I am an extrovert. I know, I know, try to control your shock.

This morning I was thinking about how much I want to fulfill my dream of driving cross-country in an RV with seven other people. Why seven others? You need eight so you can stop at campgrounds and have euchre tournaments. Also, if you have a big group it means you are less likely to be the one attacked by a bear.

I want to pack board games, coolers full of beer and delicious food, good music, lawn chairs and sleeping bags. I want to canoe down the Colorado River, drive up the coast of California, and stop – I don’t know where – to get one of those Wall Drug bumper stickers, because I think that’s mandatory for cross-country roadtrippers.

And, I want to drag a group of people along with me.

I find comfort and safety in numbers. I like having someone to talk to, and if you want to talk and I don’t there are plenty of other people around who can listen to you. This is not me being rude, this is me being sensible.

Also, I will inevitably get injured and the group would be able to take turns caring for me so that the trip isn’t ruined for everyone all at once You’re welcome. Laughs! Memories! Concussions!

I want this trip so bad that I told my 14 year old daughter to fulfill the dream for me if something happens and I can’t do it. She’s an introvert, so it’s pretty much her dream too. Anyway, I think introversion can be remedied with a lot of chocolate, so I’m doing her a favor. I’m not saying that introverts need to be “remedied” though, because that would be rude.

Some people may think I’m crazy and other than the three people in my family who would be forced to join me, I may be hard-pressed to find four other people who would enjoy singing camp songs somewhere on the back roads of Oklahoma. Actually, we’d probably do musical theater, because Oklahoma. Duh.

So, if someday you see me traveling down the highway with eight people and a dog in a crowded RV, give me a thumbs up, because it’s exactly where I want to be. In the meantime, I’ll be sitting here all alone planning the trip.

Follow

Email

Yesterday I read another sad story about a 12 year old girl who committed suicide after being bullied on social media. My heart broke. Again. This is my bullying story:

Just after I turned seven, my mom remarried and we moved from our two-bedroom townhouse to an affluent suburb. I started 2nd grade with a classroom of children I had never met.

I remember one boy being a playground bully – picking girls up while forcing his friend to lift up their skirts. We ladies learned to wear clothing with legs and those two boys didn’t come back for 3rd grade. And, I recall someone making fun of me when I first came to school with glasses. The teacher overheard, made him apologize, and that was it.

I don’t remember ever being bullied after that.

Keep reading.

Though we didn’t have social media, there were still ample opportunities – and ammunition – for kids to pick on me, especially in my teen years. When my mom and step-dad divorced in 1985, we moved back to a two-bedroom townhouse. My friends lived in enormous homes and drove expensive cars, while I arrived at school in a ’77 Cutlass which would eject the tape cassette and launch it into the back seat if you went over 55mph.

Because of the divorce, I had to live with my older sister for my junior year of high school. I was extremely depressed and scared. In turn, I made a lot of horrendously bad decisions. Note to my daughter: THIS is why you get lectured so much. Because I was a stupid teenager. You’re welcome.

My senior year, I dated a man who was controlling, manipulative, and abusive. My friends didn’t call me dirty names, though. They gently tried to steer me in the right direction. No one made fun of me. They could have turned their backs on me, but no one did.

No one ever said anything about our tiny apartment with no air conditioning. No one ever called me poor because I had to go to work every afternoon after school. No one ever hurt my feelings or made me fell less-than.

I don’t know how to make these sad stories stop, but I know that not every school is full of bullies. My high school was full of the richest kids in town who didn’t want for anything. They weren’t snobs. They were awesome.

Maybe we should share more GOOD stories about the GOOD kids who are there to hold up people like me; a lost, frightened girl who had to grow up too fast. I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have survived those years without that support. I would not have survived.

Let’s make the stories of strength and friendship go viral. Let’s make sure that the kids who do the right thing are celebrated and that the ones who don’t, aren’t. We can’t stop telling the tales of those who were bullied, but we can start sharing more stories about the ones who weren’t.

What do you say? Are you with me?

Follow

Email

I read this post today and I feel the need to tell Heather that she is not alone in her imperfection and that her flaws are what make her human. We are not just our Facebook photos or Pinterest boards. We are real people with real issues. I could write a series of blog posts on medical bills alone. Also, zits at 42. I could tell you all about that.

So for Heather, I’m sharing some of my recent non-spectacular moments:

• I yelled at my kids today – like loud enough that the neighbors could hear. It was the result of two hours in the car, their constant bickering, 5:30pm traffic, and a stinkbug.

•  I gave myself a manicure while on Ambien. Again. It wasn’t pretty.

• There is a package of toilet paper sitting on my dresser. My dresser is not near any of the toilets.

• My kids eat mac & cheese from a box at least once a week.

• I suffer from pretty awful anxiety and insomnia. I grind my teeth, I pick my cuticles, I constantly shake my legs, and as soon as I get up in the morning I start thinking about how much I want it to be nighttime so I can go back to bed. Life is hard. But, it could always be harder and if I didn’t laugh about the crazy circumstances I wouldn’t be able to function.

• Sometimes I get wedgies.

• My son loves his new school, but he’s been punched twice and pushed to the ground by a high-school kid and it scares me, because I don’t want to have to hurt any children.

• This is a conversation I had with my son today:

Me: You can NOT send your status updates from the “Pocket Frogs” app to my Twitter account. I’ve told you that before and if you do it again, you will never, ever get to play another game on the iPad. Understood?

Him: Never? But, what if you’re dead?

check it out? I can’t even pronounce it.

• This is a conversation my son had with his County Developmental Disability Coordinator when she asked him (kind of ridiculous, but mandatory) questions about his self-care:

Coordinator: Do you shave yet?

Him: No, but I have a little mustache. And, I have a very, very hairy back.

• I ran three miles today and I had to stop ten times.

• I prefer to show people that I’m flawed, because then I can exceed their expectations. Sometimes. My house can never exceed expectations because it smells like burnt coffee and dog feet.

Now it’s your turn. Tell me something real.

Follow

Email

I have been known, on occasion, to get a serious case of the giggles. My husband says it isn’t so much giggling as it is cackling, but I prefer to think of myself as demure. Mostly because I prefer lies.

A few nights ago, my daughter taped one of my laughing fits. Ironically, I was laughing this hard because she wasn’t laughing. I kept saying, “How can you not think this laughing is hilarious?” Because, clearly, it was. You can’t see me, but you can hear me. You can definitely hear me.

See? Demure.

Because I think a good chuckle is good for the soul I’m sharing some of my recent favorites from Twitter, and by recent I mean from the last year. I’m 42; February was recent. Enjoy.

I like Little Miss Muffet. She's got a whey about her.

— Alec Sulkin (@thesulk) September 1, 2013

Finally on plane leaving South Bend airport. I now know how they felt at the end of Argo.

— Jim Gaffigan (@JimGaffigan) August 30, 2013

Can't get a Choco Taco at a Taco Bell anymore, but people still ask me to fax them documents. This is not progress.

— Roo Ciambriello (@roociambriello) August 16, 2013

Pregnant cousin who says she will NEVER have an epidural or c-section says she also will never, ever, ever dye her hair. *grabs popcorn*

— Leah, agirlandaboy (@agirlandaboy) August 29, 2013

herringbone, two kinds of stripes, lace, floral, and my pants are staple-hemmed. bet I get a raise today.

— keply (@MmeSurly) August 27, 2013

Stuck on the side of the road really regretting replacing my spare tire with an emergency cheese wheel.

— Nathan Buckley (@duplicitron) July 24, 2013

If you put your hospital gown on backwards and wander into the lobby the doctors will let you stay another night.

— Nathan Buckley (@duplicitron) June 27, 2013

I love that Dora's mom is such a steadfast free range parent. Yet, part of me wants to scream YOUR BABY'S ALONE IN THE WOODS WITH A MONKEY!

— Arnebya Herndon (@whatnowandwhy) June 18, 2013

Really enjoying this "I don't care if you live or die, I need a ride to my friend's house" stage my kids are going through.

— Vi King (@TheBlessMess) June 17, 2013

Apparently when I say "HURRY!!!!!", my son hears "carefully assess".

— Alissa Enders (@AlissaEnders) March 28, 2013

Be a writer, kids! Have unfinished homework until you die!

— Annabel Oakes (@annabeloakes) February 13, 2013

I hope you cackled.

Follow

Email