5:30 am Why Is my alarm screaming.

Snooze

5:31 Who sets the snooze lapse for A minute?

5:32 I elbow my son in the nose. He’s awake. * (see below )

5:40 am Why? Seriously , did I get hired ? Am I supposed to be working?  AM I LATE TO WORK?

5:43  No Seriously. I squint at my alarm. It says “LIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ”. What does that mean?  I’m a jobless, bon-bon eatin’,  Stay-at-Home-Organic-Vegan-co-sleeping-Mom blogger.. Why so early?. and No..I like burgers, bacon and bratwurst so…WHO AM I? and WHAT AM I DOING?

5:50 I walk/jog/crawl  with my  mommy friend (as noted above) and we dish about joint pain and how I haven’t any  desire to be a feminist or activist.

6:30 Today is not a 1 or 2 coffee-cup maker kind of day. I pull out the big guns. Old Faithful. $13.50 Mr Coffee- Wal-Mart Special.. (my only [parenting advice here and ever.  Do not buy the coffee maker that starts with a ‘K’ and ends with a ‘G’.  )

6:32   Kids are wide awake. They have hijacked my silent Facebook time.  Huddled in the “office” because the “wifi ” signal is strongest. Everyday is a technology apocalypse as our “wi-fi” is not up to their snuff. They grate each others’ nerves like a chalkboard on nails. Yes, I said it backwards because their banter is an inexplicable  Screeches that rip into the recesses of a sightly caffeinated soul.

6:47  British\Australian narrated Mine-craft videos reverberate through the house. The kids scream “You are annoying me with that sound,..STOP BREATHING MY AIR.”   I scream “No, GROWN MAN kangaroo JACK from the OUTBACK needs to stop TALKING about Creepers at an elevated decibel level. Doesn’t he know I am trying to ‘narcissicize’ right now?  (Jassercize for Narcissists.)

6:90 (wait, 7:10?) A thunderous crash.  “Her mere presence annoys me, so I kicked her chair”  my son states, like a trial lawyer.

6:1999   “Mommy, brother said I was creepy as Hell” ,my daughter states because she doesn’t brush her hair and it is covering her face, and I admit, as the Movie Reviews for ‘Dead Man Creepin’ , echo in the distance from the tv downstairs, she could use a headband or something. (and..no, we don’t use Brother and Sister, to speak to one another, because that’s creepy…)

7 sometin’ ….  I flee upstairs, coffee sloshing all over our already Food-CSI splattered carpets, grab the mangled IPADS, close them gently (screen wreckage of the past)  and angrily, but gingerly, place them ‘out of reach’.

7 34. Silence.  I hungrily scour through my Blogging Groups.  My eyes dance as I read satirical blogs and laugh uproariously.

7:43 I see a Facebook Comic Post.* It peeks my curiosity. Early morning reading should be comical. I can’t read self-righteous indignation posts before noon.   ….What’s this now? a  Coffee giveaway? Now that’s my JAM.  I start to comment. Per Usual, my comment is abnormally long-winded, so I cut and copy into a blog post.  https://www.facebook.com/MomBabble?fref=photo

8:00 Someone wheedles their way into my vision and ask for technology. I give them a Miranda Priestly (Devil Wears Prada) wave.

8:15  Need. food.

8:16 I wash down food with  coffee like Gatorade. “IS IT IN YOU??”  It dribbles down my chin…softly spilling onto my white night shirt, I wore walking/crawling/running. {Yes I wore a bra}    I wipe it off like Serena Williams after Wimbledon. I’m a Coffee champion.   This statement is not in jest. I drink coffee like a sport.

8:20  No-one has asked me where their goggles are located. If I hear “I can’t FIND MY GOGGLES” ONE MORE TIME THIS SUMMER, I will run down the street dressed only in the missing goggles and widowed socks of my Suburban Cluster.

8:23 Well, lest not we rush to haughty pronouncements.  “Where is my charger?, oh you aren’t even going to help me find it? You MOVED it to vacuum last night.”  my son. OBJECTION!

8:34 I stand in front of the pantry, checking the expiration date on the Trader Joe cookie butters. “Damn you Joe, I blame you for everything muffiny on my body”. 

8:53, I don’t know what  a Trenta is, or even if it exists, but I promise you, if you are out there, and you need a home,you will be treated well and used to fuel long hours of Emo-gee Texting and Facebook Grouping.

Love, the self proclaimed Coffee Champion of the world.

*Attention! Caveat. -All Self Proclaimed-Judge-Jury-Self-Professed-Perpetual-Parenting Experts.  Yes. My kids are sleeping.    In our bed at 530 am.  I feel the wide-eyed questions creeping into your galvanized hearts of cynical acumen. Do we Co sleep ?  Am I a hippie? Did we breast feed?   Do we home school ? Organic Vegans?I shall not feed the souls who prey on the trivial. On Facebook.  I will not respond to  the guise of “making the world a better place”, one morally outraged, yet unbelievably delusional,  comment at a time. Please don’t get stuck at the 5:30 mark, before you comment.    “Move Along” I say, in my Miranda Priestly voice. Maybe Try Scary Mommy?

 

For most of my life, I have tried to be a chameleon.  If you were a Republican, I was in the Tea Party. If you liked country music, I was Carrie Underwood’s second cousin.  I am not political, although I love political humor, and my play list is labeled with such gems as,  “‘Bootie’ Music Explosion” and “Crunkalischious”.    Living in Southern Suburbia, with a New England background swearing more than the ladies in the movie “The Fighter”, there is a fine line between being myself and causing people to exclaim”Oh Heavens, what did she just say, fetch me the vapors Scarlett.”    Here are just a few reasons, why I probably should not run for any Southeastern School District PTO:

1) I cried laughing when the teacher/ DJ played Jimmy Buffet’s “Jamaica Mistakia,” at the 3rd grade Luau and “A++hole” & “s**tty” were not edited out. That was hours ago and I’m still laughing uncontrollably. No one else was amused. Actually, I don’t think they heard it which I find EVEN FUNNIER. I think I snorted.

2) I did not wear my flowing Luau attire, with my gold~lame~boot~thong (no, not that kind silly) sandals. I wore shorts that I do not remember being as short last year. Either my legs grew (at age 42??) Or my child bearing hips came in nine years too late.   I wore ridiculously high wedges. My outfit was a cross between an Aeropostle sale and 2010 Express’s spring line.

3) My sun glasses are NOT cool. Maybe that’s because I have been banned from buying “designer” shades since I misplace, break or dive off boats with them on my head into giant lakes. That’s another blog. Needless to say, my dollar store shades make me look very non~PTO~ish and quite frankly, I don’t think they protect my eyes. I have a screaming headache either from them squeezing my head or them not even shielding the sun.

4) I asked if I could drink one of the bottled waters, under the snack tent, and I felt like I walked up holding Joe Biden’s hand at a Republican convention.

5) I do not say things like  “Let’s all make sure we make good choices during musical chairs”  , I am more along the lines of “For the love of all that is tranquil, please LISTEN TO THE WORDS THAT ARE COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH”.

6) I do not like bouncy houses. They freak me out, so if I were on the PTO, they would be banned. I would nominate the ban,  second the nomination and ban bouncy houses. I would be known as the PTO Mom who ruined School Parties. I strongly dislike clowns as well….Who held hands with Joe Biden stealing bottled waters at the Republican Convention.

7) I just don’t think I have PTO hair. I can fix the front, but by the time I get to the back of my head, my arm is aching from trying to fix the same section so I relinquish the battle to a mop of glop. I’m always transfixed by how some of these PTO moms look like they had literally every. Piece. Ironed. Flat. OR expertly. Crafted. Into~a ~”messy”~ curl. You know the song “I woke up like this” by Beyonce. Yeah, I wrote that, but it has completely different context where I am concerned.

8) I kind of have a two hour window on when I feel like I’m going to pass out from exhaustion from being around so many children. I’ve tried. I substituted , I even did Vacation Bible School once (Gasp! I know right? I’m kinda shocked I didn’t spontaneously com-bust in the church recreational room either!!).  I do not have the “You are not making good choices” vernacular.  I most certainly did not make good choices as I child. I was kind of a rebel. A free spirit. I talked back and “sassed” and was probably on the “problem list.”   Today at the pool I muttered a string of profanity while my kids had swimming lessons, with a very religious , gentle-souled teacher. I’m pretty sure I saw her throw water on me and pray.

9).  I do have a bad case of “Resting Bleep Face.  It’s not that I am angry all the time, my lips literally curve downwards and I have two ‘Victor Newman’ scorned wrinkles between my eyebrows, and kids generally do not respond well to my Victor Newman tyranny.

10).  Right now, as I am writing this blog, my daughter whined “It’s already 11:02 mommy, the party is probably over, (it started at 11:00), because we are running late.  I clenched my fists, squinted my Victor Newman eyes, and whined right back to her “pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, oh puhleeze, let me jussssssssssst finish this… ” and my lips curved downward, even further to illustrate what I like to call “Active Bleep Face”.

If you know my blogs, you know I still have not received the manual from the hospital whence my children were born, because the only one I have stopped at three months. I have yet to hear back from my complaint at said hospitals.

I do know who and what I am. I over-try. I over-compensate. I actually sweat and my fit-bit explodes with “goals-met”, while I’m parenting. Sometimes it comes out side-ways and some Moms might find me , unsavory.  My R.B.F, or A.B.F, is not haughty disdain for other moms or the PTO Mom, it’s knowing I can’t always protect my kids from the world and I do wear that on my sleeve, a lot.
No, I’m not PTO-Mom material, and I learned how to own “that” FROM my children. I watch them and  soak up every single bit of their tenacity and confidence infused into the cells of their young people souls. I learned that trying to be something I am not, only brings confusion. I can only hope that one day, they are holding hands with Joe Biden’s kin, drinking unapproved water bottles, laughing at inappropriate jokes, and being unequivocally themselves.  (I mean, it would be awesome, if it were at a Republican convention, but let us not get greedy…)

 

I started running in the ninth grade. We had to run one mile for Physical Education and I think it took me thirty minutes. I remember being one of the last people to finish and I still remember the look of haughty disdain from the Physical Education teacher. I was a teeny tiny thing with zero athletic prowess.

I continued with running throughout my life, into my adult years and after having two babies. I took some breaks throughout the years after my “Wellness Epiphany Moment” in High School.
Recently I ran a small, 10k and placed third for my age group and it was the first time I had placed in any race in over twenty years. As I ran, I wanted to stop and write down my thoughts. The June southern humidity- spawned from all things that stick and make my eyelashes sweat, spawn a rolodex stream of consciousness and I immediately need to put on paper.
Alarm goes off on Saturday Morning

“oops this must be a mistake?”

5 minutes later.  SEVEN alarms go off at the same time.

“Why did I sign up for this thing back in March, all jacked up on coffee and endorphins from a cool morning run?”

I crawl to the coffee machine and make a giant pot, hoping to link the nectar intravenously. I pour and sit and wait for it to render me human. I look at my watch.

My eyes pop out widely, as I slurp my coffee through a semi-consciousness state.

“OH SNAP. I was supposed to get everyone up an hour ago!”

 My husband stumbles downstairs. We politely disagree as to why no one is organized with AIS. (Asses in seat). My minions ask why I had signed them up to walk the 5k with their Aunt. 

…”BECAUSE FAMILY TIME IS FUN TIME AND WE ARE HAVING FUN FAMILY ACTIVE FUN TIME!” (I say out loud).

We arrive and I smugly smile at my sister as she is standing in the place she saved for us and warded off all the annoyed race participants who set their alarms appropriately in order to snag an efficient parking space. Oops.

I roll my eyes at the people stretching.  Okay, I roll my eyes at myself because I  rise from the sofa like the cute Old dude from the Movie “UP” while placing my hand on my lower back sighing “I really need to stretch more.”

The Race Guy commences the race.

.04 – I have to pee. Does anyone else have to pee? I have to Pee. Why did I drink so much coffee?

.45 -I still have to pee. Pee. Pee. Did I set my little runner tracker thing?

.46- Why did I wear this fanny-back-pack thing? To carry my giant mini tablet phone? It’s hitting my back like a freight train.

.57 -Everything Hurts. That speed walker just passed me. Why is this dude sweating already? WHY AM I SWEATING ALREADY??

1.0 -If I had signed up for the 5k I would be almost half way through by now. How do marathoners do this? What do they eat? I wonder if I had some Runners Goo Goo, I would feel more energized. With Goo Laced Energy.

1.05- I wish I had finished more of those Yoga Sequences from the Pinterest Yoga Running Lady. And stretched versus rolling my eyes.

1.10- Is that a mosquito biting my back in the same place? Why hasn’t my frieght train fanny-back-pack smothered the mosquito.

1.50 -Okay, I can do this. I am a runner. I’m pacing with Lululemon Lady and she looks pretty serious.

1.55.- I really should not have consumed three Empanadas last night from Happy Havana. It’s not mixing well with the banana and coffee.

1.76 “So watcha watcha watcha want..” My hipster ring tone bellows out form my mini tablet phone crushing my back. I don’t even look. I trust my sister has my kids securely, if not, my husband has his mini tablet phone too.

1.86- No one seems to notice my hipster ring tone so that was an anticlimactic thought.

1.93 I wonder if this Lulelemon Lady is in my age group? Should I start chatting her up about the humidity?

2.5 I would be sprinting if I was in the 5k. Sprinting a 10.50 pace right now.

3.2 ARE YOU KIDDING ME? THIS IS LAPPED? I thought the second part was shady with a slight downgrade of hilly terrain and breezes from a lake nearby?

3.45 oh noooo….NOT THIS HOT STRETCH OF TREELESS DEATH. I AM SWALLOWING THE BLINDING WHITE RAYS OF THE SUN! I grab a cup of water and try to chat with the water people. They are not interested in my musings. I thank them for their kindness in volunteering, and ask where to toss the cup. They point to the ground. I look at them as if to say “I would not deny an opportunity to volunteer and opt out of running right now?”  They do not hear my entrapped ADHD thoughts.

3.89 QUICK, I need a distraction. “Oh wow, that guy’s lawn looks super nice, and he’s sitting on his porch watching us ‘Hi Guy, your lawn looks fabul-fantastic’ no. I didn’t say that. Thinking Counts.

4.97 So close. I’m so close. I think the 7 miles I ran in December is really helping me right now, oh shit, I’m speed walking.

5.45 I’m pacing with my Dad. Or a guy that looks like my Dad. Wait does his t-shirt say “GOT BEEF?”

5.78 I’m breathing really loud. I’m annoying my own damn self with my untrained, labored breaths right now.

6.20 I can see the finish line. I’M SPRINTING SO FAST (9.89MPH) I’m passing “GOT BEEF?’- DUDE’
I CROSS THE FINISH LINE, with my eyes closed.

I give everyone giant hugs and slurp water as I also dump on myself, like a Victoria’s Secret model after a Cabo shoot. I look over and see ‘Lululemon lady’ beaming with her family. My face is that fabulous-flushed-cardio-pink. My neat pony-tail-running-bun flails off to the both sides of my face. I am in my happy place. What brings you to your happy place?

running sm (359x640)

I just read a blog about how French Parenting is superior to American Parenting. According to this article* . We give our children too many snacks and try too damn hard.

As I’m writing this, I’m staring at my Snack Arsenal from Target and my kids had Pringles for dinner, and maybe breakfast. (Its summer break here, so calm down). I’m officially over parenting comparisons, Mommy Wars and juxtaposition of the working versus stay at home parent. Seriously, It’s gone European Viral now.

Here is a snapshot of my wildly spoiled indulgent American Parenting. I wouldn’t change it for every baguette or hot buttered croissant in France and I freaking love French pastries.

1) My son came up stairs while I was half asleep and said “Hey Mom, watch this ” and blew a Spitball at me.
“Isn’t it cool, I made a Spitball machine out of all the straws and tissue in the house” as he wipes his nose on his sleeve.

2) My daughter woke me up in the dead of sleep by coughing into my face. “Mommy I have a bad cough.  fix me”

3) Operation Treadmill Explosion is our version of the Bourne Identity.
My son put my exercise core ball thingy on the treadmill , hit the highest mileage and elevation , until it exploded into core bits. I will NEVER have that six pack of ‘mommy abs’ now

4) My kids hide their dirty clothes with masterful deception rather than just placing them in the dirty laundry hamper. I’m pretty sure French kids do their own laundry while singing French camp songs.

5)  Screen Time. I don’t set limits. It works itself out for the most part.
Gasp away.

6) I miss my kids when they are at school but I have full -blown-splotched –chest-panic-attacks when I think about snow days and summer breaks. Apparently the French are just relaxed about everything and everyone when it comes to parenting. Isn’t the word anxiety a derivative of a French word? Googled it. 16th century France ya’ll.

7) Stomach viruse day is always on “French-anti-Snack Day” which means they ate full meals and the all messy home-cooked-bathed-in-acid-non-snack food, ends up  on the one clean spot of carpet or my head. French will-away stomach viruses with their philosophical views or they catch the vomit in their berets.

8) My kids think kleenex and general hygiene is kryptonite  for their soul. Isn’t the word handkerchief French?

9) American Children recognize their power in numbers. French children quietly make cupcakes while their parents work.

10) American children dance when they eat and they dance on their food like it’s prey. If they don’t like the food , they don’t eat the food and fully express their complete whiny American admonishment for any meal I put- ‘le-petite’ – effort into, especially if it’s French-ish themed like homemade ‘pomme-frites’.

I love my American Parenting style and every parenting expert advice article I see on the internet is met with the glaring whites of my eyes. Yes, that sounds pretty haughty and bourgeoisie (which I just Googled spelling), or ‘bougee’ as we Americans say about people who “try too hard” to elevate their “social class”.

image

In conclusion, Please insert some philosophical french retort here as all my snack-eatin’ time has french-fried the recesses of my brain which houses four years of French class.

Cest Tout Chiennes.

*French Parenting blog:
http://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424052970204740904577196931457473816

I could write for a 1000 years on this topic. I’ll start with my experience as a child in school. I turned into a chameleon, and when I couldn’t hide my true colors, I retreated or I drank until my other colors shone brightly. I hold no ill will towards my upbringing, as I have learned I was a chameleon by birth and even under the most idealistic circumstances, I would not change one thing about who I am at my very core, the good, the great and the perceived flaws. It has taken me 43 years to stop berating myself for being ME.

My tendency to isolate became obvious, when I started volunteering at my kids school. There were several times in preschool, when I told the teacher I just could not make it into volunteer. One of the assistant teachers, (which I found out later) made horrendous comments about my mothering skills and myself as a human being. That is truly at the crux of the matter for me, I was terrified of what people thought of me, so I learned how to be a chameleon as a false way to connect and be accepted by people. I learned to morph into my surroundings, to avoid conflict, criticism, feedback of ANY KIND, and ultimately, never truly learned how to connect with people on a human level.

Nestled in between Isolation and my Chameleon-Connection, was my vice best friend, rage.  She stealthy rose out of the prickly nest of a blinding hot purgatory of suppressed emotions faster than I could rage clean any bathroom.  My ‘rage-ometer’, had no limits, no rules, no predictability, no boundaries and made absolutely no sense to me or those who loved me.  If I could not be a chameleon and connect with you on false pretense and I did not know how to explain my emotions or decisions,  the next best option for me was violent anger.   Sometimes in my mind, a person trying to connect with me, equaled an imagined pretense of manipulation because in my insecure mind, I did not love myself so why would anyone else? I  had to cut you out of my life before the angelic spirit of vulnerability of true human compassion and connection took me under its loving wings. I did not want ANY of “that” for a long, long time because in early years, it equaled abandonment.

Through years and years of group therapy, regular therapy, an amazing family, close friends ,certain groups on social media, writing, writing and more writing, I learned that it was 1000 % okay to be me.  It was okay to say the following things to another human being:

I love you (but I type it out in text ‘Luv you,’ because I’m still like the Fonz… If a young person is reading this, please ask your parents or grandparents “Who is the Fonz or Fonzi?”

I need you in my life.

I do not need you in my life. (healthy boundaries)

I need to love you from a distance right now.

Wow, we really are very different people, and that is okay.

I voted for President Obama. Twice.

I do not agree with what you are saying, but I respect your decision and opinion.

Yes, I like to sleep in.

Yes I like to eat white bread and drink coffee and no I do not think it is the demise of our nation.

No, I do not like concerts and giant groups of people.

Yes I like hip hop music.

Yes I believe in God and I am spiritual, but I we as a family do not attend church regularly for our own person reasons.

No, I do not choose to participate in a negative comment thread on Facebook.

I may need to take a break from social media for a while because it’s I need to disconnect from the internet and connect with people who are sitting RIGHT NEXT TO ME.

I think you get the picture.  My message is simple. Especially to the young people who may be reading this blog.  I was seemingly popular in high school. I was a cheerleader, I partied, I hung out with most groups of people, and I desperately tried to fit in at the moral expense of my own moral compass or self-love. I was not myself. I pretended to be what everybody wanted to be to make a connection with other people.  I was a darn good chameleon, but I was MISERABLE on the inside. I hurt so badly, contemplated suicide a lot, I hated walking into those doors of school because I knew it meant 8 hours of pure acting.  I turned to the alcohol, Xanax, anorexia, shopping, and choose to associate with some people who I know would treat me horribly because I felt that is all I deserved in life.  I would do it all over again in a heartbeat, because I truly believe I am on this earth, to help people in their journey of connectedness and learning how to live in today’s society without dying a little bit each day on the inside because we feel like we are not allowed to be who we truly are at our core.   Most of the time I chose humor in my writing, but today is a serious blog, because #1000 speak is a critical message for our society and I want to send a pure, vulnerable,  emotional message.  It’s not too late to change your course. It’s not too late to rediscover who you are at your core and break free from societal shackles of who you think you NEED to be for other people.  It’s not too late to LOVE YOURSELF AGAIN, so you can learn to love and trust other people.  I am living proof of it not being too late.

Click here to see more blogs on this topic or find out more information on 1000 speak! #1000speak.

1000speak

From day one, I learned that approval of other humans meant goodness and disapproval meant soul-crushing unworthiness.  Mark Zuckerburg made a multi-billion dollar company off the approval  concept, that stems back to notes in class; “Do you like me? check – yes or no.” Many bloggers are making a ton of money by controversially polarizing  people against one another, faster than Dr Phil can rattle off a cliché during Family Feud.  

My need for society’s or social media’s approval has taken up too much rent-free space in my Rolodex imagination.  I no longer wish to take hellish business trips into the vicissitudes of my multiple inferiority complexes.

Listed below are ten things I am going relinquish and cast out  from my rent-free brain, to free up more space  for watching “Walking Dead” marathons, because that is some uplifting television.  In five years or even five minutes,  my approval rating will not matter and it’s only important to me, my family and those who  truly care for me.

1) Catering my writing and posts for more “likes” and “comments.”  Obviously I want to engage people in my writing and connect with people.  On the flip side,   It’s  selfish act, because its therapeutic and its a great way for me to practice self-care and hopefully along the way, I am inspiring people or making people snort milk out of there nose with laughter. However I am not going to tie my identity and self-worth into lack of engagement or cruel comments. It’s truly not worth my time.

2) Taking Facebook off my smart phone. I do like Facebook. I do like staying in touch with people. I love seeing friends and family and funny bird dancing videos. I don’t like feeling like I need to  check in on Facebook all the (insert string of profanity here) time. It’s a great social tool, period end of story. I need a break from it being on my phone, because I absorb everything I read and sometimes it’s just too much for my spongy brain. If I had been fancy with the numbers,  I would have been a mathematical genius.

3) Ending this incessant need to feel like I need to’ like’ and ‘comment’ on everything I see on Facebook so no-one feels left out or unworthy. (the flip of #1) I know right?  I am not a ego maniac, but # 3 begs to differ, maybe it’s ego doing a doughnut in reverse?  I am also not Facebook’s Mom. I will say, this behavior stems from knowing deep down, what it feels like to be left out, teased, bullied , and cast aside,  I do not wish that for anyone, even my “frenemies” ;),  I can’t save the world and definitely  not through Facebook.

3) Agreeing with people because I do not want to defend my opinion because I do not think my opinion or my thought process is valid.

4) Taking on other people’s sadness or bull$h^!, like I am their therapist. I will ‘Melodie Beattie’ my co-dependency habits right on out the door.  I wonder if Melodie knows, she is now a verb in my life.

5) Saying ‘No’ to activities I can not pursue and say yes to honoring my own commitments to myself and my family.

6) Putting my ‘Stay at Home Mom Guilt’ in a giant trash bag, setting it in the trash, lighting the trash on fire and busting out “The Dougie” while that guilt fades away. I have nothing to feel guilty about, other moms working to support their family HAS NOTHING TO DO with my family’s decision for me to be a stay at home mom.

7) Resisting the urge to flip my lid when someone provides unsolicited feedback. That is all their business, luggage, skeletons and carry-baggage, not mine.  #byefelicia.

8) Purposely trying to cut people out of my life that honestly care about me as a person. That’s even hard for me to type, so the walls  may never reach the foundation and I am accepting of my protective nature. I am trying to be less of a military-black-ops-bad-ass with my emotions. I’m not fighting a war against feeling my emotions anymore.

9) Heeding any attention on my perception on how people “judge me”. We all do it. I want to do it less, and care less when people do it to me.

10) Feeling like I should not blog or be a writer because Word Press makes me blotchy and scratchy because I am allergic the “hyperlinks and widgets.” Feeling “less than” other writers, because I did not go to graduate school, or I am not smart enough or I’m too old, or my blog is not pretty enough , or I can not upload cool pictures of cool people doing cool things in GIF format. I’m not writing for children.  I will stop feeling like I “need” to write because I am a Stay at Home Mom and I need bellow out my productivity statistics in order to justify my existence and relevance.  I’m writing for myself.

10a) Feeling like I need to profusely swear in my writing to be more “relevant”.  I agree, it makes for some humorous reading and I think Huff PO even said, utilizing profanity is a sign of intelligence.. (I truly think some of their pieces are a…. “Hey boss, watch me post this blog and see the internet explode..) but nonetheless, It’s just not who I am as a person. I save all my profanity for Atlanta roads.

I do not need your approval for my life.  I do not need to justify my actions to anyone other than God and my family. I do not owe anyone, anything (well maybe the bank and stuff). I think Salt and Peppa said it best  “There is only one true judge, and that’s God  so chill, and let my Father do his work. 
 
..my side note (please insert whoever your God or Higher Power etc, with the Salt and Pepper rhyme,    do not turn my last sentence into a religious debate   ..xo)

Mom Guilt drives this incessant need DEFEND MYSELF AGAINST THE SILENT VOICES OF CONDEMNATION within the Momville. MomBurb. Momtown. (insert parent too)   Why  do I tense up like a frozen ice cubes (wait, are ice cubes tense?) when I see another Mom at school and I AUTOMATICALLY assume she is a better multi-tasker and her cage-free-low-glycemic-chocolate-chip cookies would move Heaven and Earth straight into the abyss of the next PTO meeting.  Where does this come from?  Why all the comparing and contrasting and score keeping?

I honestly do not know. Maybe it was my child hood. Maybe it was the anorexia.  Maybe it was the alcoholism. Maybe it was because my mom smoked and bottle fed. Maybe it was my Mom threw her pocketbooks out the window for no particular reason except it was a nice day. Maybe it was because I ate ant poison. Maybe it was because I jumped into a giant haystack and was 2 centimeters away from a pitchfork going into my back.   Maybe it’s the internet. Maybe it’s Maybelline?  Maybe it’s because WE ARE ALL SCARED THAT SOMETHING HORRIBLE IS GOING TO HAPPEN TO US BEFORE OUR CHILDREN ARE GROWN OR TO OUR CHILDREN and if we just listened to the advice from Food Babe on how to organic-up everything, they will be safe and secure FOREVER.

As a human, we are all drawing from our inner self and pulling out the the qualities that make us ENOUGH for OUR MOLD. (not the organic mold in your shower..)

When my kids are sick, or not adjusting well socially, or having a bad day or bad week, or I just ate an Arby’s meal so fast I almost passed out, or I went outside to scream and hit the trash can with a Nerf baseball bat,   I need an “I understand”, from ‘Momrades’ not a thesis of criticism. 

….  Maybe the Mom-defense comes from superimposed flawless pieces of knowledge,  from superfluous parenting blogging experts, virally tossed air  like dust, as they cascade into exaggerated dust bunnies of  scolding pronouncements.

Moms and all parents, have incredibly tough jobs, the last thing ANY of us need is to feel like someone is clocking our every move in Momburbia.  I get incredibly nervous when I meet a new Mom, especially if she is a working Mom, because I immediately feel like I have provide a graph of my Stay at Home Mom productivity.

I have been a chameleon most of my life, but little by little, I’m losing the need to morph into peoples’ perceptions of a “stay at home mom writer.” ..I want to follow my passions and dreams, but being a Chameleon to seek society’s approval, is what leads me down the rabbit hole of the isolating shrinking violet.

The inspiration for this blog came from the Mommitment Event. The goo of Mommitment is our ability to define on our own terms, what Mommitment means to US and how we treat other MOMS. We each get to choose to support each other; regardless of our parenting styles, and talk to each other kindly and openly,.  It’s the ability to be ourselves, without, someone “killing our vibe” because it’s not what we are used too. 

Moms should be enough, without the labels, judgment and volcanos of advice that seems to come crashing into your serenity zone, at every twist and turn.  
We set impossible expectations for ourselves and others. We forget we are human in a world of photoshop and ‘ads’ telling us we need a product to be, look and feel better. We are told its not okay to feel or be less than fascinating at every aspect in our life. Yet, Our smallest triumphs over pretense & sham can be our biggest victories in life.

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Please click on the image below to find out about how you can join the mommitment.
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Recently my husband and I watched “The Theory of Everything” *( this blog isn’t about the movie, but there is a quote in there that resonated with me with regards to the word – ambitious. or driven. or successful. )

In the movie,  a character is having a conversation with Stephen Hawking and he quietly states, “I am not really ambitious”.  (no spoiler alerts)  Regardless of the fact that British Accents always sound bloody ambitious to me, I thought about that actual statement for quite some time after the movie (and the movie itself, because if it doesn’t stay with you for a bit, you are dead inside).

This character was a sweet , caring, loving individual and made his own contributions to society; irregardless of the societal definition of ambition. It is an internal battle for me as a -stay at home mom, as fulfillment of domestic duties are not associated with success, unless the domestic person is juggling a “successful” career in adjunct to the proverbial tasks of daily domestic labor.

Be more.
Eat better
Exercise more.
Sacrifice more.
Give more.
Buy my product and you will be MORE.
Sell more.
Do more with Less.
Win more.
Schedule more.
Make your children do more.
Make your children do more
with less

Cotton-Grammit. Head Explosion !

This is only a fraction of the message that is being constantly pulsated into our brains with lightening speed via our “out dated” six month old smart phones. Every technology item we purchase is “less of more” , five minutes after we walk out of the store. It makes my Rolodex-information-absorbing-brain throb like bee stung skin and it makes me miss my neon cord-forever girl, phone – I could walk outside and like do shit , with a cord!!

I worked for Corporate America for ten years then subsequently, spent countless hours trying to master part-time incomes that didn’t net a lost profit while raising kids. From these experiences, I learned –
Be thankful for how much you’ve LEARNED, celebrate WHO you have and WHO you are – at this very moment or you will ALWAYS chase “more” with reckless abandonment.

…..And you may acquire the Victor Newman middle-brow-wrinkle-scowl.

I am utterly exhausted from beating myself up for not wanting to be the societal definiton of ambitious.   A  “leader of leaders”,  a DKNY power-suited-boss-woman with stacked heels and Burberry glasses trying to break the glass ceiling.  ( I am sure I am ‘off the mark’ on today’s’ Corporate fashions). I am advocate to improve upon that which makes us a more responsible productive member of society. At the same time, I thrive and value life so much more when I incorporate acceptance into the equation, every, single, day.

Often acceptance is confused with settling or complacency, and contentment with idleness; while success and ambition are associated with self-worth and value. Have you ever been around a person who never stops talking about what they are not “doing”?. (me. somedays , ask my husband ..it’s exhausting for him too). I have made strides in being content with the here and now and I work on the gift of contentment and acceptance , daily.

Have you ever clicked on social media to find a stream of ab-encrusted Mommies planking on a trampoline guard rail, holding three babies, while
podcasting her 60- point-take-away-success-story captioned “What’s your scuse’ bishes? ” (yes. I embellished. Since when is NOT having a 15 pack ab sack and a cellulite less bootie – an ‘scuse’?)

Thanks to society’s relentless equation of “bangin’ bodies = successful, ‘scuse-less’ ,’bitchin’ glass ceiling smashin’ beach babes, I am a tad bit obessed on the matter. I had a therapist make me tear up all my fitness magazines in a session , it was quite theraputic, I highly reccomend this activity.
*I don’t know why I am excessively using air quotes and slang, I apologize to all the grammar experts in advance.

Nonetheless, I associated “lack of ambition” with lazy. I am far from lazy. I have a pretty hefty case of ADD, or ADHD or my hyper-focused-rolo
dex-multi-faceted-thoughts-of-mayhem. I have 50 post notes on any given surface on any given day and at least 15 alarms and reminders on my “outdated smart phone” (outdated because it’s only a year old!!???) I remind myself to disallow ADHD as a crutch or an excuse. It sparks amazing creativity , sensitivity and an ability to see and absorb the world in the most unique way.

Yesterday, I told my daughter I couldn’t go outside and play on a gorgeous day because “I had too much to do, honey”.
I regret that comment and I wish I had just “shut-off” the “BE MORE” voices and went outside with my baby girl.
Thankfully , today is splendiferous and although we have a doctor’s appointment for her possible allergic reaction to to the outdoor rain storm of pollen (a little catch -22 :)) , I will simply be more present with my children today.

Here is my version of ambition and splendiferous because it’s such a fabulous word:

Listen more
Breath deeply
Hear the sounds
Smell the breeze
Eat from hunger
Enjoy your food
Practice self-care
Give because you want too
Take in the surroundings
Remove the garbage
Compete with yourself
Follow your passion
Do what feels right and healthy
See the beauty
Do less of what robs your soul
Do more of what feeds your soul
Replace comparison with gratitude

and

Say splendiferous 50 x in a row :)

1) The Food Police.

I was the captain of this squad a few times in my life and it’s a  miserable SkinnyBitch journey. I don’t want to eat like a caveman, I choose civilization. I don’t want to hear about your macros, I eat from intuition from a healthy mind-body connection. This may include a Bomb-ass-leafy-green-mack-daddied avacado-oed-nut-jobbed salad and other days it may be maple bacon chips. I like my lower ab pooch. In fact, I used to help my son learn to spell the word – absorb-. I kept saying “My abs have an Orb”. I have a 2 pack over a pooch and it’s unique. I like grains and dairy. If you like grains and dairy, eat them unless A DOCTOR WITH A MEDICAL DEGREE HAS DIAGNOSISED YOU WITH AN FREAKING FOOD ALLERGY.
P.S.A =. Anything in excess is bad for you, even kale.

Yes. America has a love affair with processed foods but if you truly want to assist people or need guidance in your health journey , avoid sanctimonious lectures of sensationalism sprinkled with shock and awe cupcake jimmies.

2) People who have zero respect for healthy boundaries.

The people who manipulate and bring guilt coupled with self-pity as a response to the answer : “No”.
Think Kathy Bates from Misery, she clearly missed Oprah’s class on healthy boundaries. Or Rosamund  Pike from Gone Girl for a more contemporary  example.

3) Uber-Ass-Social Media Posts.

I  have ZERO DESIRE to see your butt cheeks and their bouffant-buoyancy in direct correlation with the three-hour squat session at the gym. America is obessed with “dat-azz” and apparently  it needs to be plastered all over social media from your local gym. Too much ass is never a good thing. ☺

4) Unsolicited  Parental Advice.

Imparted wisdom from the Moms who think “they know best”. If a child’s behavior , (or whatever the hell else parents debate via the comments section on facebook  these days )  DOES NOT AFFECT YOUR CHILDREN,  avoid the ‘def-com-WW3-super-mom-thesis’ on the subject .

Also – side note- DONT READ THE COMMENTS SECTION ON ANY VACCINATION -BLOGS or you will weep deeply for humanity.

5) People who think their Political Opinions are FACTS.
Next.

6) Unhealthy mind-set.

We have to feel our feelings and we have to express our emotions  but we do not have to tolerate negative “self-talk.” You are betraying your growth when you push your emotions to the dark side. (yes… like Darth, he really needed positive self-talk-book-on-tapes for the Death Star; before he burned up planets and shit …)

We all have the choice to get help for our anger. There are loads of free services for you if you live in constant disparity , sadness and “flip-your-shit rage.” I work on this one daily.

7) Poor self-care.

Taking care of yourself  is the BIGGEST gift you can give to yourself and your loved ones. Society confuses  self-care with selfishness. Do not listen to the voices or the people who tell you to sacrifice self -care FOR ANYTHING.

8) People who do not see the humor in life.

Run. Sprint. Hide. Honestly,  when I was flat-out “broken” by life,  my sister  said one thing that made me scratch my way back out of my hole. “The saddest thing for me, honey, is that you lost your sense of humor and the seriousness of life has destroyed your light”. Yes, life is serious, but if you are blocked from the spark, the laughter,  the beauty – binge watch any of the following:
Big Bang Theory
Blackish
Modern Family
The Goldberg
Fresh of the Boat

or read my blogs. I’m hysterical.

9) Road Ragers.

(metaphorically as well) The world is dangerous (if you don’t have those boundaries! !:)) and there is nothing to gain by engaging with a madman. /or woman if I am to be politically correct. Think Rosamund Pike again because her persona exists and she probably drives a meticulously clean volvo.

10) Excess.

If you never feel mentally full, take time to relish in the memories or be present  or find a happy scent or go hug a puppy. Of course, we all want to live a comfortable life with the blessings of modern day society (remember self-care!!) but check yourself before you purchase that 17th pair of shoe-boot sandals or the 25th pair of “ripped” vintage  jeans because holey jeans and holey boots won’t fill emotional holes. ( and they are extremely impractical and polarzing in various climates. They have an identity crisis. )

Mental health is the foundation for all other health in your body.

peace & love -now go practice one small self -care action!!

Based on this title, you are probably are saying to yourself, “Why do you have a Word-Press account if this is what writing feels like to you?”  I  do not know the answer. I know I LOVE writing. I know that my husband calls me the “computer murderer” so sufficed to say, the “dream-phone-analogy” answer lies between those two answers.   At this very moment, I googled “HOW DO USE SPELL CHECK ON A EFFIN’ SURFACE PRO” and “HOW DO USE SPELL CHECK ON FREAKIN’ WORD PRESS”.  apostrophes and all.

I  love writing. I talked to a close friend yesterday and she asked me what would be the best compliment you could ever receive from someone, and I answered “They “got” my writing, not that they LOVED it, but they “get” my flow, man.”  Again, I do not take any type of feedback well (including compliments) because I over think EVERY-WORD; therefore,  anytime, anyone gives me advice, I search for the underlining meaning, like Nicholas Cage on a Treasure Map Hunt, hence my permanent Nick-Cage wrinkle betwixt my eyebrows.  We also texted later about the subject of writing and we both agreed that Word-press was a damn heart-breaker. Her text was “word press will make you cry”.  I have ended up red-faced, flushed in a puddle of tears boo-hooing over both WordPress and iTunes or any kind of curfufffledschmuffled program.  I take their incessant need to constantly challenge that technically dormant part of my brain to a personal level.  I think I tried to engage iTtunes in a street fight one day.

Please ask me how many books I have ordered from Amazon about how to write a book or how to effectively navigate through word press and I will tell you more than one is too many for this OCD_ADHD raddled technology delinquent brain. I do keep a hand written journal  but I consistently maintained a C- or lower in “hand-writing” during the elementary years.  Last night I just wrote one word sentences in my journal, in the dark because I read a blog on how any kind of light before bed makes it more difficult to fall asleep and of course anything you read on the internet is 100 percent true and accurate and should be applied to your life IMMEDIATELY.

I have written entire stories in my brain while falling asleep, I am constantly “writing” thoughts throughout the day, through my contorted facial movements.  Apparently, the current terminology for “writing thoughts” is affectionately called “resting-bitch-face”, and I may be ground zero for RBF.  Twitter is a fabulous place to practice concise-contorted-facial-movement-writing-RBF-thoughts and if you are fairly obscure and do not have a ton of followers, you are in no inherent danger of starting a “twitter-war” or an media-maggedeon because you tweeted something that virtually offended someone via the cyber-sphere.

I think the most difficult challenge for me in writing every day is I do not transition well between tasks and I might be slightly addicted to sticky-note ‘to do’list. (think Gone Girl MINUS the money and the crazy-hot-bitch-psychosis). Let me give you a head-dialogue example of my brain when it comes to writing and parenting. ( Side note, I am extremely impressed with bloggers who publish a blog-post on a consistent basis because my brain is like a snap-dragon firework (not the Katy Perry Firework kind) when it comes to transitioning between “WHO SPIT THE MOUTHWASH AIMED AT THE LIGHT FIXTURE?”  and “ok, lets PICK one of my 873 writing “ideas” in this file and churn out a blog.  )

Dialogue in my brain:

“Ok! kids on the bus! wow didn’t I just vacuum 33 seconds ago?”

“How many chunks of food do I need to actually throw in trash can or can I jam them in the rechargeable vacuum stick?”

“What is that smell? oh, yes laundry, let me get started on the smelly pile first”

“Alarm! Alarm! Alarm! Alarm”  with the words WRITE BOOK”

“What does this sticky note say?  I think I need to re-write and re-post in a more prominent place so I will actually ‘wash the windows this spring” (yes, wash windows by spring – is on a sticky note., on my fridge..)

….desperately-clinging-to my-youth-Beastie-Boys-ring-tone-on-my-colossal-technologically-advanced-smartphone that I am unable  locate ….” oh no!!!, is the school calling?..on CRAP-DRAGON where is my phone”

and so on and whence-forth.

The dialogue in my brain as it pertains to actual writing is  complicated.  It’s filled with self-doubt, ego, confidence, happiness, sadness, peace, butterflies, dragons, George Takei facebook posts, oceans of emotion, and the most evil of all kryptonite to writers, comparison. I am human. Yes, I compare myself to other people. Other moms. Other writers. Other Professionals.  Other people who seem to have their shit so tight that you just want to grab their smart phone and shuffle around their appointments and yell “YO! YOU HAVE BEEN PUNK’D”.

I KNOW ,I KNOW, no-one truly has it all together. In fact I avoid the  “perfectly put together”  persona as much as I conversely avoid hot-messes of drama and high-maintenance persona. I have made tremendous strides in my self-acceptance and catapulted from the comparison trampoline with resplendent careless abandonment more so in my forties, than I ever even DREAMED of in the my teens and twenties.One of the biggest perks of aging is  a exquisite, priceless subscription to “No-f&^%s-given-monthly”* which I welcome with open arms.

In closing, I am content this very minute with where I am in my “writing journey”. I love to read my journal and laugh so hard that I cry because I would be a lobotomized zombie of driveled doom and depressive gloom if I lost the ability to laugh at myself.   The other day I read a passage in which I wrote “Dear God, please help me find two forks to put in my eye at this v’ery moment”  (I was testing out a Cheerleader phase with my daughter and I was a cheerleader in high school so I should be more tolerant)> Thankfully, she likes dance more and I love her dance place, it’s a forkless-in-the-eye atmosphere sans any kind of bye-felicia-talk-to-the-hand-dance-mom-drama.

The great friend I had lunch with the other day  reminds me  “I AM ENOUGH”. She may not say it to me directly or daily, but through actions, her interactions with other women, the way she approaches her life, her writing , raising her kids, her faith, – she teaches me to be  kind to myself , especially when it comes to the passion I have for writing and THAT IS ENOUGH.

Caveat, As I was finishing this blog I yelled “you bring this wrath upon yourselves” in reference to me having to put the game controllers on top of the TV and shut down mine-craft.

* footnote, I stole the “No f*&% given monthly” phrase from the Daily Show with Jon Stewart

Cheery blog post right?  Well, with so many blogs on how to prevent illness or how to beat off age with a thorny stick, I thought I would try a a different approach to aging and sickness.  The other day, my beautiful daughter got sick with the flu, and I stood vigil by her bedside. (I just finished watching Malifiecient so old Fairy-land English and imagery may pop up in this blog).  At one point, as I lay snoring next to my daughter, she rolled over and coughed  INTO my mouth.  At this point, I knew that precaution I should have been taking to avoid the flu,had been rendered useless. (I know, co-sleeping with a feverish child is not much of a precaution)

I thought I’d share some feverish observations of being sick at 40 ish. Listed below are the ten things that did, do or did not happen during my illness of 2014.

1)  All of my irrational behavior-like hormones from my teens, came rushing back during each fever spike.  At one point, I lay crying on the sofa, peppering my husband as to why he had not made me a bowl of soup or offered to take my temperature during this horrendous ordeal.  Did he not realize that IT WAS ALL ABOUT ME??

2)  On one of my feverish escapades, at 2 am, I took my temperature  and texted my husband “My fever is at 100.5, please check on me before you leave for work to make sure I am okay and I am able to take care of the kids today”.   Approximately twenty minutes later, I woke his ass up and said “OMG my fever has spiked to 102, you absolutely can not go to work tomorrow, I forbid it!”  He asked me why I had not taken any medicine and I said that I could not remember which medicine I had taken last and I was scared I would poison myself.  He went downstairs and came back with  Aleve and I told him I couldn’t take Aleve because he upset my tummy. This type of cheery dialogue transpired for a bit, until he told me I better take something, preferably  with a hefty sleep aid.

3) Seriously, whatever collagen I had left from my youth was metabolized by this particular strain of flu. You know in the Indianna Jones movie where the dude says “You have chosen POOOOOOOORLY” and his face ages on hyper-speed after he drinks what he thinks is the cup of eternal youth?  Yes, that’s my face right now mid- hyper speed.  I think I may have feverishly ordered Cindy Crawford’s Dream Miracle Rewinding Cream one evening because I was so frightened by my sunken in face.

4) I have not lost one single pound.  I keep hearing these wild tales about how “so and so lost ten lbs” with this violent strain of the flu. I don’t want to lose ten lbs, in fact, I don’t really want to lose weight but seriously, It would be nice to be able to put on my skinny skinny skinny skinny jeans for a day or prance have “dat abs” for a day?

5) I have lost muscle and collagen; therefore mathematically, the scale does not compute. Where did my muscle and collagen flee too? Do my neighbors have it?  Will their faces look like a full, cherub angel on Christmas morn? Did that creepy elf steal my collagen and muscle tone?  Will Sparkles be jamming to a Kickboxing video on Christmas morn?

6) Whatever they put in Day Quil affects me a lot more , now, then when I was in my twenties or they changed the formula. I took a shot of Day Quil, and headed to the market, because I was the martyr of all Sick Super Moms and had to run those last minute Christmas errands.  I ended up weeping  in the baking aisle, staring at all the Moms dressed in their Tori Burch boots, with their gorgeous blown out hair, and heathery-smokey-eyes, gathering their ingredients for festive baking activities.  While, I cowered over the Madagascar Vanilla screaming to Martha Stewart “Why hath thou Forsaken me this year?”.  For what it’s worth, I can only bake like two things.,

7) In  my twenties, I used to GO OUT AND PARTY in this condition.  I do not have enough energy shower and change pajamas. At some point during this strain of plague, my husband politely suggested I would feel better if I showered and changed into some clean clothes.

8)  My fever induced zero tolerance for shenanigans.  I yelled at my kids for laughing and accused them of messing up the house just to disturb my slumber. “Silence Young Padawans, ye must obey my laws of tyranny”  See? Malifeicient vernacular, mixed with a little Jedi-Speak.

9)My fever induced zero tolerance for anything that is remotely annoying, ie Facebook., I literally , just. can’t. even.

10) I can not read the back of any medicine bottles, so I guesstimated the amount of everything I ingested.  I do have “readers” somewhere, but I expended all my energy, showering, meandering, crying, yelling, and woefully proclaiming the injustices of this years strain of the flu.

I know there is a bizarre strain of the flu this year, I have read and heard all about its reign over the village-folk, frantically trying to prepare for festive festiveness this year.   My wish to you, young or old, if you did catch this years strain, be KIND to yourself. Don’t fight it, let it take over!!  When I let myself rest, and binge watch Soaps (wow, these people come dangerously close to marrying second cousins and such) and just let it go, I actually feel a bit better.  To the young-uns, though, I would deter the “partying while sick”, activity.

I just spent 1.5 hours on the inter webs researching the best face creams because the news is so unbelievably depressing, every sponsored ad on Facebook is how to get, stay or be HAWT for the damn Holidays  all while mastering the program of bolstering your Super Mom-treprenuer productivity by 70000% and Pin all “dis” on Pintrest.

I have no desire, none whatsoever, to “eat a sensible snack” before Mee Maws Cheese on Cheese topped with Cheese Macaroni and Cheese Lovers (with a side of butter) casserole is served.  Why on God’s Green earth would I want to fill in the spaces of my stomach with a kale smoothie before Mee Maw sets down a delicious spread of hot bubbly extra gluten , extra dairy, extra carb-o-rific casserole in front of my gleaming eyes and rumbling stomach? As much as I try to eat healthy, I will be dammed if I am going to eat a meal, before a meal, to avoid over-eating at said second meal.

If I see one more article on how MomtreprenPintrestuer Molly Mae, defies the time-space continuum by mastering bento lunches,  890 recyclable crafts and home schools her gifted eldest cat Freddie, all while penning her Momster Mania novel, I might actually just eat gluten straight out of the bag and throw my aspartame laden soda away. in the trash.

Due to the onslaught of violent CNN outbreaks and incessant gym-selfies, I told Facebook “I don’t want to see this anymore” meaning anything other than Grumpy Cat.  I was also referring to the 7987th sponsored ad with a wide-eyed, fluffy haired, sweaty model asking me if I had the fortitude to be the new strong which was the old skinny. Wait what?   Additionally, I could gain the knowledge on how to acquire an abdomen so tight I would evenhandedly put Spanxx out of business.  To which Facebook asked me 6570 more questions as to why I had the audacity to question the strong, yet tiny model who ironically bolsters the “new skinny of strong” image of 7% body fat while also trying to convince me sugar was the new cocaine.

Does your brain hurt now? I understand because my brain hurts too.  I thought what better way to clear the wreckage of a scowl hangover on Facebook, then to search for an anti-aging serum for my tired face.  (Additionally I also went down memory lane for a “throw back” Thursday photo and realized that all the fat I had in my face, had sunk to various levels throughout my body, leaving lots of chalices and crevices for extra Facebook Scowling ).

Did you know that last year I had hyaluronic acid injected into my knees due to fact that my feet turn in (making an already short person, shorter, Thanks G-Dawg)  which in return wore out the cartilage in my knee caps?  Did you also know that it’s this same hyaluronic acid that Dr Oz SWEARS reverses the aging process by 5678 years, 2 children and too many helpings of Mee Maws Cheesy mac?  Did you also  know that my Ulta Coupons and rewards was burning a hole in my email because there was only 7 days left till Christmas???

Inevitably, this adventure led me to a search for the perfect skin care regimen that would rewind time, set back the clock, and revitalize the youth cells in my scowling Facebook face. SIGN ME UP.  1.54 hours, 2 Jim Gaffigan You tube clips, 23 squinting, scowling coupon entry attempts, later, I am the proud owner of face cream that will make my husband think he traveled through the Lake House time travel movie when he comes home from his business trip!

 

We all have bad habits.  My worst habit (right now)  is thinking that if I “miss” something on my phone , the world might implode, as though, I’m an omnipotent-phone-puppet master.  There are some amazing benefits of smart phones, that have helped me tremendously in my life  I simply need to make a few tweaks for balance:

I absorb EVERYTHING as though it is directed at me personally that I need to change in my life. 15 pack abs?  Gifted writing skillzzz? Poetry slam master? Home Business Mogul? Super Mom Pintrest Planner? Kick box Dancing Runner? Yoga-Pilates-Yoda-Mind-Bender? Motivational Speaker who can Rap the Psalms?  Traveling Comedian Nurse to terminally ill patients? Doctors without Borders WHO CREATE Peaceful borders through their Martha-Stewar- Dali- Lammad approach to packing perfect  Bento lunches?

SERIOUSLY !$@!!  I SEE THIS s$/# ON THE INTERNET or the Inter Webs or The Freaking Matrix itself and think “I NEED TO SIGN UP FOR THIS SEMINAR NOW SO I CAN DO THAT THING SO I CAN SAVE THE WORLD FROM THE EBOLANIAN POLAR VORTEX with the ADAM LEVINE PROACTIVE VACCINE”

Ask my husband how many “seminars” I have asked to purchase or how many “careers” I have pursued in our blissful 11 years of marriage. He may have to pull out a counting machine thingy .

You are probably thinking:

a) “You have a God Complex”
b) “You have  ADD”
c) “You need to get a job”
d) “Wow! I am exactly like you”
e) “Here is the number to my shrink”
f) “Have you tried Zoloft?”
g) “Oh Snap! My Kohls Cash EXPIRES TODAY”

Honestly, they are probably all true except I already used my Kohls cash as I had 56 reminders on my phone and 670 sticky notes on my fridge.   Additionally, I  do have many ‘jobs’ and I am never, ever, ever bored.  You will never hear me utter those words “I Am bored”. Have you read my blogs?

For the most part B) (ADD)  trumps most of my “bad” habits. However B) also trumps my good habits and stimulates my creativity AND I’M  convinced I’m the #1 rated sitcom in Heaven based on how I go about my daily tasks. I KNOW! , for certain God is not going to discontinue programming on my ADD, because He is roaring with raucous laughter  and it makes me, ME I’m freaking hysterical, just simply waking up in the morning.:)

I’m so incredibly tired of feeling like I need to be “fixed”. I’m tired of feeling guilty for having severe ADD (I have been tested,  it’s off the charts ).  I REFUSE to use any of my defects, ailments or ADD as a crutch or an excuse for accomplishing my own individual goals. One of which is to write a damn book. I say damn because I have stopped and started for some many innocuous reasons,and it causes me to say “damn” a lot

I do not want to be cured, scanned or medicated. (I do take Zoloft because I have tried life with out it and let’s say, I would be in my bed in a ball of tears or running a marathon every week, without it’s presence in my body, and I am a FIRM believer of pharmaceutical medicine and it’s benefits when it’s used to help people feel emotionally, physically and mentally healthy NOT to mask and drown symptoms like a cheap bandaid)

I digress. My point is, I’m done looking for the “fix” in my phone or thinking that I could “break” someone or something right away if I don’t respond to their text/VM/FB post inbox etc etc etc IMMEDIATLELY ! I AM Enough without my phone and I am not going to change the world through my phone. I can however, bring love, light, inspiration and laughter to people with the aid of my phone if I find the proper balance.

Everyone in the diet/health industry is on this 21-25 day restart/reset/redo program. I think the concept is fabulous because social science dictates that it takes 23 days to make or break a habit (I literally pulled that last sentence out of my a$$, because I am not going to get distracted with Google right now :)). I learned it somewhere, probably from Google, so therefore, it’s true.

My solution  is as follows:

For 23 days, here is my, SIMPLE, 3 step plan:
A) Check Phone in am – 1x for alarm, weather AND NOT CHECK AGAIN UNTIL 10 ( UNLESS C) OCCURS)
B) Pick 2 x a day to respond to texts /gmails/calls/FB etc. yikes. maybe 3, 10AM , 2PM, 9PM
C) Put ringer on daily , so I don’t have to “check” to see if school called about the children  and get sucked in to see what celebrity lost how many pounds while  taking what crazy fruit/seed/hcgglutenfree extract while holding their breath with sugar on their nose for 21 days.

I somewhat recognize the Irony of this post; however like I said, I’m trying to focus on the postive of the smart phone /social media influence; rather than ‘bashing it’ or quitting it all together.

Thanks for your time! Now go check your Kohls Cash!!!

The inspiration from this blog is from Baby Sideburns most recent blog https://www.facebook.com/BabySideburns. She’s a brave soul, I think of her as the Joan Rivers of Momhood.  She says what a lot of people are thinking but too afraid to say out loud, including myself.  I applaud her bravery and b^%$ack.

It does seem like a monsoon  of Lily Pulitzer photo shoots and families who cut sugar out of their diets as a way to protect their children from this cocaine like substance* on the internet in general (not just social media) .  When I start to compare and question, I turn to writing and humor. It helps.  Here is my ‘tell all’ of the week to allow people to breath and bond with those of us who still feel like we are trying to find ourselves in a myriad of sculpted gym-selfies and Moms holding their quintuplets over their heads like barbells while making gluten-soy-dairy-ingredient-free-granola bars by using their actual washboard abs as washboards to wash the steel-cut oats and cutting the oats with their triceps-of-steel muscles. ALL WHILE using the low-glycemic-core-burning-vegan-paleo-raw molasses they collected from the Organic farm 500 miles away THAT THEY collected on their bike with their babies behind them in BOB Bike-chariots.**

( My son’s language art teacher should use this paragraph as an example of a reedunklous-compound-delcarative-sarcastic sentence!!! or imperative?)

1). In the show The Goldbergs, Murray, the father figure comes home and takes off his pants as soon as he walks in the door.   I do this with my bra, pretty much anytime I am in the house.  If “company” arrives, I have headlight covers and if I can not find them, I use other things like band aids and right now at this very minute I have panty-liners on my boobs.   I mean, what actually ‘counts’ as a brassiere?   I’m blessed that the twins are less than average so I don’t have to worry about the panty-liners performing the service of preventing back pain. ( I know that’s not “their” service..I hope you get the point.)

2) My son is not sick and I used my ‘Mom-stinct” to keep him home from school based on mental health.  Gasp if you want too.  In fact, I JUST said “Hey kid, snatch me up one of dem Chobanis and bring it up to yo Momma”. I guess it’s better than asking him to get me a bottle of Mad-dog? Oh yes for all you “Bless her heart she’s a hot mess” commenters,,, He’s playing Minecraft too. Maybe even Call of Duty.  Get over it. (PS I had to get my own Chobani. Pray for me).

3) I re-wash laundry and dishes so I don’t have to “deal with it” right now.

4) I absolutely cannot fold and put away clothes if the floors or toilets are dirty. I don’t care about dust or even the counters…. It’s extremely bizarre. I am sure if you googled on WEBMD there would be a disorder for this type of behavior. Like the loophole in OCD? Maybe OCD for medicricity? OH yes, “MEDI-OCD-RITY DISORDER”   = the ability to get some isht done while talking about  what you did not get done while referring to the isht you did get done on a daily basis.

5) Sometimes, if I’m feeling particularly downtrodden, I become engulfed in blogs/articles about celebrities, who are not ‘nice people’ in real life. I read one about Justin Timberlake  and then I got really really sad and ‘let down’ as though I would expect him to be “down to earth” after ACTUALLY BRINGING SEXY BACK TO US!    As long as the Jimmyies (Fallon and Kimmel) stay cool, bro. I also just read a horrific article about Christopher Columbus. He  was not a nice person at all (according to this article) STOP. Do not Google. He’s dead. It’s already a holiday. Unless someone in government agrees to swap Columbus  Day out with Anderson Cooper Silver Fox day, I am not interested in fighting that fight. (in my book Anderson Cooper really should get the credit for bringing sexy back).

6) I like to drink a large carbonated beverage really fast to see how long and loud I can burp.  I am insanely jealous of people who can burp songs. Oh what I would do to be able to burp the lyrics to “Sexy Back.” or burp the news with Anderson Cooper.

7) I do not like Taylor Swift’s music.  I would rather listen to Glenn Beck predict the end of the world through a megaphone in my ear while I am trying to go to sleep.

8) Sometimes when I hear lyrics from rappers who talk about being able to “set a cup on dat bootie”, I am insanely jealous of   this built-in convenience.  I could eat a entire bowl of cereal on my belly, standing-up while pregnant, and that was the best part of both my pregnancies.  I have no shame in saying, Peas in da Pod Maternity Shop did not ask me to model for them because of my incessant pregnancy glow and demeanor.  I waddled and ‘Swole up’ like a bad batch of botox.  My feet permanently grew 1/2 inch.

9) Some people say ADHD is a myth. It doesn’t exist. It’s a excuse for procrastination.  Oh my loves, you have not met me.  I have tried medicines. Not eating sugar. Not eating. Eating. Drinking =(which did help, but NOT a solution) Yoga. Roga. Moga. Loga. Lola. I have tried it all. Yes, certain things help with this part of my life, but I ABSOLUTELY do not use it as an excuse, I see it as a gift because it does spark creativity and maybe a way to help other people.  Although, my husband may see it as a minor annoyance when it’s like an episode of the Sixth Sense in the mornings with every cupboard is wide-open from here to kingdom come and back. I do not see dead people though. Well I see Columbus in a different light now after that article, but I digress.

10) Summer is my least favorite season. I am not a huge fan of “lounging by the pool”.  I would much rather be in a hammock, wrapped up in a blanket on a cloudy day reading Stephen Colbert’s “I am America and so can YOU” burping and drinking seltzer water flavored with Skinny Girl Acai Blueberry mix-in (non alcoholic).   Oh and I don’t care for the term ‘Skinny Girl” but dayum, she made a good flavor thingy for waters!

Bonus:  The majority of spills, burn marks (before you judge, no it’s not cigarettes, I set the lizards’ heat lamp on the rug BEFORE the timer went off and forgot about it, until I smelled it three rooms away) and accidents on the carpet are from me running around sloshing my coffee every which way but in the cup AND I lose my coffee cup once a day, so there is usually 1 or 2 cups of 1/2 filled coffee cups anywhere at any given time.

*I am being facetious. For those who are new to my blog, I am mostly facetious. I do not think sugar is like cocaine but according to Katie Couric, it is like cocaine and Katie Couric is kind of the Vice President to Oprah so….

**(which by the way, we tried this, and neither my husband or I lasted a mile, kudos to those who run or bike with their babies in rickshaws)

 

I feel like my brain is in this perpetual world of trying to find myself. A writer?  A blogger?  A stream of conscious writer-murderer?  A compound-sentence destroyer?  A mother? A wife? A sister?  A daughter?   A maid?  A laundry avoid-er?* A celebrity factoid expert? A closet wanna-be-back-up dancer for Missy Elliot? A Nae Nae-dance-you-tube-watcher?

I know it’s all about balance , but the internet and “advice columns” and the such, make you feel like their is something wrong with you if your not chasing success driven opportunities like a thirteen year old chasing down the band members of One Direction.  We all can’t be elite or at the top of our game all day, everyday; yet society will not let you get away at thinking this simple thought even for a second.

For me, success  is doing something everyday to help people feel better about themselves  through my writing and  daily interactions. (even if it’s a tiny act of kindness) ..  And maybe try to knock out the ‘Nae Nae’ from time to time when I finally do get around to folding and putting away laundry.  Above all, I absolutely chase a sense of inner peace completely absent of anxiety,  more than I chase society’s definition of success. True serenity crashes  against the grain of  today’s modern woman.  Therefore, there is this perpetual tug of war in my brain “to get it all done, SON” and “Its OK to hit the wrinkle shield button several times”

Through my daily readings/ interactions and even from myself, I find one common theme, especially with woman.  We are failing at something. ( our weight, our bodies, our career, our marriage, our life , our eating habits)  or they are working so hard to keep it all together and stay fifty steps ahead of everyone else that they do not seem to have time to enjoy life or a bowl of ice cream without feeling guilty because they have ingested  “empty calories”. – (Whoever came up with the term ’empty calories???’)

I find that when there is insurmountable pressure to be the best or act our best 100% of the time, this carves the way for some very dark, lonely days with the shades drawn like a vampire, eating ice cream and feeling guilty because you did not choose the bowl of  undressed super food kale. (I had a lady verbally give me the recipe for an OIL FREE dressing that she puts on her Kale , I was like WHAT IS THE POINT?, but I smiled and nodded because I know all to well the feeling of trying to stay inside the rigid guidelines of what a 43 woman should or should not enjoy for food  on a daily basis.)

In this journey of trying to find MYSELF, my purpose in life, I have decided that my two  goals in writing especially, is to   1) make people LAUGH  2) inspire people to feel enough with who they are at the core (this does not mean “never change”, this means inspire people to accept their strengths and their flaws and make changes to improve their overall mental and physical health as THEY HAVE decided, not decided by society).

Lists of 5 or 10 things do well in the blogging sphere because it helps center people on certain topics that they can relate too individually or pull them together in commonality.   Without further ado, Here are ten funny “things” that have happened lately to invoke laughter  and inspire you to be yourself, laugh at yourself and not beat yourself up for making mistakes or being less than perfect:

My husband and I went to NYC with some friends. It was awesome (I would write a travel blog on my adventures, but (a) I do not do well at loading pictures( b) I am not a travel blogger, and you would be asleep by now). …BUT I do like to tell funny stories about traveling so my first 6 funnies will be from this trip:

  1. I did not even blink or bat an eye in confusion when my friend suggested that we visit Alcatraz when we visited the Statue of Liberty.  And I have been to San Fran. So I should know that Alcatraz is not on the East Coast. I was like “OMG LET”S DO THAT!”
  2. It was in the mid 80s (end of September) and even though I checked the weather, I still brought coats, boots and heavy sparkly jeans.  I was hot. I made a hurried purchase at Express for cooler clothes, while the sales clerk sold me tons of stuff I did not need to stay cool for the next 24 hours, then I saw the look of “WTF ARE YOU DOING?” on my husband’s face and returned it all to the same sales clerk who was like “WTF ARE YOU DOING! YOU CRAZY TOURIST?”
  3. I love scones and I love NYC bakeries. Hell, I love bakeries.  I was on a 24/7 mission to eat a scone at every bakery we walked past daily.  And we walked a lot.
  4. I love Falafel.  I kept saying “OMG I have got to get some Falafel from one of the street food vendors.  But I was too full from eating scones every 35.5 seconds.  So I come home form NYC and buy everything to make Falafel.
  5. I bought so many baked goods at a bakery that the New Yorker behind me asked if I was going on a picnic.
  6. I HAD to go running in Central Park just to say “I ran in Central Park!”.  Even though my feet hurt and  it felt like Georgia and I can run in the hot humid sun anytime I want in Georgia, I just had to go running in Central park. I barely made one mile and I was like “WTF ARE WE DOING?                      —————————————————————-Since I have been back from New York, here are funny mishaps:
  7. I left my journal at a pizza joint this week OVERNIGHT before I remembered the next day.  I literally said (when I called to see if it was there) “I hope you guys didn’t sit around reading it.”  Like I am a celebrity or something.
  8. Our orthodontics payment came out as “cash withdrawal” in a far away land and I PANICKED , and most certainly tried to convince the bank operator that someone was siphoning money from our account before she asked “Is there  someone in your house who may have braces?”   ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.   Ok.
  9. I find that when I separate laundry, my categories have changed from the generic, lights, whites and other colors to “extremely smelly and dirty,”to “kind of dirty and smelly too”, “yes indeed, this pile can wait another week”
  10. When I get irritated, frustrated the song “Momma said Knock you Out” (LL COOL J)  pops into my head and I am instantly calmed.  I just hope the Dali Lama approves of this mediation tactic.

Bonus.  I have the windows open and the air conditioning on and our downstairs closet door will not close because it’s full of flip flops and closed-toed-shoes.  October is a confusing month.

 

 

 

*   (apparently I had to make up the word avoid-er ecause the proper noun for a person who avoids things does not exist? or does it?  I googl-ed “noun for avoiding things” and I broke Google. I guess googl-ed is not a word either.  Maybe I should work for Websters and help beam new words from the annals of crazy suburban blogging into being.

 

10 reasons I love my husband.

Posted: September 25, 2014 in family
Tags: , ,

My husband’s birthday is upon us, and I always struggle with the “perfect gift”, because quite frankly, I should be gift enough as an adoring wife and mother to his two beautifully mannered children.  Seriously, the one thing that drives me crazy about buying cards, is I can never find the card that truly expresses my feelings, and conversely, I have difficulty expressing my own feelings, so it puts me in quite a pickle.  I do have the gift of ‘literary gab’ so I thought what better way to express my love for my groom, than through writing.  (I also struggle with gift-giving; One year, I bought fancy jeans from Structure, and let’s just say their “slim cuts” are geared towards twenty year old hipsters than live on coffee and vegan air burgers.  Another year, I wanted to buy him shirts similar to the ones Cameron wears on Modern Family, but not quite as “paisley”, but came home with a collection of shirts washed in a sea of hot-pink   These are just small examples of many a botched gift-giving ceremony situations.)

Listed below are the ten reasons I love my husband:

1) He does not co-sign my two year old tantrums.  When I am hungry , over tired and maybe it’s that “day” of the month, I do not possess a very pleasant demeanor.  My husband does not put up with that nonsense and that is the best thing for every person that might be in close proximity during one of my meltdowns.  He jokes that I turn Joe Pesci from the Snickers commercial when my blood sugar is low.

2) He pushes me to want to be a better person. I know this sounds cliche and possibly quite reminiscent of the movie “Jerry McGuire”, where he says “you complete me”, but he does complete me.   I am not a romantic person, I do not like all that froo-froo stuff, but he makes it so I want to try my best to show that I do love him and appreciate everything he does for our family.

3) He makes me laugh.  He says hysterical things like “The hoes do not want to give up their snatch?” when I say things like “The hose has become detached” (referring to the garden hose, not the ‘hoes’) and laughing is my medicine. Does this make him the Doctor of Love? He also says “That’s what she says” after pretty much any comment I make on a daily basis.

4) He reminds me that he appreciates everything I do as a stay at home mom.  Anyone that has every fulfilled this role, knows how incredibly important it is to hear this  from your spouse. In a society where self worth is attached to a dollar sign and the “working woman who does it all” is put on a pedestal like no other,  I absolutely have no shame in saying that I love the fact that my husband recognizes my value and understands that there may be 8900 loads of laundry on top of the guest room bed by Friday because we all got hit with the bubonic stomach flu or quite frankly, I just did not get to that chore.

5) He likes to mow the lawn. I mean he actually LOVES to mow the lawn.  He likes to be busy and active.  He also recognizes the importance of down time.  He’s very balanced.  Considering the fact that I tend to go to one extreme or the other when it comes to coma-like sleep versus manic productivity, he helps ground me in reality.

6) He does not get caught up in vanity. My husband is handsome, confident in his looks,  but he never lets any of this consume him.  I can honestly say he never compares himself to any other person, in a effort to build his own confidence.   I I think beauty lies in the fact he cares about his appearance but he does not let this facet drive his motives in life.  I guess this is a very long way of saying, “My husband is sexy”.  If you know me, I do not usually talk bout people being sexy, I guess it falls in the “froo-froo romance” category. Yes, you  are right, I did not like any of the Twilight moves.

7) I love the way he is a father to our children.  I do not even know how to put this into words.   I do not know if you can describe  watching a father’s love for his children grow everyday.

8) I love the way he makes coffee. It literally tastes perfect.  You know when you go to your favorite breakfast restaurant , mainly because they have the BEST coffee, well this is how I feel about my husband’s coffee making skills. Maybe because he adds a teaspoon of love to every pot (Okay, I know that was the ultimate ‘froo-froo’  statement)

9) He has supported me through my numerous career endeavors.  For example, at age 39, I decided it would be a brilliant idea to become a fitness instructor and become certified in various formats that may not have pulled from my strengths.   Even standing up in front of a a group of people shouting out commands, was WAY out of my comfort zone.  In the back of our minds, we both kind of knew that this was not the best career choice for me, but he supported me 100 percent.     Right now,  I am working on the “writing career”.  Every-time I get all “well if I did this, or took this class, or what if I am not good enough because I do not have a graduate degree in English etc etc”, he stops me in my tracks and tells me to “JUST WRITE” !

10)  He is the soft but stern foundation for me to rest my insecurities. I have the propensity to “future-projectile-spew” all my anxieties of “what’s to come” in our futures. I have the tendency to be fifty steps ahead to prevent anything negative from happening to our family and it deters me from being in the moment.  My husband, is the calming voice that will put his hands on my shoulders, look at me and say “It’s okay, you are safe and it’s all going to be okay, enjoy what you have right now”

 

I was going to go to Nordstroms because I have a coupon and buy “my baby pretty things”, like some more “Cam-Themed” shirts, but I really wanted to do something that came straight from the heart.  Happy Birthday !!, I love you very much!!

 

 

 

 

 

Here is a link to a very cool video a dear friend and mentor sent me, to tell me that I am Enough, and women are enough!  (dudes, I got made love for you, but ladies first!)  Watch Below:

http://themetapicture.com/ladies-interactive-mirror/

 

Here in my response:

Society can be brutal to the imagery of what women “should” be and “look” like on a day to day basis, rarely do we see imagery of women in her everyday glory of just being a woman.  Everyday we hear about some “Photoshop” success or failure, where ultimately the goal was to change the way the person looked on the  outside.  I actually just read a health/fitness blog about how we can work to lose weight and be healthy from the inside-out but there is nothing we can do physically (without surgery or Photoshop) to change our actual body type.  I have thick  legs and probably disproportionately smaller on the top because I gain a lot of zen from  cardiovascular activities.  I have saddlebags that I inherited from my ancestors, and guess what, I love them!!  Yes, I could be leaner, thinner, maybe look longer, (I’m being facetious on that last one)  if I focused more on Yoga, or strength training , but honestly? that stuff doesn’t bring me as much joy as being outside on the open road or kickboxing in my basement.  Yes, it’s important to do some of those other “things” (for bone density yadaydada)  I may dabble, but at the end of the day, I just want to be active and healthy from the inside-out.
When I start to feel as though I am “being unreasonable to MYSELF about my height, weight, boob size, wrinkles cellulite accumulation through the years” etc etc , I remember that I am a role model for my children and  I want to be an example of a healthy woman that does not deprive of the act of being able to nourish and exercise our bodies in a non-compulsive, restrictive manner. We all want to feel good about the way we look on the outside, myself included, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being confident in our outside appearances. I just want to do it in a way that matches my insides and where I do not become a beacon of vanity equaling my own self worth.

I do not know if any of this makes sense, I never know when I write if it makes sense to my reader, I know that it makes sense to me and I know it helps clear out my ADHD thoughts that never stop rattling in any given twenty four hour period.  If I can make ONE person laugh, or cry (in a good way), or feel better about themselves because I shared a piece of myself and I was honest with who I am through my writing, then I feel like I am being of service in helping people smile and feel better about themselves for where they are at this very moment.   So, right now, stand in front of the mirror and say “Wow! look at how far I have come in life and look at how far I will go because I am worth every minute , every breath, and I am enough.”

 

This blog was spurred by her most recent Facebook post (www.facebook.com/BabySideburns)* AND, Austin Kleon did write a book called Steal Like an Artist and I’m following all his rules. I am not going to insert her Facebook post of the day because  I do not know how to footnote in the world of social media.  YES! apparently I should have learned “how to footnote” in English class , but I only know it’s application towards stapled-paper-report-cover-creations  from a library, surrounded by 50,0000 books while drinking 50,000 diet cokes, which ironically, I learned from Facebook , is going to ‘take-us-all-out’ in a giant Diet-Coke-GMO-Corn-Tsunami.

In a nutshell, Baby Sideburns’ post requested her followers to post something “imperfect” from their day or life because she was having a bad day and all she was seeing on Facebook was “perfect” images of perfection, or something to that effect. On a  side note,  I followed her page on advice from a cousin, AND because my daughter had really long dark hairs coming out of the top of her ears; therefore, I could relate to the title.  I did finally approach the topic with my  Pediatrician, at six months of age, in the form of a vacuous question; “Should I be looking into some type of laser- hair-removal-plan with our insurance company?”  I think she laughed, or sighed, or gave a haughty glance towards my superficial concern.  In lieu of Baby Sideburns request, I am going to  list ten reasons why my life is imperfectly perfect  (again, I’m stealing that phrase (per Austin Kleon) from John Legend’s song All of Me where he refers to his SUPERMODEL GIRLFRIEND’S  PERFECT IMPERFECTIONS.  IS THAT EVEN A THING? IS IT EVEN FAIR THAT SHE GETS TO OWN THAT DESCRIPTION EITHER???

Well Baby SideBurns, John Legend, his SuperModel wife, and President Obama, (because he seems to be included in everything these days):

1)  I am having a break-out of my cystic Adult Acne again, which is due to my hormonal imbalance.  I am not growing. My voice isn’t changing.   There is really no need for any of my hormones to be “activated” to spur any type of “growth”, so  what I am wondering is:” WTF?”      Cellulite , I kind of get. It’s because I eat bread and I love holey cheese.  I’ll own that one.  Side Note- Baby Sideburns, I literally had to google the word “holey” to make sure I was using this a a word that showed something that had holes in it, versus something that the Pope would ordain as “Holy.”

2) My fancy SUV, makes a “whirring sound” when I roll down the windows, so I roll up the windows, hoping that it will just “go away”, and then I have to turn on the AC, which makes my car stall.  Yes, I am kind of just hoping this will all “stop” but I am of course, a responsible adult ,I am an elite, triple-double-triple-single-platinum-gold-bronzed AAA member and check the weather forecast to ensure that climate change has not ruined October and will not need my AC in the coming months. (AC =air conditioning for those of you who live in a cool climate).

3) As much as I remind my children to “brush their teeth”, I am not on top of this process at all, and quite frankly, I almost positive they  are “faking it” because kids do not err on the side of subtly.

4) I am so over my kid’s eating habits.  I do the best I can but I’m slowly relinquishing this insane need to become unglued when they refuse to eat my healthy options. I’m choosing to ignore “The sky is falling” posts about food and nutrition on Facebook, because it makes me break out into hives (yes, this has happened) and I have almost had full blown panic attacks in the grocery store where I am simply paralyzed by choosing the wrong food that will cause some unfortunate demise. It’s like the dude from that Indiana Jones movie is standing over me saying “YOU CHOSE POOOORRRRRRRRRRRRLYYYYYYYYY”,  in an English accent.

5) Sometimes, I chose to read Celebrity Gossip during my “daily -zen -meditation time” in the morning. Yes, it does help me tremendously to know that Kayne is still mad about pretty much everything and anything, and yes I do listen to some of his music because the dude “dropz mad-sic beats, yo.”

6) If Breaking Bad is on the television, I become paralyzed by the TV- as in- Poltergeist  Drew Barrymore sucked in to the fuzzy white lights. I have dropped entire loads of laundry, in the middle of the floor, and just sat there, in a pile of mismatched socks,  because my multitasking skills are NO match for this genius drama-series.   Vince Gilligan is able to turn everyday nuances like eating Raisin Bran, smoking cigarettes, or the inordinate amount of purple decoration Marie has in her Southwestern home,   into a roller coaster ride of emotions and “Honey!! can you just put this on Netflix so I can skip all the commercials??”

7) Sometimes, I do not want my son’s Stand By Me group of friends over in the afternoon, because I do not want to wear any type of brassiere and I desperately need to be wearing the oldest, rattiest pair of PJ bottoms known to mankind.  They are sweet  kids, but momma needs her downtime by cocktail time, and I do not even drink cocktails.

8) I drink a lot of coffee in the morning and I like it and I have no plans on giving it up anytime soon.

9) When I get irritated with someone on the phone, I do roll my eyes. I know it’s obnoxious and juvenile but sometimes it’s necessary so I do not slam the phone on the counter and say “Oh I’m sorry, I dropped you. Into the garbage-disposal.”

10) I hit the wrinkle shield button the dryer so many times that it speaks to me: ” Bish, wouldn’t it be more efficient or just transfer the clothes back into the washer and start over again.?”  I don’t know, maybe that’s Jesse Pinkman’s voice in the background.    Laundry is my all time-nemesis.

In closing, I absolutely would love to see  more authenticity  on Facebook or social media.  Please do not take this to the extreme and post all the gory details of your stomach flu or the abscess on a “undisclosed location.”   I really do not want to know your body fat percentage or see a selfie . every. single. day.  No, I do not want to see a picture of a half-dressed mom, lifting weights, after having birthed 25 babies with the caption “What’s Your Excuse?”   I’d rather know what fabulous new restaurant you found in a upcoming-trendy part of town, or that you would have come in first place for your age group at the local five 5k, but you’re clumsy like me and tripped right at the finish line. I’d love to see more pictures of your kids -not looking at the camera, folding their hands in discontent , pulling out the perfect ponytail (because that’s all I know how to ‘form’ in hair), you just spent 25 minutes spraying together in a beautiful bow.  I’m just saying, in my best Jesse Pinkman voice, “Be Real, Yo.”

*( https://www.facebook.com/BabySideburns )*If you are super conservative, don’t like honesty, profanity and shooting straight from the gut, then you could get your panties in a wad quite quickly.  I love her Facebook page, I have not read her book yet ( I heart my little A-Holes: a bunch of holy-crap moments no one ever told you about parenting, by Karen Alpert), but only because I have 50,000 other books I am currently reading , and I am banned from Amazon purchasing because I think I might have an Amazon addiction.

I am an exercise-bulimic survivor or anorexic survivor. I was labeled as both by the physicians and nutritionist that treated me during this dark time. These old demons come back sometimes subtly, sometimes fiercely. I also have other “isms” but today, for a short moment,  I will focus on this “minion-to-demon” creature that lies on a hammock in my brain.

The ONE truest thing I have learned about nutrition/food is do not believe the hype.  If it’s too “good” or too “bad” to be true, it probably is or is not the truth. The minute I “restrict” some “food” based on the newest “craze”, (I.e breads grains yes EVEN SUGAR!) is the the minute I go stark raving mad and end up eating more than I needed and eating from emotional pain. I would much rather have a peaceful mind than a perfect body.

I know, “What’s up with the dang air quotes Scrappie?” I have to generalize because the amount of examples I could provide would make my ADHD spin and I would spent the next four hours Googling “the dangers x,y & z food” . I simply cannot spiral into a world where I am paralyzed by food choices. Been There, Done That, it’s really a shitty place to rent.

I apologize to all the waitstaff I interrogated about my food preparation or for scaring my Dad for running at 2am, in the streets of Boston. By myself.  an 80 lb crazed lunatic of defenseless, foodless adrenaline. I thank the Guardian angel that silently ran beside me, helping my twisted ankles heal so I could safely return home, each twilight. I am sure I have more amends to make during my boney reign of terror, but the wide eyed looks of bewilderment on waitstaffs’ and my Dad’s faces alike, are painfully clear  to me right now.

I am  irritated with the health and fitness industry for catering how exercise and restrictive eating makes us  “look” versus how it makes us “feel” and HOW it can help our OVERALL MENTAL AND PHYSICAL HEALTH. Of course,  I want to feel good about how I look, but when I see a scantily clad fitness model, butt cheeks hanging out, and flexing with a Carrot Stick in between her teeth captioned “Abs are made in The Kitchen” , it actually makes me nauseous and sad.

I have to rephrase the beginning of the last paragraph. I do not believe you have to practice restrictive eating habits and ‘reedunkulous’ exercise routines to impact your OVERALL MENTAL AND PHYSICAL HEALTH. What I am trying to say is, I’m frustrated with this message that is being sent by some leaders in the health and fitness industry. When I do see this type of message, I try to block it from my social media path and try to block it from my brain.

I LOVE intense cardiovascular exercise. Love it. I love to bike, jog, kick box , dance, bur-pees; all of it, and I could become obsessed with any of it , if I do not keep myself in check. I do not love yoga or strength training but I balance a little bit of everything because I know it’s good for my overall health and yes, I must admit stretching and yoga “stuff” feels good if I am perfectly honest with myself.

“What spurred this blog and where am I going with my story? Food shaming on social media.  Yes, you are darn right I’m oversensitive about being over-informed with which foods are going to turn me into a cocaine addict or how my kids are going to get cancer if I make one wrong decision at the grocery store. (yes I am exaggerating).

I am tired  seeing pictures of a Coke can labeled “Obesity” as a parody to their new marketing campaign, in name of “health promotion”.  I do not want to know about the McDonald’s hamburgers that survived  your latest scientific health experiment.

Clean Eating. Who came up with this term?  So anyone that eats out of a “box” or eats “white” flour or whatever is not grown by your restrictive healthy guidelines is eating “dirty?” or “cheating”?? This truly does not seem like a healthy message to send go anyone ESPECIALLY , young adults, who are very active on social media.

One out of five/seven kids go hungry in the US every day*.  The dichotomy between the health/fitness/diet industry and the poverty levels of Americans who do not have enough to eat, makes my head mushy and steam comes out of my ears. Therefore, to stay in the solution and away from the ‘soapboxbitchfest’,  I am going to leave to links that raise awareness on this issue.** (below)

There are more inspirational ways to reach people who need help in learning how to eat healthy and exercise regularly. Food Shaming and making people feel like shit because they are overweight is not inspirational or motivational. Maybe I am the only one who feels like this , but I can guarantee you if there are any other eating disordered (over-eaters, over- exercisers under-eaters etc) people who see this in their news-feed, I’m guessing they are getting pretty annoyed or even retreating into their disease with the “health-scolding” via social media.

This is my “angriest” blog written to date. I HATE to offend or make people angry or especially hurt people’s feelings. Lately I have realized, I will never  grow as a writer if I am constantly worried about people being angry because they did not like my views.  I am not an angry person, but I am passionate and sometimes its difficult to translate that message perfectly.  I attribute this blog to those writers who have inspired me to be more honest, through their passionate blogs; specifically Baby Sideburns, The Bloggess, Rosie Smartie Pants, We don’t Chew Glass, Drifting through My Open Mind and a girl named Sasha who is always commenting on my blog, and I am embarrassed because I can’t find her blog right now, so if you read this , please please link your blog in the comments!!!

No Kid  Hungry:
http://www.nokidhungry.org/problem/hunger-facts

Women’s Health Feed Run, sent to me from a dear runner friend:
http://run10feed10.com/home/?product_code=WMH01&smartcode=#!/main

Bloggers mentioned above who inspire me:

the Bloggess: http://thebloggess.com/

Baby Sideburns:  http://www.chicagonow.com/baby-sideburns

Rosie Smartie Pants: rosiesmrtiepants.wordpress.com

We Don’t Chew Glass: wedontchewglass.wordpress.com

Drifting through my Open Mind:  http://driftingthrough.com/

 
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a picture. bc pintrest keeps just posting my avatar.
 

Seriously, if you could walk inside my brain you would be like “OMG. I HATE ROLLER COASTERS”. It’s REALLY busy in there.   I look forward to sleep because it means I am able to stop my brain from circling around like a tornado. I know deep in my soul I am a “writer” because I am always talking to myself, fighting with myself, directing myself, or having full blown debates WITH MYSELF on whether or not I have pushed the wrinkle shield on the dryer four or five times today.   Due  to the summer and “mom life”, I have been seriously side tracked like that runaway train in Unstoppable. I am NOT complaining.  The best way to describe what I am feeling right now can be explained as follows (especially to women because we seem to struggle with this scenario more than men):

  • You get a normal rhythm going with moderate healthy eating and exercise (I say moderate because I tend to get all obsessive about these things and moderation is really the only way I can stay sane)
  • Something happens (the eclipse. Kayne Marries Kim.  You get sidetracked with a debate on whether Beyonce is “all dat” or not, or you get sick..You know lifey stuff
  • The “hiccup of derailment”  catapults into days. weeks. month. You start eating cheetos for breakfast.  You count the “Insanity” Info-Mercial as “exercise”.

You get my point.  Once you get off that routine, you start psyching yourself out to STAY OFF because you are pissed at yourself for getting off in the first place and then you just let the “hiccup of derailment” become  a paralysis of production.  This is precisely what has occurred with my writing.  Yes, I have been  updated my journal but lets face it guys, I can’t even read what I wrote.   One of my entries is as follows:

Roman Numeral 56:  August 24th, Sprayed shower head outside of the shower. mess.  exercise ball bust tread. difficulty “ganning”?  thots.

I will spare you poor souls who are trapped reading my stream of consciousness writing, by not transcribing any more of my journal entries. (You want to stop reading my blog, but you just cannot stop, I’m like a four hour Lifetime movie)  Let me translate:  On August 24th,  I became misguided with which shower-turning-apparatus to utilize and the detachable shower-head was pointing out beyond the shower door. Needless to say, I was on the inverted loop part of my roller coaster brain and rather than JUST TURNING THE SHOWER OFF, I took way to long to reach up (on my tippie tippie toes because I’m vertically challenged) to BARELY commence the cessation of Niagara Falls onto my bathroom floor.  Additionally, my son felt it would be a fabulous idea to put the exercise-ball on the treadmill and hit ZOOM, in which it got trapped under treadmill and exploded. I will say , I had to hide my laughter when telling him that these are not appropriate extra curricular activities in the the basement.  My friend of four high spirited children responded with a “ROFL” text when I told her this story.

Do you know how many emails I have sent to myself to be filed under my gmail label “Writing ideas”? SIX HUNDRED TWENTY!!!  and the majority of these ideas were in the last couple of months. Writing prompts are my Kryptonite because I am a WALKING WRITING PROMPT!   I also thought it would be a fabulous idea to FIND writing contests to enter in an effort to feel like a more “productive writer”.   I think that last sentence was uttered out loud to my   husband which triggered a “head in his hands head shake” and the exclamation  “FOR THE LOVE OF MANKIND!! JUST FREAKING WRITE LAURIE!”

I am a solution oriented person. Yes it takes me a little bit longer to find a solution but I’m a scrappie, determined fighter, mixed with a philosophical-debating-furrowed-brow chromosome where my thoughts go to war with each other like the dudes from that movie 300.  (Apparently the latter of that sentence is now referred to as “RBF or Resting Bitch Face”, which I find HYSTERICAL because there is no guesswork in pinpointing when I am lost in my thoughts).    I do not want to say “I’m too smart for my own good”, because as referenced above from the  Suburban-Mom-Psycho-incident , that clearly isn’t the case.  In an effort to stay in the solution, I am going to list  acitivies that I will STOP doing immediately deter me from writing:

  • Reading the comments section on controversial blog topics  – People seem to take out their repressed child hood anger on bloggers via the  comment sections. I have had nightmares of an angry polemicist finding my blog and slicing me to pieces  with his/her verbal mastery.
  • Reading the comments section on high-profile Facebook posts/topics –  I am scared for all mankind and I feel like building a bunker and going into hiding after such an activity.
  • Googling “Does Kelly Ripa Eat Carbs”
  • Comparing myself to other MOMS.
  • Watching the “Anaconda” video and weeping like a baby because Sir Mix A Lot’s “Baby Got Back” has been forever ruined, and probably won’t be played at my retirement home in twenty five years.
  • Staring at my 620 writing prompts and saying “eff-it I just do not even know where to START,  omg, Sea-Salt-Gelato sounds so good right now!”
  • Taking Vanilla Ice’s  prose literally:  “If there is a problem, yo I’ll solve it” in thinking I can and need to solve the world’s problems, ESPECIALLY on Facebook (blog about my Facebook hiatus later..) tragedies  unfold at an alarming pace in our world and I absorb it ALL.
  • Obsessively cleaning.  I have to find a balance between “eff-it” and “Mommie Dearest episodes of the Clorox Rave party”
  • “Am I a good writer?” NEEDS to be eliminated from my thought process and from my vernacular

 

And No, I am not drinking.

 

 

 

 

 

I find myself stopping a blog or discontinuing or not publishing because I am never quite sure how much information I should delve out there on the internet.   I think the struggle for me in writing (and in life) is with my indecisive nature and the good news it’s fueled some Jerry McGuire moments where I am up at 3 am the past few mornings because my brain jolts awake and will NOT turn off.   
Writers??!!
What do we do when our brain WILL NOT TURN OFF? 
WE WRITE!!! 
Listed below are the 10 decisions or what I like to call “Projectile Vomiting into the future Incidents” that I am churning over in my head like a gerbil. at 3 am.

1)  What if I do not protect my children from the evils of the world and bad things happen to my family. I have “gerbalized” every scenario. (New word – gerbalize or gerbalizing is worrisome thoughts running around in one’s head on a gerbil wheel. Webster, come get me!).    I am strangely fascinated with the Final Destination movies, and I have seen #1 and #25  (aren’t there like 500 out already) and I have come to the conclusion I should NOT watch movies about FREAK accidents and Death as a  Stalker.

2) HOW many extra curricular activities should I sign my kids up for during the school year and how many  _______ Mommies am I willing to deal with in this process? Essentially, it is all about MY comfort levels right? (insert sarcasm) Does catapulting off the sofa and ripping the cushions out by their seams count as a sport?  Does putting chocolate milk into a WATER GUN and squirting it all over the walls and floor count as a sport? (in my defense, I was not home, my husband was on conference calls, and I was like: “WITH WHO? DR DRE? AND YOUR NOISE CANCELLING DRE BEATS? BC WE BETTER HAVE BEEN BROKERING A 4 BILLION DOLLAR DEAL TO HAVE IGNORED THE CHOCOLATE MILK APOCALYPSE!!!”

3) Have you seen the Goldbergs?  Well I find myself saying things like Mrs Goldberg when it comes to the “protection” of my children.  These are  are from the “memory recall” part of my brain, which is not all “ginkobiloabed” properly:
a)  On wrestling: “Did you hear about ________, he had a wrestling accident and now he is just a head on a ventilator”

b) On Halloween: “Don’t forget to bring all your candy to the hospital so we can have it x-ray’d for razor blades”

Yes, these are eerily similar to the things that come out of my mouth.   My son has pretty much told the entire neighborhood that I am the most overprotective Mom in THE WORLD.

4) I don’t know if this is a reason but it’s kind of what started this whole blog in a way. Yesterday, I took my daughter to a cheer-leading place to see what is was all about. I was a cheerleader for a small rural High School and I kind of got into all that from an athletic standpoint, but cheering in the rural North versus cheer-leading near the perimeter of Atlanta, Georgia are like  meditative Yoga versus Olympic style Cross-Fit.   All I can say is I came home and ate a giant bowl of pasta like a Mob Boss because I was so stressed out after that experience.  I do not feel, as a family, we are ready for that level of commitment due in part to the   “contract wording”:   “Your child must be awaiting transport of an iron lung from IRON MAN himself (or the other guy who plays IRON MAN)  if she/he is to miss practice”.

5) Due to # 4, I decided that “Intro to Gymnastics” was probably a better place to start.  Well , I spent like 5467098 hours on the internet trying to finagle my way through the various schedules in conjunction with my stay at ‘home-mom-bon bon-eating’ schedule. I just counted, I sent FIVE, emails  the the poor gymnastics people which openings like this “Wait, we can’t do Mondays because of this?” or “Oh ooops I made a mistake we can do Mondays”?    or “No wait, we can’t do Monday’s, can you call me I’m really confused about the schedule”.

6) Seriousness.  I know deep down inside 95% percent of my anxiety over raising children and all of this is due to me trying to protect my children from the “bad things” that happened in my childhood.  We all have baggage and unresolved dysfunction from our upbringing, and all I really want to do is use my experiences, (good and bad), to provide the best possible childhood for my children and I guess I try to do this (sometimes..) without making ANY mistakes.

7)  Ok, so being so ridiculously “self aware” at age 42 to the point that my husband reaches for his cigars every time I try to “feel my feelings” appropriately, I recognize that #6 may have spurred me into a bit of a “I FELL LIKE THE WEIGHT OF THE FREE WORLD IS ON MY SHOULDERS!!” phone conversation with my husband last night.   Thankfully my husband is very level-headed and does a great job in making me realize that I’m not making life or death decisions and I just “NEED TO CALM THE EFF DOWN ITS NOT THAT SERIOUS!!”

8) My son just got this   mouth-spacer-head-contraption-head-robot type thing in which I have to attach to his mouth nightly (well they said daily too when he’s on the computer or watching tv)  and remember to turn a key into the spacer-contraption-thingy so it widens his jaw, and now I have 54895175094128745091274 reminders on my phone, calendar, sticky notes, etc in which to do so. daily. “BUT WHAT IF I FORGET AND HE DOES NOT HAVE PERFECT TEEEEEEEEEEEEETHHHHHH.”

9) I was trying to calculate “something” last night and my phone (the calculator) was upstairs which was far too strenuous to fetch; THEREFORE, I proceeded to write a long division problem out on a piece of scratch paper and realized that I basically forgotten how to complete long division and long multiplication (is that even a thing??) and when I did go to find my phone, it was on top of their college saving statements which then made me realize that college is going to be a BILLION DOLLARS, so unless my husband brokered that contract with Dre from # 2, we are not going to be able to afford college and then I panicked because WHAT IF I CAN’T HELP THEM WITH MATH? AND NOW I’M PANICKING BECAUSE THIS SENTENCE IS A GRAMMATICAL RUN ON NIGHTMARE, SO WHAT IF I CAN’T HELP THEM WITH LANGUAGE ARTS?

10) I have written out ten number 10’s and they all sound really bizarre and I still struggle with the decision of how much to “put out there”  on the internet.    I definitely do want to share my work with the world but I also have issues in the past with people thinking like they know me extremely well, due to a friendship on social media, and quite frankly, it taps into a lot of codependent dysfunction ( see!!!!  I have learned “something” from all my Self Awareness Readings!!!!)

In closing, I’m literally out of words. I think that the run-on sentence of #9 , fried my brain.

 

 

the Rollercoaster Summer.

Posted: July 16, 2014 in humor

I have about a dozen half written blogs. It has been an eventful summer. I just have not have the fortitude to bring any of them to completion. Medicine changes for Momma. My fiercely independent daughter. My incredibly sensitive and defiant son. A million doctors and orthodontic appointments. The constant looming thought of “Am I doing this correctly?” or “WTF am I DOING?” when it comes to parenting. I quit Facebook for a month because it was sending my anxiety into overdrive. (I will have a delicious blog about that topic) A 10 year old SUV that makes a strange whistling sound from time to time so I just close my eyes and say a little prayer that it will just “go away”.

Divine inspiration cascaded down upon me (ok I know it’s not all about me..but it sure did feel divinely inspired) and I met a fabulous babysitter for my children. She is with them right now and this is literally the first moment since the beginning of summer I have had to type anything out on the computer except for paying bills, sometimes late.. I hope we do not scare her off. Momma needs these breaks.

I saw a instagram photo that said “Write something today, even if it sucks”. So I did. Time to go pay bills. I love my kids dearly and have enjoyed spending every waking moment with them this summer, but I have to admit, I am looking forward to WRITING WRITING AND WRITING when they go back to school. I just could not seem to get the hang of it while they were home with me. My brain does not multi-task, literally AT ALL.

I recently read an article about how the Whooping Cough was an epidemic in California and  in the blog it stated it was a direct result of people choosing to not vaccinate their children. (see link below).     I was shocked by the parents’ vehemence towards each other on the topic.  Yes, if my child contracted a deadly disease, as a result of being around UN-vaccinated children, and I vaccinated my children, I would be hysterically angry and want to blame the parents who chose to not vaccinate their kids under the ‘herd-mentality’ premise.

However, lately, I decided, when I get inwardly steamed about a controversial subject, I am trying to do the opposite of overreacting and commenting wildly on Facebook. I am trying to bring my inner Dali Lama to the forefront and find a medium in which we can agree to disagree and really try to support each other as we raise our children in this world.

As a society, I feel like parents;  women especially, could do a much better job in supporting each other when it comes to how parents chose to provide for and raise their children. There are 500 different scenarios, and I do not think I have to list them all out because any parent that’s pouring love out of their heart to raise their children is a parent I support.   Why does it have to be a competition? Why are SAHP (stay at home parents) cast as a certain stereotype and working parents cast as another?  There are perks and insurmountable obstacles of all types of scenarios in raising kids.  I worked part time on three separate occasions after I had kids, and WE could not make it work as a family.  Why the competing forces on this topic?

For the record, I have probably criticized every one of these items in my head or out loud. Through some personal growth, I am realizing that when I criticize another person in general,  my own inner insecurities are rearing their monstrous head. My criticisms of anyone or anything, has everything to do with my issues and little or nothing to do with their issues.   My point, stop throwing stones in the glass house and start using some Windex together.  Let’s try to remove the following preconceived notions and judgement out of our parental interactions:

1)  The number and type of  extra curricular activities (I.e. sports) their children are involved in and  Thankfully , because of some of the work I have done on myself, I’m less likely to parent my children based on “comments” made by other parents.

2) How a parent disciplines their children.  Aside from physical, emotional abuse and neglect, how you (or as a family unit) chose to discipline your children is YOUR BUSINESS.  You are in the shoes 24/7, not the onlooker.

3) STAYING HOME TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR CHILDREN.

4) WORKING TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR CHILDREN.

Both scenarios have their pros and cons. Stop trying to win the argument because there should not even be an argument anymore. It takes a Village.

5) BEING A SINGLE PARENT. Enough Said.  I know my Dad struggled with this feat for many many years and I have the utmost respect for the single parent.

6)Being A Gay Parent.  How is “gayness” affecting the child? or your child? If you associate being “gay” with being perverse,  that’s your problem.

7) Home Schooling your Children. Sending your Children to Private School. Sending your children to Public School.   I personally could not home school my children because I substituted as a preschool teacher and I learned very quickly that it’s simply not in my DNA and I would be performing an injustice to their education.

8) What type of religion , if any, is taught in the home.   I do my best to teach my children what I know, I bought them “cartoon-esque”  bibles so they have a basic understanding of Christianity. Essentially it is their decision to believe in what they want to believe in for themselves. I  believe in a Higher Power of my understanding, I want them to come to understand what that means to them on their own terms.

9) How many chores your kids do around the house or if they earn an allowance.   Again,  you are not in the parents’ shoes 24/7, you are the onlooker.   What works for some , may not work for others.

10) I’m backtracking a bit, but breastfeeding. I did not breastfeed, I tried and had to stop. No, I am not going to buy another mom’s milk over the internet or even next door.     I applaud the women who breastfed and breastfeed.    “BREASTFORMATION” (projectile vomiting of information on the benefits of breast milk) is not going tot make  a woman who did not breast feed, change her mind on the subject, it’s only going to make the woman feel horrendous about her decision she can not or should not change based on your opinion.  Information on the benefits of of Breastfeeding is great for groups and people who want to hear the information.  I speak from experience and most moms I know who also did not breastfeed, DID NOT COME UPON THE DECISION LIGHTLY.  Many tears were shed over my decision to formula feed my children.

 

I am around a lot of moms. The most common thing I hear is that they are so tired of being judged and tired of feeling like they are losing themselves in what other people THINK they should be doing. Why are we so damn hard on each other, aren’t we hard enough on ourselves???  Whether you are a strict parent, a funny parent, a fly by the seat of your pants- parent,  cook three meals a day for your kid parent,  kids were potty trained at 18 months or 5  years, parent,  organized pinterest guru parent, handy parent, dramatic parent, etc!!! , I think the worst thing we can do to each other as parents is criticize each other!

 

Have you hugged another parent today?

 

* Article on Whooping Cough

http://gizmodo.com/whooping-cough-is-now-a-full-blown-epidemic-in-californ-1590895772?utm_campaign=socialflow_gizmodo_facebook&utm_source=gizmodo_facebook&utm_medium=socialflow

In a world that screams “be better, faster, stronger, thinner, happier, healthier, smarter, bouncier, boingier, etc”, we become our own worst critic. I believe in change, but not when it threatens the acceptance of who we are at  our core of beautiful personalities, which makes us special, unique, quirky and dynamic.

The most tumultuous battles I fight are with myself are because I’m not measuring up with what “I think” people need me to be doing, saying or being at this very moment.  “PEOPLE PLEASING” is a disease and it can literally kill your soul, your creativity, drive addicts to use again, incite aggression and make people mentally breakdown. I know from experience that when I am not being true to myself and my beliefs and I’m “buying in” to what other people are “selling” (metaphorically and literally) and I am not listening to my gut instincts, I end up in situations of regret and resentment.

Yes, we absolutely need to be considerate, kind and strive to help out our fellows. It is the times when we extend ourselves to others in full self abandonment, we end up on an empty gas tank forgetting to “fill~up” the most important person in the relationship equation, ourselves.  Self ~ Love does not mean becoming a doormat for others and saying “yes” to every request and demand. People who truly love us want us to say “No” or let our voices be heard.  People who thrive on YOUR “people pleasing”, are not loving you, they are using and manipulating you to gain something for themselves.

So why is Funny Lady Scrappie-Momma being so serious? I have been doing a lot of soul~searching, trying to find the real cause of my anxiety. I , like many, suffer from anxiety, depression and “projectile~future~vomiting”. Trust me , its LIGHT YEARS better than it was in my twenties and even thirties.  The truth is, the more peace I feel daily,  the more PEACE I need to feel daily,  and to shut the mental wars in my mind that occur in my brain.  I can create a tornado of distress in the middle of a sunshine filled day if I do not keep the “projectile~future~vomit” “inner voices in check.

I grew up with a lot of chaos. I finally provided a glimpse of my horrendous foster care  and schizophrenic Mom stories with my son and his response was “Wow, Mom you are the most interesting person I know!”..Wow, what a revelation,  rather than feeling shame or trepidation from my roller coaster childhood, I have amazing knowledge, strength and passion I can share my story in hopes to help others overcome barriers to full inner peace. (book!)  For me, when I feel peace, my brain is wired to say “OH SNAP, THIS SHIT ABOUT TO GET REAL, WAIT FOR IT SOMETHING INSANE ABOUT TO POP OFF BRO” (because my inner voice is most definitely a hip hop artist) . The reason my brain is wired like this is because for thirty years, it’s exactly how it happened for me!

In my childhood and through adulthood something “popped off” every one, two, to three years without fail. In a mirage of inconsistency, the one driving constant for me was turbulence.  Foster care, death, suicide,  divorce, alcoholism, anorexia,  etc. etc, either circumstantial or of my own , and at the time I thought, innocuous creations.  After 18, I definitely would subconsciously create sabotage, drama and mayhem because I thrived on burning the candle with a million ends. I use the terms innocuous and subconscious because I had developed my very own PHD from the”auto-pilot-drama” academy, where I was the student, teacher and graduate, completely oblivious to the sabotage I created for myself and to those around me.

In closing, this blog post started out as a Facebook post on my blog page I lose people after 140 characters and it took on a venue of its own.  The only goal I have for myself is to do things that bring me PEACE. I SIMPLY cannot be the Mom trying to outpace other Mom’s in whatever societal race we have created to raise Super Children. I cannot buy into the sensationalistic articles ( if you read them all, which I did for two years as a “health~coach”)  ,after all deductions and conclusions of said reading, I surmise facetiously, Organic Kale is the only food that won’t kill us. As Jim Gaffigan so eloquently stated in his recent stand up Obsessed, “Kale tastes like bitter spinach and hair”, and  after MANY attempts to try and like Kale, I have to agree. I just don’t like kale.

 

 

 

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1) My kids are out of school.

2) I absolutely give myself an F in multitasking.

3) Seriously, I can’t walk and chew gum, it’s that bad.

4) When I start to get worked about about my “to do” list, it freaks me out and I get anxiety around the kids, which leads me to ..

5) I start comparing myself to Moms who have a 18 ab-pack, “stay at home” and “run a business”, or “work part time” or  “run a charity” or  cook, bake, dance, dust, plant, and ferberized all their children by the time they were three months. Even feberized the neighbors children and almost got them to feberize my children too, but 6 and 9 YEARS were above the cut in feberization training.*

6) When I start comparing, I get cranky. When I get cranky, I furrow my brow. When I furrow my brow, I have to set aside MORE MONEY for my future Botox treatments (no I haven’t had any..), because I already have the Victor Newman/Clark Gable deep forehead wrinkles that look fascinating on a man and not so much on a woman.

Caveat – I  need to be set  aside ALL our Botox money for college because according to the internet,  we are all dying from melting ice caps caused by the private jet plane fuel from the ostentatious Kimye** wedding,  GMO’s*** are in EVERYTHING, political controversy  gridlocks sneezing now and seriously, we are all going to die very soon. Bottom line,  the world will soon dissipate via spontaneous combustion because it gets clogged with TOO MANY KARDASHIAN** SHOWS, by the time my kids will be pursing their studies; thus, they will be receiving their education on Mars.

7) Did you read # 6? That’s pretty much any one of my “million” “complete” thoughts in a single day. It is kind of a miracle that I can blog , AT ALL really. You should see my writing scrapbook and journal. I can’t read half of what I hand- wrote. It’s fun, it’s like learning a new language when I go back and read stuff. I mean, I caveat my itemized lists?  WHO DOES THAT? Yes, I EVEN YELL AT MYSELF IN ALL CAPS IN MY JOURNAL.

8) I’m writing a book too,  I can’t multitask.   Like right now, the word count got stuck on that evil number and it wouldn’t move so it really freaked me out so I just started typing gibberish until the word count thing moved, and yeah, that’s kind of how my brain works.

9) In addition to my two children, we have a bearded dragon, name Echo who seems to go on some kind of hunger strike every three months. While I initially acquired this pet because a) My son completed some arbitrary task I had been begging him to complete and b) I THOUGHT it would be easier than a dog, he is kind of like having a third child. Oh ok, maybe a 1/2 a child. or 1/2 dog. or 1/2 cat or something.

10) Through all my self- help journeys, ONE MESSAGE, is abundantly clear to me lately is that I need to FREAKING RELAX and not worry about “getting it all done” or “I wonder what so and so thinks” .  When I do not “hold-still” and go a million miles an hour, I end up in a big giant pile of anxiety-produced-goo. In a nutshell, I’m going to take it easy on myself with my writing schedule and everything really, because life is short, and dammit I really thought this blog would be shorter!  I know some of you have my critical, yet short, attention span and if goes over thousand word count, I lose you. I get it!

Summary – I am not going to “sweat the small stuff” (Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff was a college graduation gift, I guess I sweat a lot, wouldn’t a case of Secret been more suitable?)  and as much as I love WRITING ; – blogging/book etc etc, are not  as important as the two and 1/2 mini reptile-humans I have under my roof that will need more of me than normal. :)

 

 

*Ferberization – Please Google it for the non-sarcastic definition. IN a nutshell it means letting your baby cry it out so they sleep 14 hours a night without bothering you and they live amazing, blissful, fabulous lives forevermore because you did not go running to their every wince and need when they were wee babies. . I was the Mom that absolutely could not do this. a) it sound like nail spikes on a chalkboard b) I wanted to sleep and I just couldn’t “tune it out”. I would sleep upright next to my sons crib so he could play with my hair.  I even BOUGHT a barbie doll (because, I did not have a girl YET) and try to prop her up, but the doll was to small and he could pull into crib and choke on a barbie doll so, yeah I don’t recommend the Barbie Doll Sleep Method.

Yes, my children still crawl into our bed very early in the morning..   ( like anywhere from 3 to 5 am)  GASP.   Some people think this is HORRENDOUS. Good Lord is it your bed? Please.  That’s another blog: 10 ways I keep my head from exploding when people without kids give unsolicited parenting advice OR people with kids try to tell you about their amazing parenting skills and they really do not have “many issues” with parenting, at all.  Vomit.

** Kimye -(I got that from Saturday Night Live, it’s Kim & Kayne’s name spliced together. You know from the Kardashians. If you do not know who they are , I applaud you for focusing on much more meaningful worldwide news.)

***GMO – Google it. I’m too exhausted to explain. It’s a “hot topic” so it will pop up maybe before Good Morning America?  (GMA)

 

++++++  Usual Disclaimer: DO NOT TAKE ME SERIOUSLY.  This stuff sounds extremely funny in my head, I have deemed myself a “comedic writer”, but I am too chicken to even attempt stand up. Anyhoo, another writer friend told me that comedic writing does not work well unless it’s narrated verbally, and people just think the writer is “angry”.   That’s so not the case, this is my free therapy and my goal is to make myself laugh at myself and for you to just LAUGH!
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Yeah, I know monks live without stuff, but if you know my writing at all, I  am somewhat facetious so please do not take every word I write, seriously! YES, I do write some serious stuff, but my main goal is to make people LAUGH LAUGH AND LAUGH, be inspired and not take themselves so seriously!!!

As I age, I crave the simpler life.  I yearn for slow walks through antique stores filled with cobwebs, spending hours getting lost in a book, in my pjs, not worrying whether the popcorn I am eating is filled with genetically modified aliens or “Did I eat enough fiber today???”     Life today moves fast and the newest fad is bitching about people using their smartphones to much VIA THEIR SMARTPHONES!!! ‘   The irony of weepy-creepy-music filled videos of people looking down at their smartphones while a tree bristles in the wind, LINKED FROM FROM A SMART PHONE, TO A SMART PHONE PLATFORM makes me kind of Lewis Black cranky because just thinking about it is like those horrendous math problems we had to solve in high school math. It hurts my head.   I GET IT AND I ABSOLUTELY AGREE, WE (I!)  need to disconnect MORE, but send the message BY DISCONNECTING YOURSELF and setting the example, not making these crazy-long-weepy-creepy videos/pictographs, of people using their phones and chastising people for LIVING IN THE MODERN WORLD!

Ok, I got off on a little tangent, I was going to make that whole paragraph above a separate blog, but  tangents are kind of my thing.  A College friend always told me “I just love your stream of consciousness thinking Laurie” .  The paragraph is important because I do and did have a bit of phone problem. I like to write. I like to create. Word Press is on my phone. Therefore I am trying to find a balance and this blog, helps me put things in perspective and writing is my therapy.

Here are 10 things I need:
1) Antiques. Pictured above is my Grandmothers Aunts Baby Daddy’s Victorian Sofa (Okay, maybe not the baby daddy part..) Her furntiure, these antiques, hold a lot of great memories. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was Linda Carter or some force of nature on said sofa, catapulting off with my magical-super-hero-powers  while she yelled “STOP JUMPING OFF THE FURNITURE!”

2) Laughter.  I simply could not survive this earth without a sense of humor.  Anytime I have gone through an entire day and have not laughed means a day where I need to sit down and figure out what the hell is wrong with me.  When I was anorexic and living with my sister, a quote that jolted me into seeking recovery was “One of the saddest things about this whole eating disorder thing is  you have completely lost your awesome sense of humor.”

3) My Family.  Nuclear and extended. Crazy and Sane.  Messy and Miraculous. Through my 42 years, I have lost a brother, mother, grandmother, uncle and more.  Loss sucks and it happens. I get that. I just hope that it happens a bit more naturally is all and that I preserve the memories better than I have in the past.

4) My Friends.  I used to think I didn’t need people. And I’ll admit, when things get blue for me, I want to isolate and shut out the world but the truth is, we all need friends, even if it’s just one.  We need people, and whether you are spiritual or not, scientifically we absolutely can’t live without them for very long.

5) Wrinkle Shield.   I can’t live with out the wrinkle shield on the dryer.  Ironing is like brushing my teeth with mayonnaise and dirt. And I’m not one of those people who is all on top of laundry in the dryer so Thank You Jesus for helping the inventor create the wrinkle shield button.

6) or the dryer and washer. Although, in trying to be simpler, I yearn for a clothes line again, but we live in a subdivision and they would have a coronary-bi-pass-genetically-modified -alien-filled-heart-palpitation if I put a clothes line up in my back yard.

7) Coffee. It’s not even about the caffeine (ok maybe a little). In essence, it’s a quintessential part of my morning ritual. The smell is like honeysuckle in the spring, pine needles in the winter, or the Lavender Lysol-Bleach combo smell during vomit-virus season. It’s COMFORTING and I like it.

8) Yes. The dishwasher. When  my second was 2 months old, ours broke and I told my husband, “Oh I can handle this, I used to hand wash dishes all the time growing up!” Two teeny tiny baby bottles later, I was Googling coupons for all the local appliance stores saying it could be my Christmas, mothers day, birthday, double Christmas present, but I could not live without a dishwasher.

9) Thunderstorms on a hot afternoon.  This is like xanax to me. No I don’t use xanax (anymore).   Seriously, I don’t know if it brings me back to #1, playing Wonder Woman inside because we could not be out side because of the Thunderstorm.  The darker the clouds the better.  No, tornadoes freak me out,  but a good old fashioned non threatening Thunderstorm is like a nap in a hammock for me.

10) My Faith.  I am not RELIGIOUS.\, but I do have a faith in a higher power.   I used to think I need to have a fancy, gilded, bourgeois, fearful relationship with God,     that’s the antithesis of spirituality (for me).  I pray everyday as much as I can, just like I am talking to you, and yes I even swear sometimes. (obviously I don’t like take His name in vain or anything. when I ‘m praying that is.)

 

 

 

 

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1) My kids slept in outfits below and ate cookies for breakfast.

2) My intention was to get everyone to cute little church at and of the road to get OUR PRAISE ON SON!,  today…but,

3) I slept in, ate three breakfasts, watched Adam Sandburg close the season of Saturday Night Live instead.
PS, I only let kids watch a teeny snip it, because I’m a good Mom :)

4) I am on my 5th cup of coffee and have accomplished Zero chores or tasks and I have zero plans to drink a healthy greencrimefightingdeathdryinglifechanging smoothie today.

5) I ALMOST deleted my Joel Olsteen tapings to make room on DVR (by accident!!).  I just love that guy, I will watch later, on my seventh cup coffee.

6)..I overreacted in yelling at my husband telling him not to overreact at my overeactions. Right? ,sounds like a 10th grade math~philosophy test question.

7) I have been brushing my teeth with a
Tiana and The Frog toothbrush designed for four year olds, all week and my new toothbrush is still downstairs on the kitchen counter.

8) I spent way too much time reading about the JayzSolangeBey Gate conundrum versus reading about our local Political candidates.

9) Wait, I don’t regret # 8. Politics is like brushing your teeth with said tootbrush coated in sand, grit, oreos, and mayonnaise.

10) I literally cannot  think of a #10 because I am that unproductive today so I have left my adoring fans with only 9 reasons..maybe 8, because 9 technically does not even count.

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I spent a life time doing this, but not anymore.

If I’ve learned ONE thing, make changes to love and accept yourself but do not bend with the societal wind that tells you that you need a product, a thing, a drink, a drug or whatever, to be better.

I’m a slow learner, I’m stubborn, I may make the same mistake a hundred times before I learn the message; YET, this lesson right here, may be the most important one I have learned. Changing your perception of oneself is an inside job and it may be the most important one you ever have in your life!

If you change to be accepted by or be like others ~ it’s like flat ironing your hair, in the shower, while using curl enhancer all at the same time! I plead the fifth as to whether I have attempted the  aforementioned shower~flat~ironing insanity.

My kids are pictured because I learn so much from their acceptance of themselves and their unabashedly contentious nature to grab life by the horns and not let GO; no matter who tells them what they can and cannot do,including their MOM!!  aka scrappiemomma!

I aim protect them, I make A LOT OF MISTAKES, I’m impatient, I’m scrappie, I’m messy, sometimes I lack the polished filter that most suburban moms seem to carry around like a pink hammer of grace and poise. I feel like I eff up any type of school event or extra curricular activity as in “Um ? wtf am I supposed to be doing because the hospital manual stopped at three months and I’m flying blind?”( case in point ~ forgetting to dress my daughter in her dance costume, for DRESS REHEARSAL because I apparently I didn’t comprehend even the title of the email “DRESS REHEARSAL”. These types of clueless mom shenanigans happen more frequently than expected, and I don’t even drink….)

I’m drifting off tangent a bit. My point, I try to shield them too much from the aching hurts of the world all while knowing that I have to let them spread their wings to ready themselves for a world that in one breath is as miraculous as it is cruel. I guess what I truly wish, through my unwavering love and guidance, is I never, ever, ever break their tenacious spirit or their acceptance of themselves at their inner core, because, that my friends, is the key to true, inner peace.

My 2 cents today.

No disrespect to Micheal Z dawg, because he’s a genius, but am I the only one that gets anxiety after scrolling on Facebook ? There are things I still love about the platform, and I know I personally have comitted many social media sins,   I’m just a little less than amused, ok maybe Lewis Black annoyed with Facebook.

Lets get to it, these are just a sample of posts that literally give me what my Italian friends calls heartburn or “ahhjidaa?”

1) “The blood of the teeth of my savior shall free you if  and only you share this post”

Seriously, I highly doubt this falls into the WWJD category. (What Would Jesus Do). This is not inspiring. Joel Olsteen that isht down please. We need a nice, soft place to land.

2) “I hate my life”.

My nine year old said this yesterday because he got his feelings hurt by his friend. He was legitimately upset but I explained there is absolutely no reason to be “hatin’.  Its okay to be upset, but If my nine year old can’t say it, nor should you because YOU GROWN.

3) The gym “selfies.”

Every once in a blue moon, we get it, you are in good shape..of course you want to show your high school chums you have an eight pack. Have you ever hear the term “less is more”? It applies to those who feel like we need to be reminded, daily, even hourly, that you have a flat stomach, and are very sweaty from your lift session with Mr. & Mrs. bicep.   Remember “ABS~ENCE’ (from the ab shots)  MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER”

4) The Political diatribes.

I may have to deactivate my account during the 2016 election season. You want to make a difference in politics?..Join Congress. WAIT; no, that won’t work either.

You are simply NOT going to “turn” people into a Republican, a Democrat, a leftie, rightie, a Tea Party crasher, LGBT basher, or a Libertarian Masher by getting unnecessarily douchbaggery towards your fictional opponents ON FACEBOOOOOKKKKK.  Yes!! stand for something, but subtract the summer’s eve product nuances.

5) Insulting  people’s intelligence to make sales or “get them to sign up” for the “life changing x,y,z”.

Yes, absolutely you should promote your business on social media. Its the world we live in today.  My skin~crawling~ irritation is with the “ickiness” of some of the sales tactics. The quickest way I can describe it is after seeing an icky sales posts, I feel like I was bathed in fake maple syrup.
…. I don’t know why I alluded to “fake” versus “real” maple syrup. I grew up in Maine, so I do not want to offend real Maple syrup because it is really good  and maybe even less sticky than the fake stuff.

6) “I just can’t even believe the way some people are sometimes, you know who you are!!!”

Did you mean to text or privately message this to your bestie?

I get passive aggressiveness, I am a  woman, we kind of created it and “own it” once a month, but as a status update?…Thinking “that person” might see the post? And if they do, you really want to duke it out, in front of everyone?

WHICH brings me to..

7) “Well, my daddy’s, sisters husband’s girlfriend’s babie’s, cousin’s daddies brother, is fighting for custody of Uncle Sherman’s, cousin Sally Mae’s ,second cousin’s Rhi Rhas, first cousin’s once removed, babie’s baby. And let me tell you something if they think I’m gonna back down, they don’t know who they dealing with”

1) Wha? b) What exactly are you backing down from? A family reunion in divorce court?

And then there is that comment:

“I will be praying for you,-!”

WHAT ARE YOU PRAYING FOR , ARE YOU GOING TO SCREENSHOT THAT UP TO HEAVEN BECAUSE YOU BEST BELIEVE JESUS WILL BE CONFUSED”

In nutshell, if the family’s dirty laundry is so confusing, you need ancestry.com AND Dr Phil to help sudoku it out, Maybe that’s better left as a chit~chat with your Momma’s cousin’s Aunt’s Daddy’s sister.

8) Trying to scare me with scary, preachy messages on how I need to change my sinful ways.  Again 1) did you mean to text someone and b) stop watching Fox news. Its not that bad.

(My sister watches Fox news so don’t get all ornery; they, like all other 24/7 news coverage get paid to sensationalize, YOU, on the other hand, do not. Refrain and post a picture of a kitty cat saving a kid’s life instead!! )

9) Solange and Jay-z Memes. Just kidding, this recently and it’s CRAZY how memes have accumulated in a 72 hour period.  We are absolutely a nation obsessed with celebrities. I am not immune, I was curious too.  I fell asleep trying to find Solange’s instagram account because I read she deleted ALL her pictures of Beyonce and Jayz. I know, right???  How crazy is that? Oh you mean, How crazy AM I for searching for her instagram account instead of saying sharing #1’s post to save my debauchery filled soul? yeah, I know. Thankfully I was tired.  There were like 25 Solange Knowle’s accounts and I betcha Jesus was kind of curious too so He was busy on instagram.

10) Duck Face Selfies. STOP. STOP. STOP. YOU ARE NOT A DUCK.

This is all meant to funny. I have probably committed all of the above in one shape or form. I am sure I annoy people with my Facebook posts.  Seriously, please laugh, I love Jesus and everyone on Fox news. :)

Shortest Blog ever by Scrappie Momma:

I stopped counting the calories,
I put the scale in the garage,
I refuse to be addicted
To this perfectionist mirage

Everyday can be struggle
Of “omg is this organic??”
Bc every health article I read
Seems to send me into a panic

Health will ALWAYS be a part of me
BC my 9th grade health teacher was Hawt
Ok that’s not entirely true
But I think I just laughed a lot

I’m trying to live in moderation
Break the chains of control that confine me
So if you see me reading a label in deliberation
Tell me its ok, life is a gift, let it go & be free

I rarely blast out rhymes
This literally just popped into my head
I blog most of the time
Possibly, I just lost my Rap Street cred*

My head is a Rolodex in the wind
Where I control the uncontrollable around me
Somewhere I learned enjoying food was a sin
But thankfully I’m slowly learning  to just BE

I have no clue how to end a poem
The words don’t flow as easily
Just a quick glimpse I have shown
& help my day go more readily

 

* Kind of an inside joke, a lot of aspiring rap artists follow me on twitter. I mean not a lot, but enough where I’m wondering if Scrappie Momma is being mistaken  for Lil Momma or Drop Dem Rhymes Momma?  Who knows, I just hope there is no misconception that I have 1) any street cred because I grew up on farms,  a fishing village and in Shaker Heights Ohio, and 2) that I can rap, because I do try and it’s horrendous.

I wrote this a while ago. I’m catching up on all my handwritten blogs.  I have had a lot of dental work lately and my favorite drama on television is The Walking Dead. On with it.

1)  You witness a dental team utilize a mini arsenal of mini home improvement and home gardening tools ON YOUR MOUTH.  This way, if you every need pet zombies for protection (Michonne, Walking Dead) you can loot a dental office and mimic what you witnesses while people were gardening in your mouth; except, precision and pain alleviation will not be an issues.

2)The dental insurance companies cover one toof.  So either you have one really great toof, to use when you become a Zombie during an Apocalypse, or you drained your savings to save the other toofies. Either way, you will have something to work with as a Zombie if you visit the dentist regularly!!!  Yes I spelled toof incorrectly on purpose.  I do not know why, maybe it’s some kind of rebellious gesture towards Dental Insurance companies for the asinine  policy of COVERING ONE TOOF OR ONE QUADRANT of said Toofies.

  •     Side note. I had ZERO clue on how to spell asinine.  So I looked up “assynyne” on google. Apparently it’s very popular name for hip hop groups and rock bands.  And YES, I know how to spell toof. Remember, I’m rebelling.

3)Laughing Gas is awesome.  So if things start to go south during a Zombie Apocalypse, find a dental office STAT, to hide your posse in and hook yo’self up playah.

  •  I mean “go south” as it go poorly. Not “move towards the south”. This can be confusing, hence my clarification, because the Walking Dead is filmed in the South, in Georgia.  I never really thought of where the term “go South” as in “going poorly” comes from….?

4) Dental people have fabulous teeth. Zombies do not.

5) Dental offices are shiny, nice, sanitized, and play great family friendly movies like “Up” and “Despicable Me”; whereas,  any warehouse or church or home you take refuge in during a Zombie Apocalypse, you will most certainly not have said amenities.

6) If you are in a Zombie Apocalypse, make sure you have one of those Novocaine Needles filled with Novocaine. That way if you are about to get bit, you can jab the pre-bit area with said needle and it won’t hurt as much.

No Pain, you will be slain”  You may have to tell your Zombie-Attacker- Non -Human -Walker thing, to hold off for about five minutes until the Novocaine kicks in though…

7) Dental offices are loaded with awesome supplies and weapons to loot during a Zombie Apocalypse,  For survivors AND to ward off Zombies. Think about it. Also DON’T FORGET TO ROLL THAT LAUGHING GAS MACHINE WITH YOU WHEN YOU HEAD BACK TO PEOPLE-ALIVE-HUMANS CAMP. Seriously.  Don’t leave home without it.

8) If you go to the dental office a lot for surgeries etc, you are prepared for Zombie Attack pain.

9) If it were the Dental People versus Zombies as last people on earth, I would place big money on the Dental People winning.  They have great tools,  they have great teeth, they know how to keep sanitized and ward of zombie germs and mutations, and they will all be high on laughing gas so it won’t really matter anyways.

10) If you have great dental coverage and stay up to date on all your dental appointments, you will make one hell of a Zombie during an apocalypse, that’s the same as #2 , but that’s all I got.

 

 

or 10 things that happen when you end up in the emergency room. I have been in many ERS over the past year (no, not just for my children, my Dad was sick last year and we were  looking out for him etc etc,I  tell you this because if I didn’t you would be like WTF is wrong with this Mom).  Let’s cut out the insanely verbose scrappiemomma monologue and get right to it.  I write what I know:

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1) My son recently got the bubonic plague. The above diagram indicates how the puking episodes transpired.

2) They feel like biscuit fireballs with the fever. On day 2 of da plague, he said his body felt like it was stretching. I almost passed out myself when the thermometer spiked to 104.5 in like seconds,  threw it across the room, grabbed keys, my son  & didn’t even finish taking his temperature.

3) Frantically sped towards emergency room with hazards on blast and screaming at red lights wondering;  “is it really necessary to have traffic lights in the middle of the night?” I suppose the tractor trailers  barreling down the road, deems traffic control mechanisms necessary. To a panicked Mom, though, anyone being on the road seemed unnecessary.

4) There is really NOTHING worse than and ER doc who is “dismissive”. I am being gentle here.  The other word I had chosen when I first write this started with an A and ended with a Hole.  I KNOW they are busy, I understand they are overwhelmed, but there really is no greater  feeling of complete helplessness when it comes to your family needing medical attention and the  ER people act like you are at Starbucks complaining that your foam isn’t foamy enough.

  •   Funny, Funny caveat. Last year the few times my Dad was in the ER, not so funny at the time; there was this one particular ER where instead of an actual NURSE or Attendant coming in to ask you registration questions, THEY WHEELED IN A GIANT MOBILE CART WITH A FREAKING PERSON ON SKYPE. Ever watch Big Bang Theory where Sheldon decides to only travel TO AND FRO via Skype on his computer? Seriously SAME SCENARIO.   Coincidentally, while I was providing pertinent information to “Shelbot”, a patient came running down the hallway, half dressed banging on the window, jumping up and down, pointing to my phone saying she needed to make a call.   At this point in the scenario, I was rendered speechless, and if you know me, it TAKES A LOT TO SHUT ME UP.

5)  This past ER visit. I had forgotten I cut and stubbed my pinkie toe on this fabulous garden paverkeepsgrassfromgrowingintoflowergarden thingies ( (seriously I’m HGTV illiterate)  my husband had put out front a few days before.   I looked down at cut on my toe and I FREAKED. I was convinced I had contracted the flesh eating bacteria while in the ER and almost had a panic attack and passed out until I remembered that I’m extremely clumsy and the majority of the bumps, bruises and scrapes I bequeath are due to my inability to walk a straight line. Sober.

6) You will do anything for your kids when they are sick. I was ready to donate any body part needed at any point in time.  We compromised by ordering an overpriced Minecraft bat on Amazon and then got really distracted and decided I needed to order the “tangle free brush” for my daughter. I was so incredibly distracted (there is a lot of ANXIETY RIDDEN DOWN TIME (#ARDT) and waiting in ERs and hospitals) I ended up order  SIX Ultimate De-tangling brushes.

  • Note, I capitalized ANXIETY RIDDEN DOWN TIME  and coined/hash tagged the term (ARDT) to indicate there is a HUGE difference between REGULAR DOWN TIME (#RDT…watching HGTV and Walking Dead) and #ARDT where ordering things on Amazon seems to alleviate anxiety. Buy now with one click is a highly dangerous button while undergoing #ARDT.

7)  There is a vast difference  in aesthetics, food, activities, Nursing Staff, at a regular hospital and a Children Hospital. I do not know how else to elaborate other than the fact it’s like Disney versus Chuckie Cheese.

8) I had a giant fever blister on my lip the entire time my son was in the hospital which if you know anything about fever blisters, they THRIVE on stress, so it like grew exponentially, hourly. To make me laugh, my friends kept saying that the Nurses were saying “High Maintenance Fever Blistered Mom in room 235 needs us again, no it’s YOUR turn to deal with her…”

9) Even “funnier”, somehow in the process of being in two 3 ERS  shuttled through Atlanta in ambulance transports etc etc , somehow someone forgot to write down the name and number of my son’s pediatrician; therefore, it was written on his chart “Family has no pediatrician”.   So I am downstairs in the Disney Cafe, when my husband texts me from my son’s room “Social Services is here, we do have pediatrician right?”

  Fever Blister Ridden Mom Drops salad on floor and screams “DON’T TAKE MY BABIES”.   Yes, I have a pediatrician for my children.

10) No disrespect to ANY of the staff in medical facilities , even if you are “dismissive” like # 4, because I’m sure Anxiety Ridden Fever Blistered Moms  are no picnic for the medical community either.  Even with all the ARDT that comes with  having a really sick kid, being in the ER, or being hospitalized, I am eternally grateful for  ERs, Hospitals, Children’s Hospitals and Nurses!

 

Happy Nurses Week :)

 

profielic1I think I blogged about this before, but I absolutely have zero memory of what I wrote and yes, I could go back and read it.  However, one of the 10 things that happen when you turn forty is forgetfulness and lack of patience.   (picture is me 40, husband 38. Yep. I’m a Cougar.  you can barely see my lips, see # 1)

On with it:

1) You lose your lip line. I’m not kidding, your face starts to melt into your lip line. Lip Liners are not for youthful people. The entire Lip Liner Industry was targeted for women over 40 who wake up one morning, look in the mirror and say “OMG WHERE ARE MY LIPS??????????????????”

a) Caveat: You LOSE LIP FAT.  LIP FAT. That’s NOT EVEN FAIR. God, or Buddha, or your divine being that created you / me, I must ask  “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING WITH THIS ONE??? Wasn’t there somewhere else on my 40 year old body that you could have taken fat to use for whatever you need fat from my lip to assist the body part with the needed fat from my lip??? I could make a few recommendations? ”

2) Spider Veins. Varicose Veins. Bumpy Veins. No, not the pretty ones that show on people who eat the perfect amounts of food and exercise perfectly and have pretty veins that barely show in their arms but kind of show because they are lean and strong. I’m talking veins that APPEAR OVERNIGHT in some cases that look like a cluster of blue bug bites.  Or Looks like your children got a hold of a blue sharpie, glue and blue confetti (not shiny or glittery, the dull confetti, the kind that sits out too long in the sun at the craft store and loses all its joie de vivre)  and decided to decorate your thighs and legs.

3) Cellulite.  Seriously. TRAPPED FAT?  Dear Divine Creator. Again, where are we going with this one? Fat being TRAPPED on your body. If the fat is there, isn’t it kind of already trapped?  Why do we need to make little pockets for it to stay trapped.  Its like Hotel California for FAT???   Purpose of Cellulite?? –  It gives the Celebrity Photo Shoppers a vocation.  OR it gives Celebrity Paparazzi something to chase after on the beach so they can hound some thin celebrity and broadcast to the world  “LOOK EVERYONE EVEN SHE HAS CELLULITE”  Nice.

a) Caveat: I recently took up foam rolling NOT because it’s a healthy and prevents injury.  I heard it “got rid of”  cellulite and I was all over that like paparazzi on cellulite on celebrities at the beach.  I know it does not get “rid of it”, I know the word was “reduces the appearance of cellulite” but in my book “reduces” = “rid of”.

4) Your metabolism? Wave good bye.  I had this whole long thing written out but there really is not a whole lot to explain.   Scientifically it’s the truth. I had to take a very long and cumbersome test when I was a fitness instructor and the ONE thing that they kept hammering over and over in the “Nutrition” section is the older you get, the more stuff slows down. Period. End of story.  I  passed the test (barely) but I know I got that answer right. The good news is if you foam roll, you will NEVER EVER get injured, have zero cellulite and can exercise off everything you eat. (I’m joking here…kind of….I’m really counting on this foam rolling stuff to kick in and turn me 20 again)

5) Ladies.  Your boobs. Will either go straight down or off to the side. I asked my friend if their was a cure for “armpit boobs.  Mine increasingly gravitate toward the side more and more, it seems like on a daily basis. I have to re-adjust them. Hourly. Dudes, I don’t know what happens to your instruments, but feel free to blog and let your 40 year old friends know all about whatever strange phenomenon is occurring  on an hourly basis, but keep it classy.

6) If you lacked patience before, expect to lack it even more. I went to very few camps or church gatherings as a child but there was one song I clearly remember  “Be patient Be patient don’t be in such a hurry, you will only start to worry, Just remember God has patience too, Just think of all the times others had to wait for you”.  The song frankly annoys me because it (as a song ) it invokes memories of people behind me in line, rolling their eyes and shooting me looks of severe disdain.  It divinely pops into my head when I am in the line from hell at Walmart or Home Deport or Lowes or Dollar General or DMV or where ever places long lines go to DIE.

7)  You eyelashes  leave their home and start a new home on your chin, , jawline , above your “un-lip-lined” lip, and the top of your feet. They move south for pre-Retirement years. No extra description needed here.

8)  Every time someone yelled out to you “Use sun screen” and you did not listen – turns into a sunspot, guess where??  The same place your eyelash hairs relocate to for their pre-Retirement party. Thus, you have a parade of unwanted hairs and GIANT torpedoed freckles on your upper lip, chin, jawline and feet in addition to the Hotel Calfornia’d cellulite and Micheal’s Craft store veins and so on and so forth.

9) You start giving your parent’s advice.  They don’t listen and they ignore EVERYTHING you say to them in form of advice and CHANGE THE SUBJECT TO SOMETHING THAT HAS TO DO WITH HIP HOP MUSIC?????   It’s like some twisted reverse-psychological- punishment for any hell you put them through when you were a teenager.   I really think they do it on purpose.

10) You drone on and on about “what happens when you turn 40”.  Mall teenagers, people in their “twenties” are mildly annoying, and TRUST me they find “people in their 40’s and above” as equally annoying. It’s just a vicious cycle of annoyance if anytime there is a mix of these ages; Which is virtually, any family gathering.  THE only PEOPLE that favor well at family gathering, are babies. So if you over the age of TWO, things just go down hill from there. HEY BABIES AND TODDLERS – Be prepared to be annoyed for the rest of your life. :)

WAIT, I almost forgot. Bonus) Forgetfulness.

WAIT, I just thought of another one when I was loading blog link to instagram.  SELFIES SUCK.

PS.This is ALL in good fun.

 

 

I was going to name this “10 Reasons why you should stop comparing yourself to others”  or “10 reasons why there should not be any comparison between the Stay at Home Mom (parent) versus the Working Parent” or “10 Reasons to accept yourself”   These are all very important topics, but I  really want to bring LAUGHTER into the blogging world.  Life is extremely serious, and there are things that need to be taken seriously, and there are amazing writers out there that are writing about very serious things and they all serve of equal importance in this extremely complex Universe. My problem is that my mind is an open web browser and every serious article/Facebook post/  of “you must change NOW”,  exploding in the informational highway, I absorb, over analyze and I get so distracted that I can not enjoy what is right in front of me at this very moment.

I KNOW it my opening paragraph is not Chuckle Hut worthy so on with it.  Here are 10 reasons why I will laugh at myself, (and Love) , I hope that you can find some time today to make yourself a quick list for yourself to help you love, laugh and accept yourself as to where you are at this very moment:

1) I wear Jackie Onassis dresses and love 1950s clothes, but I  also love really ratchet music. Like ratchet ratchet.  Like “Rack City” Ratchet. I mean, please, My Easter Dress looked like something out of Betty Crocker’s 1950’s picture-cookbook, all the while the top ten songs on my playlist are about “droppin’ it low”.  I will say; however, I do search high and low for the edited versions. I think that counts for something.

2)In continuation with my eclectic music and fashion sense, the song Let Her Go by Passenger makes me boo hoo like a baby. I do not know if it’s because of all the puppies and horses when it first came out or if it’s because it strikes some kind of peri-menopausal-tear-duct-gland or if when it’s played someone is cutting a onion nearby? I don’t know. It just makes me cry. It’s truly a beautiful song.

3) I cannot fold clothes if the floor needs to be vacuumed. For some reason it makes no earthly sense to me to be folding and putting away clothes when the floor is dirty.  You can imagine the havoc this wreaks if I get sick or my vacuum dies and my mop is on the fritz.  My sister lived with us for a while. She was very “on top” of the laundry.  If I saw her folding any stack of laundry, I would IMMEDIATELY, get the vacuum or mop out and start cleaning the floors. I would STOP whatever I was doing or convince her that she did not need to be folding the laundry because I am her sister and she should know I am just weird.

4) I have panic attacks at the grocery store when people bag my groceries.  I have to literally bite the inside of my cheek. I can’t do self- check out  either because I am very very slow and someone usually steps in and “assists” then I am back to the same conundrum.  Today I had a little freak out session because the bag person put all my cold stuff in the non cold recycle bags and vice-versa. Yes, I re-arranged all of this before loading into the car. I am sure I gave the person reading her People magazine in the car next to me a huge chuckle.

5) I am a horrendous drive-way driver.  Recently,  I was at a friend’s house and I literally drove right up over her cable box. It was pretty big. Cable still works in case you were wondering.    Oh, and last summer, my husband got a new truck with the back up ALARM system with the giant camera. I am backing up while we are on our annual beach vacation trip (so in my defense I was in a strange driveway) and the camera goes pitch black and the alarm things starts screaming, and I call my husband and ask him “Why is  rear aid back up alert flashing on the screen and why is it beeping extremely loud?’  His response; “YOU ARE ABOUT TO HIT SOMETHING!!!”   Lo and Behold , there was a GIANT PALM TREE about five centimeters away from the bumper. My friends were laughing so hard they could not even stand up.

6) I do not do well on highways either. I get very tense in “trafficky” situations. It’s not that I become a bad driver, I become a nervous, white knuckled driver. I hate the freeway or interstate.  Two funny stories:

a) One time I was with a friend,about 15 years ago , and I switched lanes rather quickly, possibly without using a blinker, because I had not gotten over fast enough due to my tense driving state of affairs.   I KNOW, it was not safe, but I was not intentionally trying to be rude or anything.  (that counts! Gold star for me!!) Immediately after my maneuver,  I looked back and I “thought” all these people were waving and me and I said to my friend , “Do we know all those people behind us?” as I fervently waved my hand out the window and smiled,  and she said “Um no, they are not waving at you, they are giving you the bird”.

b) I drove all the way from Maine to North Carolina with my sister when I went to college.  Several several times, truckers would pass us and give me the “hang loose” or “chill out” sign in response to my panicked, white knuckled “10 & 2” on the steering wheel.

7)  There is nothing I love more that to drink a huge soda (ok I am trying to be healthier so I have been drinking a lot of seltzer water, I NEED fizz) and let out a giant burp. I like to burp.  I feel like it’s cleansing in some ways. Don’t worry I do not do this in public, it’s purely a stay at home mom type of activity.  Drinkin Seltzer and Burpin. Sounds like a country or a rap song. Maybe.  I even try to sound out a word or something like “Excellent”… I know juvenile, but oh so rewarding.

8) I love to over analyze, ok wait, maybe I love to “shallow analyze” and ask insane questions during movies that sometimes have absolutely no connection to what is actually going on during the movie. This is definitely a blog for later but here are a few quick ones,  “Why would she be wearing something like that during an Zombie Apocalypse?”    “Do you think they really really love each other deeply or is it a marriage of convenience?”   “Do you think she makes smoking look sexy? or is that just me?” (don’t worry I am not going to take up smoking..it was JUST a question). Again, a blog for later.. because I think I should be a movie critic for all those random questions you have in the back of your mind.

9) I am a Messy Perfectionist. I am still trying to determine what that means.  It’s just a crazy way to describe my brain and the way I organize “things”.   I want things to be perfectly organized, put away and Pottery-Barn-worthy-showcased, but my brain simply does not operate in that manner; therefore the best way to describe how are organize things in my house is “Messy perfectionism”.  The level of organization on Pintrest literally makes me want to seek therapy.

10)  I lose chapsticks, lip gloss, hair thingies like there is no tomorrow.  And so does my daughter. So then when it comes time to “clean up and organize my messy perfectionism”, I will have 4359 pins & hair things in my hair, 45 lip balms in my pocket until I can find their messy home. Sometimes they never make it home depending upon what other “messy perfectionism” project I delve into on my journey.

This was a bit longer than I had anticipated but I hope it gives you a chance to laugh a little and thing of a few reasons why it’s okay to stop, smell the roses and not try to be 500000 steps ahead of everyone else, even yourself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In continuation from the previous post, here is a fabulous email I sent my kid’s dance Director.  I think she has a voo doo doll of me that she jams pins in every time she hears a BING on her phone and it’s an email from the illustrious and  loquacious Scrappie Momma………..

 

Logan and Laney, is it ok if I drop both of them off at the same time and pick them up at the same time (30 minutes before for laney would be 3:50, for logan would be 4:10 so I was hoping I could drop both them off at 3:50?)

  For Pick up I’m a little confused (this is probably all me)  because  there is a Finale for the 1pm show and for the life of me I can’t find the Finale for the 6pm? or do they all practice that together? or is this a stupid question.  For Pick up,  it looks like they are both in the Finale at 6:05, so should I plan on picking them up around 7? or am I missing something?  Also Logan will be in both shows and both Finales, but Laney will not) Does that change anything?

Sorry I have read it a lot, and I even have coffee in my system, I just want to make sure I have this all marked in my folder and on my calender (s) because last year I kind of messed this all up.

 

Sincerely, A woman WHO NEVER EVER EVER GOT THE MANUALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

 

Ouch. That hurt! I think she may have used extra pins this time.

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It’s actually 10 reasons, but the bus is coming, and I promised myself that I would blog or write in my book at least six times a week and well, I want to get this published today so I do not break any more promises to myself, or have to blog or write when my kids are home.  I do realize summer is just right around the corner so am I planning to just “not write” for two months?? No,  I will have a strict schedule with mandatory writing time for all,   six times a week, okay maybe five, okay maybe I will we will count writing out birthday cards to Mee Maw and Pee Paw as writing time. You will see why I want to concentrate on writing this summer with my children, with my # 2.

On with it:

 

1) As referenced in the above picture , It’s Dress Rehearsal time for dance recital. Let me break down for you what happened last year:
a) I drove my daughter betwixt non-Perimeter and Perimeter Atlanta traffic to a Performing Arts Center that JUST HOSTED A CHICK FIL A CONVENTION. To a Dress Rehearsal. In which I FORGOT TO DRESS MY CHILD IN HER DANCE COSTUME. I did not read the email last year. No, I did not even read the SUBJECT LINE DRESS REHEARSAL !!!!

B) I had to drive all the way betwixt this Armageddon of traffic back home. It was a Friday Spring night. Bass was exploding from every hooped up hooptie and monster mash truck rattling my nerves (Usually I love bass explosions).  At one point I got completely lost and tried to turn around in a large parking lot and couldn’t  get OUT OF THE PARKING lot, while my son was in the back, I ended up doing doughnuts (unintentionally ) screaming expletives at the top of my lungs. He said and I quote “You really need to relax Mom”.

C) There is much more to this story, but it does provide an amazing glimpse as to why I DID NOT GET THE MANUAL.

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2) I’m not sure if you can read this but this is a breakdown of some type of standardized testing my son had recently on writing skills.  I burst into tears when I got the scores back because he “did not meet expectations” in nearly 90 percent of the categories, and I am a “writer” and it  truly is all about ME and I live vicariously through my children. I think I also had really bad PMS OR I am in some type of peri-menopausal purgatory because I am much more emotional two weeks before and after that time of the month, which is basically 365 days of the year.  Thankfully, I showed my extremely level headed husband WHO DID INDEED GET THE MANUAL and said “I do not understand any of this jibber jabber* either, our kids are smart, quit stressing, hey how’s that book coming? are we going to be able to retire in Ft Lauderdale because you will be like that lady who wrote all the Harry Potter books?” Oh my poor poor husband. No, he shouldn’t listen to my jibber jabber* either.  Quite frankly I do not think he does listen to much of it.

3) I was going to take a picture for #3, as I just got though vacuuming five pieces of destroyed chicken fingers that I had made from the book Deceptively Delicious , where you try to hide vegetables in the kid’s food. I probably should have foreseen these type of shenanigans when I saw the word “flax seed” as an ingredient.  I am not sure I even like flaxseed but I put it in all my food because I read it helps get rid of cellulite. Okay, NO I didn’t read that but I inferred it from the reading because it’s one of the new “superfoods” like “chia seeds”  (I like) “chai tea” (I like)  “kale” (strongly hate) and every freaking wheat barely foo foo grass from here to China. I digress.  Consequently,  My stubbornly honest daughter told me it and I quote the nuggets “were disgusting Mommy, just disgusting” and burst into tears. My  sensitively innocent son, told me he ate all five pieces.  Refer back to beginning of paragraph.  No disrespect to Jessica Seinfield, (who wrote Deceptively Delicious, I have tried a lot of the recipes and let’s just say I had to freeze all the chicken because that will be my lunch for the next 356 days. I made like a quadruple batch because I most certainly thought it would be a huge hit.

4) Sometimes, I watch “106 & park’ on BET,  in the evenings when they are doing their homework to make sure my Bootie Explosion play list is currently up to date with every “drop it low shawty” jam. Here are a few lyrics I find quite entertaining right now. Yes, I should be hovering over them (my kids, not the Bootie Jams)  with a plate of warm cookies, but Momma needs her jams. (“not jellies, jams like JAMZ” or “Jam on it son”) And notice I said “Sometimes.” Although I think Lil Bow Wow is the cutest thing in the world, I do not have time to watch “106 & Park” every night.  Please notate these JAMMIN lyrics:

Jason Derulo’s “Talk Dirty to me”

“Been around the world, do not speak the language, but your Booty don’t NEED SPLAININ”
I wonder if my booty don’t need much splainin’ or does my booty leave much to be splained? (that’s me thinking, in non italicized)

Trevor Jackson and B.O.B   “Drop It, Drop it, Drop it where you are”

” and she finna drop it low in Bobby Rae BootCamp, Hopping out the old school, let the door slam, She got a fistful, call her Lindsay Both hands”

Beyonce’s  “Partitions”

Radio say speed it up, and I just go slower,

high like treble, puffin on them mids,the man ain’t never seen a booty like this,

and why you think you keep your name rollin on my tongue, cause when you want to smash I just write another one,

I SNEEZED ON THE BEAT, AND THE BEAT GOT SICKER (THIS IS ME SCRAPPIE, OMG HOW DOPE IS THAT LINE RIGHT THERE!!) .

etc etc etc

 

5) I say things like “Pretend you are grown like me and your child does not listen to you and you have to ask them 10000000000007 ways to Sunday to clean their room. every. day., how would that make you feel??” I do not think my kids are ready for all the philosophically laden, therapeutic jibber jabber, but it sure as hell does make me feel better to ask them really long questions just to hear myself jibber jabber.*.

 

*I gleaned the term jibber jabber from the Big Bang Theory, Penny Always tells Sheldon he needs to quit with the jibber jabber.

She finna drop it low in Bobby Ray bootcamp
Hoping out the oldschool, let the door slam
She got a fistful, call her Lindsay Bothhands
Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/trevor-jackson/drop-it-remix-lyrics/#VtRd5twSBPt3cBTo.99

 

More jibber jabber on this topic ..later.

Specifically, wordpress, computers as a people and automated services.

1) Yesterday, I couldn’t type on my computer. Its connected (??) VIA wireless mouse and keyboard because my husband thinks he’s Jack Bauer and I’m his hot side kick. I hate wireless attachments because THERE ARE NO WIRES TO FIGURE OUT THE PROBLEM. Ask me. Yes. I TURNED TO COMPUTER OFF 3x and I was able to restore sanity to the office.

2) Everytime I try to log into Word Press from my phone, I get a jacked up error message telling me there is a two step verification process to log in. I have zero clue what this means EXCEPT, periodically, randomly throughout the day and night, I get WordPress codes texted to me. If I’m being hacked, and someone is plagiarizing my genius writing, I will find you.

3) I had to call Express scripts today. I hit zero 5677887664432456 times and kept screaming CUSTOMER SERVICE PERSON into my phone. After, ten minutes of this “Sybil” (the movie) worthy performance, I talked to a real person. Why is it so hard to talk to real people? 

4)  When I have not received a text in over an hour I’m convinced my phone is broken. I miss the neon phones with cords so long, you could wrap your entire body with it, which I did a lot as a teenager, out of sheer “lets see how much I can stretch the cord”. I miss not feeling like my phone is an appendage. 

5) Browsing on the internet can completely ruin your day. For example, a tiny sliver of an example, I have self diagnosed myself and my children, with the most awful cases and rare diseases through Web Md that my pediatrician reminds me regularly, not to use WebMd.

6) Our wireless computer setup, sure has a lot of wires everwhere that collect a lot of dust.

7) There is NEVER an easy solution if you get the blue screen of death on computer with the blinking hypen at the top and few words of code gibberish. We have been through a few burned out hard drives,(terminology may be off here)  to know that there is no coming back from this death window. 

8) The Geek Squad almost salivate when you bring in Blue Screen of Death problems.. 8) Technology has a short shelf life. My neon phone would still be kicking it,  if I hadn’t ruined the cord by playing “Cord Mummy” when I should have been doing my computer science homework.

9) Why didn’t I LISTEN and study in computer class!!! My son fried two laptops with minecraft and I fried our dinosaur modem by clicking the “MAKE YOUR COMPUTER FASTER” POP UP PEOPLE.

10) I have two books on WordPress FOR dummies.
I am on page 12, of each. Its my ambien.

My husband is convinced I have the poltergeist technological malfeasance within my tippy tappy fingers on the keyboard. I’m convinced everything technological should comply with my clicking of pop ups and middle-fingered “eff you swirly button not responding message” sentiments.

What’s your kryptonite?

➡➡➡➡➡➡➡I WILL BE THE VINTAGE SHOP OWNER, IN A EAST COASTAL TOWN, W/ DANGLING GLASS BIFOCAL HOLDERS, STRONGLY SCENTED JERGENSLOTION & BENGAY PERFUME, BRIGHT RED LIPSTICK SHAKILY DRAWN ON MY LIPS, BRIGHT WHITE CURLY WHITE HAIR, GIANT CHUNKY JEWELS, & PIERCING EYES THAT HOLD A MILLION STORIES IF YOU ASK☜☜☜☜⬅⬅⬅⬅⬅

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This is not a diet blog and I swore I’d never blog about this topic again. HOWEVER,  I am passionate moderate living and in reading Austin Kleons book ‘Steal Like An Artist’ he said,  if you cut off all your passions to focus on one theme , the others will come back like phantom limbs. I’m paraphrasing a bit, because I’m too entrenched to get up and get book to fully quote. (No, not to be confused with lazyness hee hee lol smiley emoticon:)))  ….*note.. If you are an aspiring writer, blogger, artist, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU read the book!

Okay, I’m FRUSTRATED with the food fads and trends. I’m tired of hearing grains and dairy are bad for you. (Unless you are gluten and lactose intolerant).  I’m tired of seeing before pictures that look like normal and after pictures with < 7% body fat ON A WOMAN, AND people cheering this behavior forward., Sorry ladies, been there done that, its not good for you.

I can’t speak to the men very well  because I feel like the rules are a bit different.  I’m not looking for an argument, I’m simply going to write what I know and share my experience with people.

What prompted this ? I am on vacation and have been eating extremely healthy for vacation mode. Maybe a bit restrictive because my metabolism has been interesting since I turned the big 40.  Well last night I was really craving a “high class bourgeoisie” dessert so I splurged on this incredible gelato (I would have re mortgaged the house or a cup. IT WAS THAT GOOD) and you know what??. My stomach feels the best its felt all week. I had been slightly bloated prior to my “sin” and it was like my belly said “thank you for finally not counting the sugar grams or checking to see if there was only organic ingredients” . THANK you for being moderate.

Hey, I’m not saying saying organic is bad, because I do lean towards this, and recognize America has a lot of work to do when it comes to offering less processed, “whole” ingredients and I, 100 perecent agree we need to get GMOs,  bad dyes and all that crap out of our food.  All I am saying is stop the incessent, extreme nagging of extreme health. You are scaring away the people who really need to make some changes in their life because they see a before picture of a skinny chick who ate nuts and twigs for a month to get even skinnier.  If I were overweight, I would be like “%¡|°|°||^\**<[¡<[%*\]][%|°[°®®€”. Yes that was a stream of expletives.

Here are 8 reasons why dieting and extreme food restrictions suck:

1) 18 ~25 % is normal body fat percentage. This DOES NOT TAKE INTO CONSIDERATION muscle mass. Based on height and weight,   mine is 21% and I’m moderately athletic. I  have been as low as < 5% and trust me , getting to that place sucked. I was at roughly 10\13% when I was an alcoholic smoker, runner and trust me, I was NOT healthy or even close to it. 

2) You are not teaching yourself how to eat moderately. You are teaching yourself how to restrict.  That sounds like a lot Of fun. 

3) The stricter the diet the higher the propensity for failure, binging, severe depression and anxiety.

4) oh Crap. Was I was supposed to make this funny? I don’t know how. Oh I know! Diets suck bc 9/10 times THE FOOD TASTES LIKE SHIT.

5) Sorry food police,  NO ONE wants to be around people measuring their food. Learn portion control by eating slowly and listening to your body.. I admittedly suck at eating slow but I do know when I have had enough, I don’t need a damm scale or container to box me in.

Caveat, when I was anorexic, I would take my little measured vegetable salad into Au Bon Pain in Cambridge, Boston and eat it at my break. People looked at me like I was crazy because I WAS CRAZY! One time, my portioned meal, fell on the ground. I scooped it up, washed off in the bathroom, and cried ON the floor while I ate my veggies delight.  My point, don’t box yourself in with crazy restrictions and guidelines or you could end up on the floor crying into dirty veggies.

6) Dieting LOWERS your metabolism. You need to increase it by learning to eat small, healthy, meals portioned BY YOUR SIGHT AND FEELING. 

Caveat. Three years as an anorexic THEN! Another three years  of my body holding onto food like white on rice and being slightly overweight till my body was like “okay, shes not going to be an Au Bon Pain floor eating fool anymore”.  My point, restrictions on food tell your body to conserve and slows metabolism, hence you are working against yourself.

7) Fake sweetener is bad. Yes. I like my coke zero every now and again, and I use a stevia sugar blend, in moderation,  but real sugar (or fruit)  is probably the best if you are truly craving something sweet. Aim for “In the raw” brands or eat some of that amazing gelato I had in Ft Lauderdale (Pan’e Dolci). WHY do humans crave sweet? Because in the old days.(caveman?) Sweet berries meant non poisoning berries, so don’t fight your cavemen instincts. Try fruit first. If its been a while, and you need some gelato, eat some gelato.

8) Diets are boring. Do your research. There are multitudes of healthy fulfilling foods. JUST stay away from the word DIET.

I think I said enough.  

Sidenote~ I do not intend to piss off athletes. I got mad love for ya. My irritation is with promoting unrealistic body images within the fitness industry as an attempt to promote weight loss products. I love The Dove Campaign for real beauty. They are not a weight loss company but I love the message they portray in terms of women celebrate your inner and outer beauty.

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10 reasons why I love the Beach. I’ll get right to it:

1) For the most part, anything goes and judgement is blown out to sea
    Speedos. Thongs. Long Tshirts. Daisy Dukes. Sequins. Heels. Stilettos. Flats. Flops. Crocs. Bellies. Washboards.  Hawties. Grannies. Granbabbies. Snookies. Giselles. Toddlers. Teens. Dogs. Cats (I haven’t seen that yet….

2) Sand and Salt. Some people hate it but I feel like it’s my day at the spa. Its a scrub. The salt cleanses. However, when my babies were in diapers, I think I may have hated sand.

3) Bass. The fish and loud thumping bass of boom boxes if you are in developed area.   Is Bass a fresh water fish though?

4) Silence. I love secluded beaches too. Sea gulls. Waves. A few small squeals of children. A nap & book (if you’re sans little people or avec nanny) ..my un peu francais..

5) Hawties. Yes eye candy. Seriously especially in Maine. I mean Miami. My phone spell checked to Maine. Not that there is a lack of hawties in Maine, I grew up there and I’m smoking (see # 10) but people watching on South Beach is tres bon. I can’t speak much with regards to the  Cali Coast. I was in North California for a bit, and I was more transfixed by the massive cliffs.   Im sure there are Hawties in Cali.

6) Being on high alert for predators. I know right, I’m a freaking thrill seeker. Seriously though, watching the wildlife ranks up there with Hawtie watching. :)

6a) Number 6 will mean something entirely different when my daughter is a teenager. I’m not ready for that type of predator.

7)  Turning the sand into a bum holder. I love making my own lawn chairs out of the sand.

8) Using the strong currents and predators as disciplinary action for my little people. “If you do not listen to me, you could be swept away by currents and predators OR I’ll get a babysitter for the room”  As much as I love the beach, I watched Jaws too many times. Safety first via threats mommie dearest style.

9) The shops. I love beach boutique shopping from Maine to Florida. I love it all.  Tacky. Up scale. Mid Scale. BOGO EVERYTHING BEACH RELATED. Shot glasses…Mugs. Sea shell candles. I even like shopping local Beach pharmacies and grocery stores. All shops  have that “no worries mon” Beach Vibe and everyone is so damm happy.

9a) I got a reversable, kick ass WAY OVERPRICED bathing suit yesterday. See, I thought both pieces TOGETHER were one price. Oopsie. I tried to return it because I had buyers remorse but “no returns”.  Please don’t let me get lazy and toss in washing machine. I shredded my favorite one from last year that way. Shhhh. Don’t tell hubs, because after explaining my merchant debacle, I assured him I take the utmost, quality care of all my bathing suits. Tacky or ‘High Falutin’.. ….I hand wash all those bitches.

Funny caveat, this Old Navy wearing fool was told by the deeply French accented boutique owner, when I tried to make return,   I shouldn’t stress because it was a “cheap, inexpensive suit”  I have no business Beach Boutique Shopping unless it’s BOGO or Old Navy.

10) Mild Sunburn, ‘visavie’ sun kissed skin. I want pink skin. Yes I use Sun block and all that but there is something purely magical about having pink, salty, sandy skin after a day at the beach. Yes, I have sun spots too. Each one represents a beach memory.  I know, KNOW, each one actually represents the fact that Summer came on THE WEEKEND (not the weekends) Maine thus my sunscreen was iodine, baby oil, and lemon juice and peroxide for my hair. See, I told you I was a Smoking Hawtie.

Hope you get to the beach or lake soon my friends

Funny caveat!! I went in salt water with my new suit, now I can’t stop scratching. Fabulous. My new suit is allergic to the water and I’m allergic to the combination of the two……:)))

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“Do pistachios grow on tweese?” I ask my husband
“On Cheese?” He responds

Then we both bust out laughing. Except I’m snorting laughing, because I kept saying “Pistachio Cheese” in my head over and over and over. Seriously say it! Say it out loud, ten times right now. Oh yeah, people are most definitely, sneaking past you hiding their children saying “DONT LOOK AT HER\HIM. YES HONEY,  WE ARE ALL GOD’S CHILDREN BUT DON’T TALK OR LOOK AT THE ONES MUMBLING PISTACHIO CHEESE TO THEMSELVES”

The complexity of marriage (civil unions etc) has yielded gatrillions of experts, books, and seminars on the subject. People dedicate their entire lives to counseling couples on how to stay together or on the flip side ostentatiously advertised how NOT to, with giant billboards screaming 1800DIVORCE on the freeway. Therefore, I thought I’d take a stab at the lighter side of thing as it pertains to the blissful union of two souls….especially when one asks a lot if questions.

Listed below are 10 (or more) things\questions/stuff I do and\or I say to my husband and some of his responses. If there is no response, it means he is dumbfounded that he once “found my corporate drive” attractive and wondered “wtf happened”:

1) “Do pistachios grow on TREES and is it warm enough for us to plant pistachio trees at our house this year?”
Reaponse: none

2) “Is this Trey Songz Song about his Mee Maw?” The song is called “Nana” as Trey Songz belts out “why ya gotta act so naughty”. Response: none

3) “Is it ok if I paint my nails while we are driving?” Response: “hell no”

4) “does my stomach look as bloated as it did yesterday?” Response “This feels like a trap.”

5) “Do you think Jay z and Beyonce make a ton of money because they seem really popular right now ” Response “seriously?”

6) “Do you think I look as Bootylicious as Beyonce is her song about being Bootylicious?” Response “OMG THERE IS NO WAY I CAN ANSWER THAT QUESTION CORRECTLY”

7) “Do you think me when John Legend sings ‘All of Me?'” Response: None
Caveat husband “do I sound like John Legend when I sing the song?”
Caveat “do I sound like Beyonce when I sing Partitions?”
…this could go on for hours and if you have read any of my other blogs, me a B are besties, so step off.

8) oh Crap, now he and the kids are asking me questions “is Texas bigger than California?” RESPONSE “I don’t home or car school”

9) “What ever happened to Fat Joe or Big Pun and do you dance or pull up your pants and do the Rockaway or do you just Lean Back? AND remind me to put Lean Back on my Bootie Jamz Play list please”    Response :”oh look everyone, out the window, at all those critters over the bank right there”
Ok Clearly we need to go to  Gary Chapman “Love Languages” seminar, we are not on the same page.

10) “do you think I have a lot of problems or am I just moderately ‘problem afflicted’ Response “I just don’t worry about shit like you do”
He literally doesn’t. He has zero anxiety. None. Zip de na da.

11) “Do you think my boobs grew from doing push ups or do they just go to the side more than ever before?” Response “I’m not opposed to boob jobs”  Again, different pages. Gary CHAPMAN WHERE ARE YOU??

12)  ” Are you disappointed that I have made zero money with all my part~time~mommy type career endeavors?” Response “Can you please put the pistachio shells in a separate bag so I don’t eat the shells”
GARYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

THINGS I DO THAT MAKE HIS NECK SPLOTCHY..I THINK…HES ALLERGIC TO ME.

1) Burp LOUDLY and PURPOSELY
2) Leave cabinets open by getting sidetracked with wiping the bathroom down with Clorox wipes.
3) This goes for leaving lights on, drawers open, garage doors dented, trash cans plowed over etc etc
4) Lose my phone 156 xs a day. He found in fridge once
5) Coddle our first born
6) Say “I don’t need a drink” and drink his completely.
7) Lose all the remotes to TV and blame the kids
8) Try to blame the kids for 1~6.
9) Talk like the Kardashians
10) My Driving. Period. Oh wait, there is one thing that causes him anxiety.
11) Ask him a MILLION questions during all movies and shows that he hasn’t seen either or have ZERO relevance to the show…We may have slept in separate rooms during Breaking Bad
….”.Why did Walt do that?  Do you think Jesse Pinkman is a nice person in real life? DO YOU THINK SKYLAR MAKES SMOKING LOOK SUPER SEXY? OMG how did Gus walk with half his face gone?? Do you New Mexico would be a cool place to visit? How does Hank not know what’s going on? “.And so on and so forth…

12) Not knowing how to navigate anywhere at anytime and not really making much of effort to care that I’m incredibly directionally challenged

13) I know I said 10, but I just go with it. Last but not least…Not knowing how to fix my daughter’s hair, like at all. I try, I really do but she’s like him, stubborn, bossy and independent so really it’s his fault ….:)

First of all I’m blogging this in the blinding Florida sun, on my phone and do not have immediate access to computer so there will definitely be typos and grammatical tragedies. I know its not an excuse.

We are Florida junkies. Our kids are at the “I MUST be entertained at all costs” stage so we come to Orlando a lot.  Disney. Sea World. Universal.
Lego Land. Apparently I didn’t get the manual for anything, so I decided to pay it forward with a list of rules for Amusement Park frivolity:

1) Bring drinks. Smuggle them in like Heisinburg if you have too.
2) DON’T GO JUNE THROUGH SEPTEMBER. Unless you like being soaked in humidity and scorched by a blinding, hot white heat thats so intense you will wonder if Orlando = Purgatory
3) Don’t eat a stack of protein bars prior to going in attempts to mitigate prolonged hunger because I can’t function hungry. Or “Hangry” as the hipsters coined.
3a) I ate too many protein bars and my stomach was so distended I almost bought a pregnancy test.
4) Don’t cry when your children are crying because of long lines, Purgatory humidity and alien baby stomach. It makes you look weak and it will piss off your spouse. Or family, if you thought it would be fun to go as a giant group.( I’m not going to comment on “giant groups at Disney” . Ill let you think that through as to whether this invokes fun or “lets go here no lets go here no lets go here no I’m hot no I want to see Cinderella no lets eat lets pee lets cry lets sleep”)
5) Don’t put on self tanner before the big trip. No matter what you do, it will literally streak off in the hellish humidity
6) Don’t look cute. As in, don’t flat iron your hair, wear heels or think “oh I just have to wear this ‘adorbs’ ensemble from the Premier Outlets. It will all be ruined within the first hour, and as dumb as I am when it comes to comfortable foot wear, I know enough to wear sneakers to an amusement park. (I did wear pointy heels to walk around NYC, so if you were insulted by #6, less I remind you, I make dumb-ass shoe decisions all the time)
7) Don’t show intense anxiety for death~defying, no wait death~invoking roller coasters
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Due to my intense fear and “hell no MY kids are NEVER GOING TO BE TALL OR BIG ENOUGH for that shit” (pictured above..), they are now terrified of all rides. Even the little ones. Yes, my husband blames my ‘outward roller coaster hatred’ for the kids’ intense anxiety at the tea cup Antarctica ride at Sea world. There was a 10 month year old on the ride, and my 9 year old wanted me to hold him in the ride. My husband could not stop shooting intense looks of disdain my way, wondering too, “Did my wife really NOT get the manual when the kids were born?” No. And I rarely babysat either.
8)Don’t argue. Arguing in the humidity is like trying to blow dry your hair in the rain.
9) Plan out bathroom trips or DON’T drink any water and completely dehydrate your family. Being dehydrated seemed easier than schlepping through 780085 mini theme parks (within the one giant park) to pee or know an accident is on its way…which..brings me to #
10) Pack a change of clothes for every age. Even yourself. Even if its a bathing suit. You will be either soaked in humidity, someone will pee on themselves, throw up or something tragic will happen to the CUTE OUTFIT I TOLD YOU NOT TO WEAR
11) Be ready to people watch. I counted 150 daisy duke wearing ladies and lets just say my two piece has more coverage. I ain’t mad at cha, if you got it flaunt it and I think it appeased my husband’s irritation at my incessant belligerence towards my protein~alien~baby~ Sigourney Weaver ~stomach problems.
12) Don’t think the kids will want to go out for Thai food and sushi after 15 hours at an amusement park. SCRATCH that. Dons think anyone will want sushi and Thai food, except for this alien babied-stomach-protein-bar-eating-fool.

 

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Disclaimer:

Please do not read this blog for etiquette tips or how to properly host a Southern Living type soiree or have tea and mint julips with Southern ladies on the back porch. I mean, I assume you kind of guessed that by the picture that starts of the blog, but just in case there is ANY confusion, this blog does not provide any Southern Hospitality /Southern Living magazine type of guidance, oh and neither does the song.

Its Spring here in Georgia and when its spring I listen to Southern Hospitality, Ludacris (stop highlighting his name in red spellcheck person, that’s how he spells it!!) Style on my playlist. Essentially I am not “Overall Georgia”  because I was raised in New England, so I have no earthly idea why I turn into a rapper when I’m jogging\walking while I got my jammed up beats just MURDERING my ear drums.  Hip Hop/Rap music or whatever you want to call it, moves me, to move.  If I need to exercise, I play it. If I need to clean the house, I play. If I need to go to the grocery store, especially in the spring and my windows are rolled down, Oh YEAH I crank it loud. So loud in fact,  I tweeted on the subject matter:  I luv that my bass is so loud it draws looks of concern. (hasthag! Bass, beezintthetrap, momswagger, momhumor smiley face emoticon)

Technically I am not DTP by jogging through my neighborhood with my dre beats glued into my innner ear canals. (disturbing the peace, term coined non other by the illustrious man pictured above, and am I supposed to capitalize Dre Beats?); yet sometimes, I wish I was DTP.  Not in a war~like manner, more in a less~anxiety~ridden~housewife~in~the~suburbs~omg~why~dont~my~kids~listen~to~me~ever….type manner.    As in, I need to freaking relax a little. I’m wound up pretty damn tight when it comes to all the “hously” chores and keeping my kids in~line. I need to lay off a little bit and essentially just join in the DTP mode with my gremlins whose motis operandi is to DTP at all costs.

Again, herein lies the oxymoron, polarizing  personality within my soul.n I love extremely boisterous, or as the hipsters and youth pinpoint as “ratchet” music. However, I try to mediate every morning, and I cannot concentrate on any task if my kids are being “RATCHETLY” loud.  It makes zero sense to me either as  I tweeted yesterday “the rebirth of the BASS EXPLOSION in the springtime, is as intoxicating as the spring birdies”. I guess that truly sums up my personality, if one were have to tweet a 140 character summation of character.

Currently, the song I listened to on repeat today is “GET BACK” by Ludacris.  In a nutshell, the moral of this song is “GET BACK GET BACK YOU DON’T KNOW ME LIKE THAT”  , well take a listen. If you dislike profanity, maybe listen to the edited version.  It’s a fabulous song if you are feeling boxed in and need some space.

I’m drawn to this song right now because I feel like everyone all up in my grill, lately. My woman’s group I attend to glean spiritual placidity  (without sanctimonious religious overtones infused with hellfire & brimstone) would frown upon my “back the eff off” disposition; however writing is my salvation and maybe loud bass thumping music, “DTPing” in my ears, is MY salvation for peacefulness right at this very moment. I know right, I simply could not be more polarizing if I tried.

Well, as the “Stay Thirsty my Friends”, dude and Ludacris says, in so many words..May you forever keep disturbing the peace in a manner that brings YOU PEACE. Peace Out Bitches.

 

 

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My morning started with this text to my husband. I’m sorry if its #tmi as the hipster kids say, but I write what I know. Seriously? I haven’t even had my breakfast and my sister stayed over so the coffee is so strong I was so jittery I could barely snake the toilet, or ter~lit as they say on Swamp Things.  I text-ed him a picture of all the garden tools while we were talking on the phone because I assuredly explained to him the snake tool is NOT IN THE BASEMENT.  Upon further investigation and many sighs on the other end, yes the conversation ended with “Oh, Okay sorry to bother you , yes I see it now”

Next, I head out to the bus stop and lo and behold, I always gather new information about what I have missed as a Non Super Mom. Mind you, the other two moms have three and four children each, I have two so I am always perplexed when I am the one consistently not getting the memos! Okay, maybe the memos do not get perused as carefully as they should on a daily basis. Apparently there was a giant Art and Chorus night for my son’s school at the Academy and the new Community Center (which I did not even know existed till this morning). I promptly emailed his teacher as follows:

  • I missed  _(son’s name)____ art night I got confused bc my daughter’s is tomorrow night and disregarded email bc I thought it was reminder for hers, oops. Is it all week? Can you forward me the email again. So Sorry, :) 

Her Response:

  • Hey Laurie, no it was just last night. All of the art work was displayed and they had a chorus concert. I am sure he will be able to bring home his artwork at some point. Sorry you missed it!

My response:

  • Ok sorry he missed chorus thing.

Needless to say, I was LOVE to be a fly on the wall during lunch in the Teachers lounge as they discuss the email of the week from Ms Laurie Jane.  Considering I called the pediatrician, daily, sometimes thrice daily, when my first born was well, first born, they really should not be surprised I am this insane.  Maybe pediatricians and teachers should all swap and forward on notes about the parents so everyone is on the same page and the expectations are set appropriately as to what to expect from parents. Notice I said parents, because I am most fiarly certain that the teachers worst headache is never an unruly child, it’s the parents like me who , as I have mentioned before, never got the manual from the hospital when the storks delivered the children.

In closing, I found the snake thing, I will try to insert said pictures into this but the phone I own takes these enormous pictures and I can not for the life of me figure out how to edit the pictures properly on Word Press. YES! I know there are many books on how to use Word Press and I have tried reading them all and I usually end up in a nap coma for four hours because 1) I do not understand the books and 2) the make me sleepy.  Tomorrow night is my daughter’s Arts Night. I have 4 pieces of paper and 6 stickies cemented  on various mirrors and appliances , reminding me I have two children and it really should not be this difficult.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

picture to be uploaded later..child snack out the door crisis….
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I always over shop before we have to go out of town and man I get teary eyed thinking about wasting a whole thing of hummus. My sister babysits our lizard (whole other blog on that so ..) I literally leave notes everywhere about what she needs to be eating daily so it does not get tossed in the garbage. I get displeased with myself when I waste food.

Now that I am eating the hummus, I think already went bad. EwWWWW as Jimmy Fallon would say, just ewww. I have moved on to banana and peanut butter, because yes my bananas are going bad too. I wish my kids like more fresh food, but because I went against the chagrin and incessant berating of the La LECHE League, by bottle feeding my children, they are drawn towards preservative filled foods. GASP. Turn me in to the SuperMom food police.
Short blog because well I wasn’t breast fed either and my mom smoked camels with the windows rolled up so I have  untimely management skills and have not been able to blog much or for very long. The whole ‘not being breast fed, camel smoking Mom thing’ really is best left for another blog. Maybe a haiku by Eminem?

The moral of the story, do not chain smoke with the windows rolled up, maybe roll the windows down,  eff the breast milk police because well, yeah that too would be another another blog  on how I was shamed by  NurseMaids a Milking Peeps (NMMP?) at the hospital and beyond on how I failed my children by bottle feeding.

Finally –  do  not ever stock up on perishables, especially hummus because, one or two things could happen:

1) You were not breast fed and have poorly planned food waste management skills; thus will have to toss food or leave sticky notes for your lizard sitter to eat rotting food.

2) You could be forced to evacuate your home for a Zombie Apocalypse; leaving rotting food for the people heading to Terminus in The Walking Dead,  but they will never find it because there is always a “people be crazy up in here” crisis than ensues during a food run. Also, Zombies do not like White Bean Hummus.

3) You are reading this and now you are angry because you thought it was an article about breast feeding. Sorry. At least it was short. Hopefully you got some good Zombie /Hummus pointers.

 

…………And also if you do not understand the Terminus reference, I highly highly highly suggest you catch up on all seasons of  The Walking Dead.  You think it’s just about Zombies? oh SON  you JUST DON’T KNOW !!!.  I could also blog about The Walking Dead till the cows come home, understandably there are probably a large number of brilliant Walking Dead Bloggers in the blogosphere right now, so I will stick to what I know.  Hummus. Rotting Hummus. And Humor. and Not chain smoking with the windows rolled up.

That is all I got today.

2013-08-11 13.08.52

serenity

I wish I had a slew of funny things to write but lately I haven’t felt ha ha funny but I have sure the hell felt “holy shit what’s happening to me?” funny. I am back at Doctors office because of anxiety caused by medicine changes. Literally every side affect I am NOT supposed to have, I am having pretty much regularly. I do NOT want to be here going through another medicine change, my only silver lining is there have been periods of laughter, so I shall bullet point them to help me out of whatever the hell “this ,” is:

  •   Conversation with my sister:”I  am having/ all the “call your doctor immediately ” side effects EXCEPT for the homicidal and suicidal ones, you think I should make a Doctors appointment?”
  •   Changing the bathroom scale battery because I was convinced it was weighing me heavy, ended up crumpled in tears because I gained two lbs in two seconds after a freaking battery change.
  • Harassing the Vitamin Shoppe woman for a reason as to why I feel like I have PMS all  the time and what pill will make me fill like a twenty year old again. Let me phrase this., help me feel like I did when I felt like a normal twenty year old, so maybe about 1/4 of the time when I was twenty, what pills do you have that will bring that 25% of the normalcy back to my life 100% of the time? ….Then telling her how much I love Quest bars. Then telling her I just want to not be bloated all the time.. Then buying a case of Quest bars….
  • The frantic calls to my husband repeating all my craziness and him saying , “ok honey, just relax, um, are the kids ok?” , knowing he must tread lightly on my hormonally bloated mind.
  • Scouring the Kohls website for hours trying to find an athletic bathing suit that will make me not feel like I’m feeling because in the dark recesses of my mind, as if a freaking awesome athletic looking two piece, will drastically change my life and even up my hormones.
  • My take away on freaking bathing suits.  Either they are made out of dental floss (and not even the thicker weaved kind you buy if you have gaps between your teeth like I do) or they are designed for a 99 year old woman going on a cruise. There literally is not much to chose from for us 40 year old people who are struggling with the incessant gravitational pull upon our , well, entire body, “Oh hello there boobies, Nice to see you there ON THE FLOOR?”

I am almost certain, you are thinking “holy shit this chick is vain”. No, I have been through this before and “this” unequivocally has NOTHING TO do with what I look like or number on the scale. This has everything to do with control.  Yes, I might be somewhat of a controlling person. I’m not Type A because I am disorganized, but I do wipe the toilet bowls down with Clorox wipes daily, but on the other hand my house is never Better Homes picture ready, there is a lot of stuff everywhere, BUT the toilets are CLEAN, so I suppose I am a type C personality? No, I do not know what that is either, I just made it up.

I am a controlling person when it it comes to my feelings. I do not like feeling like my emotions are on a roller coaster. In a way, it’s good for me because it helps me process the  “emotion” rather than stuffing or drinking or not eating or whatever other “ism” I partook in the past  when I had a feeling rather than, huh, actually feel a feeling. Good God this sounds like a self help blog, but it truly is not a self help blog, unless it helps you feel better then by all means, my pay pal account number is……………………….

My take away from today is that I am human. My hormones are most likely out of whack. My Doctor said “Um, your changing medicines so yes my child you are going to be bloated” and gave me that motherly look of  “Cot Jam when is this freaking woman going to grow up !!!”.    I am going through a bit of a rough patch. I am not shallow. Yes I do care about my weight because I want to “feel” good about myself but most importantly I want to be healthy in a normal non obsessive way and there are periods of time where I feel like this is impossible. The solution for me today is as follows:

  • No more “fitness or cleanse” fix/detox/restart or whatever their called- browsing.  None. I like my exercise regime , I eat as healthy as I possibly can based on my resources/time etc, and I do not give a shit if my body “has adjusted to it” and I’m not ripped like Jillian.
  • Love my mother loving love handles.  They are a part of me.
  • Wake up and be thankful for all the amazing people in my life
  •  Put first things first, inhale serenity like I’m 20 and it’s my last Marlboro ultra light on earth
  • PUT THE DAMN SCALE IN THE BAYLINER-BOAT IN THE GARAGE

So when my husband comes home and says , “Why is the Scale in the boat?” I can whip out my feelings chart and tell him exactly why the scale is in the boat, on and “Yes, honey the kids are alright.”
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Pictured. Scale in boat next to anchor.

 

Quick Moments of Clarity

Posted: September 1, 2015 in humor
Tags:

I think we set out selves up for sadness when we place expectations on what we think our future should “be”& how others should “act” , in our presence.  There is nothing wrong with hope & faith, when you realize that the only thing you can control,  is yourself.

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4 stages of Hunger

Posted: August 29, 2015 in humor

I have 4 appetite moods:

  1. “Hangry” = “I just don’t care anymore”
  2. Dizzy = “I literally can’t even. No One Talk to me or move or look at me.”
  3. Satiated and extraordinarily optimistic =
  • “I want to be a dog therapist. Or a Therapist of Veterinarians. Or A Veterinarian The”rapist”
  • OR  “ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!” (in  my Gladiator Russell Crowe voice)
  • OR  “I can do ANYTHING. The world is my OYSTER. and I am it’s PEARL. and I hate Oysters”

4) Cheesecake /Mexican food full = “I’m dying.  I’m so bloated. I am impregnated by food. I have a Cheesecake Baby. I’m so              full. ..  Hey do we have any ice cream?”

That’s all I got …after a summer off of blogging.

Laurie Free:

i haven’t written a jot jam thing.and probably won’t for a bit. but this, right here is da shizzle. so funny. Love writing like this.

Originally posted on My Least Favorite Child Today:

July 31, 2015

We all know at least one person who’s joyously eccentric.  Someone who’s an upbeat oddball.  The weirdos who let their freak flag fly and dance to the beat of a different drummer.  I’m talking about the people who are very strange and make no apologies for it.  They own who they are and they love themselves completely.

I really hate those people.

An-eccentric-007

(I would hate this guy on sight)

It’s not that I hate their weirdness.  I just find it far easier to relate to people who have insecurities. I connect much more with someone who’s knows enough to be embarrassed that they’ve shame eaten a Snickers Bar in the handicapped stall at work.  Or the type of person who views going to the beach as a humiliating punishment rather than a day of frolic in the waves despite what they look like in swimwear.  And when…

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WELCOME TO SIX SENTENCE STORIES!

Posted: July 18, 2015 in humor

Laurie Free:

check this out from Uncharted recommended by a Plagued parent

Originally posted on uncharted:

career-city.com career-city.com

link up your story using this weeks cue: ” LETTER.”

  • no more, no less than six sentences.
  • any genre!
  • link it up between now and Tuesday the 21st!
  • have some fun and hop around!unnamed (11)

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Laurie Free:

good blog on medium

Originally posted on TIME:

Medium, a San Francisco startup founded in 2012, is notable for several things. Two of them are its founders: Ev Williams and Biz Stone, whose past endeavors include Twitter.

Another major fact about Medium is that it it’s a little tough to figure out. Stated in the most general possible fashion, it’s a web-based service that lets anyone publish articles online; Wikipedia calls it a “blog publishing platform,” which sounds straightforward enough. But it doesn’t involve a reverse-chronological index of content or other elements that, to me, are prerequisites for something to qualify as a blog.

Last year, The Atlantic’s Alexis Madrigal published a piece called “What is Medium?” It’s a good, thoughtful read, even though I’m not entirely sure he answered the question posed by his headline. Noah J. Nelson’s “What Medium is For” — published on Medium itself — also isn’t all that…

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A Love Letter To All Of You

Posted: June 19, 2015 in humor

Laurie Free:

I needed to see this today. For all of us that walk with our emotions on our sleeves. For those who are told we are too sensitive or sarcastic. This is for you.

Originally posted on Drifting Through My Open Mind:

Lately my heart has been hurting for some people I love. I see so much pain that runs so deep. And over at SisterWives I see brave writers baring their souls and bleeding on the page. And in doing so they find healing and comfort and sometimes even a little closure. So I decided to write a letter to my friends in pain, to the writers I’ve met and befriended, and to you. To all of you…

We’re All A Little Broken…

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I might breakup with my FB page.

Posted: June 15, 2015 in humor

Facebook is changing it’s vortex algorithm of transcendent madness. again. So instead of 5 people seeing the ramblings of a crazed, but carefully medicated suburban housewife, maybe 2 will ignore it.

I will start posting cathartic haikus laced with agressive profanity.

Or maybe solely use wordpress.

Or follow dance on you tube and learn how to crump. at 43.

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For the stay at home mom of two mini-defense-trail-lawyers, summer is our “bottom-line-year-end-push” for the “Brush your bleeping HAIR & TEETH”, Law Firm. Our bonus is calculated in our ability to keep loss prevention to a minimum.  If we roll into the next school year with less than 15 new carpet stains, 7000 door slams, 46 orthodontic appointments and 6 mildewed towels that were repeatedly left to dry in “humidity”, we have exceeded expectations.

I am not setting the bar high this year. The notion of bringing my children to any venue in which they are not ceaselessly entertained, is like cleaning the court restroom with infant gum cleanser and organic Chia seeds.  Summer equates to an afternoon of of sofa-bungee-jumping, hot-gun-Lego-gluing, and exercise-band-pulley-system-over-porch-railing, regardless of how hard I invariably tried to exhaust their fast-talking-locomotive-engineered souls.   I am preparing myself for the sum of all variables to equal the futile rescue of a fitness ball from grips of “Operation Treadmill Implosion.”

I make summer more arduous than litigation. My husband says my pre-coffee morning banter is like death by a thousand paper cuts ..in the ocean.
I strive for simplicity. I aim for peaceful activities such as, baking nutritious foods where antioxidants dance on their discerning taste buds, while they proclaim their undying love for my culinary masterpieces. 

   I know need to let go of my stonewalled devotion of “winning” summer.

I over analyze the life out of life.  I plan summer like a trial lawyer.. (hmm..wonder where my kids…)
How many sticky notes are on my fridge, bathroom mirror and front door? (a dozen)  How many alarms do I set daily? (10)  My phone calendar has chronic pop-ups of -“this conflicts with another event”..My pretty pale pink Mom calendar is destroyed by sharpies and exclamation points.

For example, I run with a friend dangerously early for my coffee depleted soul.  My alarm was labeled as such “Rub Sally, mtthf –choose 1 or 2”   My paper calendar just had her name written all over the place.  We translated as the following:
“Run with Sally, Mon, Tues, Thur, or Fri, choose 1 or 2.” because I am not a morning person. Or an afternoon person. Or a night person. I’m kind of an 11-2 person.

I literally have LAUNDRY written on every sticky note. Laundry. Who “forgets to do” laundry?  As though my “crisp” sticky notes will guide me to even “crisper” outfits, softly lain in drawers, ready for court. I’m pretty sure I broke the wrinkle-shield button on our dryer from over-use , so screw “crisp” starched clothes.

I do strive for “meditation-yogi-master”,  where the cloud of sporadic thoughts nestled in my furrowed brow, morph into Zen-Clouds,   transcending spirituality and float over my children in calming earth tones.    I see Zen-like Moms, and I want to propose some type of sister-wife courtship arrangement, just to channel their inner Zen.  No, husband, nothing else there, only a signed business contract. between busy moms where I can plead the fizzle on the mass procreation of laundry or the divorce court of socks..Seriously though, my husband has 75 DIFFERENT types of almost THE SAME type of black sock.

Last year, I wanted my son to be more of a reader so he could cultivate his trial lawyer skills so one day , his affluent law firm will fund our coastal retirement cottage. I had 5000 Summer Library leaflets glued to the fridge. We attended ONE library session thingy, 1 DAY before school commenced.  Here is an example of 1 entry from his journal.  “I will do nothing today” or “Mommy makes me angry” or ”Mommy is angry”. 

I avidly read books. ok well I try to avidly read books. I love to read, but reading and “momming”, is like stripping and “library-ing”.  They are not in the same career genre.   I will however, hungrily ingest details of every Celebrity magazine during every Doctors appointment.  I will tune out the lecture of how to expand, floss, and brush,   while I recall the ”Who Wore It Best” court room debate silently, in the recesses of my brain.

Before children, summer meant vast open spaces of nothingness.  Over spring break, I saw a young lady fast asleep on the beach and she laid motion-less for 2 full hours. I checked. I even contemplated waking her out of concern, or jealousy.  My husband was on “child-watch”, so I took a 33.45 second nap and dehydrated myself in a puddle of drool. Karma is a B.  The nothingness of my pre-child days is now socially compartmentalized litigation. Daily, I have to create a cyclical vortex of entertainment for my wide-eyed tranquility murderers.   I just want to be able to complete a thought, a full thought, without someone trying to bellow out a closing argument as we are 10 minutes late to. .well, the pool….

What are your lofty plans this summer?

With the expolosion of social media,  the world seems to be lurking with blinding judgement,   dark pain that masks itself as confusing cut throat competition  and  a desparate almost violent need, for attention and approval. .no matter what the cost.

As side collateral,   through the venue of mommy blogging & mommy wars*( see note below) there has been a birth of  insidious hatred of one another due to a difference of parenting styles, mostly seen in the comments section.  I know it’s always been there, but now it’s slicing our mom brains with 100  points of ‘advice’ shrapnel.

I’m done with fear.

I KNOW I get “judgey”-prickly and sometimes my chest gets spoltchy towards other parenting that does not match my “brand” and now I know why.. Fear.

Fear that the cruel world will take away my kids.

Fear that if I do not give them the right vitamins , they will get sick and I can not help them.

Fear that  if my son doesn’t eat vegetables , it’s because I did not implement the “765 part-plan to vegetable eatin.’

Fear that I’m “Mother trucking messing up” parenting.. because I am JUST NOW, at 43 starting to feel like a whole person.

Fear that I will lose them to mental illness or addiction because of family genetics.

I’m done with Fear.

Scary Monsters? … Google “Top 10 things you should NEVER DO ( OR FEED or say or buy or believe or?? ) as a parent ..and there is your mother trucking scary monster. Or just scroll through any social media venue for too long.

I’m done with fear mongering on social media/internet.

I’m done with fear.

Sometimes if I get twisted up  in my Rolodex  pretzel logic . ..my brain thinks..
… ” if i  just parent “the right way ” or “if I followed the steps in this blog “… I can protect my kids from evil.  I know that its not logical, or practical,  but it is the truth of what lies beneath my furrowed brow somedays.

Ironically, it is also why I could snap at my kids.  I’m  inhaling some fear- mongered-blog, through my nostrils into the dark recesses of my brain about how to parent better and why I’m doing it all wrong.

“Mommy can you get me some juice? ”

“No!! Juice Is filled with poisoninous juice antioxidant-monsters!!”


I’m done with fear.

Now..

I know there is Safe PLACE I can go to talk about these fears without FEAR OF being judged,  ‘shamed’, criticized or be given “helpful feedback”, under the hushed tones of self-righteousness and superiority. I can reach out to the people of mommitment and feel support.

Support that  not hidden under the guise of obligation, reciprocation or false pretense. Yes! I want to pay it forward and give back to my fellow moms/ “village people”, but if I am having a bad day, week, month or year, I know within mommitment, there are no empty dues of a sham built on quid pro quos.

It’s all real.

Thanks Julie Maida and this mommitment posse for your honesty and for showing me I do not have to go to my “fear prison” to live, to have a voice, to connect, even to disagree.
Thanks for busting me out of “fear prison” and helping me recognize “fear prison” does not keep my kids,  family or my thoughts , safe.

THANK YOU..

If you want to learn more about Mommittment. Please go to mommitment.org!!

* This is Not a criticism of “Mommy blogging”. I am a ‘Mom/Mommy Blogger”. This is more of a reference to how blogs of any kind, especially ones that deal with parenting ..bring out vitriol anger which in my opinion , is fear based.. I am not immune commenting out of rage because someone challenges my fears or truths.  I’m never immune to  the “fear” that sometimes takes over my words and thoughts, because I’m done with fear.

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About #1000 Speak

Posted: May 20, 2015 in humor

About #1000 Speak.

wu tang

Posted: May 7, 2015 in 106 & Park, BET, hip hop, rap
Tags: , ,

I love hip hop and rap. I understand why this may perplex some my suburban mommy colleagues. Society  confuses the majority of rap/hop hop with violence, drugs  gangs, and degradation of women. I’m not denying that there are some songs that do this and that’s not why I love hip hop. I’m also not denying that “Rack City” may or may not be on on my playlist and it may or may not help me run at a faster pace or stop in the middle of the retirement community I run in, to dance.
I also love Common,  Tupac, basically all the 90s and truly any jam that tells a STORY  OF struggle to a MAD, SICK, DOPE, BEAT.

Here are 10 reasons my I can relate to rap/hip hop:

1) “My moms  bounced on pops”; although  we did not move to Shaolin land , as referenced in C.R.E.A.M by Wu Tang.
..I did just have to Google the spelling of Shaolin, and Google kept bringing up creameries in the midwest??

2) It can be like a Gangstas Paradise in my head. a lot. or a Gravel Pit.

3) My Pops listened to every Blues musician in the world in my youth and BLAZED his trumpet, in the YARD along with his records.

4) My stepmom ADOPTED A WILD DONKEY FROM THE GRAND CANYON. It seriously does not get any “crunker” on a farm. Trust me.. except for maybe…..

…5) Geese. Geese are Gangsta  birds. They ruled our farm. Seriously, if you come across farm geese, “you better check yourself before you wreck yourself,” because they do not play and they think every piece of poop-able land is their territory.

6) I can identify with the lyrics. No, I didn’t grow up in the Projects, but I spent time in Foster Care & there was a lot of escapism that needed to be done at times throughout  a lot of my childhood.

7) The beat  and the bass. It brings me joy.

8) The message is of strength, hope, understanding, struggle, and Faith.

9) I feel like I can dance, in my basement, by myself, because in public, it’s kind of painful to watch at times. .I am not very limber and I kind of look like I’m cheerleading in the frozen tundra of the artic.

10) I love the dancing in some of the videos. My bucket list item #1 =back up dancer for Missy Elliot, but I would need a lot of lessons and de-thawing.

That’s a Rap.

Laurie Free:

this is a reblog from Laughing into the Abyss!!! xo

 

Originally posted on Laughing into the Abyss:

Next Life, NO Kids is doing this cool #Mommitment (dang, I have to get on the Twitter now, don’t I?) thing to end the Mommy Wars. Whether you have kids or not, the idea behind this movement impacts us all. Check it out–it’s smart and there’s likely going to be a lot of swearing, so you know I’m in. To that end, here is my humble contribution:

There’s no doubting the existence of the Mommy Wars. What I sometimes see and hear mothers doing to one another both online and in person turns me WHITE. Happily, there is a growing chorus of voices saying, in one form or another, that it’s time to cut that shit out.

I submit that there is a broader conflict, the Uterine Wars, if you will. Heated battles include, but are not limited to:

  • Who’s using theirs?
  • How?
  • Why or why not?
  • HOW DARE SHE?

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Manual & Odes.

Posted: April 6, 2015 in adhd
Tags:

My questionairre manual:

hair : “multi-faceted-ombre-infused-highlights-lowlights. a menagerie of color. 
weight: “actual or stomach-flu-jean weight?”
height:  “actual or slightly-tip-toed?”

Ode to Pollen

Dear Pollen,

I know you are an integral part of our eco system and I love you for that, but just an fyi, my eyes are not flowers. I know they are beautiful and all, but please let them go.
Love
Ole Sticky Eyes.

Granny Ts Ode to droppin the mic at Easter blessing

“Lorrrrd, please overlook the slightly over done dinner rolls and if anyone has a problem, they can help me in the kitchen or make their own rolls next time”

Ode to Beyoncé

Dear Beyoncé,

If 711 had been popular in my 20s,  I would have dropped  far less alcohol due to incessant reminders from the Queen Bea herself.

My parenting manual:

The effectiveness of parenting is directly proportionate to therapist visits billed per insurance carrier per family.

My cooking manual to chicken.

I dont always reheat chicken , but when I do,  it’s a splendid jerky of toughness that might just rip your crowns off.

Random.

I have gained a few lbs. I will always have food and body image demons.

Here’s the thing..It’s not about  narcissism..I honestly don’t give two shits about what you think of my body. It’s about control, and as a mom of two growing kids in a society where “what’s up is down” with every new food and medical break-through,  it’s a “cotter-jammed” miracle my head hasn’t spontaneously combusted  at the market. Yes , I said cotter-jammed.

When I was anorexic,  I knew I looked like a scary-zombie-Batshit-crazy person. It had nothing to do with my  appearance , and everything to do with being in control because if I could make that number on the scale go down, anything was worth that 33 second blip of relief, even if it was encapsulated  in “Shit, Im on the crazy train now!”.

As a mom,  control over my weight has everything to do with the anxiety I feel  for NOT having control over  the painful obstacles my kids may face in society. I know shielding them from all pain is nonsensical and counter productive, but it  is NOT counter-intuitive.

It’s in my genetic-mom- makeup to hold on until deeper wrinkles set into my “OMG AM I DOING THIS RIGHT?” face.  It’s in my gut to worry about whether or not some bully may crush their spirit at any given time. It’s par  for the course , to wish we could just skip middle school because of all the horror stories unleashed into the cyber atmosphere.

I know it’s counter-productive to obsess over weight as a means to control life. I know this at so many levels I can’t  express in words. I know it’s a combination  of my ADHD that causes me panic because I absorb every health and fitness article as a criticism  towards my own perceived body inadequacies. I don’t  know, why some days , it’s not even a blip on the radar,  and other days , I move my scale all around the house until I receive an acceptable  number. I do know that if I write  “it” out,  I can level my brain to move forward , lighten the eff up, and focus on what really matters…”What’s for lunch today? “

1) Zombies eating entire people and emulating my, “I’m bloated Where’s for effing midol!!!” Pose (think Laurie season 3?)

2) English  actors  masterfully crafting the Southern Accent.

3) Abraham articulating , possibly the best, new profanity, ever to dawn Mother Earth, when faced with fighting off 500 zombies to save the damsel in distress.

4) Bad Ass chicks,  rocking the skinny jeans, Justice glitter belts, Cole Haan boots and weaponry. Fashion FIRST bishes.

5) Carol morphing into Tony Soprano from a Stay at Home Mom.

6) Me. crying , not at the death and destruction,  but wailing into the TV  “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DARRYL, TAKE A SHOWER! !”

7) The utilization of thumping , heart pounding, rave inducing , dub step to lure Zombies into a trap.

8) The houses in this in this season,  OF A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE,  are CLEANER, and more meticulously decorated, than a Pottery Barn house.

9) Actually a suggestion,  writers /producers of Walking Dead should use ‘No Church in the Wild” (Jay Z Kayne and Frank Ocean) to open or close an episode.

10) Saying out loud when Michonne places her GIANT OPEN SWORD, over the mantel.  “Well, I guess she won’t be inviting Judith over for any play dates” Baby proof  people, safety first.

Extreme Health fanatics are driving away the people that need the most help with the catchy article titles below:

“Five foods to NEVER EAT EVER!”

” Eat this and your kids will have cancer for sure! ”

” What are you  feeding your child? ?? They are destined to be drug addicts!”

“Hey! You want flat abs?? buy these teeny tiny portioned containers and you will achieve the success you have always imagined!”

Yes.  I’ve embellished a bit, but sadly , I haven’t embellished  too  much with my titles.

Health is a  mind-body connection and an inside to the outside job.  If the health /wellness /fitness industry used their 50 billion*  dollars a year on promoting a solution for the overall mind-body connection on how to develop a healthy relationship  with food, we would see a major shift in health problems linked to obesity or poor lifestyle choices.

Please stop equating a ripped stomach, cellulite free , and insanely muscular person, as the epitome of health. Every day I see food-policing-posts and medical-black-ops blogs  via the interwebs and it must drive eating-disordered behavior because people truly believe that these “opinions” are FACTS.

I wish someone would do a study on the link between a person who scours the internet for tips on weight loss or how to shed those last 5 lbs, and eating disorders.  There must be a scary link between people who follow unrealistic body imagery with misguided  enthusistic “eat-this-not that”  and  disordered eating and exercise habits. From my experience,  scouring fitness magazines and hanging with people who exercised obessively, fueled my 80 lb-track-running-frame.

For example, I just saw a  fitness person post  – she ate 15 or 20
” health cookies” in one sitting and it was “ok” because she had “flat abs”  a  gazzilion followers applauding this logic.   I also saw another fitness  person post an image of a child smoking , equating this to giving a child sugar.  This “shock and awe”, unrealistic- body imagery  sends a  message that is sure to confuse the vulnerable or the person who has tried everything else and needs to be plastered  with a “call you action”.
Sadly, it’s this type of unbalanced,  injudicious  message  that brings in the most bank and publicity.

I ranged  20 -40 bs lighter (anorexic for a time ) drinking diet soda, way too much booze and smoking cigarettes. Oh and I ran a shit ton of miles. When I wasn’t anorexic,  I was asked   if I was a professional athlete or a ballet dancer. When we use weight and outward body appearance  as the only measurement of health it’s   like judging a car’s safety by its exterior appearance.

Typically my posts are more light hearted and funny. Honestly,  I am 43, my wieght has fluctuated a bit recently and I’m just so f…ING tired of seeing this shit on the Interwebs over and over again, because it makes me feel bad for having love handles for the 2nd time in my life (1st time. I was a baby…OK maybe I had them after babies too :))

I really  try to hold back on “ranting” but a close friend of mine told me that she finds writing  out her grievances  , even in a public forum , to be cathartic.  I go back and forth between being 
open and honest to covering up some of my “pain” with laughter……. Therefore,  please be thankful I’m not blogging my journal entries. ☺

*I’m guessing, but I have written  on this topic before and it’s very close to that number and I’m too laden down my bad eating habits to go look it up right now.😬

A Pharmaceutical Haiku:

As I drive thru for pick-up,
I swiftly reach toward
the tunnel of meds
I place my grasp on a
crinkly-gleaming white bag of scripts

“Express pay please” I say, smiling with giddiness ….

I bathe in the knowledge,
Co-insurance hasn’t dawned it’s doom,
a fire-breathing-loophole-face-
palmed-mascara-smeared
wack-a-mole-of-automated-phone
services

yet.

I continue to grin,
to the musical snapping sound,
…A Pharmacist-tech staples,
100-gazillion-thousand page thesis
in teeny tiny fine
squint worthy print

Possible side effects:

-death by break-dancing
-instantaneous limb severance
-morphing into a unicorn centaur
-sudden urges to burp or burpee

I look into the prescription goody bag
Alas!
A bedding of crisp Saffroned zoloft,
Infused with a Crackle of Buspar,
finished with a soussant of Wellbutrin.

The pharmacist tech glances down,
furrows her brow a bit,
discreetly,
waves her boss over….

The phone intercom beeps loudly!
our eyes meet,
the Pharmacist bellows out
a stern caveat-warning in
cacophony
of
static ….

“Make sure you don’t spill any – it’s a federally controlled substance and you cannot get a refill until it’s time…”

..he stared at me
glasses on the bridge of his nose
“Ah yes!”
as I absorb the subtext,

“NOT for any Momtocktails”

……..or he knows I’m incredibly clumsy.

Mr. pharmacist,
I got you.
Momma knows the drill.

Full disclosure:
The federally controlled substance is not for me , it’s for a family member. For those or receive updates on my blog, and know me, I am not drinking or utilizing any controlled substances. I am just taking a incredibly , painful stab at poetry..After careful review and many attempts, I think I’m going to stick to blogging and my book.

I should have learned from my feeble attempt at understanding poetry. My 3rd grade teacher asked us to write and summarize the words to a famous poet from 18th/19th century and I choose Whodini’s – Five Minutes of Funk.
Man, I love that song.

Alzheimers is the disease that interrupts our mind by gaps of time,

ALS is the one that takes away our body one muscle at a time,

Depression sends us to a heavy fog of ash & suns rays never shatter,

ADHD is a Rolodex of fleeting thoughts
that disallows us to escape from the clatter,

Autism is on spectrum,
and parents emotions run deep,
when they can’t seem to reach their child somedays,
even with the biggest leap.

Schizophrenia

creates stories
Sometimes beautiful  sometimes frightening,
Hoping to cling to some reality
that won’t send our loved ones fleeing

Bi-polar robs us of the present,
some days we are so high we can fly,
others we lie on the floor,
because we can’t move our shoe to tie

There are many more
I’m just writing out through  emotion
I am not choosing any to ignore
I tend to close my eyes and dream of the ocean
because my thoughts can be more than I can bear.

I do know one thing,
Never, ever  give up hope,
Days can feel like a never ending bee sting,
But there us always joy
… after a painful slope.

my attempt at poetry from my experience  , strength and hope.

my daughter did not care for my rendition of Drake’s  ‘Started from the Bottom” as I was brushing her hair, starting from the bottom so as to avoid tangles.

parental control relinquishment , for me, looks like a coffee virgin after 3 expressos.

winter looks like it had a frat party in our back yard. and I just saw a mosquito.

computer murderer. returns.

Posted: February 26, 2015 in humor

I must have egregiously upset a computer-help-desk person at  x77777’s in systems-corporate, back in my HR days and  he cursed all of my technology interactions till enternity.

He  matrixed me without the Oracle.

mom poem text

Posted: February 25, 2015 in mommy, moms
Tags:

One of my closest mom friends sent me one of those “your the best mom and I love you- please forward to 9 moms ..”

so o sent her my on the-fly-made-up-poem, just to switch it up a bit.

Roses r red
Violet r blue
No school today
Which is crazy boo
the roads are bare
My kids are INSANE
I try to not care
because my poems are lame
you are the best MOM I KNOW
you love so much
YOU gave them snow
and took them sledding
even though it was a just a lil snow
I admire your strength
I admire your candor
nothing rhymes  strength
dammit. same with candor
I love our jokes about carbs
and our ability to be real. yo
you never come at me with barbs
you are the truest mom I know (yo)
you are funny, loving & kind
and you run to elevate your behind
I wish you loved next door
so we could pin items on pintrest
to which we all equally ignore
Don’t ever compare yourself
to society’s definition of ‘super mom’
I look to you for advice & support
and your  talks always keep me calm
I love u!