Wednesday, February 22, 2012

If there were ever two girls I wanted to smack upside the head, these would be the ones.

The Internet is crazy.

The other day a couple of little girls from a high school not too far from here posted a video on the Internet that was truly sad.  You can watch it yourself if you'd like to, just like I did (unless the video is deleted again because it violates hate speech policies). 

But I'll give you a recap to save you the trouble.

Two ignorant white suburban girls go on a diatribe about how everyone at their high school is black, how they have real hair and black girls have weaves, and how the white people at their school speak like black people (while they do imitations).  The girls appear to be about 14 or 15 and clearly have no clue what sort of negative impact their statements are going to have.

And people are mad - understandably so. The stupid little girls in this video even say to the black people watching their video "Please be offended, because we are making fun of you."

I couldn't bring myself to be mad, though. Watching this video broke my heart. I was instantly sad that these girls thought it would be funny to make a video like this and post it. I feel terribly for everyone affected by it. Not just the people the video addresses, but the girls themselves. Because one day they will grow up and they'll realize how much impact words can have on other people.

But today they're just ignorant little girls who don't think past what they're going to wear tomorrow. Obviously they weren't thinking when they posted this. "Don't post this on facebook because all our friends are black." Not for long, bitches, not for long.

The saddest thing is that there are little girls all over the country, maybe all over the world, that are thinking just like this and acting just like this.  Most of them evidently have enough foresight not to record themselves and post videos, but that doesn't change the fact that there are tons of them.

I hope these girls have parents who are striking down upon them with great vengeance and furious anger (Pulp Fiction reference, check). I hope their parents are feeling waves of shock, mortification, and disappointment - because somewhere along the way they failed those girls.  They forgot to teach them that words can never really be taken back. They neglected to teach them that being different is good, that we need diversity and open minds for our world to keep improving. They never took the time to show those girls the value of stepping outside of their little box and really looking at the world around them.

I hope these little girls are learning that what they've done is gross and sad. I hope they're beginning to understand that, as they brush their real hair and show off their skinny little bodies, they're only showing how incredibly ugly they are. And if they don't understand that now - I can only hope that they will one day soon.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Parenting Fail Number #3,872 - But who's counting?

The other day I went into the bank to make one of our final cookie sale deposits for Girl Scouts. Cookie deposits are always fun because I get to walk into the bank with thousands of dollars in cash - mostly one dollar bills. Then I get to unleash my evil upon an unsuspecting teller who has to spend the next half hour with me, counting out all that cash and occasionally giving me the stink eye.

I pulled into the bank parking lot at around 3 pm with Munchkin and Goober and my ginormous wad of cash. Munchkin asked if she could stay in the car and read her book but Goober wanted to go inside in the hopes that a bank lollipop would be available. I told Munchkin she could stay in the car since it was cool and overcast and let her read her Babysitters Club book.

So Goober and I go in the bank and after a short wait in line, a poor teller who knew not what she was getting herself into, called us up.

She was a trooper, though, and just smiled and started counting. About half way through her count - we heard a loud POP, the three tellers emitted an in unison high pitched scream, and the power went out.


And I nearly passed out.

But it was not the case. The POP we heard was the backup generator's fuse blowing or something and not wimpy gun fire. So this was just a simple power outage and not a robbery.

My teller just continued counting like nothing had happened. It barely even slowed her down. 

Though, I don't know if you've ever been in a bank when the power goes out because this was a first for me. They lock it down. If you're in, you're in, if you're out, you're out. So I said to the teller "My daughter's in the car!"

And she looked a little alarmed and said "Well, how old is she?"

"She's 10!"

The teller looked at me with an eyebrow raised "She'll probably be okay, Ma'am."

And of course she was. She was happily engrossed in her book when I returned to the car a short time later and had no knowledge that any power outage had occurred. But from now on, she'll be coming in the bank to read her book in their waiting area. Lesson learned.

Friday, February 17, 2012

This year February is just a little longer than normal - Hooray for that.

Ah, February.

I have a love/hate relationship with February, that I think I've mentioned before. In the beginning of the month we're always wrapping up our Girl Scout cookie sale which always proves to be hectic. By the Superbowl Sunday my co-leader and I are usually ready to pull our hair out and put a formal ban on the words "Tagalong" and "Samoa" within our earshot.

Then we have Valentines Day, which can either be the most wonderful day or the most disappointing day, depending on our expectations. This year I was happy to pick out my own roses at the grocery store and remark on how beautiful they were every day as they opened up. Bug, still a little tender from his break-up, had moved on to another cute face and had a less than favorable response from her when he attempted to woo her with chocolate and a teddy bear on Valentines Day. Middle school can be brutal, y'all.

Rounding out the end of the month is my birthday, which has officially moved from being the happiest day of the year to another reminder of time's constant passing. I'm less than a week away to the big three five and I'll be happy when it's passed, I guess.  I wish I could be more like those people who, no matter the year, are elated when it's their day. They look forward to it, they plan it, they get excited about the attention and the gifts and the hub bub.

Don't get me wrong - I do enjoy celebrating the day with my family. I just enjoy it a little more when it's one of their birthdays we're celebrating, not mine. This year I plan on sitting on the beach with my toes buried in the sand and a cold margarita in hand, and I'll try to just look at it as a beautiful day with my family.

I do love a good margarita.