand-me-down bins. Still, they’ll need to be ironed and fluffed and buttoned, etc. All of this takes time, so what in the HELL am I doing still awake?
It’s my husband’s fault.
We’ve been married for fifteen years (most of them happy, some of them not so much – that’s called perseverance) and he still gets a kick out of watching me get riled up. He knows the truth. He knows that underneath the peaceful, suburban housewife demeanor there still lurks a combat-boot-wearing folksinger itching for a righteous fight. See, as much as I’d like to be Mahatma-Ghandi-Glennon-Melton-peace-love-and-understanding, I’m not there yet. I’m really more Ani-DiFranco-Mother-Jones-I’ll-take-you-down-with-a-pen-and-a-coal-miner’s-wife’s-broom. I recognize the discrepancy. This is called self-awareness.
So, anyway, my husband (you know, the “teacher” (seriously, what’s with the quotation marks? He really is a teacher… it’s not under debate) who, “had too many”, as you say) posted this lovely little discussion to my Facebook wall:
Um. Come on. Can anyone who knows me really expect me to let that one lie? Even if you are just an asshole with nothing better to do? Even if it does mean my husband will be making Easter dinner tonight while I nap?
I think not. It’s just too irresistible.
I don’t get out much anymore (see above: broke) and my opportunities for a righteous fight are just too few and far between. Besides, you pissed me off. Now, obviously, I know that was your intent (that’s what Internet trolls do, after all) but it does feel nice to be able to rail against someone my own size for a change, instead of swallowing my rage (that’s called self-control) in the face of toddschoolers.
So, here we go:
I published a blog post about how I feed my family on a ridiculously small amount of money. I wrote this because there are a lot of people who are struggling to do the same thing, and I thought, perhaps, it would give a couple people some ideas. Maybe these people also have large families, maybe they are students, maybe they just want to reserve money to spend on adult movies on Direct TV. Whatever. Turns out over 100,000 people were interested, for whatever reason. Including you. But we can guess why you read it.
It is clear from your comments that you feel trapped, frustrated and utterly uninspired by your own daily life. Otherwise, why would you waste your time sitting in judgement of other people’s meal plans and family size? I suppose it makes you feel powerful, and smart, and important. Perhaps, it makes you feel heard.
I’m sorry, friend. It’s not working. See, to have people listen to you, you need to be saying something worth hearing. I’m taking the time to tell you this because I pity you. I have a soft place in my heart for attention-seekers. Oh, and also for poorly spoken politicians and drunk figure skaters. But, that’s neither here nor there. I also have what, here in the south, we call a “heart” for education. So, I’m taking this opportunity to school you a little in the art of biting sarcasm and snark. As a general rule, it makes for a more interesting read than say, name-calling and inane insults. I hope this helps. If not, it sure was fun.
As for our family, well, while it’s none of your business, I’m glad you brought it up. It’s true, we do have a large family. It wasn’t completely planned, but neither was the discovery of penicillin. I happen to think that both make the world a better place. Both were an “Oh, shit!” moment followed by an “Oh, hell yes!”
Kind of like Easter.
We’ve managed to accommodate this large family while still working in the fields we love: art, music, community building, and education. It hasn’t been easy. Ours is a culture that tends to reward competitiveness, commercialism, and self-aggrandizement. Still, we’ve been able to make it work using a combination of forward-thinking, perseverance, self-awareness, and self-control. These are all vocabulary words that you can find in bold type, above. Study hard, friend. They are brought to you care of “The Teacher Who Had Too Many”.
The Writer Who’s Had Enough