Rambly ramblings that have no connection at all

I always wait outside the Beaumont rec center for Grace after her dance class. I park right in front of the fire hydrant because that is the only space available where she can see me. I figure you can park by a fire hydrant if you are in the car but I have to admit I feel a little uneasy about it since it's directly across the street from the fire station. Last week Grace came out looking visible unhappy. I asked her what was wrong and she told me she didn't want to talk about it. Then I was really curious so I told her I'm the mom and she has to tell me all! No, I gently cajoled it out of her. She said she was walking out of her class, looking at the recital pictures they had been given in class. A boy walked by her, who she guessed was twelve, looked right at her, then the pictures and said, "You look like a bitch." She was crying by the time she told me this. My first thought was to walk back in to the rec center, have her point this boy out to me so I could start hitting him about the head repeatedly. Instead I consoled her, told her she was in no way a "bitch" and then told her that, "boys are jerks." Coincidentally, at this week's parent teacher conferences, a mother informed me that her daughter had been called a bitch by a boy in school. She was quite upset because of the misogynist connotations this word has. I'm sure the little boy had no idea what the word meant (that's what I tell myself) but I thought it was sad, that boys just seem to throw this word out now. It made me also think of the world our girls are growing up in and that I'm sure this isn't the first time they'll be put down by a man. I want a lot of things for my girls but something I really don't want, is for them to think it's okay to be belittled, harassed or controlled by a man. I want them to stay away from anyone who would think it was okay to call a woman a bitch.

Today I went to Relief Society (church) which is a big deal for me because I've been skipping it a lot. It's my own fault but I don't feel like I know many people and honestly, it's really hard for me to sit for three hours. Adult onset ADD? It was a really good lesson today about serving others and how serving or being served has affected our lives. I felt like there were a couple of times where the teacher asked questions that I thought I had an excellent answer/example for. I told myself, "Don't do it! You'll start crying and no one knows you so why would they want to hear from you." I'm really good about giving myself these kind of positive talks. Her final question was "Do all acts of service have to be big? What are some small or simple acts of service you can render?" I immediately thought of my visiting teachers (women in the church assigned to visit/look after you) I had when Evie was born. How they claimed they just didn't know what to do for me, so they did nothing and how devastating that was for me. So I decided I could share this with out getting too worked up. I also thought it was really important for people to know that you don't have to do anything big when someone suffers a tragedy. They just want to know that you care and are sorry. Especially when a miscarriage or stillbirth is involved, they want people to know it's the loss of a child, a dream of what could have been and it hurts. So I raise my hand and start to tell the story, I'm doing okay at first but when I say "I had a baby die at 20 weeks", I start crying. When I get to the part where I say, "All I wanted them to say was, I'm sorry." I'm crying so hard, but trying to control it, that I'm making weird squeaking noises and shaking. The room is silent, and I feel like everyone is staring at me. The teacher kindly thanks me, says something I don't hear, and I bolt out of the room. Luckily I was sitting right by the door. I grab the kids out of Sunday School and get the hell out of there. I feel like an idiot, because in my mind, I sounded like a complete lunatic. I settle down but still regret opening up. A couple of hours later the doorbell rings and it's the class teacher at the door with a plate of cookies. She gives me a hug and tells me that my comment was what she was trying to get across in her lesson. She said she could tell it affected many in the room deeply and she was thankful I spoke up. I guess that made up for me feeling pretty humiliated and the cookies were really good.