Friday, January 10, 2014

Rizzo's Ramblings.....Public Service Announcement

The other day I posted a public service announcement concerning the ACA and the tax penalty one could incur for being without insurance for more than 3 months. I posted the information to try to quell confusion about when the penalty would go into effect. People (like myself) who will have to pay the penalty, either by choice or by circumstance, need to be clear so some unscrupulous tax preparer doesn't get it wrong. The penalty will go into effect next tax season, if you do not have insurance for more than 3 months during the year of 2014.
My husband and I will be paying the penalty. Our incomes combined are less than $25,000. When I first visited the government website there was only a questionnaire because it was before the marketplace went live. According to the questionnaire, my husband and I should have qualified for Medicaid. The questionnaire had a list of states that had decided to expand their Medicaid programs to include some people who may not have been eligible before. My state was not one of them, so Medicaid was out of the question.
*Note: In the state of Virginia, a single parent of a child who is eligible for Medicaid is also eligible. My husband and I cannot get Medicaid because we are married.
The questionnaire also mentioned that a person who qualifies for Medicaid may not be eligible for subsidies. So, for a long time I was afraid I would be too poor to be able to get a subsidy so I would have to pay a fine. Which is dumb. The reality is that people are facing that scenario. Instead, after they fixed the website, I found out that I do qualify for a subsidy. About $600 a month. The site explained that I would receive that money as a tax credit at the end of the year. It would off set any thing I owed (tax wise), and then I would receive the balance. It also explained that I could use part (or all) of that towards my insurance premium. The site advised that I not use the whole amount because I might have to pay part of it back at the end of the year. The way they figure the subsidy is based on the financial information you supply. You are giving them an estimate of what you think you will make. If you make more than you estimate, you will qualify for a smaller subsidy, which will result in you owing the IRS.
After I read all of that, I went and browsed insurance policies. Here is what I found. If I used the whole $600 a month subsidy, then I could get a bare bones policy that would only cost me about $30 a month. The policy had a $12,000 deductible! I would be paying for an insurance policy that would do me no good. If I had $12,000 to spend on doctor bills I would not need insurance! Oh! And let me not forget that after I met the $12,000 deductible, the insurance only paid sixty percent! I could get a decent policy with only a $400 deductible, but it would take the whole subsidy plus $250 a month. I don't have that, either.
So, we will be paying the penalty. Not because we want to, but because it is the only thing that is financially feasible. I can't wait to go to the doctor and tell them I don't have any insurance. If I thought it was bad before... People are really going to be jerks now. 

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Rizzo's Ramblings... It's been a while

Christmas is over. The new year has begun. People are getting depressed. It's a seasonal thing, I know. I'm pretty sure mine is a life thing. I'm not engulfed in sadness. I can function normally around other people. I just can't be by myself. That's when I think. I feel like my life is going nowhere fast. I feel like I do the same thing day in and day out and it's all for nothing. I work my ass off to stay broke and be behind on my bills. If I buy groceries then I can't pay a bill. I have to buy groceries because I have two teenagers at home, one of which has to eat halfway decent food because of her health. My job sucks. I get paid minimum wage (kind of) to clean up after other people who have no thought about the messes they leave behind. I work 6 days a week to bring home about $150. I am smarter than this. I could have went to college. I could be making good money. I feel like my life is worthless. I don't have any friends to talk to. I'm so fucking socially awkward that it's hard for me to talk to people in real life. Everyone thinks I'm strange. If I do work up the nerve to open my mouth I almost never say the right thing. I don't mind being honest about myself and that turns people off. They want to talk to someone who is nice, perfect, well off, whateverthefuck. I'm just me. I've never been "popular" and I thought when I got out of school that wouldn't matter, but life is no different than high school with its cliques. I have made some "friends" on Facebook, but they don't know me. I'm sure they think I'm strange just like everyone else does. Most of the time I don't mind having one sided relationships, at least I can pretend I have friends. Sometimes, though, when I'm all alone and trying to figure out why the fuck I'm even on the planet - it would be nice to have someone to talk to. It's scary in my head. I'm pretty mean to me. It's a good thing my kids aren't grown because I'm not sure I would still be here. A lot of times things seem so surreal that I question whether I AM here. I would love to talk to a psychiatrist, but I'm scared they would figure out I'm crazy. I have literally had a full blown panic attack because I had an identity crisis and thought that maybe I was just living my dead sister's life. All I was doing at the time was peeling potatoes. And thinking. Thinking is dangerous. Having too much time is dangerous. I need a new life.

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

TCM Guest Post.... "Ink Works: A Tattoo Tale" By: Alaskandoll (Dixie C )

Ink Works: A Tattoo Tale
By Alaskandoll
Dixie C © 2001
Word count 3,271

Just a bit more and it’ll be done, he thought. She’ll be done, he automatically corrected himself. For three weeks, he’d listened to the tedious hum of the tattoo gun as Cole worked on her. Bill glanced over his shoulder to stare at her reflection in the mirror while Cole added the final details to the tattoo. The droning of the gun faded into the background as Bill focused his attention on her.

“God, she is beautiful. Who is she?” He’d asked Cole when he’d first seen the drawing while having his dragon finished.

Her skin; bronzed, like that of a sun-goddess, her long chestnut hair flowed freely over her bare shoulders. Her corseted breasts burgeoned lushly above her bodice; just the slightest hint of cinnamon areolas showed beyond the rise of the fabric. Long stocking covered legs crossed at the ankles and just a glimpse of smooth, rosy labia peeked from behind the g-string that covered her virtue. A thin black cord bound her hands in front of her. Likewise, her upper arms had been confined to her sides. Her dark eyes were half-closed in ecstasy and could only be described as mischievously sensual. While her glossy red lips parted in a perpetual moan.

“Nobody real,” Cole had answered. “Just a drawing. An image that popped into my head one night, so I put it on paper.”

Bill had become obsessed with the woman in the drawing, wanting nothing more than to have her for his own. After returning many times to study the drawing, he’d finally told Cole, “I want her, I need...I need to possess her. How much?”

“It’s still twelve hundred, Bill. But I thought you said your wife would have your balls on a platter if you got this tat done?”

“Yeah, well she’d prefer my balls on a platter anyhow. At least this’ll give her a real reason to put them there. For twelve hundred bucks she’s all mine right? I don’t want anyone else having her, ever!”

“Dude, you must be a lunatic! But hey, if you really want to buy trouble with your wife...for twelve hundred bucks, it’s all yours.”

Once started, he had been terribly disappointed when Cole had refused to work more than two or three days a week; claiming that Bill’s skin needed at least a minimal amount of time to heal between sessions.

Bill’s muscles tensed and flexed beneath the constant pain inflicted by the tattoo gun. Its needle piercing the tender flesh of his lower back again and again, was an exercise in monotonous agony. Cole was moving the needle from place to place, but it still felt as though he held the needle upon a single patch of raw nerve endings. The tattoo gun buzzed, a mosquito whispering sweet nothing’s into a sleepy ear. Bill surveyed the room around him, trying to distract himself so as not to dwell on the pain.

He was straddling a stool; his stomach and upper body resting on the foot of the lounge-like tattoo chair. It was hot in the shop and sweat glistened on his muscular upper body and coated the chair beneath him. He felt as though the flesh of his stomach had liquefied and melded with the vinyl of the chair. And he wondered, briefly, if his flesh would remain fused to the chair when he stood.

“Need a break?” Cole asked, interrupting Bill’s introspection.


“I said, need a break?”

“How much longer?”

“About 30 minutes, maybe an hour. I’m finishing the detail work on the lace gloves. When that’s done, we’re finished.” Cole said, stretching and reaching for his pack of smokes.

“Naw, let’s skip the break and just get her done,” Bill said, anxious to finish.

Sighing, Cole looked longingly at his smokes then nodded and went back to work on the tat.

Not quite an hour later bill stood looking over his shoulder with a hand mirror. “Damn. She looks good Cole,” he whispered as he gazed at her image in the full-length mirror behind him. “Fuckin’ gorgeous. Too bad she is just an ink work, huh?”

“Uh...yeah, sure. Done lots of, umm...interesting art work during my career.” Applying telfa-pads to the new tattoo Cole said, “You know the rules, so I won’t bore you with them again. Come back in two to three weeks and I’ll look over it and see if you need any touch ups.”

“Thanks. Thank you very much,” Bill said, carefully pulling his shirt over his head, then handing Cole the last two hundred dollars that he owed on the tattoo.

Climbing into his truck, Bill lit a cigarette. Drawing the smoke deep into his lungs, he carefully laid his back against the seat and prepared for the drive home.

At home, Bill slipped off his shirt. Lying down upon the bed, he fantasized about Angel. It was as though her image had been branded on his brain. Each time he closed his eyes he could picture her, bound and sitting before him, a stunning portrait of beauty. Regretfully, he opened his eyes when his back started to sting. The stinging similar to the pain of road-rash or rug-burn. The telfa-pad had adhered to the ointment creating the sensation of a tickling itch that couldn’t be scratched. Annoyed, he got up to remove the pads, but even after doing so the itching didn’t cease. Lying down upon the bed again he finally managed to drift off to sleep, dreaming of Angel.

“Well, I see you got your whore finished,” Nadine said, startling Bill awake.

Here we go again. Same shit, different day, Bill thought. “Jesus Christ, Nadine, she’s just a fucking tattoo, give me a break.”

“Yeah you’re right, she’s just a fucking tattoo. Nothing out of the ordinary about a tattoo of a woman in bondage on your back,” she said, standing to leave the room.

He knew the conversation was over - she’d dismissed him. “Wait. Can you put some of this ointment on my back for me?” He asked quietly, holding out a small foil packet.

“Oh whee-ha! Gee, can I really? That’s just what I wanted to do, lube up your whore. You’re just too fucking good to me, Bill.”

“Good Lord woman. ... What the fucks your problem now?” Bill shouted, clenching his fists tightly, digging half-moons into his palms. Rope-like veins stood out along his neck and temples, throbbing, as several years worth of repressed anger struggled to free itself. Somehow, he managed to choke it back again.

“No problem,” Nadine said, snatching the foil packet from his hand. She bit the edge with her eyeteeth, tore the top off, and squirted the clear ointment onto his back. She rubbed it roughly into his tender skin and he flinched, sucking air between his teeth in a hiss. But, he kept his mouth shut. No sense pissing her off anymore than I already have, he thought.

“There, your whore is lubed.”

Bill turned to thank her, but Nadine had already left the room.

He’d expected her initial backlash. After all, another female tattooed on her husband’s back would piss off most any woman. What he was having trouble with was her continued reaction to Angel. He hadn’t expected her anger over the tat to last this long. He’d figured that by this time she’d have accepted Angel as just another tattoo. Just like his others. A purple and turquoise dragon resided on each of his shoulders. He had typical skull and castle ink work on his biceps and a skull-faced joker and king on the outside of each of his calves.

Bill shook his head and laughed at the idea that his wife could seriously be jealous of a fantasy woman. Even if that fantasy woman was extremely sexy, she still amounted to nothing more than dye injected beneath his skin. But, she is beneath my skin, Bill admitted to himself. She constantly lingers just below the surface of my thoughts, waiting for a chance to push her way into my mind.

Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself. She’s a tattoo, just a fucking tattoo.

Bill lit a cigarette and went to find Nadine; she was in the kitchen frying chicken for dinner. He stood in the doorway appraising her athletic body as she cooked. Seeking a truce, he walked up behind her and slid his hand between her long lithe legs. His hand followed the crack of her round ass to the top of her ass, over her hip and then wrapped around her narrow waist as he pulled her against him.

Kissing her neck he said, “Mmmm that sure smells good. I’m starving. And speaking of smelling smell pretty tasty yourself, my dear.”

“Gee thanks,” Nadine said, tilting her head sideways so that his lips could better access her neck. “Compared to fried chicken, how romantic.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Bill said. He turned, kicked over the trashcan, and stomped from the kitchen.

Sitting alone in the living room Bill ran over a list of what made Nadine, Nadine. She hated her job at the gym. Hated his job, because he didn’t make enough money. She had no close friends and hated his friends. She didn’t get along with her mother or his for that matter. Maybe, she just hated him? They had no children. But, they had never wanted rug-rats. Then the thought surfaced, like a dead fish in a pond. Was her biological clock ticking? Could that be what was driving her mad? Driving her away from him?

“Dinner’s done, come eat,” Nadine called from the kitchen. The sound of her voice shattered Bill’s ruminations. He rose and plodded back into the kitchen.

Dinner passed in an uncomfortable silence. Bill gave up on the hope of conversation after making a couple of attempts that gained him nothing more than a scathing gaze. Nadine did see fit to look up occasionally and scowl, but that was her only acknowledgement of him. Tired, stressed, and aching, Bill told her goodnight and went to bed.

Lying on his stomach, he fell into a light sleep. He didn’t know how much later it was when the bed shifting beneath Nadine’s weight disturbed his sleep. In his state of semi-sleep, he heard her huff as she caught a glimpse of Angel reflected in the sparse glow given off by the night-light in the bathroom.

Bill came fully awake sometime later, when he thought he heard someone choking. Turning his head, he looked at Nadine; a soundly sleeping silhouette outlined in the meager glow from the night-light. After watching her closely for a minute or two, the sound was not repeated and he lay back down and closed his eyes.

A short time later, a cool hand upon his shoulder startled him awake. The fingertips slid down the side of his back, carefully avoiding his new tattoo. Continuing downward, they brushed over the tops of his buttocks and then just barely grazed the hair on his ass as they slid gently down his crack. Bill shivered at the light touch and goose bumps crawled across his skin like living things. The fingers slipped between his partially splayed legs and tenderly caressed the underside of his balls and he moaned quietly.

It had been a few weeks since he and Nadine had had sex and Bill found himself more than ready. During their marriage Nadine had rarely initiated sex, so to say he was taken aback by this sudden aggressiveness would be an understatement. He thought of a joke he had once heard. What do men consider foreplay? A half an hour of begging. Bill didn’t find the joke funny because that was exactly what his sex life had been reduced to. Nadine didn’t like oral sex, giving or receiving; she’d told him once, “It just doesn’t do anything for me.” Of course, her body told him a completely different story; no matter how much she denied liking it, her body seemed to love it. So Bill would beg and plead until she’d finally give in and let him go down on her.

He loved pussy, loved everything about it, but he definitely loved to bury his face in it. He longed for the smell, the taste, and the moans; he especially delighted in the moans. Because with the moans came the wild bucking and thrashing, her hips grinding her pussy hard against his face. Her clit slip sliding against his nose while he licked, sucked, and inhaled her ever-intensifying scent. While Bill contemplated his passion for pussy, Nadine’s fingers continued to stroke his sac, his cock grew harder by the second.

He felt hot breath against his back, followed by the pressure of warm lips. The lips moved down his back pursuing the same path that the fingers had taken, until they reached the apex of his crack. He gasped as he felt a moist tongue slide down one cheek of his ass and then up the other. “Wh...What are you doing? Nadine, have you lost your mind?” Bill asked, stunned by this new sensation. She had never done anything like this, would never do anything like this. Hell, he practically had to pay her to blow him. “Shhhh,” was her only response.

Bill stopped thinking about reason and motive and thought only about what was happening now. Nadine’s hand slipped from between his legs and moved to his hip, urging him to turn over onto his back. Bill hesitated briefly, knowing that the sheet would stick to the ointment on his back, not fatal by any means, but it sure felt -- well, oogey was the best he could come up with to describe the feeling. But as Nadine’s tugging became more insistent, her lips moved to the top of his hip and he let her fingers guide him onto his back. He clinched his teeth in anticipation of the slight discomfort, which surprisingly never came.

He relaxed again as her fingers traced a path over the front of his hip to his pubes, stopping only briefly to tug gently at the hair before moving downward to gently caress his balls again. As she breathed, her aspirations teased his cock. He moaned throatily when she pressed her lips to it and began applying soft kisses to the head. Her tongue slithered wetly over the length of his shaft and when she again reached the head, her mouth opened and engulfed him. “Oh god, yes,” he said softly.

Reaching down he caressed the smooth slope of Nadine’s back, his hand slipping over soft flesh before stopping at silk. The feel of silk beneath his hand puzzled him; she never wore silk to bed. She generally slept in an over sized T-shirt and panties. She had silk nighties and lingerie, but she wore them only when she was feeling frisky. This hadn’t happened too often lately. Considering her attitude earlier this evening, the silk only added to the surrealistic quality of the sex and made him wonder if it was all only a very vivid dream. Dream or not, Bill decided to simply go with it. As little sex as he had gotten recently, he wasn’t going to be turning down anything, even if were only a dream.

He slid his hand over her bare ass, then down between her thighs. Grasping her, he pulled gently on her leg, indicating that he wanted her to spread for him. She obliged. The first thing his brain registered was moisture; the second, that her pussy was hairless, his fingers found only smooth slick flesh. Bill pulled his hand back and tried to sit up, but Nadine pushed him back with her free hand. She shifted and rose to her knees in one smooth motion, without releasing his cock from her mouth she was suddenly straddling his face. Bill had a single moment to think this must be a dream, before he was smothered by the scent of her lust. At that moment, all but the thought of the banquet that had been set before him left his mind and he buried his tongue in her over heated flesh.

He lost himself in her, delighting in the feel of her smooth skin on his tongue and her passion flowing slickly down his chin. He reveled in the moans that she uttered around his cock. The vibrations from her moans were driving him insane with the need for release. He could feel himself growing harder and grunted to tell her that she should move. But, she didn’t move. She reached out to cup his balls in her hand and massaged them as she took him deeper down her throat. She pulled back until just the head of his cock was left in her mouth, sucking deeply as she writhed on his face. Bill lost control, the semen bubbling forth under impossible pressure filled her mouth, and all he could do was whimper with ecstasy. He had made the mistake of coming in her mouth once before, she had sat up and spat it in his face. Bill stopped licking and waited in expectation of having his semen spat in his face, but there was nothing to spit. Bill heard her utter a barely audible, “Mmm,” before she bent and licked up the remaining drops of come as they oozed from the tip of his cock. Finished with her clean up, she lifted herself into a sitting position over his face. “Don’t stop now Lover. I’m just getting started,” she said.

Not Nadine’s voice. Soft and smooth -- it was red silk on black lacquer. Total seduction. Panicked, Bill pushed her from his face onto the bed. Turning he reached for the lamp, his hand pausing in mid-air when she asked, “Are you sure you really want to turn that on?” His hand wavered -- he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t know what else to do. His finger pushed the switch and the room filled with somber light. Bill spun back around and lying on the bed was not Nadine, but Angel.

“” was all he managed as he staggered to his feet to stand at the side of the bed.

Angel arranged herself on the pillows and smiled seductively up at him. Like magnets to steel, Bill’s eyes were drawn downward over her body. With her legs unabashedly splayed open before him, her fingertips played idly over her bare slit. “Does it really matter?” She finally asked. “The how of it, I mean.”

Bill took several steps away from the edge of the bed. “You’re not afraid of me are you, Bill? After all ... I am just a fucking tattoo,” she said, using the exact words he’d used to describe her to Nadine.

“Where’s Nadine? Where’s my wife?” He demanded much more calmly than he felt.

“Aww, miss the nagging bitch already, Bill? Don’t worry; she’s close by. Just hanging around -- so to speak,” Angel said, her voice still silky smooth. A sardonic smile twisted her beautiful face; she lifted her free hand and pointed to the mirror over the dresser.

As her implication registered in his muddled brain, Bill flipped on the overhead light. Grabbing a hand mirror from the dresser top, he turned his back to the mirror. Horrified by what he saw, he gazed open-mouthed at the reflection.

Nadine, still in her t-shirt, tattooed on his back. Her position identical to that of Angel’s; eyes half-closed, mouth parted sensually, arms bound by thin strips of black cord. He watched, immobile, as the turquoise dragon on his right shoulder blade opened its mouth in a malicious grin.

DGC ©2001 May not be reproduced in any manner with out permission from the author.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Rizzo's Ramblings...Double Standard

So yesterday a popular blogger posted a picture of a bunch of candy bars and sugary drinks atop a magazine with the headline "Diabetes and You". Her caption for the photograph was "I went to Walgreens to pick up a prescription...and diabetes!" Here is my issue with this. Said blogger has over two hundred thousand followers. TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND!! She has published a book which is being sold in national chain stores, and she advocates for autism awareness. Going as far as soliciting money and running marathons for it. She knows how big her influence can be. She has used her platform to raise awareness for something that a lot of people are uneducated about. She has done many good things for autism. Now, the comments on her diabetes dig were things such as "mmmmm diabetes". Or you tube videos of the gentleman who pronounces it "diabeetus". Or "ha ha I told my pharmacist the other day while he was bagging my candy that I would be back for my diabetes meds". Tell me why it is ok to joke about a chronic illness that is misunderstood on a platform that you use to advocate for another chronic condition? Do any of you think the above autism meme would fly? If someone cracked a joke about breast cancer (using misinformation and judgmental material) to over 200,000 people would it be taken lightly? If another published author made the same comment about diabetes would people still defend them and say it was "just a joke"? I am the first person to get gallows humor. My God, if I didn't laugh I would cry. The problem is I am not standing in front of 200,000 people when I crack these jokes. When my daughter was first diagnosed any crack about diabetes really hurt her. People still to this day think we somehow caused her to have diabetes. People are uneducated. They don't understand. Somewhere out there in those 200,000 people is a newly diagnosed child of diabetes crying their eyes out and a parent who is still trying to figure out what they could have done to prevent their child from "getting" diabetes. These women who get "Facebook famous" writing blogs and publishing books need to be held to the same standards that anyother celebrity is held to. That or they need to go the hell home. I am sick of people making excuses for these women's cruel remarks. Have I said stupid things before? Yep, sure have. I apologized afterwards. Then I educated myself. Was I educated about diabetes before my daughter was diagnosed? Hell no! I didn't know jack shit about it! I also didn't crack jokes about it to over two hundred thousand people. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure it never entered my mind. With great power comes great responsibility, and some of these women need to keep that in mind before they open their mouths.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Rizzo's Ramblings... I call bullshit

So one of our local news anchors posted a status on Facebook saying that Kroger tracks all her purchases so she was going to interview a senator and ask how the government could decide whether to increase or decrease a person's benefits without tracking their purchases and knowing what they buy. That immediately pissed me off. She is in the "small government" "trickle down" line of thinking, and yet she wants the government to track and monitor what people buy with their food stamps. She posts all the statuses allowing people to bitch and complain about their tax dollars helping people buy food. Now those same people want to pay for this program. And you know damn good and well it's going to cost a helluva lot of money. Doesn't this go along with the NSA reading everyone's email? But, as long as the government is monitoring what groceries the less fortunate buy then its ok? I'm getting sick and tired of people not minding their own god damn business. If I hear another person whine because "the person in front of me bought a steak" or "the person in front of me had an iPhone" or "the person in front of me drove a nice car" I'm liable to kill someone. No one knows WHY a person gets assistance. Maybe they just lost their job. Maybe they work 2 jobs and have decent credit. Maybe the car or the iPhone was a gift. Maybe that god damn steak was the only one they will get all month. People need to start worrying about their lives and their dinner table and stop worrying about everyone else's. If they want to piss money away then instead of paying the government to monitor more shit that is none of their business they should donate it to a charity. And by the way, a cash register will kick out something that is not "eligible" for food stamps so that a person has to pay cash for it. If she is concerned about how the government will decide how much or how little food stamps a person will get then I have a solution. They can look at the cost of food, the person's income, and the number of people in the family and make a fucking common sense decision. Last time I checked common sense was free!!!

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Frenchy's Follie's.... Chill, momma's! Love me some F4F

You know that I'm feeling passionate about this to sit down after working my ass off all summer to write this blog.

Adam at Fodder 4 Fathers has been going through lil bit of hell after posting a blog early this morning. Well, an "Open Letter to First-time Mothers" as he calls it. Read his post here.

I feel sorry for him.

I agree with him though!

Very few women don't bitch and gripe when they are pregnant.  However, I was one of them! I looooooved being preggo! My friends joked the shit out of me for it. It is a beautiful gift and men do not get to experience it. Although your significant other may be an asshole, there are guys out there who are wonderful too! They envy the closeness we get to share with our babies while they are in utero. I wasn't a fan of having to spend money on clothing that I wouldn't be able to wear for very long, personally. I did enjoy registering for all of the cute baby stuff and I have to admit with both of my boys, I brought my girlfriends to shop and create my baby registries, not my husband. Also, my baby showers were both female-only. The men really do get the shit end of the stick here!

Admit it, we do not treat the father as an equal in parenting! We DO think we can do everything better. We DO think that we are more tired. We DO pull the "I pushed the baby out of my vagina/they ripped that baby out of my stomach" card. We pull every card we can to make it seem like the fathers do nothing for the children when we need them to do something else for us! I'm sure that makes them feel awful. If you are still in a relationship with the father of the baby, stop jerking the baby away from the dad and saying "Give her to me, I know how to make her stop crying."

That's insulting. That's messed up.

No. Let the father do it. Let him feel a sense of accomplishment. The same feeling when we picked out all of the baby furniture and clothing. The feeling of accomplishment when that last push released the baby from our body. The same feeling that we had when we saw our baby for the first time and realized that we took such great care of our bodies for 10 months and look how good we did!!! What a beautiful healthy baby! All that hard work paid off.

Ladies, there are good men out there. These men are frustrated at the moms that aren't giving them any credit or even the opportunity to be a father to their children. They are tired of the attitude and not having any say over the care of their child. It's not just "your" child, remember. Enough is enough! There are good daddies out there, even if you didn't choose such a great one to procreate with. THAT WAS YOUR CHOICE, BY THE WAY!! It's important for your child to have an equal relationship with both parents. Unless he has been deemed a danger to the child, you must learn how to let go and give the father a chance to do his part.

Every situation is different. Maybe you have a baby daddy that is NOT truly capable of caring for a child for whatever real, honest reason. Yeah, I'm pretty sure this isn't the person Adam is talking about in the blog.

My wish is for people to read something (like this open letter) from an author and realize its feelings, perspective,  and definitely not personal insults TO YOU !!!!! I always soak these things in and LEARN something from them!!! It will make you more compassionate, human, and you get to know the inner workings of people this way. Just think about it, that's all I ask.


Monday, August 12, 2013

Frenchy's Follies... "Shine On" Blog Award

Frenchy here from The Crazy Mothereffers!!!! Thank you Saltwater Sessions for the "Shine On" blog award! I've been busier than a one-armed pimp at a bitch slapping contest but IMMA still do this ;) Here are the rules....

Step 1: Repost the "Shine On" picture above
Step 2: Link your blog post back to the person who awarded it to you (Thank you Saltwater Sessions)
Step 3: Seven facts about me:
Step 4: Award 15 of your favorite bloggers that haven't yet been awarded by anyone else!
 Seven Facts about me.....
1: I opened a hair salon when I was 26.
2: I just started wearing dresses this year.
3: I'm addicted to sushi.
4: I look horrible as a blonde.

5: I've never been on Pinterest or played Candy Crush!

6: I do not go into REM sleep naturally, therefore if I go to sleep without an alarm in a very dark room my brain and body wants to sleep for extremely long periods.

7: I stress out wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy too much.

Riz, my dear cousin and co-admin on the page tagged some bloggers in her award acceptance, I will tag a few of my favorites as well!!!! Congrats!

The Musings of Munch

Wine and Psychotherapy

Hey! You're a crazy bitch!