Welcome to the Chaos

You have stumbled upon the new blog (i.e. random babblings) of a quirky single mom. A shoot-from-the-hip, anti-pink (yet almost gaggingly perky), non-traditional, can cuss like a sailor but loves insanely and has the save the world syndrome gal who is bracing for a future as a Crazy Cat Lady though she secretly hopes like hell it doesn't come true. Enjoy your stay and feel free to say hi- I don't bite. Well, unless we're dating and you are into that type of thing or you contain peanut butter. >;-)

About Me

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Quirky single mom of two monkeys. I used to beat up the kids that picked on the "special students" during recess. Now I work with those with chronic mental illness. I speak quite a few languages, enjoy coed naked underwater basket weaving, have an addiction to Sushi and humor is my defense mechanism. Arrogant people make my right eye twitch. I'm ambidextrously brained, I will knit for tattoos, I am the friend that everyone comes to for advice and bail money. I pride myself on keeping my eyes, ears, heart and mind open. Making me laugh goes a long way with me, I think the brain is the sexiest organ and I'm the kinda gal you can take anywhere and I'll have a good time. Other than that, I'm just me.

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Give Me Your Veggies, Your Special & Your Furry- Pt. 1

"You know what your problem is, Pee Wee? You have 'Save The World Syndrome.' You wanna save everyone and everything in this world and you're never going to be able to do it."

"Maybe not, but I'm gonna die trying then, Dad."

I was 14 at the time. The cause? A stray cat.

I trust you won't be taken aback by my divulging that I was an odd, odd lil girl growing up. I hated meat. My three fave foods were peanut butter & banana sammiches, raisin bran and mac & cheese. Not only did I love veggies, to my sis's great joy, I always ate her lima beans for her. Once, I sat in the dining room for three hours chewing a bite of pork chop my father insisted I try, yet I refused to swallow. My mom finally took pity on me. This lil paragraph is going to seem a bit out of place as I jump ahead, but trust me.. it will all make sense in the end. Well, maybe more toward the middle really. Just enjoy the ride.

My first true sign of activism came at the ripe old age of five. To this day, my parents are still baffled as to where it came from. Honestly, I've never cared where, when, why or any of that- it's simply a part of who I am. I tend to breathe in with the good and boldly expel the bad. Anywho. First week of Kindergarten. I was already getting yelled at by Mrs. H daily for asking to read the book to the class at story time. "You can't read!" "Yes I can!" By the time Wednesday rolled around, I was feelin' fiesty.

Recess time. I watched a stray dodge ball take off, with no one after it. I didn't know then that it would land in my destiny, I simnply saw an excuse to run. While I'm scooping it up, I realize there is a rucous of laughter with an undertone of the sound of a girl crying. It didn't take long for me to scan the playground and see a group of kids I hadn't noticed the other two days. Some looked exactly like me, two had foam helmets on, one was in a wheelchair and a few had what I would learn later on were some visual characteristics of Down's Syndrome. The girl that was crying, was also bleeding from her cheek. Surrounding them was a group of older kids. Fifth graders to be exact. Now, I knew the first group was different in my head, but, in my heart, they were just kids. As I wandered closer, one of the older kids threw a rock at one of the lil boys in a helmet.. Though it missed him, he was still scared.

The look on his face is what first lit that spark, that beyond fiesty protectiveness that has never really gone out. It also sent me sprinting. Right on up to Mr. IThinkI'mCool rock-hurling boy. His arm goes up to pitch again and I tap his shoulder. He swings around and ends up pegging one of his buddies with the rock instead. Dumbass. He looks down at me right pissed and just screams "WHAT??!!!?" I look up at him, smile sweetly and say "I'm going to have to ask you to please stop throwing those rocks at them." He laughed, literally in my face. Which, of course got all his lil mindless cronies to get to cackling as well. "Go away kid" he says as he pushes my forehead. I swear one of my eyebrows raised. My feet were planted firm though and I didn't budge. He was too confident though to notice. (Seriously, picture Fargus) He picks up another rock, this one's pretty damned big. "I'm afraid I can't do that. I'm going to ask you again to please stop." More laughter. More fear on those kids faces. Dumbass completely ignored me. He pulled his arm back to chuck away. I'd had enough. So, I grabbed the arm that was up in the air poised to throw, spun him around and I socked that lil bastard in the nose. Knocking him out. Cold.

THEN the teachers decided to saunter over. To this day I think it was the sudden quietness that fell over that area that caused them to stop their freakin' coffee clutchin' and finally pay attention. All I know was, I got to meet the principal for the first time that. day.

Sitting outside her door, I could only hear her half of the conversation to my mom. Bless her heart though, she basically asked her why her lil five year old girl had to police the playground against bullies. Mrs. P didn't really have an answer to that. Especially considering the lil girl whose cry I heard needed stitches. Dumbass came to like 2 minutes later on the playground. I could hear him siffling away in the nurses office though.

The next two days Mrs. P and I would have more bonding time during lunch recess. Dumbass visited the nurse again on Thursday. This time I heard the nurse make a comment about him ever being able to have kids again. Friday one of his cronies got a black eye. I always started the same polite way with them. Asking them to stop. They refused to stop, so I didn't either. I continued to hover protectively over the special ed kids at recess. Doing the job that I feel the teachers should have been doing. I didn't care then whose job it was. I just knew someone needed to do it. Each time my mom got called she asked the principal the same question. This continued until the bullies stopped. One would get a lil brave on occasion, but I was never far enough away to not be able to get there in time to handle them. Eventually, they gave up. Hell, by the time I hit second grade, people would finally start playing with the special ed kids too. I think they realized I was getting faster and taller and just wasn't going to back down. Ever.

By the end of that first week I'd really given the principal a reason to hate me. Turns out I could read. Mrs. H. chucked the book at me and yelled "Fine! Here Miss Smartypants!" When I actually started reading the story, she turned white and ran out of the room. After I said "the end", I looked up and saw her and Mrs. P standing at the back of the room. I wish I would have had a camera for the "OH SHIT" look on Mrs. P's face. Especially when I smiled very sweetly at her and it turned into fear.

So, where does the misplaced paragraph from earlier come in? You didn't honestly think that this was my only story leading up to my father's lecture at 14? Hell, that wasn't the only lecture I got. Nope, this was just the birth of my crusade. The full journey takes a bit and this, dear friends, is only the first post. There are three in total. I'll let this one sink in a bit before our journey continues. Until then...I have the playground of life to go keep an eye on.

2 comments:

Jeff Sparkman said...

That's an awesome story. I wish I could've seen it live.

thelarch said...

I agree. Wonderful story. Thanks for sharing!

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