You’ve Got To Be Freaking Kidding Me

As I take on the task of getting the emotion out of the way, there are a couple of things I need to get off my chest.  I am a rule follower, and it has been getting me kicked in the mouth.  And then the other person shrugs and says, “What?  I didn’t do anything.”

Okay, if that’s how you’re going to play it, then I’m busting you out here, now.

Have a seat.


1) You did/do not either, you lying entry-level associate, you. It has become common for people, who are in customer service, at almost any level, to make statements that describe themselves as a paragon of perfection, in some way.  Just stop it.

In the last month, it has been used on the S family twice.  Once, when a box didn’t contain what was presented on the outside.  The customer service rep over the phone said they never took a product out of a store without opening the packaging.  Ever. Any Product.

Right.  If I walk into your very employer’s place, I can open every container and they would be okay with that because I was just verifying the contents. Target would look like the thrift store.  I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.

Then, when my check was wrong in a low-end chain eatery, the server told me that when she ate out, she never looked at her check.  Ever.  She just paid.

So tell me, Waffle House waitress, you can afford to let someone over-charge you if they want, because you know how it is?

No wonder Katy Perry feels like a plastic bag.  She has been on the phone to customer service.

2) Look.  What I am doing over here is not what you are doing over there.  Not even close.  I can’t point to a long pedigree and a dozen human beings with my husband’s beautiful eyes.  I would appreciate it if you would kindly acknowledge that we are wrestling with more here than pubescent hormones and peer pressure.  Mostly we are, but it’s not your call to say when we aren’t.

Roll us over.  Lay us flat.  Pin our shoulders to the mat.

It is a privilege.  We are different.  God trusted us with something outside the norm.

He didn’t say, “Since you were chosen, it means you can do it alone.”

Telling me, “Kids hurt my kids feelings, too,” doesn’t mean that the way in which my kid is harmed right now, isn’t racist.

I know that each of your kids is unique from the others.  Your understanding of that doesn’t seem to be reflected in the way you treat my daughters– as if it is okay to not make any effort to tell them apart.  Look at them.  They may not actually be identical.  You’ve known them for 6 and a half years.  Figure it out.

Last night someone asked them if they are ever tempted to trick people into thinking one of them is the other.

The shocking “omigoshshessofreakingbrilliant” response?

“Not really, because they already can’t tell us apart.  We don’t want to make it harder.”

One of them wears glasses, for cripe’s sake.

It has become noticeable that people prefer my son to my daughters.  The gals bitched complained about the potential for this to happen before he came; we told them they were off base.  We were wrong.  From here on out, I will be verbally correcting you.  I don’t care if you are a stranger on the street or an “intimate” friend.  He does have a near magical charm, but he is a human boy.  He can tell.  Just stop.

Do me one favor.  Google “Core Issues in Adoption.”  Pick something and read.

3) This doesn’t have to be this irritating.  It’s not the senior prom.  Now, I find out that my stat thingy is counting my page views. So if I don’t keep the dashboard open all the time, how am I going to get there without clicking across the home page.  All this time, I thought people were reading the blog.  Nope.  There are stretches of weeks at a time I am probably the only one who saw this blog.

Well, me and my cyberstalker.  Hey, Girl!

4) While we are on the subject of my task in life…  In order to do my job every day, I have to climb over the issues of life that may or may not have caused God to say, “Enough.”  And create a new family.  This may be as far as we get in our generation.

Mine is a faith forged in a childhood when, ironically, the church became my parent.  And galvanized in adulthood when doing all the right things and following the rules resulted in rejection by humans and was tossed back to me by God for another chance to go harder. Deeper.  Further.

I’m not doing this with a safety net.

So,  I’m sorry if you take my frown personally.

I have the reins in my teeth and both barrels blazing.


Copy of IMG_2949

Urgh.  I feel like such a @#$%h!  But.  Gah.


  1. Gah indeed. People who have not adopted, even some who adopted seemingly perfect babes, never understand that there are different issues and more issues in parenting older adoptees. They certainly do not understand that “older” in some cases means a two year old.

    As to the twins, my biological sons, if you take a black and white photo of them, look nothing alike. Nothing. But they are similar in height and both have red hair (not the same shade of red, but still, they’re gingers). They spent their entire childhoods with people asking if they were “just twins or identical twins,” and not being able to tell them apart.

    I honestly think people do not look beyond the most obvious features – color and height. I have a friend with two daughters from China who gets the same question all the time. Her girls look nothing alike. They are not even from the same region, and have different hair color and skin tones. People still ask if they are twins. Or, worse, the dreaded “real sisters.”

    Vent away. You are not alone.

  2. thebusymomsdiet says:

    I love a good vent post. I can totally relate to a bunch of that. Gah. Ba-humbug, Some people suck. Luckily, it is not us. Happy New Year!

  3. We’re reading! And those feedburner/tracking things can be so hard to set up. I, too, thought lots more people were reading my blog until I learned I had to tell it to ignore my IP. Well how was I supposed to know? 🙂
    Keep venting, it keeps us healthy.

  4. I’m blown away that someone would say they never look at their check! I analyze those suckers to death!

  5. Venting is good for the soul. Saying Gah is too.
    Gosh, how can people not tell your girls apart. At the very least – one who wears glasses, one who does not. Wow. People.

I love it when you sass me. Please leave a comment.

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