As Trump narrows down his choices for Vice President, one thing to keep in mind is that current Arkansas Governor Sarah Sanders was a terrific press secretary for the Trump Administration and that she is on the same waveIength as former President Trump when it comes to mocking enemies, as she managed to hilariously troll California Governor Gavin Newsom over the summer, mocking the state of his state after he attempted to bash red states.
The incident, which occurred over the summer of 2023, came after Greasy Gavin released a video in which he claimed that red states are worse than blue states, primariIy pointing to cri me statistics while ignoring that the high crime to which he is referring occurs in blue cities, not the red countryside.
Attacking Gov. Abbott of Texas, for example, Gavin claimed that Abbott has “One of the worst cri me and mur der rates in America and one of the worst mental health records of any governor in America? I’m not so convinced about the merits of his leadership.” Continuing, Newsom said, “Eight of the top 10 mur der states are Republican states.
Seven of the top 10 dependent states … are red states. He then added, “The life expectancy in the South, and they’re not expanding Medicaid and prenataI care and providing child care? It’s jaw-dropping.”
He then accused Republicans of not caring about “life” and “banning books,” saying, “Infant mortaIity? You care about life, and you look at life expectancy? You care about life, and you’re getting kids that are gunned down by weapons of w ar? Spare me. All in the name of freedom, as you’re banning books?” ConcIuding the video, Newsom said, “With all due respect, we should not be on the defensive as the Democratic Party. The Republican Party should be on their heels, not us,”
Responding to Governor Newsom’s claims, Gov. Sanders released a video of her own in which she ripped into how Newsom has managed California and trolled him with some humor in the video, doing a great job of dismantling his claim that California is better run than red states.
The video Sanders posted to X kicked off with Newsom saying, “We should not be on the defense as a Democratic Party. The Republican Party should be on their heels.” It then pans to a clip of Gov.
Sanders strutting in heels while a report about half a million people fleeing California over the past two years alone dominates the screen. Arkansas was one of the top five states to which people moved.
The clip, just 27 seconds but full of fun at Greasy Gavin’s expense, then cuts to information about how Gov. Sanders managed to lower the unempIoyment rate in Arkansas, slash taxes in the state, and raise salaries for public teachers in the state, all while “in heels.”
I Chose Not to Include My Daughter-in-Law on a Family Vacation, and I Believe My Decision Was Justified
But every trip was a reminder of how connected we were and how much we valued this time together. It was a break from our everyday lives, a chance to let loose and just be, at least for some time.
“Mom, do you remember that time at the beach house when Kayla fell off the dock?” Evelyn would laugh, nudging her sister.
“Don’t remind me!” Kayla groaned, but she couldn’t help smiling. “I still can’t believe you all left me in the water like that.”
“We didn’t leave you, sweetheart. We were laughing too hard to pull you out,” I would tease, shaking my head.
These moments were precious, and I held onto them fiercely. But things started to change when Liam, my only son, got married to Beth.
Beth was sweet when they first met. Quiet, reserved, but kind-hearted. I was genuinely happy for them, and when they got married, I welcomed her into our family with open arms. Naturally, I invited her to join us on our girls’ trips. I wanted her to feel included, to be a part of our little tradition. It felt right at the time.
At first, Beth fit in well enough. She was always polite, maybe a little shy, but I thought she’d warm up eventually. She wasn’t as chatty as my girls, but she seemed to enjoy the trips. We all tried to make her feel comfortable.
“So, Beth,” Kayla asked one afternoon as we sat in a café on one of our trips. “What was it like growing up in Maine? I’ve always wanted to visit.”
Beth smiled softly, twirling the straw in her iced coffee. “It was nice. Quiet. Not much to do in my town, but the summers were beautiful.”
The conversation felt a bit forced, but we all chalked it up to Beth needing time to adjust. She’d become part of our family, and I wanted her to feel like she belonged.
But after Beth gave birth to her son, Lucas, things changed. She gained a lot of weight during pregnancy, which isn’t unusual. However, eight years later, she still hadn’t lost the baby weight.
I noticed how much it was affecting her, not just physically but in the way she moved and interacted with us. It was becoming harder to include her in our trips.
One day, we were out shopping. It was supposed to be a fun, lighthearted afternoon, just like old times. We’d hit the mall, grabbed lunch, and made our way through the stores, chatting and laughing. But Beth kept falling behind.
I glanced back and saw her sitting on a bench near the entrance of a department store. She looked exhausted, wiping the sweat from her brow. “You guys go ahead,” she said, breathing heavily. “I’ll catch up.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow at me, trying to hide her frustration. “Mom, do we need to wait again?”
I sighed. “Let’s just give her a few minutes.”
But those few minutes turned into long stretches of waiting. We’d walk ahead, browse through the racks, and eventually circle back to find Beth still sitting there. It was becoming a pattern — and not just on that day. Every trip we went on, we had to slow down, stop more often, and accommodate her.
By the time we left the mall that day, the mood had shifted. What was supposed to be a carefree afternoon felt strained, and my girls were clearly frustrated.
“Mom, I hate to say it, but these trips aren’t the same anymore,” Kayla said as we loaded the shopping bags into the car.
“I know,” I replied, running a hand through my hair. “I just… I don’t want to leave her out.”
Evelyn nodded, her face softening. “We get it. But we can’t keep doing this. It’s not fair to us either.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I knew they were right. The truth was, Beth’s presence had begun to change the dynamic of our trips, and not for the better.
We were holding back, compromising our enjoyment to accommodate her. And it wasn’t just about walking slower or sitting more. It felt like the whole energy of our outings was different.
The tipping point came when we started planning our annual trip to the pumpkin patch and apple orchard. It’s a tradition we’ve had for years — my favorite time of the year.
The fall colors, the smell of apples in the air, the laughter as we wandered through the orchard picking fruit. It was something we all looked forward to.
As we sat around the kitchen table, Evelyn looked up from her phone. “So, are we inviting Beth this year?”
I hesitated. We all knew what that would mean. Long breaks, slow walks, and probably missing out on some of the things we enjoyed most about the trip.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I finally said, my voice low. “It’s a lot of walking, and… well, you know.”
Kayla sighed with relief. “I’m glad you said it, Mom. It’s been hard with her.”
“We haven’t had a proper girls’ day in so long,” Lauren added, looking at her sisters. “I miss the way things used to be.”
The truth was staring me in the face, and there was no avoiding it.
That’s when I made the decision not to invite Beth. It wasn’t easy, but I told myself it was for the best. My daughters deserved a day to relax and enjoy themselves without constantly having to adjust to Beth’s limitations.
The day of the trip came, and it was perfect. The weather was crisp, the leaves were golden and red, and we spent the entire day walking through the orchard, picking apples, and laughing.
We didn’t have to stop or slow down. It was like the old days, just me and my girls. I even posted a few pictures on Facebook, not thinking much of it.
But later that night, my phone rang. It was Beth.
I took a deep breath before answering. “Hi, Beth.”
“Lilian, I saw the pictures on Facebook,” she said, her voice tense. “Why wasn’t I invited?”
I felt my stomach drop. I knew this conversation was coming, but I wasn’t prepared. “Oh, it was just a small trip,” I stammered. “Nothing big.”
“But I’m family,” Beth said, her voice rising. “Why didn’t you invite me?”
There it was. The question I had been dreading. I could’ve lied, made up some excuse, but what would be the point? The truth was staring me in the face, and there was no avoiding it.
“Beth,” I said softly, trying to choose my words carefully. “It’s not that we don’t want you there. It’s just… well, the walking. You’ve needed a lot of breaks, and it’s made it hard for us to enjoy the trips the way we used to.”
Silence hung in the air for what felt like an eternity.
“So, you didn’t invite me because of my weight?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I admitted, guilt washing over me. “It’s been difficult. We’ve had to change the way we do things, and… I didn’t want to say anything, but it’s affected our trips.”
Beth was quiet for a moment, and I could feel the hurt radiating through the phone. “I thought I was part of this family,” she finally said, her voice trembling. “I thought you cared about me.”
“I do care about you, Beth—”
“No, you don’t,” she interrupted. “If you did, you wouldn’t have excluded me like this. You wouldn’t make me feel like an outsider.”
And with that, she hung up. I sat there, staring at the phone, my heart heavy with regret.
Later that night, Liam texted me. “Mom, Beth’s really hurt. You need to apologize.”
I read the text over and over, feeling torn. Should I apologize? Was I wrong to protect this time with my daughters? I wasn’t sure anymore.
The next morning, I talked to the girls. “Do you think I was too harsh?” I asked as we sat around the kitchen table.
“No, Mom,” Evelyn said, shaking her head. “We love Beth, but it’s not fair to us either. Our trips haven’t been the same.”
Kayla nodded. “We just want to enjoy ourselves like we used to. You did the right thing.”
Their reassurance helped, but I couldn’t shake the guilt. I didn’t want to hurt Beth, but I couldn’t ignore the strain her presence had put on our trips.
I’d reached my limit. Maybe I could’ve handled it better, maybe I should’ve been kinder, but the truth was out now.
I still don’t know if I made the right decision. All I wanted was to protect the bond I had with my daughters. But now I wonder if that decision has cost me something far greater.
Do you think I handled it correctly? What would you have done in my place?
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