You write a post about silly nonsense, the first real post in a month and get told that you are a sheep and should kill yourself. By a person with no name, but none the less, some person who felt that was the right thing to say.

As bloggers, we are supposed to not care about this. We should get used to it. You have enough hits to your site, you are bound to get some trolls. We are supposed to harden our heart and not let the stupid comments bother us. As a seasoned writer in a public forum, I am supposed to just let this roll off my back. It doesn’t matter, it’s just some asshat troll. Delete and ignore. We’ve even come up with the blogging terminology to describe these people; the people who attack in comments, the people with no names.

But it does hurt and it does sting. Even after all these years of doing this, it bothers me. Intellectually it doesn’t bother me. But the heart and the brain don’t’ always feel the same way. You just don’t say that to someone. That is something that I can’t just brush off. The, you should kill yourself comment. The rest of it can be ignored, but that one stings. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I had a friend who did kill himself. In some ways it bothers me more when someone attacks a friend of mine, than when they attack me. I am always willing to defend a friend and luckily I didn’t have to say anything yesterday, as all of you were kind enough to defend me.

After the multiple comments and then the attacks on all of my friends, it almost seemed funny in some way. This person who so wanted to be known as the troll of the day. It seemed less personal after that, which was nice. But that one comment sits under my skin and eats at me. Because I wonder why someone would say such hateful things to a stranger. I wonder what I said to provoke him. Did my talking about Disneyland or my kids last day of school, provoke such a hateful response? Am I just an easy target?

It’s not me. I’ve been told that two dozen times, by people I adore. I know they are right, yet I still feel responsible.

I think in some way, they must be jealous. Jealous of our families, jealous of our friendships, jealous that they have no name. That must be really sad for them, to have no name. I doubt they’d walk up to a stranger on the street and spew such hatred, as they are apt to do online. I wonder what makes someone feel that this is okay? That the words they type are any different than the words they say aloud. Words have power, whether you type or say them. Maybe they don’t care, maybe I am such a horrible person and I deserve it. However, I doubt it, because I’ve never in real life, had someone attack me like this. You want to know why? Because I am a nice human being. I am kind to others, even people who don’t deserve it. I say please and thank you. I donate money and time to help the less fortunate. I don’t tailgate, nor flip off strangers who cut me off in traffic. I’ve never taken a thing in this world that did not belong to me. I am a hard worker and a responsible human being. I take good care of my children. I am a good person.

But they don’t see that. They don’t seem to care to see that. They don’t care that telling a depressed person to kill themselves is just plain wrong. He doesn’t care, because it doesn’t affect his life.

It bothers me, this lack of caring. The ability to spew filth and not care what you’ve put into the world. It makes me wonder about the world. And I don’t like that feeling.

This person, who taunted the blog world yesterday, doesn’t care about people. Doesn’t care about people’s feelings or emotions. Most likely it was a ploy for attention. There have been others before and there will be more after. Eventually they move on, because truly, why would you continue to read blogs written by parents, if you hate parents and children? (And hi, don’t you have parents, weren’t you once a child?)

It hurts me as much as it does, not really because of the 23 words this person said, but because I am still fragile. I am the first person to admit, I’ve had a hard ass month, which has come after a hard ass eight months, following a rough couple of years. I have my good moments and my not so good moments. Yesterday was the first time in a month when I hadn’t been depressed and this is what I get. Yesterday, by the way, was the four week mark. I lost the baby four weeks ago, last night.

I have been depressed and trying to be okay (and doing a dam good job of it) for a month. I’m fragile and I can’t handle this without talking about. I can’t ignore it like I should probably do. I can’t just let it go.

Which is why I’m writing this. Not because I want to give this person more attention. I have deleted and will continue to delete all of his comments. I am not going to link to his site, nor will I ever click on it again.

I am writing this, because I have to. I have to say all of this. I have to write that this isn’t okay. That I am not just some random stranger behind a computer screen. I am a person with feelings. I am a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend and dog owner. I am a good person.

I am taking a stand. I am saying to the world, to all the trolls out there, that this has gone on long enough. Go find a life and stay the hell out of mine. Leave my friends alone. No one cares what you have to say. Shoo.

First off let me just say that if one of you lived here and we had a play date, I’m sure it would be fine.

I? Am not a play date type of a mom. I am spoiled. This is what comes from your best friends having kids at the same times as you. Built in best friends, second generation style. No need for silly things like random play dates with parents you don’t know.

I should have known, should have remembered; that I’m not a play date person. I should have never said yes. This woman, whose demon spawn…I mean child, is in Baileys class, has been asking me to have a play date for a while. I don’t hang out at the school much. I mean, I volunteer, but I don’t spend the whole time my kid is in pre-school talking outside with the other mothers. Some of them do and that’s fine, I’m just not one of them. Because when my girls are in school, I tend to have very important things to do. Like blogging.

So, this woman had been asking me for a play date and kept telling me that our girls play together so nicely, so I finally agreed. We went over to her house on Friday afternoon.

First, her demon child kept hitting my kid. Oh she had a cookie today, was the mom’s response. Ok, because that is a great response to your kid whacking mine upside the head. Don’t bother to stop her from doing it a few more times. A child who has had a cookie, can’t ever be told to knock it off, I suppose.

Then she started talking, non-stop. The mom, not the kid. The kid is behind in speaking. Most likely because her mom talks incessantly. About absolutely nothing. No joke, she’d ask me a simple question; like, how old is your baby? Then she’d interrupt me two words in to tell me about some random story about her life. Because her kids were almost five months once and they… I don’t know, ate a lot? Then it led to a story about when she was a baby and then about her mom’s life. Also, every story somehow led to Scouts. I guess her son is in scouts. She must be the most annoying scout mom ever.

Small tangent here: I hate scouts. Every one of them, girl, boy, cub, whatever. What they stand for; their homophobic attitude; but mostly, I hate the cookies. I know, I may be the only person in the world who hates girl scout cookies, but I do. I despise that they are at every grocery store in the state right now, hawking those nasty cookies. Dude, if I wanted your cookies, I would have bought them from the 6 little girls in my neighborhood who each came by and rang my door bell early Sunday morning, for six weeks in a row. No, I don’t want your dam cookies, now let me in the god dam store. End tangent.

So, I heard about the scouts. Then she went and on about her Unity church and how amazing it is. How rainbows shoot out of every ones asses after they go there. Then how she just can’t believe we don’t go to church. We don’t go to church. Period. We don’t belong to a religion. Period. And what the heck is a Unity church anyway? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t care if I know. If I was planning on choosing a religion it would be one of the ones in my family.

I started getting desperate, so I sent out this Tweet from the bathroom:

Somebody save me. I am in playdate hell. Can one of you DM me and i dont know be in labor or have ebola? Something. Please 3:45 PM Feb 20th from txt

Then nothing. Crickets. Chirp.

I waited, hoping someone would see it. But nope, nobody was on to see it. Then I sent a text to my BFF Kate, saying pretty much the same thing. She texted me back, I told you not to do play dates. You never listen.

Am looking for a new BFF by the way.

Eventually we left and as we did, Bailey says to me, Mommy why did we go there? I don’t even like that girl.

Great kid, just great. You couldn’t have told me that earlier? Play dates are not for the weak at heart and they are definitely not for me.

Remember me? I was the one singing Van Morrison (quietly I might add) to my newborn son in the airport on Sunday. You must remember me. I was the one you were looking at like I was insane. Oh you remember now. Yeah that figures. You said to your friend/relative and I quote “That’s not appropriate to sing to a baby.” Really? Because lullabies are so f’ing great? Let’s ignore your rudeness and bitchiness for just a second and talk about lullabies. The oh so appropriate lullabies people should, in your mind, be singing to their newborns.

Bah Bah Black Sheep….lets just sing about stealing from an innocent sheep. Plus, this is 2008. I live in a major metropolitan city. Sheep are something my son is likely to see three times in his childhood and always in a zoo. I doubt any of them will be black sheep. Plus, my son has no master and the boy in the song gets no wool. Why in the hell would I want to sing my son this screwed up song?

Ring around the rosie: Pocket full of posies, ashes ashes we all fall down. Oh yes, lets sing about the freaking plague. This is what I want Harrison to know about. Sweet dreams son.

Rock-a-bye Baby: Do we even need to discuss the baby in a tree song? Baby in a tree? Falling down, baby and all? Why don’t we just call CPS and get it over with?

Babies don’t care what we sing to them. They don’t care if our voice creaks. They don’t care if we make up words. Do you know that my daughter Morgan sings to Harrison all the time and he coos at her? When he’s cranky and I’m trying to finish dinner or something, I send her to sing too him. She sings whatever song she has stuck in her head, the ABC’s, or some silly made up song about Mama eating his cheeks. Last night she was singing her multiplication table to him. He just loved it. He could care less what it is, he just loves the way we sing to him.

Van Morrison, Days Like This? Is hands down a better song for my son to hear. I’d rather sing him anything besides kid music. You know why? Because my kids don’t own that crap. They have never in their life owned a Raffi CD, or the Wiggles or even a Barney-Dora-Issa is poking her eyes out type of CD. Everyone who knows me, knows not to buy this stuff for my kids. I won’t give it too them. I’d rather them sing the songs on the radio. I love that they know which Satellite radio station they want to listen too each time we get in the car. I’m rather proud of the variety of music my girls like. They request songs by artist and title. You haven’t really lived until you’ve witnessed Bailey singing and dancing to Hey There Delilah by the Plain White T’s. You should watch my kids when Pink’s, So What, comes on in the car. They go nuts, they love it. They are not being harmed in any way by not having a Raffi CD.

There are so many things I could say too you. So many horribly mean things I could put out for the world to know about you. I am very observant. I’ve thought about it for three long days. However, I’m a nicer person than you. I may judge people I see, but it’s always in my own head. I don’t judge people out loud in a crowed airport for the whole world to hear. If this had happened last year, I’d have likely snapped your head off and fed it to a shark. Just count yourself warned. Not everyone would have continued singing to their son and then walked away.

My son, is not being harmed by me singing whatever song I have in my head too him as a lullaby. In fact, I think he is perfectly content with anything I sing to him.

So eat that, Biotch in the airport.

Hugs and stuff,
Issa

You all know where I stand politically. I don’t need to rehash it over and over again. I’ve said my piece and I’m done. At least this week. But I would like to talk about health care for a minute. Both candidates promise changes in health care. Obviously I believe in the way Obama is stating it. But either way, something needs to change in our health care system

Here’s the deal. My previous company was an extremely large corporation. My family was always covered under my coverage, with me only having to pay for their coverage, mine was paid by my employer. This was all well and good. Until we moved. My old company does not have a Denver office. This meant, I had to find a new job. I did find one, but it’s with a small firm. I can not be covered by their insurance plan. I was denied. My kids were denied. We have pre-existing conditions. Logan’s company is brand new, with him and two of his cousins. They have no employees at this time. Basically there is no way for them to get coverage either. So we had to go out on our own to get coverage.

We were turned down by twelve insurance providers. TWELVE times, we were turned down. Basically anyone of them that you’ve heard of, we can’t get insurance through them. They literally will not cover me and Bailey. They’d cover Logan and Morgan, but not all of us. Doesn’t matter what we’d be willing to pay, they will not cover us.

Our pre-existing conditions are not that far out there. Bailey and I are both asthmatics. We both have bad asthma and numerous allergies. They won’t cover Bailey because of this. They won’t cover me because of this and because of the small breakdown I had last year. Here’s the thing about my breakdown though. I did not end up in a hospital. I did not end up in any facility for any time at all. I did not try and kill myself. I was just seriously depressed and ended up in massive therapy and on some meds. But for this and the asthma, I am uncoverable. My four year old child is uncoverable.

We considered going uninsured, except that our medications would cost us as much as my dam mortgage. Plus, a cousin of Logan’s is uninsured and they treat her badly anytime she has to go to the doctor; her and her kids. Doesn’t matter that they can pay their bills and feed their kids, but because they can’t afford insurance, they are treated like lepers. They do not qualify for government help, but they can’t afford insurance either. So they go un-insured and pray that nothing major happens to them. When regular things come up, they pay cash to be seen.

So, we found a plan. A crappy insurance that I’d never heard of. We have a $20k deductible for the year. Which means, we basically pay for anything and everything at the time of service. No discounts, no hope of our insurance covering it. We pay $1250 a month for a $20k deductible plan. The only saving grace with it, is that our prescriptions are almost free. Which is good, because they’d cost us more than the plan does a month.

Basically we are paying for all of our own medical expenses, even with insurance. All because of pre-existing conditions. This is the reality of our health care in this country. People can’t afford it; people are going without it; or people are paying an arm and a leg for the crappiest coverage out there.

Something has to change. As a country, we can’t afford for it to stay like this. Personally, I think health care should be something that everyone has. It’s a basic need, like water, air and food.

When Obama says things about health care like these statements: “Require insurance companies to cover pre-existing conditions so all Americans regardless of their health status or history can get comprehensive benefits at fair and stable premiums. – Create a new Small Business Health Tax Credit to help small businesses provide affordable health insurance to their employees.” I want to jump up and down. I want this to happen. He has a plan to make it happen. I need this to happen. Because I can afford my shitty insurance. Logan and I have worked our ass off for years to get where we are. I can afford to take care of my family. To provide the medications my daughter and I need to stay alive (and sane). I can afford to pay cash if I need to, every time my other daughter has a high fever (When it gets above 104, Morgan has a seizure. Lets just say, last year, I because friends with the ER staff.) and needs to go to the ER. I can do all of this. But most people couldn’t. Most people would be on the streets if it meant needing to pay what we pay out each month. Or they’d be on medic-care or whatever.

This system sucks donkey balls. It needs to change, it has to change. It’s unacceptable the way it is. And blaming it on people who can’t afford health care, is not helping anybody. Blaming it on our taxes doesn’t do any good. The days of blame need to be over. We just need to fix it.

It bothers me when people say that having health care is a choice. That people make the choice not to work hard enough for it. That people make the choice to be on medi-care. It’s not that cut and dry; not that black and white. Health care is a gray issue. There are no easy answers. But instead of blame, we need to work it out. We need someone in power to stop ignoring it and do something about it.

I know two posts in one day is annoying. I apologize in advance. But seriously I had to share this. I saw this article on Time Warp Wives and it’s making my blood boil. These women have gone back into the 50’s, 40’s and 30’s, they just sit, sew and bake all day while waiting for their husbands. They don’t have modern conveniences in their homes, choosing to own everything from the time period they’ve chosen as perfect.

Seriously, read it, it will scare you I’m sure.

Hmmm…. the Internet was around in the 40’s? I somehow doubt it. One woman talked about eradicating all modern conveniences from her home…but she has done hours of Internet searching for her 40’s crap. Because I guess it’s not purchasable at Target. Oh wait, she wouldn’t go in a Target.

Reading this made me want to bitch slap them. Also, I’m pretty sure it made me dumber.