Enough Is Enough

I ran across a notice that our newspaper along with many others throughout the state are devoting the front page of Thursday's paper to an editorial on the budget impass. It jogged my memory that a little less than a year ago I introduced my family to the powers that be in the State of Illinois for the same antics that are still ongoing (you can see my post here Get It Together ). I may not have a front page of a newspaper to dedicate to an editorial, but I do have an opinion on our situation.

Governor Rauner:

You are failing. You are choosing to put your energy into fights that are going nowhere fast. You had and have the opportunity to help correct the budgetary issues in our state. You could have accomplished much in leading our state in a new direction, but instead of taking an approach that could accomplish that, you have tried to strong arm your way through. It's not working. As a Republican, you are hurting the party. As a leader you are dividing, threatening, and quite frankly using corrosion in an attempt to get your way. Unfortunately, you're proving that you too are just as corrupt as those that preceded you.

Now you're choosing to try to continue to blame state employees and quite frankly screw them for the budget issues. Let's call a spade a spade shall we? It's not the state employees fault that the Legislature failed to do their job. They failed to make a budget. They've failed for years to fund pensions. These are failures that the employees are not responsible for. Now you're failing. You're failing to compromise. The strong arm approach will in no way benefit our state. If you push to a strike, who wins? You? The employees? Those losing services? Families? No, we all lose. Swallow your pride. Realize that this isn't some trophy for you to hang on your wall or another notch on your belt of accomplishments. These are REAL people and REAL lives that you're affecting.

I realize that compromise is a necessity from both sides and I don't take that for granted. As a leader, you have a duty to set an example. To be in the forefront of situation and work for the good of all involved. Honestly your approach isn't one that exemplifies the traits of a good leader.

Members of the House and Senate:

Stop. Just stop. Stop falling lock step with your party. It's embarrassing. You're not there to fall in line. You're there to represent. Do that. Represent your constituents without fear of what will be taken from you by your party leaders. We didn't elect you to represent them or your own interests, we elected you to represent us. You're not. You're failing and failing miserably.  As a whole you too are embarrassing. You too should be ashamed of yourselves.

Your failure to reach a budget because of your pride, your corruption, your fears of those higher up than you is utterly ridiculous. You have went one entire year without a budget. You stand to have schools shut down, people laid off, and a state (which you are supposed to proudly represent) in shambles.

As an elected official, I would be embarrassed to have my name hanging on a door that I've failed so miserably to fulfill my obligations to. Your names hang on the State of Illinois as representation of the citizens you're supposed to represent. Again, REAL people, REAL lives your affecting.

At this point, I'd like to reintroduce you to the family that's going to be hurt by the failures of the elite. I introduced them a year ago, but just in case you forgot, I'd like to remind you. Again, please feel free to share with your colleagues so that they can see the REAL people that your failures affect.

Maui, age 8. She will be starting third grade this fall. She loves art, soccer, swimming, Star Wars, and playing with her sisters. She's smart, fearless, beautiful from the inside out and loves Jesus with all her heart.

Brylynn, age 2. She has just started coming into her own. She has the best personality and facial expressions that you'll ever find. She is smart as a whip, beautiful, loves Mickey Mouse, Bubble Guppies, and Star Wars Rebels (mostly because her big sister does). She's a free spirit and marches to her own beat. She recently decided that she loves to go swimming.

Aspen, age 18 months. She's a little chatter box. She loves to give kisses and is a social butterfly. She's our little wanderer. She's silly, beautiful, and sweet. She has no fear and loves to be read to much like all of her sisters. She loves playing in the sand and water.

Afton, age 18 months. She's determined. She always is on a mission and won't stop until she gets it done. She gives the best hugs, won't go unnoticed, is beautiful, and oh so funny. She loves to slide and go on four wheeler rides.

Rob, age 42. He's one of the many employees who's lives you're toying with. He's a great daddy and husband. Works hard and does more around the house than anyone realizes. He loves Tennessee Volunteers football and St Louis Cardinals baseball.

Holly, age 33. I'm the wife and mom to these wonderful people. I'm an elected official who tries hard to do the job I've been elected to do (yep, elected and choosing to do the job). I love my family, house hunting, Cardinals baseball, and being in the country.

 

We are a REAL family that your political games are hurting. There's thousands more. Look at us. Look at them. Look at yourself and decide. Decide if lining your pockets, protecting your pride and your position, and political maneuvering is really worth destroying families like mine.

 

Enough with the political games. Enough of your pride. Enough of your threats. Enough is enough. Do your job. You get paid and paid well to do what you're so painfully failing at. Get it together Springfield, we're depending on you.

She Gave Me Courage

This is hard to write about. In fact, the story I'm going to share, I've never shared with anyone before; not my husband, my best friend, or my mom. Why? Shame and fear of judgment.  However, the Stanford rape victim gave me the courage and reminder that I needed, that some secrets aren't meant to be kept. This is my story:

I was in college. I knew "Kenny." He was popular, fun, played sports, had an outgoing personality, and a head full of crazy hair. We had flirted.  One night at a party at a house off campus, we met up. We all were drinking and having a good time. That's about where I stopped remembering the fun or much of anything.

I remember waking up and being in an upstairs bedroom (I assume it was his). I remember him being next to me. I remember him getting on top of me. I remember telling him no. I also remember that not mattering. I didn't fight. Honestly, I don't know that I had the coordination to do so had I tried. I remember waiting for him to fall asleep after he finished so I could leave.

I went to the restroom before I left and hoped to find the tampon that I knew I had been wearing. I couldn't.  I remember going down the stairs in the dawn hours and trying to reorient myself with where I was so I could walk back to my dorm room. I remember my pants being wet between my legs. I remember being cold. I remember hoping I could walk fast enough that no one would see me. I remember being embarrassed at the thought of someone seeing me like that; hungover, dirty, blood soaked, cold, disoriented.

It took two day before I found the tampon that I knew I had been wearing. Thank God I didn't get TSS from it being in me for that long. Yes, two days it took for my body to expel it because someone had sex with me after I said no. I never said anything to anyone.

Blackburn was a small campus so it's not like I never saw "Kenny." We hung out with some of the same people. I acted like everything was ok and so did he. People thought we'd slept together, I never corrected them with the truth.  I've never forgotten the truth about that night though.

That's my story. Why didn't I ever say anything? There are many reasons. I felt embarrassed. I tried to justify it by asking myself "if I hadn't been drunk and on my period would I have had sex with him had the opportunity been there?" and the answer would have probably been yes. I chalked it up to me having too much to drink. Those are all problems. The truth is, it didn't matter what excuse I came up with to try to justify his actions, he was wrong. I said no.

People that know me will probably have a hard time believing that I let this sleeping dog lie. I'm more of a fight for yourself and stand up for what you believe in kind of person, not the keep things quite to protect someone else type. So why now? Why share this story from fourteen years ago now? I have nothing to gain from it.

The answer is easy and it took the courage of another person to remind me. I did nothing wrong. I have a right to say no and have that matter. I hope that by me sharing my story that some other girl/woman out there has the courage to share hers and not hold it as a secret that stirs in the back corners of her mind for years. I hope that she in fact, never keeps it a secret, but rather speaks out as soon as it happens.

I hope that boys/men hear that no matter what state someone is in, if she says no, it means no.  I hope that we can rise up as a society and not justify the actions of the one that violated someone else. I hope that we can stop questioning the characteristics of the victim and the situations that "she put herself in." I hope that we can stop changing the way we see and judge rape victims. I'm guessing that when you look at me, that's not what you see. That's not what I want you too see. But that doesn't change the fact that that's what I am.

To the beautiful Stanford rape victim, thank you. Thank you for being courageous enough to tell your story. Thank you for reminding me of my worth.  Thank you for reminding me that though I may have made poor choices that evening, it still doesn't make what happened to me right. Thank you for giving me the courage to speak out against something that I should have never kept hidden.

To the other women out there, don't be like me. Don't keep it hidden. Speak out. Be an advocate. Do it so it doesn't happen to someone else. Men aren't entitled to our bodies just because we've had too much to drink. Don't let that sense of entitlement continue to win.

It's a Sweet, Sweet Mess

Around this house summer seems to be full of firsts for us. Firsts often come with messes.

We were married in late May 2005, close enough to summer for me. Honestly, it was a mess. From fights (hello Jerry Springer), to theft (hello Judge Judy), the church catching fire (thankfully after we were all gone), and the sewer backing up into our basement the next day. Yep, it was all a mess. We seriously contemplated a fast annulment, life seemed to be easier prior to our wedding.

Thankfully we stuck it out and for the most part can laugh about those not so great firsts now. They were hard. They were a mess, but they were lessons that we could make it through the rough spots. In that mess, that sweet, sweet mess, we found a stronger love. Love that led us to some of the first that we take for granted and overlook.

Shortly after we got married we lost our dog. That was a tough loss for us. We had no children, Oliver was pretty much the light of our world. One of the first things I talked Rob into (against his better judgment) was Oliver. He taught us the hard loss of losing something you love.  It was hard to find the sweetness in that mess. There was a void. My lab that wouldn't let Rob hug me because he was so protective was gone. It hurt. Together we faced that first major loss in our lives together. It too was hard, but looking back I can see the sweetness that was us being there for each other.

Late that summer we got Tanner. The tiny little runt that we rescued, is now a seventy pound baby. He's eleven years old and loved by the girls in this house something fierce. Lovingly called Bubba by the kiddos, he's started making messes that three kids ago would have never happened.  I can only chalk it up to he went from being our only baby that got DQ ice cream almost every other night, to barely getting a quarter of the attention that he was used to. The garbage is not really a sweet mess. It does however send me a reminder that this sweet boy is only ours for a short time. Though the mess he sometimes makes isn't sweet, he is and I need to remember to throw some attention his way because we couldn't have gotten a better "Bubba" for our girls.

This past weekend we took the little kids to Tuscola and played at the park. I remember how excited Aspen and Afton were when they accomplished climbing up the big stairs and going down the slide. How excited Bry was climbing the rock wall by herself, and the huge grins that each of them had. Those are sweet firsts. It made me reminisce to those same things when Maui was little, and more recently her climbing to the top of trees and her smiles of accomplishment.

Afterwards we hit one of our favorite ice cream spots. We got each of the girls their own cones. That was a mess. A BIG mess. The twins left trails of ice cream everywhere they went, stealing hearts along the way. I loved watching how each one of them ate their cones and how much it was an indication of their personality. Brylynn is very meticulous in eating her cone, wiping her mouth after each go round, not liking the sticky feeling on her hands. Aspen dove in face first, enjoying every bite, dipping fries in her cone just to make sure it's good on everything. Afton scooped the ice cream out with her hands because she's a go getter like that. They were the definition of a sweet mess! The looks of happiness totally made that mess worth it. These firsts made me flashback to Maui around the same age and she preferred to eat her cones upside down, cone first.  Sweet messes, sweet memories.

 

 

 

The messes in life aren't always pretty (remember What I Learned from a doughnut). But I'm certain somewhere in all of this, I have the opportunity to remember that it's a sweet, sweet mess, and it's only mine for a little while. So we're going to play in the rain fully clothed, eat our ice cream upside down, and love each other through the ups and downs. Yep, it's a mess, and I'm gonna love every sticky face and soggy bottom I can...

 

 

It's a sweet, sweet mess, and I'm beyond thankful that God let it be mine!