I promised BB some time back I would post more often on the blog.  That didn’t happen.

But I have a sort of excuse!

Back when Momma Bear got the blog given to her, she was a stay at home mom. Even when she initially went back to work she still made erratic effort to blog.  But when her Mommabear passed on, she got swept up into other things, trying to keep the family from falling apart.

It started out simply enough, my mom and dad watched Pro Bull-Riding religiously so a month or so after Mom passed, Dad called, from a bar no less (a place he’d pretty much stayed out of since I was a kid) and I could tell he was lonely. so I got Poppa bear to drive me down and that started a vicious cycle, every few weeks, then every other week, and then EVERY week, I and later Dawnie, my best friend, would join my dad at the same watering hole and proceed to get drunk.  It was fun at first, though I know we all made asses of ourselves on various occasions.

When Momma bear got her own license and vehicle, things changed. I was the party planner, the driver, the baby-sitter. And in a way that wasn’t too bad, I was taking care of everyone…But then it started to become tiresome. Silly little drama’s and things intervened many times.

Two weekends ago now, was probably my worst night. It started out fairly well, me Dad and Dawnie, couple of our regular friends. But then all of my younger brothers, their girlfriends and a few hangers on swarmed upon the bar.

Let me sort of explain. I have 3 brothers, the eldest grew up with a plethora of medical problems, and that led him to have a lot of things done FOR him and a lot of things done to him, and about him. I don’t deny that the kid went through hell growing up, poked, prodded, babied. But while it was all necessary mentally, he learned some very bad social habits and a sickening hubris. Because the nurses at the hospital always made a fuss over him, trying to keep his spirits up, and girls would fawn over him because they felt sorry for him, he decided he was a Pimp Daddy, he treats people around him like shit, like they owe him for the honor of his presence…And that by acting like this he’s making friends. He’s wrong, people use him, flatter him to distract him, and continue to use him. He ended up in prison over it after several chances to reform himself on drug charges.

When he got out, he had ‘found God’ and was going to really be a clean dude, it lasted about a week, maybe two then he was an asshole again. The family, chiefly my Dad and me, had sent him money in prison, visited him, bought minutes on his phone, Dad had paid the payments and lot rent for his trailer, even had a renter in it that did a lot of cleaning up and fixing up…But as soon as he came home it was ‘HIS’ house and people were going to go by his rules.

I’ll refer to him as asshole, and the girl he brought with him as sluttpuppy, because she is, she left this area to go to Vegas got picked up for prostitution and who knows what else, and convinced asshole to buy her a bus ticket home and she’d be his girlfriend…which led asshole to convince dad to spent the near $400.

Then there’s the middle one. His worst problem is he’s just had some bad luck, he gets a job, gets laid off, not fired mind you, laid off. But he’s always been there if I’ve needed him, and rarely asks for help, when he does it’s paid back as soon as he can.

Finally, the Baby. He has 2 babies of his own but there’s all sorts of drama there I’ll touch upon in another post soon enough. The main point is 2 days before I had taken off work to take him to court regarding that situation and afterward made several plans to help him get things together to work this out.

So it’s Saturday and Asshole, Sluttpuppy, Middle brother and girlfriend, and Baby and his girlfriend (I’m going to have to make a separate post about these girls) all arrive and swarm us. Asshole keeps snagging beers out of Dad’s bucket, which is pissing me off. Slutpuppy is off flirting with various other men. Middle and his girl and their couple of other friends are having a good time, and Baby and his girlfriend are sort of milling around in between. This doesn’t sound like a big deal but it made things feel very crowded. Especially since I won’t speak to Asshole and Slutpuppy, and had already been doing some baby sitting of drunks with some other friends earlier in the night.

As the night wore on I slowed then pretty much stopped drinking all together because there was too much going on and I didn’t need to get foggy, Dad stepped outside to talk to Red Riding Hood, another bar slag, who he’s known for years, because she was doing the whole pity me, I have no friends shit, Dawnie got upset when she found out because when they’re drunk Dad and Dawnie thing they have a thing for each other, truth is it’s because they -CAN’T- do anything about it that they even think that.

After getting that situation squared away, I stepped outside with the girlfriend of the Middle and Baby, just to get out of the smoke and noise, Baby was out there with us and ended up admitting he had been doing drugs that very day. I lost my cool, because I had forgone some things, a full day of work, gas money, lunch money,…To take him to court, to support him, to stand behind him..And he couldn’t even manage to go 2 days? I told him then don’t ask me for anything more since you can’t even do this much for yourself…

He got pissed about that.

Finally I had had enough and got Dawnie to agree to leave and took her home, thoroughly disgruntled, annoyed, tired,…

Dawnie though it was her fault, that I was tired of her…And now I realize it’s not that she’s right but she’s not exactly wrong.

I’m tired of being the social and emotional crutch. Dad uses me in place of my mom to hang out with as much as he can, in fact, though it’s a strong compliment, can’t stop from telling everyone far and wide how much I’m like my mom. Dad uses Dawnie for the emotional crutch so he doesn’t have to consider actually trusting and loving someone else because he doesn’t know if he wants to but he is lonely. He uses paying for everything, protecting and babying Asshole and Baby to keep him from facing the mess he’s made for himself.

Dawnie, she used to have a more active social life, but when she had a surprise 4th monster that had to slow down understandably, and she never managed to get back into the swing of things. I think she got lazy and then scared of taking the chance…Now I’m her only local friend. So every weekend she needs a break from the house  the kids and all, so she looks to me.

My weekends used to be get up on Saturday, do the bills and fluff around on the computer for an hour or so, wake the sleeping Poppabear, go get groceries and some lunch, come home unpack, and hang out. Hanging out might include going to Dawnie’s or her coming over here, or going out with my dad, sort of a rotating schedule. Now, it doesn’t run as smoothly and all I feel like I’m doing is the running and the babysitting.

So last weekend, everyone KNEW I had been upset by the weekend before and understood that I wasn’t doing anything.  This weekend though,…I think they all expect me to go back to the way it was…But even though last weekend was a lot of running around, I still didn’t feel as angry at the end of it. So Dad’s already kinda tried to see if I’m planning anything, Dawnie hasn’t but I think she might understand intuitively that I’m  out of juice…And I don’t intend to plan anything. I -might- convince Poppabear to go with me somewhere tonight so I can play a game of pool or two,  but other than that…No, I’m doing everything on my schedule and my whim this time and probably for a while here on out…

I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But I know eventually everyones going to want to know why…

I’m tired of being the crutch, I need some semblance of ME back.

I realized a long time ago that I was a sharp tongued shrewish type.

I don’t particularly care for most people and I don’t have a lot of patience.

Despite this, I have made a few close friends in my life.  Poppabear, Dawn, the kids…

As you’ve heard things have been tough, not terrible but tough in the last year or so.  And I had thought Poppabear and I had been doing fairly well at holding on to each other.  But I realized occassionally, I was not keeping up my end of the relationship, that I had withdrawn a bit, the stress of everything wore me down as much as it would wear on anyone.

So today I decided to do a few things, I bought Poppa bear a just because gift, and myself something to help me with another problem I’ve had.

I texted the man about an event today that I thought he should take the baby bear to.  Nothing in return.  Realized later that a friend of his has a birthday today.  Called his cell to inform him, no answer…called the house phone, thinking he’d left his phone turned off, a very common thing for him.  He called be back on his cell while that phone was in mid-ring and demaneded, in the tone of you’ve woken me up from a nap ”What do you want” I didn’t mention the text message, just about the friends birthday and suggested he go grab a gift, the friends house is on the way home from work for me so we could drop off said gift.

He gave me the ‘fine alright whatever’ brush off and as he proceeded to hang up I heard his angry plaintive whining “Fuck just leave me alone!”

I realized this has been happening, almost constantly over the last few months.  He resents any of my suggestions about what to do during the day to keep active, to keep his spirits up,…Because I did spend 6 years at home,…but that was by CHOICE.  His at home time didn’t begin as a choice.  Unfortunately, the Poppa bear has become discouraged I think, dispirited, whether he wants to admit it or not.  He’s getting comfortable being relatively lazy, though if I said that he’d fly off into a rage about me being so cruel.  I admit to being a perfectionist.  With he and I both working, we had a menu planned for the week, and chores divided…And we kept things together.  When I stayed home full time, Poppa bears jobs usually involved lugging heavy things, and taking out the trash or helping me reach those things I couldn’t.

With him home full time, I truly thinks he means to do things…and some days he does.  Dinner for instance is certainly one consistency of his.  But slowly our house descends, time and time again into relative trashiness.  I took pride in having a neatened up house when he got home, because he worked so hard for us…I wasn’t perfect, by no means.  But the pride he shows is only sporadic and I don’t think it’s because I don’t compliment him.

He and the baby bear both, have gotten so lazy and complacent this summer…its heartbreaking to see my dear poppa bear act like it doesn’t matter if he gets a job or not he’ll just ‘wait till something comes along’ I agreed to this originally because of the kiddo being out of school for the summer and now I think it was a drastic mistake on my part, that I didn’t push and support him enough.

All I know is that over the last several months I’ve found myself ANGRY with him,  and trying to quiet that anger, that some of it’s irrational irritation, not real anger.  But his repeated temper tantrums, the sullen attitude, the daily schedule that reminds me more of a 15 year old left to his own devices during the summer…the more I wonder where the strong man I married went to and how he let other people tear him down to the point that he lost faith in himself.

I’m angry and hurt and I don’t know how to help.

I don’t want the perfect life, that would be boring.

But I do wonder what karmic god or entity I’ve gone and pissed off so I can send a fruit bouquet in apology, and a pretty little card telling them where to stick it.

Poppabear and I bought a house 2 years ago, it wasn’t the best house, we knew that.

Within the first 6 months, we found the roof leaked, several windows leaked, the basement leaked….

We fixed the roof, finally, even with Poppa still looking for work, replaced a few of the windows, and are still fighting with the basement.  Recently it began raining from the pipes, not just seeping from the walls, so we had my brother redo our entire indoor plumbing, which sounds expensive but it’s the labor that’s expensive and when it’s your out of work little brother, you can get the labour pretty cheap, the parts ran up about $200.

It’s still raining.

So we had to pay a ‘real’ plumber, because my brother just doesn’t have access to some of the fancier tools, to come out and snake the main drain, which appears to be clogged with roots.  The plumber was nice enough to charge us a nominal fee, and suggested a chemical method of fixing this, that I would never have attempted with the old plumbing, that we hope will fix the problem without us having to dig up most of our front yard and finding out where the pesky roots are and having to replace the entire pipe.

That’s all bad enough but it just keeps rolling in.

(I think this clog in the drain is some kind of cosmic comics metaphor for my life)

Dad’s been laid off as well, his son the plumber has been laid off, now unemployment is denied to dad because of a Vacation check he earned through his union that’s paid 2 times a year… so obviously this means he doesn’t need any way to support himself.

His union won’t let him have his benefits, insurance and the like, because dad only has the hospitals birth certificate not the ‘official one’….

Which takes 14 weeks to get from the state dad was born in.

Dad’s getting kicked out of his house, because the person he rents from has found a buyer, which wouldn’t be such a big deal except he’s painfully broke.

My brother in prison has no more phone minutes, or money in his account for items from the commisserary…and none of us can send him any.

My job is in jeopardy, not because of anything I’ve done but just because the market is what it is.  I don’t know what will happen then but if I do end up losing this job we’ll probably have to consider Poppa bear taking on 2 minimum wage jobs in order to make ends meet, because he’ll earn better wages at those jobs than I would and I’m better situated to manage the house and keep things together for him while he works than if I were to be the one doing it.  It’s just how we are.

I know out there there are people with lives much worse than mine, people who’ve already lost their homes, jobs, loved ones…So I’m not mired in self pity…Just dipping my big toe into the pity pool.


Anyone got a floatie and a margarita?

I will never claim to be a good person, a nice person…but I do try to be an honest person.

 Some years ago I made a friend, Dawn.  And quickly, in that way that sometimes happens, our friendship became not just aquaintances, infrequent get to-gethers, random phonecalls, but a strong welcome bond that came from being mothers, of being people with conservative hearts and optimistic ideals that would seem to be at odds with each other and yet weren’t.

She was a ‘good girl’.  She’d grown up in a whole home, in a sheltered but loving environment.  Bad things had sadly happened to her, changed certain things about her but through that she had overall overcome them and become a strong viable adult.  She married her highschool sweetheart, her only sweetheart, and embarked upon the life of an adult.

When I met her, she was a relatively happy person, granted at the time their finances were in shambles but they were working to fix that - a common downfall of many of our generation and certainly nothing to be ashamed of-, they had three kids, and a fairly good life. 

And during the infancy of our relationship, I learned that her husband, while an exemplary provider…had taken a rather distant view of family life as a whole.  He was a sporty type guy, a real ‘man’s man’ and his boys were…a bit bookish, quieter,…different.  And his wife, while still very attractive and who took care of herself, was wrapped up in the day to day duties of taking care of the house and kids and those challenges that came with it.  He’s not a bad sort, they just fell into a pattern, he managed the money in his own fashion, went to work…and took care of most anything that involved ‘outside of the house’ contact.  Not because he sought to isolate her, I don’t think that in any way.  Dawn was dealing with unique challenges, one of her sons showed signs of Autism early on and with two other very young children, she was understandably consumed by these things.

 Unfortunately, it appears that these two grew apart without even realizing it.  The sacrifices they made were not only necessary but sometimes were made because they were easier than the work it takes to maintain a relationship to a certain standard when so many outward forces get in the way.  This trend has continued.  At one point several years ago, a few before we met, she sought assistance for her depression and rather than counseling, the MD gave her medications, which she later went off of due to the muffled dead feeling it laid upon her emotions.

When Dawn and I began our friendship, it easily morphed into a very constant companionship, we lived very close to one another and at the time were both stay-at-home moms.  When I went back into the work-force it changed, but only slightly, we could always make time daily to get together, for a quick cup of coffe, or even just a smoke break.  I began to get to know her eldest son, he was roughly 10 at the time…and I was frusterated, appalled, at the disregard he showed his mom, how he’d argue with her…and the tired beaten look on her face each time, she felt powerless and tired to really push the issue.  Generally this was because this is how she felt in dealing with her husband as well because she didn’t approach things as they were happening, she bottled it in (I’ve learned this is her usual coping method) rather than confront it openly and with suggestions on solutions, until she exploded, and then the confrontation would become more about her approach than the problem itself.

So, as a die-hard proponent of treating your parents with respect, and doing what you’re told, I would often step in, joking or even sharply and remind him that he was the kid, she was the parent and he should get to it.  This made him despise me initially, but at least it quelched the problem at least in front of me.  When he struck up a friendship with Poppabear, this change in attitude began to bleed into the normal day to day interactions…sometimes…at least, remember he’s now a teenage boy and still has the dismissive example of his dad.  Since then we’ve become friends and he is often a guest in our home and our outings.

I had hoped, vainly, as if I were important, that my advice on maintaining control over her kids, my examples…would help her take control in a situation that had so obviously overwhelmed her and compounded the clinical depression bouts that randomly desceneded on her.  Unfortunately, over the years, and as much as we enjoyed it, my time with her I think began to take the place of the companionship that she desperately needed from her husband.

I know I fell in love with her, and while she claimed the same sort of love for me, it was more the interest I showed in her, the time I spent with her that she loved, not me in a romantic sense.

Dawn had the unexpected surprise of a 4th child, and at first she avoided telling me, because she knew Mommabear was doomed to not have any more cubs.  We got past that I thought (though months later she admitted to completely hiding her baby-shower from me, thinking I would embarrass her in front of her ‘other friends’ or that my own jealousy would infect the festivities.  We discussed that and moved on, I was hurt but could see her point.)  During the pregnancy were the usual if higher spiking than normal hormonal rages and crying fits, the tiredness and so forth.  After there was the letdowns of postpartum depression that never really seemed to go away.

In the year leading up to the pregnancy, and during it, and afterwards, the signs were there…I missed them, her husband missed them, and she missed them.  She was slipping deeper into a heavy depression but felt powerless to do anything about it.  After the baby was born and life began a semblence of routine…it didn’t get better and the routine went awry…She was still a dillegent mother, making lunches, washing clothes, keeping house…but she felt hemmed in, boxed in.  Again I always tried to inject something ‘new’ a movie, tv show,.. recipe,…thinking I was doing the right thing.  And I was except I was the only outlet she’d found, and I didn’t do the right thing and encourage her to find others.  I was selfish with her attentions and enjoyments, I enjoyed showing them to her, spending time with her.

2 years ago there was a change in residences, common during the last of the house market boom.  If the evidence wasn’t there before, it very soon became glaring.  The frequent ‘naps’ that you didn’t begrudge her…she was after all running a very full house, became hours long dead spaces on the couch.  The baby, now quickly becoming a toddler, has the run of the house, of her own schedule, and most of all, what she will and won’t eat and when.  She badgers her mother, tantrums, screaming, …and simply being told no gains an angry response from the child.  Dawn simply moves forward and gives in, because it’s easier.

About a year ago, Dawn began to spiral, her moods were almost always black, depressed, angry, jittery, …unahppy.  And finally, finally, she made a scene that caught her husbands attention.  He navigated the insurance company and found a psychologist nearby and she began seeing this woman.  Dawn chose to go only once a month, and almost immediently also chose and accepted the referral to a psychiatrist to gain medication to help her get started on the path of recovery, to gain a modicum of calm inside herself as she sought to work forward with this.

Unfortunately, initially the medications were almost worse, she became manic, high frantic ups followed by sluggish heavy downs…and meds were adjusted, added, changed….

And this is where I would like to say that she began the slow, painful but rewarding and freeing path of recovery.  I can’t lie thoug.


Dawn hasn’t gotten better, I think she needs to make an effort to see her counselor at least every other week, because she bottles so much up in between sessions that she’s exploding the topical stuff each time but not really examining the roots…maybe she doesn’t want to.  I think at least the current medications are not the right ones for her.  I have watched her life, her family, and how they all act…She has no authority in her home, in her life, over her children…Her husband isn’t a bad sort but they’ve made it easy on each other for this to become the norm.  He loves her, but since she does everything he wants, bows to his likes/dislikes, and is always there to watch the kids, he can pretty much do what he pleases, he is the breadwinner after all.  And she keeps going, slowly letting her attention to the house and her children erode to the point of merely getting through the day…each day is a bad day, a blah day, nothing is worth looking forward to…

 She’s not a bad person, and I don’t think badly of her.

I finally told her today that I couldn’t help her anymore, that I was her friend, that I am here for her, but that the time we spend together needs to be pushed back, limited because I feel frusterated, that she wants help, wants opinions, wants advice, but never follows through, I related a direct situation this weekend, where I had attempted to instill a boundary with her youngest, who had been told she couldn’t have a treat and proceeded to throw a tantrum about it.  Dawn sat back and let me…and then 10 minutes later refuted it by giving the child precisely the treat SHE had denied in the beginning.   I told her how I felt like I was a band-aid for the time she needed to spend, and the things she needed to do with her husband.  That I was a panacea and an escape from the things in her home and life that she didn’t want to put the effort forth to fix.

I also told her to find a support group, talk to her counselor more, listen to those people who were trained to help her, trained and knowledgable and with the resources to really help her….but that it all wasn’t worth shit if she wouldn’t follow through with it and do it herself.

Dawn, should you ever read this missive,…I love you and I want you happy, wherever I figure into that, but right now I am not part of this equation.


Alright, it’s no secret.  Momma likes to drink.  And more than once this has slid over into being a excessive.  However, contrary to what some might think, we’re always in good hands.

Generally, me and my little Nightengale, we go out with my dad.  Sounds funny sure, but since the original Momma Bear passed on, we’ve been his best bar buddies.  We always have a driver, and we’re always in the same safe place.

A few weeks back, dad was off fishing so it was just us girls.  We decided to be brave and go down to the watering hole by ourselves.  Should’ve known it’d be a disaster.

Little Red Head Susie was already in a fistfight or trying to be.  Her and her on again/off again boyfriend were tussling as Susie tried to get to the chubby blonde over on the other side of the room.  The blonde’s male companion was either Susie’s ex boyfriend or a friend’s ex… I’m not real sure.

I grabbed on to Susie, who for all intents and purposes, might as well be called my Aunt.  Tried to get everyone to just get over it, have a drink, move on.

This left me spending the next few hours babysitting a fired up and more than drunk Susie, until (name witheld) “Mother F*cking” (Name witheld) -no really, that’s how he introduces himself- took over Susie duty.  For a while this worked then some how one of them got started again.

Finally, I was standing down by the bar and this blonde comes charging at me.  I might have outweighed her, hard to say, but I threw her back the first time, she said she wasn’t trying for me, I pointed out my chunky ass was in the way and the response was “Yeah your chunky ass”…the second time she got inside my guard and I managed to hold her back before the spastic little red head managed to grab her by the hair and drag her back and then others stepped in and calmed everything down….

What the bloody hell?!?!?

I can scrap, don’t misunderstand that I’m even complaining about that.  But it wasn’t my fight, I’m not even sure anyone could have said WHY the fight started.  And let’s point out, she came at me, not the other way around.  I hadn’t talked to her all night except a few ‘Come on ladies, drop it” type thing. 


I’ve occassionally been drunk enough to want to take someone on, but I’m not very often an angry drinker, both of the times my Nightengale was there and she confirms that while I did get belligerent, I was also severely goaded into getting angry.  But not blind drunk stupid to the point that I attack a person I don’t even know, like a charging bull. 

But ironically…it comes down to blood.  That bar runs in my veins, and to date all of us kids, including our parents, we’ve all been involved in altercations there.  And so far, each time, we weren’t the original combatants!

Dad’s protected more than one person, including the bartender from serious harm by drunk gang-ups.

Brothers have randomly been involved in verbal and sometimes physical confrontations that involve people pushing up on weaker people and causing trouble.

And up until that night I could say I’d never been in a physical confrontation in that bar.

The truth of the matter is however,…I held back.  I avoided actually hitting this woman.  Pushed her back, yes, held her back, indeed.  But I conciously avoided hitting her.  Why?

Because I knew her, though she didn’t know me.  I knew her from some years ago, I knew her daughter, went to school with her, and she was older than me. You could classify her as ‘Mom’ age for me.  I might not have been raised perfectly right, all the manners and good breeding…but I couldn’t do it.  Maybe if she’d come at me again…that would have been fair provocation.  But initially,…I just couldn’t.

Later that night someone gave me kudo’s for that, someone who’s opinion in that type of situation really meant something….

I’m not sure I did the right thing however…Shoulda knocked her head off!

Recently, the youngest of our little band of cubs aquired a girlfriend.  This happened to be the cousin of his best friends ex girlfriend.  Dontcha love highschool?

First warning sign:  He can’t call her, she has to call him because she can’t tell her dad about them.

Excuse me?  This guy, we’ll call him Doc, he’s a pretty good kid.  And her parents know she’s had a boyfriend in the past.  So what did our little lolita do to bring down the wrath of dad so that she has to hide her new, well within acceptable dating range, and certainly better behaved than most boys his age, boyfriend?

No clue.  This rough little one-sided relationship goes on for a few months and then…. Dum Dum Dum

She dumps him.

Now I’ve watched a few of my cubs go through break-ups,  I’ve watched them mope, whine, piss and moan.  We’ve even done our share of mopping up tears.  We love our kids but sometimes our boys make the same bad choices over and over again.

Through the magic that is Facebook, I got my youngest one to talking, he tells me what the girl did, what she said, her supposed reasoning.  And then, to my amazement, he takes the long view.

Sure, he says a few uncomplimentary things, blames himself a bit.  Listens when Momma Bear snipes on the girl a bit, looking to make him smile.

And then he tells me about his master stroke:

Him:  So was this entire thing just a waste of time for you?

Her: Uhm yeah….

Him:  Well then, you just totally missed the point.

}End Scene{

Coming from him, this was a brilliant retort, because of his intelligence I know how much venom was injected in that single statement.

Of course I imagine she didn’t understand the deadly insult.  I went on to point out that at this age, adolescent girls are inanely stupid and cruel, they’ll grind a guy under their heel without a backward glance.


Our final major marker of the night was us talking about his moving on, and that someday, there really will be somewhere out there for him.

The kind of girl you need is like finding a wheatpenny, in a fountain with a sign on it for donations, next to the only cold soda cart in an amusement park.  Takes time.


Poppa Bear was 23 before he really dated.  Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. 


He’s not ‘boyfriendly enough’.  Alright, so he doesn’t

I could have chosen the news to pick from today.  I could have spoken of many things.

I chose family.

Momma comes from a rather fractured background.  I won’t call it unique.  My mom met my dad when she was barely 17, gave birth to me halfway through 18 and married my dad several months later, stoned and barefoot and laughing fit to bust or so the stories go.

The preacher told them it’d never last.

27 years later, till death do us part was proven true.  As was in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, and to have and to hold.

Neither of my parents are religious, my mother was an adamant atheist.  They maintained one truth between each other and that was love.  I won’t say honesty, there are lies, fibs, half truths everywhere, even you can’t say you are totally honest with yourself.

It’s an odd but proven quirk that in our family, the male bloodline is hardworking, and hard hitting.  This is not to say they are all abusive because that’s far from the truth.  But it does give a sense of the very ‘good ol boy’ mentality.  Nearly all of the men in my bloodline are to some extent are addiction ridden.  The exceptions come almost to a man, due to  the women in their lives who pluck them up and say no more.  I love you, but no more.

Sometimes it takes a few trials by fire to get there but they do get there.

My dad and mom never quite attained the same prosperity exactly,…two of the boys went on not only to successful careers, but lives with generally comfortable amenities, yet they too have had their crosses to bear.

Recently, the bearcave that we aquired a few years ago has come in dire need of some repairs, major repairs.

Home owners insurance of course is a rip-off we are are legally bound to maintain and when the time came due, it didn’t give us a lot to work with.  So we made the best of it by using a company that made us feel like we were pulling teeth to get things accomplished.

Still, more work was required but the coin was not there to do it.  Finally, one of my uncles, and how they got on to this conversation I have no idea, had my dad bring him up and within 15 minutes he had quoted me a price, well below the ‘professionals’ and two days later, he arrived, complete with tools.



I stopped him before he could do more than unload and said how about another day.

You see lovelies, despite the bad blood, despite the possible disasters…this man came through for one of his own.

More than I can say for people in general.



So Mommabear had a restless night last night.

Coudln’t sleep.  Threw Poppabear into a right tizzy.  He was like a nervous jack russell terrier, kept coming out of the bedroom and checking on me.  He said it felt wierd for me to be the one up so late.

 I was awake till about 2AM which for the Momma on a non-partying night, its bizarre.

So I got up this morning to check on the news and most of it was the usual slog through about war and terror.  And then this headline caught me:

Caught on Video:  Whales steal fish!

Sneaky little sperm whales have been stealing from fishing lines!   I love it.  I mean we know that animals steal food, it’s survival of the fittest obviously. 

But really, to know that they are stealing fish off lines?  It’s brilliant.  We keep pushing the boundaries and seeing how much we can take.


Mother Nature’s a bitch and taking it back.


I had avoided discussing this topic until this morning when Baby Bear happened to be in the living room as the news mentioned the man-hunt for the mother and her 13 year old son who were now on the run.

The crux is this.  The son has Hodgkins Lymphoma, a disease generally considered curable so long as it’s caught early and treated.  Roughly a year ago if the time lines in the stories are right, this boy underwent a single treatment of chemotherapy and saw an improvement in his health and shrinkage of the tumor.

It is at this point that the story gets murky.  The mother, who now tells the judges she ‘always’ uses natural remedies, stops chemotherapy after that treatment.  You see they are catholic by faith, but followers of  an offshoot of supposedly native american shaman/medicine men who use all natural diet supplements, and ionized water to heal diseases (Show me Geronimo’s or Sitting Bulls Ionized water treatment facility).

I’m not against natural remedies.  I’m a firm believer in honey and lemon in your tea, fennel and ginger helping your digestive tract and many other pallative, preventive, and complimentary aids.

The judge was fair and impartial, he subjected the parents to take the boy to an oncologist, be re-evaluated and report the findings to the court.  It had been roughly a year since the first chemo treatment and since then the boy had been using natural remedies.  During the initial hearing the mother insisted her son understood his disease, and all the implications, as well as being a medicine man within the native americans.


I’m not stupid people.  Native Americans had rites of passage and training before one could become a medicine man and a thirteen year old boy doesn’t qualify.  Let me also point out that this boy ‘who fully understands the medical situation and has made this decision himself’ has a severe learning disability and cannot at this time read and is home schooled, and noone is sure of his actual level of intelligence and understanding.

The results came back to show that the tumor had increased in size and the over-all prognosis was poor.   He once again was experiencing pain and difficulty breathing on the side of the chest where his tumor was.  Unfortunately, the hearing that these results were revealed, was missing two important members of the defence.  The mother and her son.

I am a firm believer in faith, in belief, in healing, and in unconditional love.  But not in stupidity.  There is a point that to me as a human, as a parent, I have to believe that whatever deity you choose, has chosen to grant us the scientific ability to create cures for such things for a reason.  Prayer is prayer but just because you pray for the rent money to appear in front of your feet doesn’t mean it’s going to happen,…it means you pray for the way to be shown and then take that phone call, open that e-mail, fill out that resume or application…that nets you the job.

Give a man a fish, you feed him for a meal, teach a man to fish and you teach him to feed himself and his family for life.

Beyond that, there are many people claiming that the judge is trodding on this woman’s religion.  Her professed RELIGION is Catholic.  The judge is not ruling on religion or belief or faith.  He is ruling that the adult guardian of a 13 year old boy, has chosen to completely go against impartial scientific evidence to improve and prolong the health of this boy as well as his life, for unregulated and unproven treatements that are at this time currently strongly warned against by the FDA as unproven. 

I am sorry but the mother is being irresponsible in not only choosing to forgo medical treatment, and I think this involving any parent/child relationship where the parents are damaging the health of the child, but also by flouting the ‘law of the land’ in such a dangerous method.




Recently, the Baby Bear got old enough that it was time for Momma to let her have a bit of freedom.  Not much mind you, stories like the one above make me wary.

Baby Bear is an intelligent girl but she’s still a girl, a kid, with a kids trust and mentality.  Why should I not think that this sort of thing could happen to her?  Proponents of leniency often say if we taught our daughters their self worth better, they’d known better.


I was a fairly streetwise kid, I knew usually when I was being pegged as a patsy, or flattered outrageously.  Didn’t stop me from being swept into a short stormy and shameful relationship with an older man at the age of 14.

 You could say it wasn’t child molestation, since technically I went along with it.  I knew up front what he was offering, I even knew it wasn’t the right thing to do.  But this man flattered me, treated me nicely, and at the beginning of sexual awareness,…made me feel wanted, special,…and very very wrong.  Once the deed was done…That very day, I was forced into a day long shopping trip, involving this man’s own wife.

 I looked into her eyes and realized *I* was the one in the wrong.  I had abused her trust, her friendship, by doing what I had done.  Despite all the terrible things about her he had told me, about how she berated him - which from close association, I knew to be at least mostly true- about her frigidity in the bedroom, about how a man has ‘needs’ and she constantly used that as a weapon….All of these things were probably marginally true. I knew the woman after all…It didn’t change that I had wronged her.


I ended the relationship, immediently, discreetly… He came by one evening, my best friend was in the house behind me, she knew all, and he kept saying how he wanted to kiss me like I should be kissed, wanted to show me how special I was…But this time I was armed with my own guilt and was able to tell him no.

I did the righ thing?  No, the right thing would have been to tell the truth to those who should have heard it so there would be no other victims.  The right thing would have been to never let it happen.  But when you are a young girl, someone older, smoother, feeding into your self esteem…you want to believe you are that special.


Unfortunately, we’re bred to believe that that being special comes from the regard other people hold for us…Girls ARE raised to believe that sexuality and admiration are the hallmarks. the benchmarks, of our worth.  I know now it’s not true and yet even my head can be momentarily turned if someone delivers a salvo done just right. 

I suppose I don’t have a direct point, this is more  a sad lament.  Baby Bear is growing up in a world just as perverse as the one I did, the same pitfalls, the same dangers, however in her case they come with a more faceless, palatable engine, the internet and social networking, sexting, all of these make the wide morass of danger even more frightening.

All I can do is make her aware of the dangers, make her aware of her own self worth…and pray. 


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