So, I’m sure there will be a lot of backlash on this, but to be honest, if someone is willing to not be my friend over difference of opinion, that truly is not my problem.  I’m also not posting this to hear how much of a hateful person I am or to give me some statistic that is irrelevant to me because I’ve lived it.

 I’m going to start out by laying myself out bare.  I do not want, ask, or need sympathy.  I am telling you this to prove a point.  I am a survivor.  I survived a nasty car wreck.  I survived domestic violence.  I survived the repercussions of another’s drug addiction.  I survived brain surgery.  I survived financial setbacks.  I survived single parenthood.  And I’m a better person for it. 

I have a good home, a loving husband, beautiful children, a long standing job, a bank account, vehicles, weapons, and mental peace.  Who the hell is ANYONE to tell me that my benefits – the things I worked for – aren’t things that I built?  I still have all those things, but they are really in jeopardy.  I go to work, do my job and expect my paycheck every two weeks.  Not such an outrageous thought, right?  Well, now I go to work, do my job (and about four others), expect my paycheck.  The big change?  Someone else is expecting my paycheck too!  And they’re ENTITLED to to it because the government SAYS so.  Screw.  That.

I am a registered voter.  I am not registered as either Democrat or Republican.  I believe that two people that are in love and ready to make a commitment should be able to marry – regardless of genitalia.  I believe in the right to bear arms and protect myself.  I believe a woman’s body is hers and hers alone until SHE decides who can share it with her.  I believe in my military – the ones who protect me, who die for me, and allow me to write stuff like this.  So, you see…I’m not, as many like to call it – left or right.  I’m a realist.  There is no such thing as a perfect world.  However – there IS such a thing as an eff-ed up world…and we are the biggest country there!

 I voted for Obama in 2008.  I was ready for a shake up in Washington.  I was ready for a better tomorrow.  I was giving my kids a brighter future.  Boy, did I screw up.  Four years later, I make a little more money and see less in my bank account.  I worry about my job status because how long will my company really keep me on as full time and still afford healthcare?  I am scared for my children’s futures.  And the man was re-elected.  But not by me.

I am SO entirely sick of people saying that the rich people hate the poor.  This is misconstrued information, at best.  Say it like it is – people are sick of paying for others!  Period!  I am disgusted with people saying that if you voted for Romney, it was only because you hated the President.  I am outraged that people are OK with taking away the 2^nd Amendment.  It is MY right as an American to bear arms.  Does the government really think if they take away a law abiding citizen’s rights, that the criminals will follow suit?

 And my biggest pet peeve from this election – people suggesting that I think less of myself as a woman if I voted against Obama.  Seriously?  I am first and foremost an AMERICAN.  Here’s my opinion – you, your neighbor, the all-knowing doctors, and the government have NO say on what I do with my body.  However, this really SHOULDN’T be a government decision.  I’ve been a worker under the Obama administration for four years now – and guess what?  I’m struggling more NOW than I was four years ago.  Better pay at the workplace, my ass!

The mere fact that this President knowingly leaves Americans like sitting ducks (is inexcusable.  I want someone who upholds the constitution, not bends it.  I want someone who believes in what this country was founded on – not in his own selfish beliefs.  I want someone that respects our flag…our flag that SO many have died for.  I want someone who knows that being the President isn’t about making friends and being a celebrity.  Do I think Romney was the answer?  Not necessarily.  But the current administration has done nothing but fail ME.  I want someone, anyone, other than Barack Hussein Obama.

The Screaming Trees were singing “I Nearly Lost You” at the tops of their lungs at 5am this morning.  It was dark, and I had been dead asleep.  My alarm does this horrible thing called “waking me up” every weekday morning.  But, this morning, I was eager.  It’s the first day of school for my children and 5am is a necessity.  We have breakfast to make and eat, teeth to brush, hair to style, clothes to pull on and get on the bus by 624am. 

You see, no matter how well laid out plans are, something always gets knotted up.  And if you’re dealing with two girls, both trying to look fantabulous for the first day of school, drama is sure to ensue.  This year was no different, but I do see a sense of maturity growing in both of them.

I snuck upstairs and sang “Good Moooorning!” to both of my lovelies, still all sweet and deep in slumber.  I was greeted back with a barbaric “ugh” from Alena and what sounded extremely close to a grizzly’s growl from Emma.  Seems that 5am is not their best time of the day.  Before I knew it, everyone was dressed, packed, photographed and ready to head out the door.  This is my 11th “first day of school” being a Mother, but to say that it’s easy would be a lie.  I don’t get weepy like I did on Kindergarten days, but when I compare pictures from previous years, I truly get to see how big my children – the wee little ones that I cradled in my arms at 2am feedings – have gotten. 

I find myself excited to sit around the dinner table tonight hearing about all the hopes for the upcoming school year.  Emma is a sophomore cramming honors class, foreign languages, two sciences, geometry, choir and history into a years time.  I cannot even begin to fathom how much discipline this year will take.  Alena is heading into fourth grade where crushes really start and little girls begin to grow into pre-teens (Lord help Jason!). 

My children think they are beginning their first day of school.  I know they are continuing their ongoing education, that truly never stops.  But, for now, we’ll just take it one day at a time.

For the most part, I am a happy person.  I finally met and recently married a wonderful man.  I have seven children (two biological and five bonus). I have an awesome family that is a strong as the roots that were placed hundreds of years ago.  I have a very diverse and dedicated circle of friends that I can count on anytime.  I have a job that offers a decent salary and decent insurance.  I have a vehicle.  And if that one breaks, I have another one just in case.  I have an old farmhouse in the country, no frills, but big enough and the kids can roam.  I get my nails done, my eyebrows waxed and my hair colored.  I have more shoes than I need and a plethora of jewelry that I love to wear. I smoke.  I use only Bath & Body soaps.

I have all of those things because I’ve worked for them.  I admit, some not as much as others.  My husband just literally walked into my life.  My family was already in place by the time I arrived.  My friends have other friends.  But I still have to nurture those relationships, if I want to keep them.  I have to work at being a better mother, wife, family member and friend.  It’s not a chore, but a privilege that I’m willing to take on for the benefits.  My job is something that I do have to work for – I have to show up, doing my work, and sometimes more, pay my taxes, my health insurance premiums, deal with the stresses that come with it and the responsibilities that get laid upon me.  I’ve been working for 18 years, the last 12 at the same place.  I have to pay for my vehicles – from purchase, insurance and tags to maintenance, tires and gasoline.  I have to pay for my home and all that goes with it – cleaning supplies, groceries, utilities and any extras that I should want or need.  I do this with the money that I receive for doing my job.  The extra things that I mentioned are bonus items – things that I buy when I can.  I am definitely not one to equal the meanings of need and want.

Now for the things I do not have.  I do not have luxuries, such as air conditioning, cable or a dishwasher because I was willing to trade them off for other things.  I don’t have a new vehicle – no where close, actually because the thought of car payments makes me nauseous.  I don’t own an iPad and even my iPod is probably 8 years old.  I don’t have exotic vacations, or even vacations to see family I haven’t seen in 25 years.  I do not have an abundance of restful nights free of nightmares.  I do not have a lot of my childhood keepsakes because someone decided to burn them.  I do not completely have my health.  Brain tumors tend to steal that away anytime they feel like it. I don’t have hearing in my left ear or strength in my left leg.  I don’t have faith in humanity.  I don’t have trust in others outside my bubble.  I don’t have patience.  The point of all this is the biggest “don’t” I possess:

I DON’T GIVE MYSELF A CRUTCH.

I am so sick of laziness being rewarded.  I am appalled by the sense of entitlement.  From big time stories – like the ignorant man who fathered 33 kids and wanted child support to “cut him some slack” on payments because he only made minimum wage to small town women who think that a child or two entitles them to sit on their ass and collect funds.

When my payday rolls around, I don’t go and hand out money to strangers.  I use that money to pay for the things my family and I need and/or want.  What makes people think they’re entitled to my hard earned money by sitting on their asses doing nothing?  What makes a parent (and I use this term lightly) see his/her children as meal tickets to get everything from housing and food to medical care and even cash instead of getting a job and providing like a real adult would?

If you are financially broke, don’t blame it on someone else.  Others are not meal-tickets.  Not a spouse (current or former), a child or anyone else.  If you screwed up and went to prison and now have trouble finding a job – that is not anyone else’s fault.  If you decide that the only way you can deal with life is having an addiction of some sort, it is not the sober people’s responsibility to ensure that you have a better life.  If you are in the country illegally because your country sucks – that’s not an okay for you to get handouts.

Yes, I have a huge and personal distaste for people on government assistance that have no reason to be.  Once, I actually witnessed a person who was on government assistance that was confronted with “get a job”…this person responded “I have a job – it’s called being mom and dad”.  Seriously?  What a benthic imbecile.  I was single mother, one-income household, so I was mom and dad.  I also worked 50+ hours a week and volunteered non-stop.  I set up daycare, doctors appointments and extracurricular activities.  I bathed, clothed and fed my kids.  I calmed them in the middle of the night, kissed their boo-boos and grounded them when need be.  I spent countless hours in their after school programs, sports and camps.  Was I supposed to run out and get government compensation?

So we cater and cater to those who are lazy and worthless because they deem themselves important enough to take money from people that have actually earned it.  Why?  Look around the system – there are people on disability because of an addiction, people getting free rides because their countries are run by drug lords, people getting food stamps and government cash because they made poor choices.  Yet, the elderly have to watch their prescription costs, Veterans are homeless and two income families struggle to make ends meet.

When is the American Dream going to go back to the fundamentals of working for what you have instead of just sticking out your hand with the “poor me” story?  There is an entire generation of adults that are doing this, which in turn shows their children how to do it – so when are we finally going to say “enough is enough” make these people get up off their lazy asses and get a job??  Making minimum wage is better than making NO wage whatsoever. 

I needed a platform that felt like it was mine.  Call me selfish, but I like me.  I wanted somewhere that I could reflect, question and vent.  I want to share some of the hilarious moments that make up every day that I open my eyes.  I’ve also been through and have seen a lot more than I ever should have in 36 years – some of it good, some of it bad, but mostly all just insanely weird.  I don’t see a glass as half empty or half full.  I see a freakin’ glass.  I’m opinionated and sarcastic.  And right now, extremely confused on how to personalize my little blog.