B**ch On Board

So, you remember those little triangles from the 80s that you could dangle from a tiny suction cup on your car window to warn everyone about to rear end you that there's a Baby On Board? I've never been sure if those actually had any effect, except to totally increase someone's guilt as they slammed into your car. Apparently, like other things from the 80s (except the awesome music) that is ever-so popular these days (I swear I saw a mesh shirt in the store) these triangles are back, but it's the babies they once protected who are sporting them now.

I was driving this morning and saw a pink triangle boasting that there was a b**ch on board that particular car. Not beach or birch in case that's what you were thinking. At first I kind of scoffed at this young woman - like WHO wants to advertise that? Is that something to wear proudly on your sleeve? Total self-protection mechanism, if you ask me. But no one did. Although you're still reading, so you're getting my two cents anyway. :)

But it gets worse. As I pulled up next to her, she actually looked like a b**ch. Which makes me feel horrible saying that. But, she looked hard and mean and I would DEFINITELY not invite her over for dinner if she rolled down the window. Call me judgmental, but she must not be a nice person if she's advertising it. I mean we all have our moments, but I wouldn't proudly wear that title.

But it gets even worse. There was also a little girl, about five years old, in the backseat in a pretty pink car seat. My heart sighed. I know it may be cute and trendy to proclaim yourself to be tough and mean and someone no one will mess with, but seriously? What an example to teach your little girl. There is such a difference between teaching your daughter to be strong, independent and to value her self worth and teaching them that being a b**ch is what gets things done. It actually makes me sad. Not just because of what the girl's perception of womanhood may turn out to be, but also because of what her perception of her mom may turn out to be.

I'm the first to admit that mothering is freakin' hard. My daughters both had screaming, meltdown tantrums in a parking lot yesterday. They cried, I cried, I'm sure the people who's eardrums they burst wept bitterly, too. I'm SO not near close to being close to perfect - who the heck is? I'm sure my kids will need counseling. They make ME need counseling! But... in the end I want my girls to respect me as a mom, a woman and at my grave to not proclaim that I lived up to my b**ch triangle, but that I made a difference in their lives and in the lives of others around me FOR THE BETTER.

Not being a b**ch doesn't mean laying down and getting walked on by others. That doesn't mean not standing up for what is right, or for your beliefs out of fear of what others think. You don't have to live on the offense to earn respect.

I want to be the kind of person who would incite dinner invitations just from how fun and kind we look in our car (But not yesterday - yesterday was bad. I would have cried in my spaghetti.) and teach my girls to be the same. To be strong AND kind. To not take pride in being a mean bully or joy in creating fear in others. Let's brush those chips off of our shoulders and use them to build a bridge of love. HAHAHAHA! Ok, I totally almost deleted that, but it was way too awesome and cheesy.