Growing up, there were always the girls that I looked up to. The ones that could voice their opinion with poise…and get their point across without getting in trouble.
I remember in college, I asked a question to my dear teacher who I loved and adored. We were allowed to ask the question anonymously by note…and as she began reading….I realized instantly….she didn’t understand what I meant AT ALL! My heart was crushed. The lady that I adored, revered even….thought I meant something that I did not mean AT ALL.
As I have grown older….that has followed me. No matter how clearly I THINK that I’m presenting my thoughts….they are taken out of context….often.
I knew pretty early on in my life….that I was definitely….a girl that had to fix the messes….and let the girls that could lead….lead. I became a buck….as in…the buck stops here…..not in….the male of the deer species.
I wasn’t the beautiful child, that the teachers loved….I was plain. Plain long blonde hair, straight and stringy. I was skinny, I was pale…and I really didn’t have a fashion sense. I had freckles, and I burned easily. I was loud…I was shy….I was funny….and I talked a lot. I never understood math….from the very beginning….I learned to hate school pretty early…..especially math.
I loved reading, creative writing, and I adored handwriting and lunch. I was a hater of naps, white milk….and a lover of taco day. I hated kick ball…and told the boys so….I could make a boy go from a 1-10 in anger in 2.5 seconds….with my indifference of his wanting to win a kickball game….so much so…that I would frequently fake injury because I didn’t feel like running….I had no desire to win sports….or play four square….or basketball….in high school it wasn’t any better….and I made my PE teachers HATE me….many a PE teacher tried to give me a C….and I still think to this day….that PE was the absolute BIGGEST waste of time of my life. Talk about a class that made you feel inferior in front of your other classmates….seriously…..they need to give it UP!!! All the words of discipline, and pushing of oneself….I took them all….in one ear…and out the other.
In college, I actually had my german teacher recommend me quitting (yep…for real) and was surprised that I got a degree. Apparently, german teachers feel that if you don’t understand their language…you might as well go live in a zoo…because you can’t possibly be an intelligent human being.
I spent much of my life being told that I was stupid, being yelled at…and passed on by for other prettier girls. Every single thing I got in college or high school….I completely earned. You know when you study your butt off and get good grades? How about studying your butt off and you only get average grades??? That was me….and B student was the best that I could do….but I knew that life wasn’t all about grades….and it isn’t. Oh trust me, I expect my kids to get all A’s….they are way smarter…but not because they won’t be a success in life if they don’t….but because I know that they can achieve them.
As an adult….I would say that life has knocked me down several times….I’ve gotten back up more times than I can count….and as I grow older….kind of tired of it…as most adults are.
I’m tired of the whining from the older generation as well as the younger. On a daily basis…I have people whining to me from all sides. Employees whining, family whining….everyone is whining…and I’m the one that if stuff goes wrong…I’m always the punching bag.
Can I just say that for all the “Punching bag” people of the world….I’m just a little beyond exhausted. A few tips for those of you who feel the need to use a punching bag person….bear this in mind. Starting off with the words…I’m sorry to tell you this…is a waste of air…your not really sorry. After your done letting the “punching bag” people know every single thing that is bothering you….perhaps…asking them about their day…just might be an idea. Also helpful and should be noted….if you could possibly do this without being on your phone while asking…is actually…well…human.
Further more, giving them recognition…if only for a moment…would be nice. For instance, to your wife or mother you might want to say the following: “dinner you have made for 300 days of the year was mostly good. You keep the house clean, and clean clothes for me to wear. You decorate nicely and take care of most home repairs…and decorating…and shopping. You also make our store look nice, and the employees from going over in hours and the shifts covered and supplies filled….and social media running for our business page. You also do a great job with volunteering….and homeschooling your daughter. Thank you for taking the time to pay the bills and keep all the things going that you do. Thank you for working part time outside the home….and trying to stay fit. Thank you for teaching classes to other children…all the while…keeping everything afloat. Thank you for basically having the life of “wac-o-mole” Thank you for doing the impossible and changing the toilet paper roll….every…..single…..time. Thank you for changing the hand towels, and folding the towels in weird ways. Thank you for matching my socks. and hanging up my shirts…cleaning the bathrooms and my messes.”..Thank you…Mom…..because…really…..I’ve just described just about every Mom I know. For all of this….we get a “you forgot this” and “MOMMMMMMM, this isn’t working” and then we feel guilty for 15 minutes sitting in the bathtub…as we hear clanging….and all sorts of things…while we just wanted a few minutes by ourselves.
So….dear punching bag Mother….I hear you….I feel you. Coffee is my best friend….and leggings….and Netflix….and Antique Candles. It’s why we all love Target and Starbucks…because…Moms…we need to help each other….and encourage one another…so we can be the punching bags to everyone else…
As I begin a new week…that is literally a play by play each day…I’m hear for ya….we will make it through these next crazy seven weeks….because even though being a punching bag gets old….being a wife and a Mom never will….I could do with a trophy….every once in while….but…I don’t want to be spoiled ya know!
The Reluctant Red Nose 