With Pink Shirt Anti-Bullying day just recently passed it made me reflect on my own school bullying story. I remember from a very young age feeling like some who I was different when I wanted to be anything but. I wanted to blend in, but I couldn't. I was a regular kid and loved the colour green and blue. I liked playing with rocks, sticks and hated anything pink. I refused to wear dresses, I liked boy clothing and I hated clothes shopping and being fussed over. All my transitions in to womanhood were based on societal pressures and bullying. As a 36 year old mom now, I still like these "boy" things. I might wear make up once or twice a year. I have never worn or owned a pair of high heels and I have no desire to be fashionably hip, I want to direct my energies elsewhere.
I had a new friend in the summer going from grade 6 to 7. We hung out a lot, we had a blast, it was a super summer.
But as soon as grade 7 began somehow I had said something about someone
and it got back to them and my best friend turned against me. I did not
say those things. My grade 7 year was shot as this girl had it out for
me. I spent most of grade 7 year being alone and hanging out in the
computer lab after school. I made myself scarce to avoid the public
shaming and ridicule.
In grade 7 all the girls in the change room were showing off their newly shaved legs. I looked down at mine wishing my shorts were track pants. I didn't care that I had hairy legs, in fact, I was pissed that I had to waste my time shaving hair that come naturally. Others noticed, commented, and others cared. Now it was select group of girls who brought it up with me, calling me out in the change room. I made up some lame excuse that I couldn't shave because my legs were too muscly and that I would cut my self up too much and my parents wouldn't let me yet. As I was saying it I knew it sounded lame but it was the best I could come up with on the spot. My school years were filled with anecdotes such as these.
Not all my bullying were from other kids but from teachers too. I do not have many memories of Kindergarten, grade 1 and 2 but grade 3 is when it all began. I had *Mrs. McFuller for both grade 3 and 4. In grade 4, me and my desk spent the entire year beside the teacher's desk. I was not a bad kid! I was highly distractable and talked a lot as I did not know what the hell was going on half the time but I was never malicious, mean or had outbursts. I always wanted to please others. I was consistently passed over. I overhead teachers talk about me and how I was a handful and that I was just a bit slow. I never felt like any teacher really cared about me or believed in me.
I hit grade 5 and 6 and I had *Mr. Bolka. I had heard from so many people how he was such an amazing teacher and how lucky I was to have him for two years in a row. The shit got worse. He said terrible things like, "I can tell which kids come from smoker families." and "Courtney, you have to stop selling cigarettes on the school grounds." and "I don't think it is right that kids are allowed to play video games." These are just a few examples. He accused me of such horrible things like stealing art supplies, selling stolen stuff on the playground, and cheating on tests. It got to the point where if I was accused of these things then I didn't fucking care anymore. I couldn't quite bring myself to cheat and steal but I definitely got a bad reputation and I did not care what people believed. I had become the bully that never bullied, the perceived bad-ass kid, and an untouchable being. I made sure my desk was extra messy so it got dumped out on the weekly basis by my teacher.
In grade 5 we started French. *Madame Biftec was warned I was coming and she already had it out for me. She accused me of something, I told her no it did not happen that way and then I spent my grade 5, 6, 7 years in the hallway, by myself learning French. By the way I kicked ass self teaching. Je t'emmerde!
Grade 7 finally arrived, my last year of elementary school. I was so done. I lucked out and got a really awesome teacher. He cared. He called out the mean girls and sympathized with the bullied. My type of bullying changed again back to the mean girls and boys group. I was once stopped on the school grounds and some older kids told me to give them my Raiders hat, when I refused I was threatened. It felt like a way of life back at that school; I was always watching behind my back and trying to remain small and invisible.
I once had a girl comment on the shirt I was wearing. It was an ESPRIT shirt. She said ESPRIT was so 2 years ago, it is not cool anymore. It may seem minor but tally up these daily occurrences and I had a shitty time in school. Teachers saw me and my situation and never did a thing. I was a lost cause.
I also lived a totally different life away from school. I was a brownie, girl guide, pathfinder, and ranger achieving all my top honours and 40 + badges in each level. I was selected to go on provincial and national camps. I earned the Bronze Duke of Edinburgh award and was an accomplished athlete. I played badminton, field hockey, tennis, body building, slo-pitch, fast pitch, I did triathlons, I was a full fledged lifeguard, and played water polo too. I was an overachiever in every which way possible, except for at school. My reputation was a myth perpetuated by adults who should have never been teachers to begin with. They were burnt out, highly judgmental and labeled me as soon as I entered those doors. The smoking family kid. The girl who was a girl but not a girl. The one who tried to impress but failed and was frequently accused of being a liar. I kept my worlds separate. It was a survival tactic. No one knew the real me, shit I had a hard time knowing who I was.
Junior high started , my grade 8 year was shit. New bullies, new packs of people to avoid now my new bullies were involved it the one thing I was good at and loved, sports. I stuck it out for three years. Between students and horrible staff I because depressed and developed an eating disorder. School was a perpetual punching bag.
Here are some other most glorious bullying highlights:
-"Moo-ed" off the football field in grade 10.
-Berated in front of the entire field hockey team when I did not follow directions properly.
-My weight pointed out at field hockey annually
-Told I had a nice shirt, too bad my face was so ugly
-I ordered extra sour cream at a field hockey dinner, waiter told I need to lose 30 lbs before I should do that. Coaches both heard it and laughed with everyone else.
-I went up to bat and people yelled heavy hitter! Literally! Intramural sports and lunch.
-Teachers witnessed every single event noted above and did nothing.
I then went off to senior high, things got way better. I went to a school where there were no bells, they treated you as a mature student and for the first time in my life I got on honour roll. I felt respected and cared for. In fact, a special shout out to the following teachers who made an effort over the course of my school career:
Mrs. Simmons - The reason I am a reader writer today. She would not accept that I was "slow". She knew better and pushed me to make sure I could read and write by that time I hit grade 5. She was amazing. I still remember the popcorn parties! She had me reading abridged versions of Greek mythology in grade 5 and 6. She led me to a great appreciation of the written word.
Mrs. Tribe - Little old British Lady with a heart of gold. She loved everyone, no matter your reputation.
Mr.de Kraker - Amazing teacher who saw through the bullshit and called people out on their bad behavior.
Mr. Eis - Did not accept I was dumb, pushed me in Grade 11 & 12 English to get good grades. Helped me to get honour roll.
Mr. Bentley - He took a vested interest in what I did in and out of school.
Ms. Dobie - Woman studies 12 teacher. A.Maze.Zing. Opened my eyes to a whole new world.
This is not meant to be a teacher bash, far from it. I just want to do more then wear a pink shirt on Thursday February 25th, I want education on the topic that does not end at 3:00 PM that day. I want teachers and parents to take bullying far more seriously. My school district has a zero tolerance for bullying but it is hard to enforce when the bullying comes from within and there is such a lack of education.
I have a 5 year old son who has Autism. I fear for him. I am trying to not put my personal experiences into his journey but I am more on edge as he gets older. For now, I will do my best to be objective and to take it as it comes.
I will step off my soap box now. I could go on.
HUGS & Shit
The Momma
Teacher names with * are not their real names
There is nothing but blue skies above it!
Friday 27 February 2015
Wednesday 25 February 2015
Cassanova Strikes Again!
The other day at Strong Start (A provincial based program for kids under the age of 5 and their parents) an awesome mom tapped me on the shoulder with a huge grin on her face and told me that Thing 2 was kissing her daughter. Sure enough, I look over and see Thing 2 gently embracing the cheeks of a 3 year old girl and planting a big ole wet one right on the lips. I called out, "Hey Romeo! Whatcha doing?" He looked over gave a cheeky smile and proceeded to plant another kiss on this poor unsuspecting girl. This time she made a move, and it was the don't touch me face accompanied by the straining her head as far from Thing 2's lips as possible face. I took Thing 2 by the hand and told him, you have to ask first. To which he replied in all his wisdom, "I want the applejew and fench fys."
Fast forward to last weekend where we went to Blavis and Blaffys for Blaniel's Birthday party. A bit of an after party at their place. We decided to put on a movie, smart move as it bought us some time to hang out with other adults. Half way through the movie I happened to look up from where I was sitting in the kitchen and saw Thing 2 cup his hands gracefully around this 5 year old girls cheeks and plant a big sloppy Thing 2 kiss. The girl was annoyed that she could not see the show and was all up in her personal space. What do you say to an almost 3 year old? Well, I shouted out, "Hey Cassanova! she wants to watch the movie! And you really need to ask." To which Thing 2's laughing response was, "The farnter ploot was in the fridge!"
I will keep at it. I will let him be almost 3 but soon this won't be cute anymore but for now the Thing just wants to show love! You can't stop that.
No fig bars to count
Thing 2 bail count that I saw: 10
Thing 2 fake bail count that I saw: 14
1 poonami
Fish crackers found in Thing 2's diaper: 7
Kisses for Momma: 0
An almost 3 year old on a kissing spree: amazing
A Kissing Haiku:
Thing 2 loves people
kissing all around the town
watch out for cold sores
Hugs & Shit
The Momma
Not Thing 2
Fast forward to last weekend where we went to Blavis and Blaffys for Blaniel's Birthday party. A bit of an after party at their place. We decided to put on a movie, smart move as it bought us some time to hang out with other adults. Half way through the movie I happened to look up from where I was sitting in the kitchen and saw Thing 2 cup his hands gracefully around this 5 year old girls cheeks and plant a big sloppy Thing 2 kiss. The girl was annoyed that she could not see the show and was all up in her personal space. What do you say to an almost 3 year old? Well, I shouted out, "Hey Cassanova! she wants to watch the movie! And you really need to ask." To which Thing 2's laughing response was, "The farnter ploot was in the fridge!"
I will keep at it. I will let him be almost 3 but soon this won't be cute anymore but for now the Thing just wants to show love! You can't stop that.
No fig bars to count
Thing 2 bail count that I saw: 10
Thing 2 fake bail count that I saw: 14
1 poonami
Fish crackers found in Thing 2's diaper: 7
Kisses for Momma: 0
An almost 3 year old on a kissing spree: amazing
A Kissing Haiku:
Thing 2 loves people
kissing all around the town
watch out for cold sores
Hugs & Shit
The Momma
Not Thing 2
Thursday 19 February 2015
Being almost 3 is haaarrrd, you don't even know right now.
Today through the eyes of Thing 2
Momma came in my room this morning, I was yelling for her but I didn't want her to come. I just wanted some control back in my life. As soon as she came in I yelled, "Get out!" and pointed my finger toward the door as I was not sure if she knew how to get back out. I then lay in bed for 10 minutes debating whether Elmo was a real boy. I tried to talk to him about it but he wasn't having any of it. I yelled for momma again, this time she took a while to come so I yelled a song about
chickens in the dickens. My mom laughed, I have no idea why, she does not honour my talents as a singer song writer.
Momma took me out of bed and asked me if I wanted a red or blue shirt. I yelled, "NO! thank you mommy." and grabbed the orange shirt. Orange is my new favorite colour, how can she miss that? It is only my new favorite colour since 10 minutes ago. Momma grabs the blue shirt, I lose my cool. Seriously momma, I know what I want in life and in this 30 second block the orange shirt is what I need. Momma takes me downstairs where Super Why was already on. I want to make all the decisions. I grabbed the Lots of Trains video, momma said no, I lost my cool. It did not work. Momma said something about Thing 1 was here first bullshit and walked away. Momma already made me breakfast, waffles. She got at least one thing right.
Momma wanted to get me dressed after breakfast. This was horseshit! I was in the middle of dumping the 3rd puzzle out of its box when momma came in an asked me silly rhetorical questions like, "Who do you think is going to clean this up?" and "Why do you dump and walk away?" The answer seems simple to me but momma has never been 3, so what does she know? Momma tickles me into submission awww damn I am always a sucker for that trick. I start to kick her while lying down, it is my best move yet. She is getting mad that means I must laugh harder. I know how this works. I finally gave up though as I kicked my heel hard on momma's wrist and she almost started to cry. Or was that her pretend cry? I don't know she is getting good. Momma gets my orange shirt, I lose my shit. BLUE is my favorite colour right now! How do you miss this momma? But you know, momma is smart sometimes, she hid the blue shirt and held it up when I needed it the most. Sometimes she is a bit of alright.
We load up the stroller to take Thing 1 to school and me to Stee Start. Momma keeps repeating Strong Start after I say the exact same thing, yeah I know Stee Start. Before I can get to the stroller Thing 1 wants in MY seat. I yell NO! Momma tries to get me into the stroller. I yell, "NO!" Loud enough that the neighbours might wake up and care about my problems. The momma is bossy, she took the stroller and put it back in the garage. I really want the stroller but I do not want anyone else to sit in it. How difficult is that?! Momma thinks that is a hard concept. Momma brings out the stroller again when me and my brother are both crying. This time she brings out the double stroller. This simply will not do. Momma goes back inside and leaves us crying in the garage, she has abandoned us! I scream. I scream louder and louder than I have ever done before. My momma is gone forever! Oh wait, there she is and she brought out daddy. Oh shit. I climb into the stroller and try to put on my seat belt as fast as I can. I made it. I am absolved of any wrong doing. But I was wrong about that as daddy pointed his finger at me, I was confused as I did not know where he wanted me to go. Baffling these parents. With unwanted hugs and kisses from daddy we took off for school. BUT wait... I want my orange shirt...
The End
Thing 2
no comment required
Momma came in my room this morning, I was yelling for her but I didn't want her to come. I just wanted some control back in my life. As soon as she came in I yelled, "Get out!" and pointed my finger toward the door as I was not sure if she knew how to get back out. I then lay in bed for 10 minutes debating whether Elmo was a real boy. I tried to talk to him about it but he wasn't having any of it. I yelled for momma again, this time she took a while to come so I yelled a song about
chickens in the dickens. My mom laughed, I have no idea why, she does not honour my talents as a singer song writer.
Momma took me out of bed and asked me if I wanted a red or blue shirt. I yelled, "NO! thank you mommy." and grabbed the orange shirt. Orange is my new favorite colour, how can she miss that? It is only my new favorite colour since 10 minutes ago. Momma grabs the blue shirt, I lose my cool. Seriously momma, I know what I want in life and in this 30 second block the orange shirt is what I need. Momma takes me downstairs where Super Why was already on. I want to make all the decisions. I grabbed the Lots of Trains video, momma said no, I lost my cool. It did not work. Momma said something about Thing 1 was here first bullshit and walked away. Momma already made me breakfast, waffles. She got at least one thing right.
Momma wanted to get me dressed after breakfast. This was horseshit! I was in the middle of dumping the 3rd puzzle out of its box when momma came in an asked me silly rhetorical questions like, "Who do you think is going to clean this up?" and "Why do you dump and walk away?" The answer seems simple to me but momma has never been 3, so what does she know? Momma tickles me into submission awww damn I am always a sucker for that trick. I start to kick her while lying down, it is my best move yet. She is getting mad that means I must laugh harder. I know how this works. I finally gave up though as I kicked my heel hard on momma's wrist and she almost started to cry. Or was that her pretend cry? I don't know she is getting good. Momma gets my orange shirt, I lose my shit. BLUE is my favorite colour right now! How do you miss this momma? But you know, momma is smart sometimes, she hid the blue shirt and held it up when I needed it the most. Sometimes she is a bit of alright.
We load up the stroller to take Thing 1 to school and me to Stee Start. Momma keeps repeating Strong Start after I say the exact same thing, yeah I know Stee Start. Before I can get to the stroller Thing 1 wants in MY seat. I yell NO! Momma tries to get me into the stroller. I yell, "NO!" Loud enough that the neighbours might wake up and care about my problems. The momma is bossy, she took the stroller and put it back in the garage. I really want the stroller but I do not want anyone else to sit in it. How difficult is that?! Momma thinks that is a hard concept. Momma brings out the stroller again when me and my brother are both crying. This time she brings out the double stroller. This simply will not do. Momma goes back inside and leaves us crying in the garage, she has abandoned us! I scream. I scream louder and louder than I have ever done before. My momma is gone forever! Oh wait, there she is and she brought out daddy. Oh shit. I climb into the stroller and try to put on my seat belt as fast as I can. I made it. I am absolved of any wrong doing. But I was wrong about that as daddy pointed his finger at me, I was confused as I did not know where he wanted me to go. Baffling these parents. With unwanted hugs and kisses from daddy we took off for school. BUT wait... I want my orange shirt...
The End
Thing 2
no comment required
Monday 16 February 2015
So that just happened...
Tess Munster - plus size model is signed to MLK modelling agency! Tess is not a "plus size" 10-16 but a slammin' sexy size 22. My size, I might add. Why is this exciting? It is the start of mainstream body size acceptance. Just as Camryn Manheim yelled out at the Emmy's in 1998, "This is for all the fat girls!" I am hoping this helps with my fatvocate work.
Now, I see the interweb trolls out for "Concerned for her health..." comments which make me crazy. As a plus size 22 woman I workout at least 6+ hours/week and have more brawn and stamina than most others. When I go to the gym I feel powerful, awesome and content. See there I go, feeling like I have to justify my weight and place in the world. Shit, I think we learned this stuff in kindergarten, people come in all shapes and sizes. Plus my weight or anyone elses' weight is no one's business but their own. How is anyone supposed to flourish under the constant pressure of only love your body when it is the "appropriate" size? If I don't love my body today then I never will. Case in point: I was once a size 22 in my early 20s. I lost a shit-load of weight in a complete asinine way. I gained it all back as I hated my body just as much at size 12 as I did at 22. Nothing changed except some clothes and numbers. Today, I am happy to say I love my body just the way I am. If I happen to lose, sure! If I happen to gain, sure! I am working on my mental demons and if weight loss is the byproduct then so be it. I know I sound like a broken record but I workout because I love my body, not because I hate it.
I am done with making excuses and apologizing for my place in the world because of my weight. My size is between me and my doctor; who is amazing by the way. My weight to me is now a non-issue; thank goodness for that. Now I can live and redirect my energies where they need and want to be. Now that is effin' freedom!
Hugs & Shit
The Momma
Preach!
Now, I see the interweb trolls out for "Concerned for her health..." comments which make me crazy. As a plus size 22 woman I workout at least 6+ hours/week and have more brawn and stamina than most others. When I go to the gym I feel powerful, awesome and content. See there I go, feeling like I have to justify my weight and place in the world. Shit, I think we learned this stuff in kindergarten, people come in all shapes and sizes. Plus my weight or anyone elses' weight is no one's business but their own. How is anyone supposed to flourish under the constant pressure of only love your body when it is the "appropriate" size? If I don't love my body today then I never will. Case in point: I was once a size 22 in my early 20s. I lost a shit-load of weight in a complete asinine way. I gained it all back as I hated my body just as much at size 12 as I did at 22. Nothing changed except some clothes and numbers. Today, I am happy to say I love my body just the way I am. If I happen to lose, sure! If I happen to gain, sure! I am working on my mental demons and if weight loss is the byproduct then so be it. I know I sound like a broken record but I workout because I love my body, not because I hate it.
I am done with making excuses and apologizing for my place in the world because of my weight. My size is between me and my doctor; who is amazing by the way. My weight to me is now a non-issue; thank goodness for that. Now I can live and redirect my energies where they need and want to be. Now that is effin' freedom!
Hugs & Shit
The Momma
Thursday 12 February 2015
5000+ People are you crazy?! No really are you crazy...?
So my little blog has hit over 5000 views this past weekend. I am kinda
excited; I am not going to lie.
In this blog, I have decided to share with you a snippet of an epic tale I am writing. I am scared to share any fiction I write as I am... well... a scaredy-pants.
It was a windy cold October night and the clanging bells of the buoys in the harbour echoed around the landscape. I stood near the top of my street listening to the rustling leaves shuffle around, as the crisp salty air whipped a handful of strands across my face. I loved nights like these. They reminded me of my childhood; jumping in the leaf piles at twilight when you know you should be heading home for supper. I turned to continue the hike up the long hill. I thought to myself, one more block of this heart attack trek. As I came to, I could see Saul waiting for me in the doorway. I call him my friend but really he was like the grandfather I never had. He greeted me with a warm embrace. Cheek to cheek I could smell the faint scent of English Leather; the kind my dad used to wear. With a twinkle in his eye and an ease in his heart he lead me inside; for the revelry was about to begin.
HUGS & Shit
The Momma
In this blog, I have decided to share with you a snippet of an epic tale I am writing. I am scared to share any fiction I write as I am... well... a scaredy-pants.
It was a windy cold October night and the clanging bells of the buoys in the harbour echoed around the landscape. I stood near the top of my street listening to the rustling leaves shuffle around, as the crisp salty air whipped a handful of strands across my face. I loved nights like these. They reminded me of my childhood; jumping in the leaf piles at twilight when you know you should be heading home for supper. I turned to continue the hike up the long hill. I thought to myself, one more block of this heart attack trek. As I came to, I could see Saul waiting for me in the doorway. I call him my friend but really he was like the grandfather I never had. He greeted me with a warm embrace. Cheek to cheek I could smell the faint scent of English Leather; the kind my dad used to wear. With a twinkle in his eye and an ease in his heart he lead me inside; for the revelry was about to begin.
HUGS & Shit
The Momma
Sunday 8 February 2015
Bird is the word
So on Thursday I was walking the kids home from school when I looked up and saw hundreds of crows flying around. It was quite an amazing sight. It got me thinking about the old wives tale and how it is lucky to be pooped on by a bird. Who drummed up that old gem? Then it happened, I was shat on by a bird that was situated up the tree I happened to be walking under. I said out loud, "Universe, that was not a request!" and the universe responded with, "Nope that was a statement." Then I thought to myself, "Damn universe... you're good."
If you believe you are lucky, you will be lucky. The universe has it weedily little ways and so do the birds.
HUGS & Bird Shit
The Momma
If you believe you are lucky, you will be lucky. The universe has it weedily little ways and so do the birds.
HUGS & Bird Shit
The Momma
Thursday 5 February 2015
Threenager in the house!
So Thing 2 has become a threenager. Erh Merh Gerd.
The water bottle fell. Scream and point at water bottle.
The carrot is orange. Cry.
The milk is in the wrong cup. Get verbally abused in the ear.
Not enough ketchup on his plate. Pushes plate away.
Too much ketchup on this plate. Falls to ground in agony.
Wanted the "farnter ploont". Hits me when I ask what a "farnter ploot" is.
Demands ice cream. We do not have ice cream. Runs into couch and face-plants cushion.
Tell Thing 2 to pee-pee on the potty. Stands naked and pees on the cat and laughs like an evil villian
He asks for a crayon. I ask what for. He responds for painting walls. I say no. Thing 2 puts me in time-out.
Tell Thing 2 he is my sweet baby. Thing two responds with hands on hip and stink eye, "I'm a todd-wer!"
And Lastly, Thing 2 asks for apple jew and fry (apple juice and fries). I say no. Thing 2 runs with the reckless emotion.
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/melissaoneil/alive.html
I have always wondered what that would look like, running with a reckless emotion. Now I have seen it. It cannot be unseen and it is bloody fantastic.
HUGS & Shit
The Momma
The water bottle fell. Scream and point at water bottle.
The carrot is orange. Cry.
The milk is in the wrong cup. Get verbally abused in the ear.
Not enough ketchup on his plate. Pushes plate away.
Too much ketchup on this plate. Falls to ground in agony.
Wanted the "farnter ploont". Hits me when I ask what a "farnter ploot" is.
Demands ice cream. We do not have ice cream. Runs into couch and face-plants cushion.
Tell Thing 2 to pee-pee on the potty. Stands naked and pees on the cat and laughs like an evil villian
He asks for a crayon. I ask what for. He responds for painting walls. I say no. Thing 2 puts me in time-out.
Tell Thing 2 he is my sweet baby. Thing two responds with hands on hip and stink eye, "I'm a todd-wer!"
And Lastly, Thing 2 asks for apple jew and fry (apple juice and fries). I say no. Thing 2 runs with the reckless emotion.
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/melissaoneil/alive.html
I have always wondered what that would look like, running with a reckless emotion. Now I have seen it. It cannot be unseen and it is bloody fantastic.
HUGS & Shit
The Momma
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