How To Throw The Perfect Pity Party

Poker Chick may not be June Cleaver, but there's one party she throws that can't be beat: The pity party. It's an area Poker Chick truly excels in. And in time, you too can be an expert.

We will take you through a case study below, including the steps to do it properly:

1. Objectively cite the facts. Just the facts. No opinion-y adjectives of judgement.

• This weekend there was a funeral in the husband's family
• Big Boy was in town the past 4 days and Poker Chick did not see him
• Poker Chick spent the last two days in jury duty
• The mini is sick
• All her assignments just got put on hold at work
• Poker Chick is a dumbass*

2. Proceed to explain how said facts are negatively impacting life (a.k.a. making the status quo so intolerable there is no way out other than whining!)

3. Link facts to each other to illustrate just how sucky connected to suckier makes things suckiest.

• Bad enough that we had a funeral. It was coming for a long while but it still sucked. Of course, that suggests Poker Chick was actually at a funeral, rather than serving as glorified babysitter to a screaming child outside the whole time with a room full of 300 people that couldn't help. We're told there were some nice speeches. We wouldn't know. The only thing we heard was the guard out front repeatedly asking who he thought was the "babysitter" for some aspirin. He asked several times, even though the answer was clearly not changing. We know what you're thinking. A screaming kid at a funeral. How did our girl not think to bring aspirin. Dumbass. Hey, she is a dumbass! Let's add it to the list of facts above! Now admittedly the aspirin is a small part of this history and probably not worth mentioning. But if you're thinking that, you have a lot to learn about a pity party, so keep reading....
• The mini was sick, though it was at the tail end of a week-long virus. (Note we did not state "very sick" in step 1. While it was tempting, adding "very" would be a judgement). It started with the throwing up, then fever, and a week later it appeared the runny nose and cough was slowly going away. Tail-end? Ha! Poor Poker Chick. She was so gullible but soon learned her lesson. The diarrhea first appeared Saturday morning, in time for the ride out of town. It was quickly followed by toxic gas which was always followed by screams and cries*. The former then re-appeared, though (of course) mostly at night. For some reason, it was not until the second sleepless night that Poker Chick finally connected the dots to Rotavirus***. Which had the poor kid in the hospital two years prior. It was also weird because once you have it you're supposed to be immune to it. But once she thought of Rota and took a whiff around her she realized that's exactly what she was dealing with. And she remembered the last time was in the spring as well. Of course, by the third night Poker Chick felt things were finally turning around and that's when (already tired) the family pulled the all-nighter. Two-to-three times an hour, every hour. ALL NIGHT LONG. Let's repeat. ALL NIGHT LONG. (Let's also throw in a pity part for the husband, who was buying baby wipes at 3am. I mean, who'd have thought we'd have gone through a whole jumbo package in one night!) Needless to say, Poker Chick was talking to the pediatrician during every break in Jury Duty. Or she thinks she was. She was too tired. Or maybe scared. The kid was miserable and seriously dehydrated. And also terrified of what was coming out of her. She kept hysterically screaming "get it out, Mommy!". So sad! Now you'll notice we used the word "sad", which when used in conjunction with a reference to children tends to evoke empathetic emotions, one of which is pity.
  
• Seeing Big Boy did not happen. This was unfortunate. But what was not necessary was the criticism of Poker Chick for it. Doesn't anyone else out there think that during this difficult time it would be nice to get some support from family? Or, at the very least, not get criticism? That was a rhetorical question, peeps. It's for effect. Are you starting to see how this thing works?
  
• Jury duty. Okay, so technically there is no complaint here. It was actually quite interesting, Poker Chick got a change of pace, a change of scenery and met some nice people. But that doesn't help our story peeps! So let's throw in jury duty here and pretend it just made everything worse. You'll see when you try this exercise yourself. We guarantee, it really does make for a better story.
  

So there you have it. The perfect pity party. It's made even better by the fact that all of the above happened in the span of 3 days. Now you get out there and you have your own party!! Whine like it's your birthday!!

*This fact was added later on (see case study section #3)
**The first screams came from the mini, poor kid was in pain. The next came from her parents, who were blown away and trying to breathe.

Coming attractions...

Poker Chick is working on three upcoming posts: one on short people, one on observations from Jury Duty, and the other on the hell that has been the last few days (think funerals and diarrhea). Feel free to place requests for post order if you have any.

Don't worry. We won't leave you with nothing. In personal news of the bizarre, this weekend Poker Chick drove a Prius. Yes, that's right. Drove.

Fascinating Article

Thanks, Amy for responding and sharing this article on working mothers!

Femininity

This one is something we've been working on and have wanted to post for a while. We're testing out some writing here. If you're commenting, be kind. If you're lurking, please no snarky faces. No eyerolls either! Hopefully this will generate some good discussion about motherhood and what defines us as women. Any men out there should feel free to add their own perspective as well.

Those who know Poker Chick IRL probably use just a handful of adjectives to describe her: Intelligent. Pretty. Sharp. Bitchy. Funny. Clumsy. You know, all the things that make her endearing to loved ones. Now take a moment and think about some adjectives that are absent from this list: Warm. Maternal. Feminine.

Now, Poker Chick has always been all right with this. After all, so what? Who cares if she can't manufacture a case of the fuzzy wuzzies at any given corny moment. She is a businesswoman. She'll trade the house for the boardroom any day. In fact, the whole idea of being responsible for a house is so bizarre she's swapped that notion for a small apartment where one phone call brings dinner. She skipped sororities in college because fraternities seemed like a heck of a lot more fun and she wasn't allowed in those. She'd much rather be at a bachelor party than a shower. And she is, of course, at home playing poker with "the boys". She's always been "one of the guys". And she'd always been able to avoid large gatherings of women so she could continue to enjoy this lie, this pretend world she built around herself where she can do what she's good at and outsource the rest.

But you know how most men "outsource" the stuff Poker Chick sucks at? They get wives. Now, we suppose that's not impossible. Poker Chick has often been known to comment "I need a wife". She even has a friend hand-picked for the role, though for some reason this woman seems genuinely uninterested (I mean, what gives, right?)

Why are wives so desirable? They help make a house a home, which seems to be some kind of necessary step towards the next holy grail of femininity: mothering. Mothers are widely regarded in society. In fact, as Poker Chick wrote this, she was watching the movie Primary Colors, where they all declare "G-d Bless the Mommas!". This rousing statement met with loud approval and it is indeed a common thought. Books talk about mommies who make everything better. When teachers need to resolve an issue, they call the mommy. Children's worlds are surrounded with "mommy" references. It's clear what a mother is supposed to be.

The feminist movement has come and gone, and despite female CEOs in droves these days everyone has neglected to address one irrefutable point: women are biological childbearers. Men can technically do everything else but women still have to go through 9 months of pregnancy, several weeks of recovery, and [for many] months of leaky, saggy lactating boobs. Going through 5 different dress sizes in the course of a year is just one consequence of this fact; one that means women will always fall behind in the workplace at least a little if they desire to bear children. And let's face it, as much as men are doing these days, as long as we women get to pull the "if I'm giving birth to this thing then it's my call!" card, we are the primary child-rearers, whether it's fair or not. It's biology. And who is Poker Chick to argue with biology?

The problem with biology is that it is not fool-proof. Typically, the universe prepares women for life by giving them mothers, aunts, sisters, cousins. Women surrounding them throughout childhood to passively educate them about what it means to be feminine. Not just the big things, but the little things one needs to know. How to brush your hair. How to iron a shirt. How to cook a roast. How to wear a scarf. Poker Chick is convinced that the combined knowledge is filled in some hidden encyclopedia called "how to be a woman." She fantasizes about a secret hazing ritual where you mix the perfect martini and then the encyclopedia is handed to you by the next-of-kin woman. Most people get this encyclopedia. There are many different versions, but everyone has the one that works for them. Surely, tomorrow, she will wake up and have some form of the book magically appear by now.

Nope. Poker Chick, it would appear, got royally screwed by the universe. Her mother was pretty much out of commission at an early age. She had no sisters. No aunts, female cousins or grandmothers close by. Not surprisingly, most of her friends weren't female either. Hers was (for the most part) an alpha-male family with women relegated to the role of wife or ex-wife. So the only way to survive and get any respect was to become one of the men. So Poker Chick learned business skills. How to negotiate deals. Use foul language (decidedly 'un-feminine'!) How to "raise a stink" when someone tries to take advantage of you and your money. And, of course, how to play poker!

You know where this is going.

Yep, biology bit her in the @ss. Enter motherhood and the whole facade was exposed. She was clueless. In the past, she had been able to avoid large gatherings of women; she felt uncomfortable with so much estrogen in one room. But with a newborn, she was forced to confront her insecurity. The reality was that she needed these large groups of women. She didn't have a clue and the poor screaming kid in her arms demanded their knowledge. But it felt like she had failed entry-level womanhood and was now in a PhD program. She was clearly out of her league. And of course, as luck would have it, she was given a daughter to somehow teach.

The older the mini gets, the more she realizes she missed from not having a role model in girl flavor. She thought she didn't need those xx genes, but suddenly every maternal encounter is an opportunity for someone to point out her fraud. Every time the MIL gently "offers" to do something domestic, say wash the mini's clothes, it's a subtle suggestion that Poker Chick should not be raising the child herself. She is not qualified. She does not know how it's done. She doesn't know how to be a woman.

What reminds her that she really is a woman? Besides hormone-driven emotional outbursts? For Poker Chick, it's stupid little things. A big powder brush. Sitting there putting makeup slowly brushing some big powder brush around your face feels female. High heels. Those are feminine. Painted toenails. Real women clearly always must have colored feet tips. Eight different kinds of wrinkle cream in her medicine cabinet. That's right, count 'em. Eight. And she can tell you the difference between each and every one. That'll make you a girlie girl. But it's not all looks, is it? (though keeping up appearances is certainly a big part of the facade). No, Poker Chick learned a few non-superficial lady tricks too. Buying the perfect present for someone. That feels feminine. Nursing. Nursing was awesome. Not only is it undoubtedly female, it's not something every woman can do. And Poker Chick rocked it. So as long as she kept nursing, she was entitled to that female title. But that's where it seems to end. Plenty of people see cooking and cleaning as "women's work" and therefore feminine. But Poker Chick sucks at that. Women know things. How to sew a button. How to take out stains. How to tie a tie. Poker Chick knows none of these things. No one taught her. Does that make her un-feminine? And if not, what does?

What makes you feel "feminine"?

Free Money!

Why don't things like this ever happen to us?