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 im being hacked, and someone is plagiarizing my genius writing, I will find you. I took apart a sink with my bare hands in college to find my friends “lovelier” (a Southern Friendship love debutante thang, I dont know either) . Needless to say, I am a top ~notch~ bad~ ass. I was tight with maintenace in my dorms and Debutants from here to Kentucky both fear and reach out to me when they lose their chunky jewels in the sink. Or maybe I really am Jack Bauers hot~ black ~ops~ sidekick.

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.. Similar to Surgeons in the ER with medical marvels and complex surgical procedures & treatment. OR they know you have to buy a new one.

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!!! 

10) I know why! BECAUSE my brain shuts down when it comes to mathematical situations. Computers are long ass word problems and I can’t even solve my son’s 3rd grade word problems without literally having to squint, grunt, re~-write & say “Go ask your Dad”.

BONUS I have two books on wWordPress. I am on page 12, of each. Its my ambien.

➡➡➡➡➡➡➡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 ….:)

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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.( Im 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, dont 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 dumbass 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 rolller 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 schleping 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) Dont think the kids will want to go out for thai food and sushi after 15 hours at an amusement park. SCRATCH that. Dont think anyone will want sushi and thai food, except for this alien babied stomach protein bar eating fool.

Okay, again, I can’t proofread this for a few days because word press HATES my phone and vice versa. So don’t hate the playah, hate the game.

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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.

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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.

 

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Ill be a passionate, limited filter, motha-jogger, loud~mouthed, edgy, overprotective, fierce warrior, scrappy survivor till I collapse.
And btw that song is my new fave jogging song , . I say jog because I don’t “run” anymore..so maybe I’m not that much of a bad ass.. ‘mae’ juzalil’ (maybe just a little…)

I’m up with the “doers” & over achievers because we gave our kids TOO MUCH FRESH air yesterday and those fools talking about “mommy? MOMMY I’M UP MOMMMY”.  My daughter literally woke me up to tell me ” I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM”  I shot up in wide eyed “HOLY SHIT GRAB THE PUKE BUCKET SPOCK” panic mode, but thank you lord of the Mondays, she just had to tinkle like a princess.

So yeah, I’m fired up like all these insane motivational speakers hash-tagging the shit out of “doer”, and all those “successories” that make me want to put a hot fork in my eye hole like those bad asses on the Walking Dead.  I loathe the term “doer”, I have actually convinced a friend we need to make t-shirts that say “Be a doer”,  on the front and “not a donter” on the back, because well, I love irony and sarcasm. And sadly, I will probably motivate people to be even more successful , Oh CRAP, Now I am a motivational writer, with my fancy slogans, (that I stole) and tshirts…. please use pay pal account below to pay 2gs for this seminar.*

I’m fired up to write my ass off this week. Not in here, per-say, so do not expect any more of my fabulous, insightful, motivational, “wide-eyed” “doer” filled blogs. I need to get more accomplished on my book because I think I might be losing brain cells with every time I’m woken up to attend to bathroom duty, find my little pony duty, I had a nightmare because you let me watch the Piranha movie duty or I can’t sleep because you let me drink 6540 Dr peppers duty (albeit anything is better than HOLY SHIT SPOCK BEAM UP THE VOMIT RECEPTACLES duty)… Yes, I’m not even trying for Mom of the Year , so suck it Supermoms.  I just want my kids to grow up and be peaceful human beings.  Hence, my decision to let my son watch some of the Piranha movie, I thought, “How could this harm his psyche?:”, oh shit. He may never go in a lake again. I may  never go in a lake again, Have you seen that freaking movie?? I’m having nightmares now!

Till I Collapse bitches.

“Cause sometimes you just feel tired,
Feel weak, and when you feel weak, you feel like you wanna just give up.
But you gotta search within you, you gotta find that inner strength
And just pull that shit out of you and get that motivation to not give up
And not be a quitter, no matter how bad you wanna just fall flat on your face and collapse.”

EMINEM

*I stole the term “donter” from.the movie Pain & Gain”. “DOER” I gleaned from “doing” multi-level marketing, not once BUT TWICE! Yeah, 2xs a charm right?

*Eminem

I hate kale.

Posted: March 20, 2014 in Uncategorized

Waisted Wednesdays, no muffin top, flex friday and Gap Thigh are fairly popular hashtags in instagram. Waisted Wednesdays is not about getting hammered, its a hash tag celebrating ripped up waists, no muffin top is self explanatory &  flex friday is muscle flexing days and Gap Thigh is celebrating the gap between ones thigh by eating very little.

I am a proponent of leading a healthy lifestyle but I am not a proponent of it taking over my lifestyle. I am not saying anything negative or positive about all of these hashtags, all I am saying is I am scared for my children to grow up in a society where healthy equals how “waisted ones waist appears to me”, or thinking they need to dehydrate themselves with wrap systems to reduce the “muffin top”.

As for the thigh gap thing, some tall or naturally thin people are able to don the illustratious thigh gap thingy and I am not knocking this feature if its not forced by starvation tactics. I just do not want my children; especially my daughter striving for unrealistic body images.

Maybe its because I was in the fitness industry and unfortunately Fitness peeps are still following me because they think I want a piece of the “workout till it hurts” mentality. I don’t. I still exercise as it feels normal. I know exactly how to workout to experience natural endorphins, without my end game being a teeny ripped up waist or “boobs on a stick”.  I mean, I dont have to worry bout the boobs part because if I lose weight like from a virus or something, the virus just says “oh, no honey, im not going to use your muffin top to survive, baby im sucking that fat right out of the girls today sweetheart”.  So the whole “im a stomach flu away from my goal weight applies not to me but, if I want to wear a training bra, yes thsts usually where I end up after the exorcism  of my insides. My husband says I sound like a dying, crying, camel when I am sick so anyways, I just lost my train of thought..

Oh yeah boobs!

I never really wrote a bio for my Word Press account so here is a quick summary.

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I do not like to talk on the phone. I express myself best through words. Yes that means my texts and emails are cumbersome and thesis ridden and I over explain the crap out of everything. This doesn’t mean I don’t talk on the phone or have fabulous conversations , it’s jut not my go-to activity. I express myself best when I am writing.  I get tongue tied in conversations and if it’s public speaking, I sweat so profusely, I could probably sell it as a weight loss product like those wrap things.  I have a picture but I am not sure if I am ballsy enough to show the armpit Armageddon that occurred on my bright orange shirt after “public speaking”.

I love hip hop all kinds, preferably more old school , something with a good beat and devoid of incessant degradation. Unfortunately, most people that do not actually listen to hip hop think that all hip hop is degrading and full of debauchery and sin. Yes, some of the main stream songs , can be quite dreadful and that is unfortunate, but we live in a complex world.   I actually do quite like the song Rack City. Yes, it’s about Strip clubs and yes I listen to it while I’m running and it makes me run faster. I will add I do listen to the clean version so Pearly Gate Gold Star for me! (I do not know why I capitalized that , but I also LOVE and ADORE Joel Osteen, so I’m a bit of an oxymoron at times..I even hear him saying “Oh Lori, (bc he wouldn’t say it Laurie being from Texas and all) “we are all Gods Children and he loves you so and wants the best for you”…. and he would kind of close his eyes when he’s talking to me, if you haven’t seen him preach, It’s pretty cool. I like him. He preaches about hope versus telling the congregation they are going to burn in Hell if they do not donate their life savings or listen to songs like Rack City.  *

I am sensitive, passionate , and I have zero directional sense. I mean ZERO> . If I was told I had to make my living via post office routes or bus drive, we would all starve, and your mail and children would be in Siberia.   If you look at me wrong, I may try to process why you looked at me wrong for longer amounts of time than a normal person would process as to why you looked at me wrong.  If we venture into “hot topic” land, I do see red on three items, unsolicited advice about my family or child rearing ways, political righteousness, and passive aggressiveness.  Yes, I have parenting flaws,  I am not political ( I have ZERO desire to talk about politics, unless it’s with Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert) and I have I have ZERO TIME to try and figure what your pout-ridden-passive aggressive comment means to me.  Luckily most of my close knit friends are up front and honest or just love me so much they never have any issues with me. L.O.L.  **

I abhor horror movies; especially about the devil, but I love Zombie Apocalypse genre and I am a huge fan of the Walking Dead. I love the scenery, the cinematography, the artistry, the plot twists and wondering how the lawns stay mowed during an Apocalypse,   T Dawg was my favorite, then Hershel, and now Darryl. Unfortunately in an Apocalypse, they like to kill  the favorites.  One day I would most definitely like to play a Zombie, preferably in the Walking Dead but I haven’t quite got the voice raspy thing down yet.  Yes, I am practicing right now.   My other favorite horror genre is old movie horror genre, no guts & brains though (oxymoron!)  specifically movies like “The Birds”. I  liked it because I loved saying “Bodega Bay” like the actresses in the movie, they made smoking  fabulous and owned wicked smart suits and exquisitely coiffed hair.  (no I don’t smoke but I did and I get it.)

I love a change of seasons, books, shows and movies that make me cry and laugh from my soul, my family (I know cliche but I would be remiss if I did not mention my fams), good food (I like healthy food but if it tastes like the twigs and the earth, I cannot do it), home baked goods from a bakery that uses five ingredients at most,   the smell of coffee in the morning, lawn mowers in the summer, intense thunderstorms,young people with their drop tops and loud music, screaming Beyonce songs in the car till my voice hurts, alone time, AND some social time (I have to be balanced in this category or I will go nuts) .    I am NEVER bored. When people say they are bored, they need to vacation in my head. Luckily, my kids rarely say it, so I must be doing something right…

Lastly, but not least, I LOVE comedy. Without laughter , I could not survive. It saved me.  My teenage years were tumultuous and The Cosby Show got me through some of my roughest times.   I had horrific post par-tum psychosis after my first born and The Kings of Comedy was on re-run for 3 months straight while I climbed out of some of my darkest days. My sister told me “You have lost your sense of humor” when I was an anorexic runner in my twenties and that statement propelled me in to recovery (and the fear of dying..) Ok!, I know! this is supposed to be somewhat humorous but I am trying to demonstrate how humor help catapult me out of depression and malady.

This is a snip it of me.  Thanks for reading, I have nothing witty to close with because my kids just got off the bus and I just heard “MY EYE MY EYE MY EYE YOU POKED ME IN MY EYE IT HURTS…”

* Rack City Footnote: Seriously,  what’s super funny, is someone did  a parody on it and it was called Math City, well you really have to listen to the song to appreciate why this is so funny. So when I listen to Rack City, I almost get the giggles so bad, I have to stop running.  Interval training tactics? …. And if you listen to the song and hate it, don’t blame me, I didn’t write it.  If I did, I’d be on Island Hunters , buying up some Islands and blogging about being on Island Hunters and owning Islands so we would not be having this conversation in my head.

** Diabolically, I used to be passive aggressive with hubs in earlier years. He shuts that mess down quick.

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Do not fret young padawans, I shant quote the lyrics from the riveting One Direction ballad. This is the story of my life and our life because ‘we country’. Seriously, you can take the people out of the country but you cannot force them to relinquish their country ways.   We, ok ok, I (just me) have been known to wipe counter tops with my “Nike Just Do It” tshirt (as instructed by the shirt btw) in a hurry to unveil the actual countertop.  We keep the dern boxes my sons legos come in because and I quote from my husband and my son “those will pay for college”, Good because I was hoping to use the 529 accounts to buy an Island and be highlighted on HGTV “Island Hunters” (obsessed with that show btw. Please if you get a chance watch Island Hunters, you will find yourself wondering, “What exactly do this people “do” for a living such that they are buying up islands now? )

Pictured here is my husband’s attempt at drying out his tennis shoes. In his defense he did use the drying bracket thingy that came with the dryer but it  almost broke dryer. The irony of this can best be summed up by telling you my husband is the “Serv Safe Chief.’ He works in the food industry and I have lost count if how many looks of disdain have been cast my way for my abhorrent kitchen behaviors. Yes, the Nike t-shirt cleaning tactic would in his top two, the other is when I set the coffee creamer spoon on the counter versus a paper towel. *

If you have read other blogs you might be confused because I may have confessed to obsessive behaviors , some of which include and addiction to  Clorox wipes. I do not get it either. I will wipe the bathrooms down , 5665788 times a day with proper wiping gadgets, but Nike t-shirt rags (that are still being worn) and shoes on the candle on the kitchen table do not bother me one bit.

The story of our lives is one of organized chaos. Polarizing children that love me so much one minute they are still wrapping their tiny little hands around me. Ten seconds later “I am never speaking to you again” and slammed doors are echoing through or Nike~candled~counter~washed house (I don’t think shoes in pictures are Nikes, I doth apologize profusely- whatever brand I have thus shunned). We are a house of “perfect imperfections” (Johnny Leg, you hit the nail on the head with that one) , subtle nuances integrated with rebellious bedlam.  A rowdy circus juxtaposed against fabulous rainy Sunday afternoon naps.

Thank God I have the pictured paragons of excellence to keep our house in order!

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Please take note of toilet paper roll.. How is this part of this warrior brigade!? And I do not know why there are beach towels hanging on banisters. We do not own a pool and we do not live on the beach and it is not warm enough to go to the pool. Also , I’m pretty sure it’s been a couple since either one of my children have had a shower or bath…

* The alternative to setting my spoon on the paper towel is letting in jingle around in my cup all day which is by far much more annoying to him, I can most assuredly inform you I have received feedback on my spoon stealing coffee up antics as well…..

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My husband told me my blogs are long. Good Lawd have mercy I have been working to keep them short but I am one long winded person because if you have read only a smidgen of my stuff , my brain is a hamster wheel on some really high quality hamster food. Im trying to write quicker, more efficiently humorous blogs, more frequently..(yikes that was some grammatical vomit “write” there..,get it,¡¡¡¡ ‘Write’ versus ‘right’,.. smiley face icon)

I’d thought I’d share a snippet of one of my texts between myself and my cousin. We were talking about getting together this summer and yet again, my bestie Beyonce ALWAYS has to infiltrate my time (see previous Blogs..me & B go way back).

As for my twerking Grandmother, I wrote a long blog on her two years ago, shes a gem and would be quite tickled to see how well Beyonce is doing since she broke up Destinys Child, I mean sorry since they broke up due to..honestly I have zero clue as to why they broke up. Maybe I need to tape some E ¡ Hollywood true stories…

ANYHOW, I wanted to give you a snapshot of my summers with my cousins because we had fun, dancing, playing gin rummy till we almost killed each other, watching Nick & ,Sharon’s love blossom on Young & Restless, reenacting Bionic Women scenes and of course shaking in to Wrexxx and Effectxxxx….. (spelling of wrexneffex????…..

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Its late (well, early because this will post in the am…) but I promised myself I would blog three times a week!!. I have been writing for my book and journaling; perhaps, I will put excerpts on here as I progress with this  blogging journey. Seriously, where is she going with this opening???

Pictures, why did I post them? to remind myself of my “why”~ that what I do matter! Even if its as simple as wiping my bleary eyes to wipe my children’s bleary eyes (and crusty as hell , and wow where does all that nose funk come from??) to help them get ready for school.  My job is important. Sometimes , I do not feel like it is important because I do not have a career , and I have failed as a 21st century female commandeered to bust that glass ceiling. (I do break a lot of stuff because I am quite clumsy so..that must count!)

I invite all moms , dads, guardians, coaches, teachers, preachers, working, stay at home, part time working, aunts, uncles , etc~what have you, to give yourself a mo fo BREAK. BE vulnerable, honest and KIND to yourself. Raising children is the toughest job I will ever love so much that it overwhelms me with emotion.

You are trying to teach little gremlin~terminator~heart,~melting diabolical minions ~ how to survive when a) you barely have it figured out yourself all while b)  Lady Gaga is trying to out~do  Miley Cyrus’ gargantuan tongue slide tour with vomit wielding artristry???. These are our pop icon role models so W.T.F. do we turn the TV off and move to Canada, wait……Beebs, no let me redirect here *

I invite you to come out from the “suburban supermom persona” (dad etc, trying to relate to all roles) and go say “eff you!!!! laundry pile, you can wait one more day” !! ….. I did, I would take a picture but I am so comfortable with my headphones half on my head, not on because initially I was going to sleep with “waves of tranquility” blowing out some mad~dope~sick beats to help me drift to sleep. I left that sad sack of clothes right on the sofa and the angry dirty pile half in the bathroom , half in my closet. Im a bad mama jama.

The other night , I was so overwhelmed because of some minor parenting fails and litany of chocolate milk thingy things & smores graham cracker wrappers all UP IN MY BIZYO, I lost my sh¥^”,   slammed cupboards and begged my kids to “please please for the love of God clean up after themselves momma gonna lose her mind, up in here, up in here, yall gonna make me act a FOOOL UP IN HERE UP IN HERE” ….ok maybe Im confusing my rant with a DmX song, but I think you get it.

Anyhow, my point is, forgive yourself for not being the parent that you see on Facebook or in the magazines! Leave the bacon in the pan and linger a while longer over breakfast..(if you are vegan, leave the toffutiacon in the pan, I made that up? is it a thing?). Pat yourself on the back for NOT signing up for some personal self~ development weekend course because you realized that its just not the right time for you. Tell yourself it is okay to not want to be the hottest Mom or Dad on the block so maybe skip the workout OR start one; whichever you need to do to FEEL HEALTHY on the inside rather than show people that you “can do, have and be it all”! Stop Frontin & Start Livin’

Its okay to not be the leader, the most successful person , the superstar, or legs~with~a~gap~in~thigh~woman
( Sweet Mary I didn’t even have that when I had dangerously low body fat, so I’m hoping this trend dies hard and fast) .

Dali Lama said it best :

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And TLC said it best, “Don’t go chasing waterfalls, please stick to the rivers and lakes you are used to..”….
….. This does not mean settling for what you have, it means accepting what is right in front of you and  cherising it for all that it is at the very moment.

I have been stress case largely due in part to my fear of feeling like I do not measure up to what???? To other moms my age? To the poor Target models whose already tiny frames had their “areas” chopped out and ribcages removed to look even tinier ?? (WTF Target ??) Who exactly
am I trying to measure up to these days? I will tell you who, ME.  Im a Non cabinet closing, 2 term Pres Obama votin, hip hop beastie boy Jay z blarin,  bad driveway drivin, burpin, hair drain
cloggin, clumsy bike ridin, microwave glass breaking , Scrappie Ass Momma thats who!   **

Today I beg you to get up a be you! Stare at the mirror and say “yes, dammit maybe its Mabelline and Im so damn worth it , we have come a long way baby!!” (I mixed three slogans there). Hug the first person you see today, or smile if that is to awkward. Blare DMX, Gregorian Chant, Carrie Underwood, Metallica or Michael Buble on your JAMS today. Rent a movie that makes you laugh so hard you cry! (Or google the top 25 autocorrects, omg I almost passed out laughing). Just effin do it brah.

I gotta stop here, its late and I have a lot of FUN to accomplish tomorrow!!

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Took the picture of pile of clothes this am!

* I think Gaga/Cyrus have talents, ….so anyways, I will let some other blogging soul twerk that blog out all on its own. Please, do not assualt me on musical debate, it was meant to be humorous :)

** note, my hubs, my sister, some of my friends voted Republican so before you get your panties in a wad thinking I’m some screaming extreme liberal who doesn’t shave her legs , calm down. I shave them in the summer.
Meaning, this is not a  political blog!!!!

I can have ENTIRE FULL BLOWN ARGUMENTS WITH MYSELF, in my brain where no one wins, except the furrowed wrinkled crevice on my forehead. It can be as simple as deciding what type of cereal to have for breakfast:

“Should I have this cereal, it is non~ gmo?”
“But why don’t my kids like it”
“Its really good and full of protein and low sugar but tasty”
“Why do my kids fight me when I offer healthy options?”
“Omg did I actually think that thought out loud?”
“Of course they will not eat it if I tell them it is healthy.”
“Did you gravitate towards healthy when you were a child?”
“No, I decided to get healthier because my health teacher my Freshman year in high school looked like Scott Baio”
“Before that revelation I ate cheetos and pecan twirls for lunch”
“But they really need to eat more yogurt”

I could go on, but it can be quite exhausting. Decision making has never been my strong suit. I literally would score a flat “satisfactory” in this category when I was a manager,  or maybe it was the dreaded “needs improvement”.   Oh how I hated that category, don’t we all need improvement, isn’t that score stating the outwardly obvious? How about “areas that you could improve upon, but you are still a fantastic manager”

I would be a financial GENIUS if I did not still count on my fingers. I have can analyze ANYTHING and pinpoint all probable outcomes in under five minutes. Seriously, give me a topic, I will have you so philosophically challenged by the end of my critical analysis, you will want to tape electrodes to my brain to power your house, or electric car if you are an environmental connoisseur.

I am usually in a perpetual state of thought. I am never, ever ever ever bored.  My mind never stops moving, I wish my brain were attached to my abdominal muscles because I would be ripped like a brick s%$house. By the way, what is a brick s%&house and why does that term allude to people jacked up with bulging muscles? And why did I outwardly use profanity in my last couple blogs; yet now, I’m using the shift key to express the obvious obscenity in the above statement? Are you gaining a glimpse into my mind?

We do not have a garage opener, and although I thought it was because we cannot fit our cars into garage, I am pretty sure it is due to the garage doors I have demolished in the past due to the rabbit wheel in my brain. 100 percent of all the accidents that have occurred in past ten years, occurred in my driveway because I was in lost in thoughts most  capricious in nature. My husband is protecting the garage, his tools our cars and maybe even our neighbors’ mailbox and trashcans from my terminator brain.

In closing, some of the most arbitrary activities can bring about collateral damage because my brain doesn’t focus on the moment at hand and , yes s$%t gets broken. This week? I broke the microwave circular plate thingy that evenly radiates our food and AS I was cleaning this mess up, I knocked over a faux antique glass bottle! Wait??. MAYBE I’M JUST CLUMSY????

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THIS IS MY JAM

Not lake tahoe because I have never been. I mean I’d LOVE to go and it probably would be my JAM if I went, but I can not falsely advertise that I went. This relic is one of those “my hubs went to a starbux in Tahoe and brought me home a mug”  type of gifts!

Thank goodness it was not a t-shirt because we have so many t-shirts and I have an unbelievable time parting with t-shirts. I get kind of weepy and “vaclempt” when they get demoted to the rag pile. Yes, vaclempt is an actual word, I gleaned it from my rigorous studies of Saturday Live watching AND just googled it to verify I was using the vernacular correctly. I am pretty sure I utilized vernacular correctly. I am NOT googling it though, because I am short on time, because I hit snooze to many times! Hey that rhymes, maybe I should really rethink my career as a hip.hop artitst. I will put  a pen in it.

THIS is also why Twitter hates me because of the 140 characters rule.  Oh friends, the roads we could go down on why I love coffee!  I blame Twitter for stifling my writing and my creativity. I’ll write a scathing letter to them later today unleashing my disheartened demeanor at how they have completely steered me experience unparralled vicissitudes in life. *

Ahhh, the nectar of the gods, the skip in my step, the warm tingling in soul, the jitters I experience at 10 am because I drank the whole pot, the black crud that burns to the bottom because I did not turn off the burner, wait where was I going with this?

YES, Alas coffee is more than a beverage. Its a morning ritual that esse could be summed up with the sentence “THIS IS MY JAM” , but we all know, I am NOT one of few words.

* I’m joking, I am not writing a letter to Twitter.

I grew up in the non profit  world, my pops was a Consultant in non profit management, so it is only appropriate I am drawn towards obscure professions, hobbies, livelihoods, pets etc.  Maybe obscure is not the best term, but listed below are the following jobs I have  had throughout my life since the time I was 13:

Blueberry raker
Babysitter ( I did not fair well)
Office organizer
Hay Baler
Stall Mucker
Dump helper
Waitress (@ at least two dozen places)
Buffet organizer at the Inn at      Harvard. (That’s as close as I got to IL)
Receptionist at college infirmary
Two internships at Museum of Fine Arts (unpaid , but unbelievably awesome)
Almost a manager at Schlotzkies (spelling?)
Customer Service (credit card co)
Collections (same co , yes I sucked)
Recruiting & People Relations (HR) (at said same company)
Mommy to new babies
Dance Fighter Instructor
Bubble Dog owner
Non Vegetable eating Lizard owner
……

And NOW???

Maybe??? Comedic Mommy Blogger /lizard owner/ laundry dissident/ chronic overthinker & maybe kind of a wee bit of a writer because I am a quarter of way through book, ok depending how long , maybe one tenth, ok ok maybe one sixteenth.  I over explain things so it just depends on if I locate?* a good editor and all that stuff I really need to research but I do not feel like it because I keep going back to what the Ghost of Hemingway told me which was “FOR THE LOVE OF KELLY RIPPA JUST WRITE !” Seriously, ASK Zak Baguns from Ghost Adventures, me and Ernest go way back and his Ghost really did say that to me **
(Asterisks = see footnotes cuz momma got some s’plainin’ to do)

Apparently my longer blogs get skimmed over by my groom because, well I agree, I can ramble. That is the beauty of being a newer blogger, I do not have any “haters”, so this is an open canvas, (seriously, im not ready nor do I want “haters”, thats for the rap game. Im not trying to do all that.) I also do not have a lot of “lovers” so most of my feedback is from husband and close friends and it can be surmised as “I love your stuff LJ, but sometimes you lose me” oh CRAP.  I JUST did it again.

Here lies the condundrum, I got 13.45 minutes till kids get out of their extra curricular activity. Do I post this (from my phone which means it will be formatted like I typed it from my 1980s brother ~ Word Processor) OR do I finish and post a blog tommorow..

Eff it. I’m hitting publish without editing. I typed this on a comically large phone but a mini tablet for babies so you have been warned…

*  editor stuff ~ I have zero clue. I have a book, no wait, three books on how to write a book, all if which I have only read half of each. Oh man, I am so submitting that to my son’s math teacher as a word problem!!

** no. Zak Baguns can not verify this statement. Plus I think I spelled his name wrong.

** if you are as gullible as me, No!! Zak Baguns will not verify my Hemingway ghost story.

Earlier, I had a bad case of good old fashioned, PMS. I walked into my daughter’s room to strip the beds and Little Pony and her diva hustling sisters had a fraternity party with every teeny, tiny, ‘itsy’ ‘bitsy’ figurine known to mankind.  They had infiltrated every square inch of her room. This all happened in a matter of an hour because she had just cleaned her room meeting this one Scrappie Momma’s expectations (which are, “PLEASE FOR the Love of GOD..GET EVERYTHING OFF THE FLOOR OR I’M GETTING A GIANT BAG and sending THEM ALL BACK to SANTA).  Here is a glorious “selfie “of me  eating Ice Milk or NON Milk or Coconut Goat milk some kind of healthy version of  ice cream or non ice cream, with the goal of this  “‘faux’ ice cream” to abate my PMS symptoms versus bagging up all the little ponies and sending them back to the Pony ranch or to Santa or whatever it is you believe they would go if Big Bad Mommy bagged them up and sent them along their way.

ice cream blog

Speaking of  Santa,  “DUDE, WHY DID YOU BUY HER THE MY LITTLE PONY TENT THAT TAKES UP HALF HER ROOM WITH AGE LIMIT OF 3 SO IT GETS BEATEN DOWN BY MY LONG LEGGED DAUGHTER and RAUCOUS little pony fraternity parties , daily.       Obviously, I bought the tent so in case you are all like “oh gasp, that was kind of a tough dis for Santa”, I have only myself to blame for this insidious tent and all its debauchery. However if you still believe in Santa, then I am still mad at Santa and he is the one to blame in this situation.

As for my son’s room, he has a lizard in his room; while at the same time, the sun cascades its blinding, white rays of sizzling heat making it the hottest room in the house (except for the garage, in August)  Due to the fact that I am irritated by this onset of hormones (  I googled the word ‘hormonely’, it does not exist; hence, “onset of hormones” was a replacement for my made of word of ‘hormonely’) Yes that was all extremely necessary and pertinent. My point being,   I knew better to engage in any kind of “why is EVERY LEGO FIGURE FROM HERE TO KINGDOM COME HAVING A  SEANCE TRYING TO CONJURE UP MORGAN FREEMAN FROM THE LEGO MOVIE, HE’S NOT COMING!!!!!!” I was just too damn hot and cranky to deal with Legos and Morgan Freeman apparitions. (if you are like wtf does Morgan Freeman have to do with Legos, please delve into the Lego Movie, it’s a freaking riot).   A caveat to the word “hormonely”, it was not even hot in his room that day, but I was hot; hence you see my point.

Calm, level headed Scrappie, knows that my children’s’ room will never look like a Pottery Barn magazine. (you know, kind of organized, kind of messy but altogether fabulous because even the “mess” is organized, monogrammed and dotted with glorious patterns of tweed and ________________ Paisley?) I do not know my pottery barn schematics very well.  PMS infiltrated DEF com five Scrappie which is agitated by the slightest “imperfection of perfections”. Yes, John Legend’s super model girlfriend would absolutely irritate me when my hormone levels go from ” furrowed MOMMIE dearest brow”  to “OMG, dial up my shrink, something’s terribly wrong, why am I crying so hard?” to “WHO ATE ALL MY DARK CHOCOLATE AND WHY IS THIS ICE CREAM SO FROZEN, HOW LONG SHOULD I PUT IN THE MICROWAVE TO MELT THIS HUNK OF ICE???”.  The synapses in my brain go all haywire. Thankfully I only get this type of PMS every four months, it’s like a quarterly report for my husband who provided a range of opinions from “it’s OK let it all out” (good feedback) to “why are you arguing with a 6 year old” (not so good feedback).  In my PMS mind, arguing with a 6 year old (who acts like a 16 year old) makes COMPLETE LOGICAL AND SANE SENSE.

Fast forward to our Soccer Game, I am still a little torqued up; yet my emotions start to slowly level out and dissipate.  I am enveloped by a sense of calmness as I hear the screaming kids (screams of joy!) pattering throughout the turf fields. My kids are full of vim and vigor and raise their hands wildly to yell out their ideas for the team name. My daughter asks to take a “selfie” with me so she can show the world her lost tooth.  My son offers to play goalie, which makes my heart soar because I drink in the confidence my kids set forth into the world.   Suddenly, little pony mosh pit parties and Legos that paralyze my bare feet into “fall down on the floor holy sh&% wtf did I just step on ” pain, all seems to disappear and the echo of the referees whistle through the woods sounds like harp to my ears.

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PS. This blog is meant to be facetious. It is therapeutic outlet for my PMS or whatever feeling that has transcended upon my psyche.  I am not looking for PMS cures or meticulous parenting advice or on how to get my daughter to clean up her my little ponies. Trust me, if I need tips on how to organize rooms, Legos, ponies and twisty ties, or how to parent my children, PINTREST, FACEBOOK and my husband’s aunties have PLENTY of information to assist me with these types of conundrums.    Some people “get” the type of humor I put out there in my blog and on social media  some absolutely do not and see it as a window to shower me with all sorts of remedies for what seems to appear to them as a very problematic life strewn with maladies and bad parenting decisions.  Oh and I do not need to lower the temperature of my sons room either, we good.

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….BECAUSE I FORGOT HOW TO SPELL THE MAN”S NAME, WOMAN?.. ARE YOU INSANE..???

Today was Book Reading Project Day. The Crafty Mom’s dream, the Mommy Issue’s Mom – nightmare and crafts, projects and hair conundrums are my nemesis. I really try and the adage “our last mistake , is our biggest lesson” never comes to fruition for crafty craftsmanship, in fact it progressively gets worse and there is neighborhood concern that I may one day super glue my hands to my daughter’s ‘french braid’.

I post this undoubtedly adorable picture of my children on social media and directly beneath it, from a neighborhood mom (or Dad, I’m very PC)  is Cindy Lou Hoo HERSELF.. (Do not ask me what my son is, something from Harry Potter, a squawking phoenix? His screeching squawk can break the sound barrier, so have fun today Teach!) .

You could run a roller coaster through the loops, hoops, dips and hops on my neighborhood’s daughter’s hair. It is truly magnificent. I am not in any way disrespecting her craftsmanship with this blog, I’m blown away by its aesthetic artistry.

I am just curious though,  what happened to me when they were handing out the gene that they give to Mommies ( and Daddies!! Again PC) that makes them so prolific at crafts and hair? Was I in the bathroom? Was I break-dancing? Did I pass out? Are my hands not shaped in craftsman “craftymanship” crafty form?

I am sure there are a few of you out there too that were break-dancing with me when the “craftonator” descends upon earth and hands out crafty craftsmanship genes to all the new Mommies (or daddies, I’m extremely PC you see, as I have repeatedly mentioned to thee) . I’m here to tell you, do not sweat it bro, just go with the to and fro, YO!  We all have or loops and hoops dips and drops AND POPS AND LOCKS because we know how to break dance!!! Remember???

In my defense, if there was any pretense in my husband’s mind that I posessed the crafty, hair , pottery~ barn decorator gene, he simply missed the pre~marital signs because he was smitten with my transcendent beauty. Signs such as:

  •   Burping
  •   Wiping the counters with bottom of  my t-shirt
  •   Brushing my hair with a plastic fork
  •   Heating up food in oven, IN STYROFOAM
  •   Identifying, WAY TOO MUCH, with the crazy, younger mom in Divine Secrets of the Ya Yas (you fell asleep honey, The signs were ALL THERE)
  •   And so on so forth- henceforth.

I’m not lamenting the fact that I missed the “Craftonator’s” calling. I’m not complaining. I’m not sad. Or mad. Or blue with a shoe. I’m actually moving more money into Cindy Lou Hoos bank account so she has enough for her therapy sessions, and break-dancing.

ADDENDUM :
End of the day conversation with my Cindy Lou Hoo:
Daughter: “Mommy, um, people kept asking me who I was..And Mommy, so & so’s Mom put a cup on her head and then the hair to look like Cindy Lou Hoo and Mommy so and so (aforementioned in.blog) REALLY looked like CINDY LOU HOO”
Me: “I’m sorry baby, Mommy has bad hair skills, but do not fret child , Mommy & Daddy have tucked away a rainy day fund for therapy and break-dancing”
Daughter Shrugs: “okay”

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My slamming poetry. Pictures seem to do well on word press. Most of my blogs have zero pictures and are so damn long.  I think im trying to hard on too many venues of technology and social media. I need to own one of those blog cabins where someone waits on you hand and foot while you just write your heart out, you know like in the movie “The Shining”.

My phone battery is
critically low and its beeping, wait is that steam ? Oh craptastic, it just informed me it can not upload my blog because “its power source is unavailable” I mean?? The time it took  the phone to tell me that factoid, the phone could have found a power source and you would all be reading an hysterical, brief blog before you retire at night.

I really need a blog cabin assistant.

First off, I’d like to say, or apologize to my three followers, wait maybe it’s two, I’m sorry it takes me so long to get another blog posted, and I’m not minimizing the amount I appreciate YOU.  I do write a lot, but it’s on stickies, journals, notepads and the whole process of getting it put into computer is one that does get lost in the shuffle of my ADHD mind and life.  I’m NOT complaining, and I will aim to do better.  I had a laptop but for all you parents of ‘younins’ out there, Minecraft stole it’s heart and  soul and crucified the “heart” drive into a withering mess that even the boys at Geek squad cried a little when I took it in to be “fixed”.  Yes I mean heart drive.  (Hence why Geek Squad rejected my application of employment.)

This topic has been on my brain ever since I stopped teaching fitness classes and decided to stop paying the fee to be a health/wellness Coach.*  It’s not like I woke up one morning and said “I AM DONE”. Decision making was something I generally scored as average or as my husband might say “Good GOSH Grapes woman, make up your mind!” OK OK, He doesn’t say Grapes, I’m not sure he said Gosh either. Maybe sometimes there could be an expletive in this sentence because, I usually go to him with all my decision making conundrums, which come up frequently.   Stay tuned, because I will have some blogs that outline some of the fabulous “notes” I have written him when my feelings were “hurt”. Usually those notes end up by the coffee pot.  They are fun. really fun.

It all started when I I joined a rather large gym and took this sassy, funky, kickboxing class.  I fell in love with the first “jab cross pound pound” to some heart thumping – Lil Jon- club-remix;  where, I felt like I was at the club, but in actuality my babies were in day care and I had my Umbros on (yes I think I wore Umbros from college when I started going back to the gym, don’t worry all you fashionable gym people, I upgraded my wardrobe a tad as the years wore on, insert cute winking smiley face here). Also no one was vomiting in the bathroom from too many Hagar (sp?)  shots or my wedges weren’t sticking to the floor of sloshed Budweiser.  All the club music fun without having to soak your clothes in tide for a week.  Well, if you sweat as much as I do (apparently to the point where it causes medical concern, that comes up later in the blog :)) , you might have to soak your workout clothes in tide, just no club “stench” to overcome.

I had arrived. I was officially a bad ass. I was a dancing fighter.  Usher meets Million dollar Baby. Michael Jackson meets Missy Elliot meets J Lo from the movie ENOUGH.  I simply did not give a french fry if I was burning off french fries or if I was working out my “abs”.  It was SO FREEING. I was having a freaking blast and I really felt “okay” for the first time since there were 5000 people looking at my “hootie hoo-hoo-haw” because my first child decided he was going to hang out for a bit…. and my obstetrician look like John Stossel. So um yeah that.   Also, let’s just say  I DID NOT EXCEL AT ALL at new mommy-hood.  Like we are talking D minus, minus. I blame the fact that my parents didn’t have more babies for me to practice nor did I have enough babysitting jobs with little babies.  It’s really all their fault. (insert facetious-ism, seriously, some people think I’m being serious when I’m being diabolically ironic.)   More on that topic way later, Maybe another blog.

I felt like I had entered into some kind of “West Side story/Micheal Jackson Thriller-I’M BAD” remix video while I was kicking some serious “bootie.”  It actually was not “dance” per say, it choreographed in a way that punches synchronized so succinctly with every heart thumping bass , I literally felt I was inside the MATRIX of kickboxing and Lawrence Fishborne had me “downloaded” into some Jiu-Jitsu-Lil-Jon-Dub-Step-ReMix. I do not think I ever told the instructor this, but there were several times I started crying in her class (tears of joy) because of all the incredibly motivational cues she we would shout out during class.  I did  not turn into a blubbering post menopausal mess, I got choked up because I was so freaking inspired and I simply did not feel like I was at “the gym”.    She would say things like “You got up and got out of bed and You are here!!! be proud of yourself”  or “You aren’t here to just change the outside of your body you are here to change your body from the inside out.” I’m paraphrasing due to the fact that it was several years ago.  The bottom line is, she made me feel like I was exercising for the right reasons. “What the eff does “exercising for the right reasons mean???? Laurie Jane??”   Please, hang with me…this might be one of my longer blogs but it’s worth it because hopefully it will make you laugh and possibly alleviate stress in your life if you are struggling with a decision.

I had a tremendous amount of guilt with my membership because I did not work AND I  felt like I didn’t deserve it as a “stay at home mom”.  Looking back, I had severe post par-tum delusions after my first child, and mildly depressed after my second, I actually was just depressed. I hate typing that out because most of the world thinks that shit is controllable and it’s mind over matter. If you do think that depression can be controlled by just flipping a switch, please do more research.   I digress, the POINT I AM TRYING TO MAKE,  Is this instructor alleviated the insane, ridiculous guilt  I felt from going to the  FREAKING GYM! (I’m just not a the point where I can drop the actual f bomb in my blogs. A lot of successful bloggers let it all out…again I blame “others” for this..(diabolically ironic!!)  I’m still wondering if “shit” is too much…but I’ll edit later. Maybe).

Fast forward a couple years, taking a variety of classes, with this particular class and mixed martial arts classes being something I was drawn to on a consistent basis, I decided that I wanted to become a fitness instructor.  Yeah I know. At that time, I was 38.  I do not know what I was thinking either.  This was the best and worst decision I had made at that time.  How can that be?  It was the best decision because I truly learned how to perform a task that I did not possess natural skills to perform on a consistent basis.  I may have excelled at taking fabulous classes at a gym, but TEACHING fitness classes was almost the antithesis of taking them,  and I had to go through this process to figure out it was not something that pulled from my natural strengths and abilities.  I am not saying that you should shy away from difficult tasks, ignore your weaknesses or avoid putting yourself out of your comfort zone.  I am saying that if you are so far out of your comfort zone it is negatively affecting every aspect of your life, you may want to rethink the journey or path  you have embarked upon.

To elaborate upon it being the best decision in my life.  I learned SO MUCH about myself, the fitness “world” and how I interacted with other people. and MOST IMPORTANTLY I have a new found respect for Beyonce.  We besties now. “Hi B!!!” -  Beyonce, can move in ways that I would end up in the Emergency room if I attempted, and SING, like really SING from the vast recesses of her lungs ~WHILE-  AT THE SAME TIME – NOT LOOK TIRED.  I was say things like “punch jab punch punch kick jab etc”, while performing as said such tasks (not even singing like my bestie Beyonce or  ‘bootie’ maneuvering in any way shape or form) and would be so exhausted and “HANGRY” by the end of class, I would almost fall into my food at night.  To illustrate my “not looking tired point above”….. I had a participant ask me one day  if I was “Okay” and look deeply concerned for my overall well-being.    She recommended I get my thyroid checked because I was literally drenched in sweat and could barely speak after class.  This was kind of my first clue that maybe the outer Pluto rings of my comfort zone was not necessarily the best place for this 40 something Mom of two high spirited children and one very busy working husband.   Next time you go to class and you think the instructor doesn’t appear to be working hard enough, or start to get all critical,  think really long and hard before you give feedback. I use to run crazy 90 degree hill trail races in college and even got trophies for it, okay it was a small college, BUT STILL. I thought I was in damn good shape and it kicked my ass.  So I learned a TON about learning something from scratch and the black hole space that comes after your comfort zone. Insert Winking smiley face jumping emoticon here.

As for it being the worst decision, maybe that’s unfair terminology for myself; yet, there were many times I was in self inflicted tears of frustration because I never felt “good enough” or that I measured up to my counterparts.    I guess I should have known better with my eating disordered past that I was not as tough as I thought I was in deflecting the ‘self obsessiveness’ that the industry as a whole seem to manifest upon my psyche. I thought I could shut those voices down but inevitably the cons started to outweigh the pros.    As a competitive runner, it completely consumed me and I suffered health consequences from malnutrition and electrolyte unbalance and heat exhaustion because I did not have enough fat on my body to properly function and cool myself. Huh, Maybe that’s why I sweat so much now. Anyhow,  Sounds dramatic, but true and it will be in my memoirs..  Henceforth, so on and so forth,  I felt like at every twist and turn I had to monitor what I put in my body , I was over training,  and it was negatively affecting myself and my family.

As a caveat to my career in fitness I decided to become a “Health Coach” and used   Multi-level Marketing fitness shakes and DVDS  as an adjunct to promote this way of life.   I know it does not take a rocket scientist to figure out which company I chose to align with ; however, there are currently a
“Bandunkadunk” amount of these companies.   It’s not important because the company itself had nothing to do with my decision to stop participating in this field.   However, the somewhat convoluted and  pervasive “online coaching atmosphere” of SOME of the Coaches,  in SOME of these companies, (not just the one I was apart of) did have something to do with my decision. I have re-written this section like six times. The first time I wrote it, I ended up sounding like Lewis Black on the Jon Stewart show and I have been told that extreme sarcasm comes over quite poorly, unless it’s delivered by Lewis Black himself.

Instead of providing a  montage of all the things that grated my nerves like tweezers on a chalkboard, slowly and screechy, (I’m sorry¿ was that image bothersome?) I will try to summarize in one small paragraph without sounding indignant.( Fun Fact here, I was going to use the word resentful,  but I feel as thought it’s overused.  Anyhow, I go-ogled the synonyms for resentful and low and behold the FIRST Google search that “popped up” was “resentful Beyonce”  What???  Who is resentful at my BFF??? and how can anyone be resentful at the woman who masterminded the song that every man, woman and child is screaming  at the top of their lungs in their car  (……..boyimdrankin…..grindinupindatclub..surfboardgraininondatwoooooddd) ……My apologies to your boss if  you are reading this at work and just played Drunk In Love in your office and tried to “twerk”.

I digress. Seriously girlfriend,  Beyonce!!! Stop infiltrating my thoughts with your naughty music.  I became disenchanted with the MLM fitness entity because quite simply, it was not my scene. I did not feel comfortable displaying before and after pictures of my stomach or my arms or my saddlebags or whatever body part I incessantly felt like I needed to “Fix”.**  I was tired of being asked to do a “cleanse”  or a “challenge” when quite frankly, all they did for me was made me feel like sleeping OR I wanted to rob a bakery, and then I felt guilty because I was starving. Whe I did the cleanse and was told it was a highly caloric cleanse (1500 calories?) and I shouldn’t be feeling hungry.   I NEVER EVER felt like being moderately healthy  was enough and I ended running around all wide eyed and freaked out because “OMG I did too much cardio and not enough strength or I hadn’t learned the hollow back handstand and OMG LAURIE why aren’t you more flexible you really need to focus on that what’s wrong with you???.”

My brain had become a level 10 roller coaster of negative health thoughts.   I felt like I was eating too much and I should be constantly tracking my calories and my calorie burn.  I was constantly striving to be in smaller pants or have bigger biceps but not too big just big enough to look a certain way and this swirling mass of disenchanted thoughts HAD TO STOP.  Yes the problem absolutely became MY problem and it was turning me into an obsessive health freak that had banned “cheezits” from the house.  I DID NOT WANT TO BE THAT PERSON.

Some of you might ask, why couldn’t you have stayed in the health and fitness/mlm “thangy thing” and stayed moderate and balanced.    I could not because  my career choice HAD BECOME the gasoline to the fire for  obsessive, extreme behavior.  I also did feel like there were fitness leaders in that particular industry that sent a somewhat obsessive message (IN MY OPINION) and I just did not want to be a part of that culture any longer. AGAIN,THIS IS MY OPINION.   Some of you that read this might be saying I’m a “hater”, but really it’s not that, I applaud the athletes who have overcome giant obstacles to be leaders in this very complex and growing industry. I just chose to distance myself from the message that I did not agree with on a daily basis. I am not going to give examples, but if you are curious,  Google leaders in an fitness industry and follow them for a bit, you may feel undoubtedly and incredibly inspired, I want you to to make up your own opinion if they send a balanced message or one that promotes unrealistic body image expectations.   I do not blame anyone else and take full accountability that this industry was a dangerous place for me to rest my career laurels upon on a day in and day out basis.

In closing, I would not trade the short (but eventful!) stint I had as a fitness professional? (OMG, am I officially retired, if so where my pension be hiding???? ) Seriously  the best way I can surmise this blog is with a quote I had written on my social media account in January. “I’m SO grateful that I became some of the things I was. To truly realize who I AM.. who I am NOT. and who I can BECOME.” (LJF) Sometimes you have to go through it, in it, do it, see it, be it,  to realize that you do not want to be “it”.

*mlm fitness shakes & videos, I’m not going to go all into brand-name etc, because well I’m just not..I tend to over explain and I seriously do not want to lose you on some needless drivel

**I’m NOT  disrespecting ANYONE that does show before after pictures etc, it simply made me uncomfortable in a way that was not needed for ME.

To know me is to love me. Or strongly dislike me. I’m like a hot cup of coffee on a hot day. Hence the name Scrappie-Momma.  Where did I get this name from? No, I do not scrap book.  I tried and you want to know how much I completed? One page out of a 500 page book my darling husband bought for me after I declared “Oh Honey I can’t WAIT to stay home with the new baby and scrapbook, cook novella cuisine dinners for you nightly  and who knows maybe I’ll even start gardening or something really domestic.”  You see, I had just signed a generous severance package from a bank I was working at as a Human Resource manager and hubs was a little nervous about what was going to happen after that severance ran out and I was all comfy and cozy with new baby and my fabulous scrap book creations. Clearly we will be able to survive on my crafty “craftmanship” scrapbook creations won’t we?  That story to be told another day..  He said one of the reasons he fell in love with me was because he thought I was going to be a high powered executive in Human Resources. Oops.

Okay, so now you know Scrappie does not come from scrap-booking.  Do you remember the show Friends? Well there was an episode when Phoebe told Monica she was Scrappie or Scrappy (the spell check thingy majiggy keeps saying scrappie is misspelled. whatevs, now this whole sentence is underlined in red..) Anyways, Phoebe told Monica she was Scrappie because Monica “scrapped” her way back in to Phoebes life after Phoebes decided she did not like her! Well that’s kind of me in a nutshell. If I like you and you do not care for my presence, hang around, because I will warm your soul like a hot cup of coffee. You just might need to wait for it to get cold outside (or go into a well air conditioned building) before you actually enjoy my presence.

Today was a typical Scrappie-Momma type of day.  I tend to run about 6-8 minutes behind schedule, I am not usually “late” but because of my ability to navigate this fake,extra-time sequence in to all my clocks, and tell myself “oh I have an extra 6-8 minutes” , I’m usually hurriedly completing easy tasks in a frantic fashion.  For instance, I have thick hair. No thick is an understatement. I have hair that could be used to make a chain link fence. I could shield bullets with my helmet of hair. I have had it thinned and feathered but it just grows back in thicker and I then I have a thick, overgrown mullet.  Ask any hair dresser who has cut my hair they have all exclaimed “DAMN you have a lot of hair,  I didn’t realize how thick your  hair was, wow, we might need a few more minutes with your next appointment.”  OK, maybe they didn’t say Damn, but I can tell from their expression they want to and they also want to charge me more for dulling their scissors with my chain-link metal hair.

My point being, I was running late and I was trying to get 4 big chunky necklaces around my neck (CHUNKY CLUNKY jewels are IN my FRIENDS, and Friends from Friends too.) and they all got caught in the chain-links of my hair. I broke one and managed to get two off, but they are mangled and tangled together sitting on my husbands side of the sink for him to fix , after he gets home from a long trip because that was what he was longing to do, after sitting on a plane, and in Atlanta traffic for five hours.  Seriously, how does one BREAK  a necklace in her hair?  Me. due in part because I have mutant-Ly thick hair and due in part because I built in 6-8 minutes of time that never existed in the first place. Typical Scrappie or Scrappy or Crappy behavior.

I made it to my destination a few minutes late but not absurdly late, and my day started to even out time-wise; however, the rush of adrenaline from fighting with my chain-link-helmet-sheild hair or from the 650 cups of coffee, fueled me into wide-eyed Scrappie Momma mode.  So I pulled out of a parking lot and admittedly even thought I did glance to the right,  I didn’t see the Prius honking it’s horn of justice , no scratch that, laying ON THE HORN for 30 seconds straight,  with I think both middle fingers stuck out the window because I had inadvertently cut him/her off. I could not tell the gender because the face was blocked by the affectionate traffic gestures of love. Maybe I was his/her Valentines?  I’m not, by any means, condoning my driving skills and I want to apologize to the man/women I cut off, It was NOT intentional.  My helmet hair got in the way of my peripherals.

Lastly, I made a stop at TJMAXX Home-Goods because we are re-decorating my sons room and I thought what the heck , they might have some distressed antique /industrial looking furniture that , ok , ok momma really wants and almost tween son could give two shakes of a lamb tale about.  I could bring home old hospital furniture and he’d be like “sup” “looks good moms”.  Anyways as I was frantically taking pictures (and Texting to my husband who was in a car with his boss) of all the AMAZING DEALS on SOLID WOOD vintage-couture-industrial-shabby-chic-antique pieces that now I was kind of salivating because I was thinking “Hey this might look great in the ……..”  I bumped into someone and my Starbucks Soy Latte splashed all over another piece of furniture (do not worry it was not one of the pieces I wanted for my son/living/tea/guest room. Phew.

I am not a person who splashes and doesn’t tell so I did run to the front to alert the very disenchanted staff and management who then proceed to call “Josh” over the paging system:  “WE HAVE A CLEAN UP IN THE BACK. SOME LADY SPILLED HER STARBUCKS.”  Josh and his attending (I’m not kidding, he had an assistant ) came rushing to my assistance. Thankfully , the splash was still “active” and my latte was made with organic soy milk so, like it was  Vegan, Paleo, Atkins, South Beach and Nutrisystem approved  AND  gluten/pesticide free; therefore it did not harm the furniture. Josh, myself and his attending were all very relieved that I did not scar the cute little end table from Morocco.

In closing, the collateral damage and klutzy sins of Scrappie Momma was atoned for.  I said a quick “I’m sorry God I will really try to pay more attention when I am driving and I do have a big ‘no Texting’ sticky note on my dashboard, so please let Jesus know that I do have that sign on my dashboard and I do refer to it quite a bit.”   Although I wasn’t Texting (omg texting isn’t a word yet??, it’s coming up RED as misspelled…) at the time of the Prius-Valentine-Rendevouz- I just hadn’t clipped my helmet back enough.  But no excuses, I will do better.  Finally, an apology to Josh, and his attending for quickly rushing in to clean up the remnants  of my sweet & salty soy latte.  I have to admit , I was in mourning the loss of the rest of my latte because that was the frothiest soy latte I had had in a long time.

Starbucks tomorrow? I promise, I will look both ways before turning out onto the street and I will not bring my frothy delight-fulness into any home goods or boutiques.  Peace and Happy Early Valentines Day!

“Oh God and image of me trying to get this published just went through my ADHD head and  crap there is so many productive things I should be doing like laundry, laundry and laundry and cleaning the kids room even though they really should be cleaning that shit up themselves but if I could just SET THE EXAMPLE of how it should look, don’t you think they would follow my lead??

My plan is to clean it up with them when they come home from school so they LEARN from what we are doing but then I just get pissed off and tell them to go do something else so I can have complete control over the situation,  and round and round we go with my issues BUT as noted earlier I do not blame ANYONE in my family for the way my brain works… like a 50 year old blender with too much ice and freezer burned fruit.

I had to google the word “placation” because I was not 100 percent sure if it was the “tion” form of the word placate.  Let me just tell you I love the word “placate” because it sounds so  Joan-Crawford-Mommie-Dearest,  “DON’T PLACATE ME WITH YOUR WIRE HANGERS”  I know she doesn’t say that, but good grapes you know that is what she suggested she say to the script writer dude.   On the other hand, I desperately can not stand to be placated or outwardly insulted with some form of phrase like “oh, yeah that’s totally a no brainier, you should do it” and I say this with the utmost inflection being on “brainer” & “you should do it” (To get the full effect on how I’m saying this out loud to myself, google Californians on Saturday Night live.  Ok ,I’ll wait.  Yeah, that’s how I am saying it.  When any sales person utters the word “no brainer”, I stare at them like scary kids with no eyes in those paranormal movies , turn around and walk out.   Or I suggest they sell to actual Zombies who  have lost most of their brain power.

I coined this term because I feel like “nice” people who are not necessarily door mats, but truly try to see the good in other people fall victim to episodes of “Passive Aggressive Placation”.  I’m going to do my darnedest to give examples without being a total bitch, because I do consider my self a “nice” person but I also own a bit of snark, or scrappiness if you will. Truth needs to be told about people who are “serial-killer-nasty” ; one moment  a charming savant of manners and compliments while altruistically robed in a ‘Snugee’ of “ratchetness”, cheap polyester and barbed wire accolades.   Passive Aggressive Placation is my kryptonite.  It turns my face red , I will flip my head around so fast, start snapping and hip-walking with the “let me tell you something” phrase frothing  out of my mouth like the foamy desirableness of a Carmel Machiatto. (ok spell check keeps telling me that Machiatto should really be the word Machination)

Passive Aggressive Placation is really the tool of annoying and sometimes even extremely successful Sales People.  It’s the inauthentic dumfounded shock and awe on the sales person’s face when they have spent their incredibly precious time desperately providing “high Key” covertly disguised as a “low-key” sales pitch and you politely decline. To which they respond: “Oh, I”m flabbergasted that such an extremely well-educated  gorgeous, brilliant, young lady would pass up on such an incredible deal”.  Saying “no” to hot-shot sales people, is like saying “no” to a smart-mouthed over-privileged teenager who is learning how to manipulate their parents.  They know if they go bat-**** crazy , there is no dice, but if they play it “cool” and back-hand compliment the hell out the situation, there is a chance that “no” will turn into a “yes”.

My favorite do or die sales pitch is the: “There are only 50 items/spots left and time is running out, your life is a mess, you need this, tap into that savings account NOW! what are you WAITING FOR?”!

“UM, for my common sense to kick in to realize that what you are charging is asinine  Or

“Um, for my common sense to kick in to realize that you have only had this promotion running for 1 day”

No, No, that’s not even the passive aggressive placating part.  It’s the part where they close the actual deal down and say “NO MORE LEFT”  and then magically 24 hours later, 400 items etc are suddenly available.  I get it, supply and demand; hence, welcome to the rave party of underhanded sales. “If you do not act now, your life will be sucked into a deep, black hole of despair, desolation, and depression. The three Ds or darkness will cascade upon you forever UNLESS you sign up for this one~-time, short lived offer of glow stick freedom enmeshed in the giant “mosh” pit of enternal financial bliss, do you have your pay pal account available?”

Unfortunately, sleep deprived or insomniacs are plagued with the “Do you desperately hate your life that you are sitting there in your jogging pants, covered in Cheetos, hating yourself for eating Cheetos and wearing ugly jogging pants, well! sign up now with a start up fee of ____ and I guarantee you will love your life again”      It’s also used in the billion dollar diet industry  coupled with the “I guarantee you will lose weight if you try this fabulous innovative new product”. *   I could write a BOOK on incessant onslaught of fitness crazes, fads, pills, shakes etc that reign down upon us like skittles in those psychedelic skittles commercial. It’s absurd!!! And I’m not immune,  I like to exercise, I have bought some of the stuff to stay MODERATELY fit; however, if I scroll through certain health magazines or websites, Moderate is NOT GOOD ENOUGH WOMAN!.    According to the fitness revolution, if I can’t wash my undies on my washboard abs,  apparently I need more products and I certainly need to eat more twigs and less cheetos.   No wonder people do not want to start an exercise program!   I see this fitness phrase a lot “What’s your excuse?”   I think some one needs to respond “YOU ARE SCARING ME”.   If I see one more female lift up their shirt to show their abs and the bottom of their boobs in a effort to “sell” fitness, I am going to try and wash my undies on my 2.5 pack and tell them “I want my money back, it didn’t work”. **

I know we can all think of how this type of behavior affected us or affected us.  The creepy boss who said things like “I’m your biggest fan but…”  No, you are not my biggest fan. That’s creepy and why start a sentence like that and use the word “but”, just give me the feedback and do not be a douche-bag. (according to my grammar check, douche-bag should be hyphenated).   Or the obnoxious supermom who says things like “Bless your heart, you look really stressed & tired, have you read Baby Wise or do you eat too much gluten and saturated fat? I did all that and look at me! I’m a size zero and baby girl is sleeping through the night!”   Really sweetheart,  how about, “Let me give you a hug because I understand what you are going through and I’d rather be nice to you versus a condescending , lip-glossed, twig-eating ______”

When I had my first child, HIS THIRD MONTH of LIFE, I hadn’t gone back to work and  a mom (I don’t know if she worked or not, well maybe at being obnoxious) asked me “WHAT DO YOU DO ALL DAY”    Um, well now I’m going to cut up creepy pictures of you and poke black holes in the eye slots and say voo doo doo doo prayers  in them while I eat my giant stash of Dove Chocolate bars (and cheetos bc I love cheetos; thus, why I have mentioned them several times and guess what? they have an “all natural brand”  which means I can lose weight WHILE I’m eating them because they are negative calories…), because apparently I’m not productive enough for you to ask me rational, polite questions.  Yeah I said voo doo doo doo prayers.  People who are passively aggressively placating invoke voo doo doo doo doo behavior.

How bout you, what’s your example of passive aggressive placation?

Footnotes for asterisks*

* The entire health industry does not fall into this category, therefore no disrespect to the health industry as an industry per-say..(grammatically that sentence was crappy but I’m trying to a make a point on sleazy sales gimmicks , not “out” any hard working fitness and health professionals who really do care about the public good)

** again, attraction marketing, I get it. Of course you should show of those abs! But do it in a way that’s not so obnoxious.  Wear a cute FULL COVERAGE ATHLETIC bra top, there really is no need for you to lift up your shirt. None.  This isn’t Spring Break in Cancun.  Google “cute athletic bras” and I guarantee you will find something G rated that I do not have to hide from my children if I’m scrolling Instagram with my kids sitting next to me.

“whats your excuse”

I used to think I needed to work out harder, longer, eat less, eat more twigs, or jump on the latest fintess fad, gadget, parallel bar (have you seen these things??) to get rid of the extras that come with being a mom, getting older and just LIFE!!
  Im grateful that right now at this very moment~Im ok that stuff jiggles on my body (other than the twins up top). Ive fallen in love with myself again. (I do not mean this in the Kayne sense of thangs..I still have my humility :-)). I am ok with exercising like a “normal” person (whatever the hell that means??)  and I do not have to do 1000 burpees if I decide to eat a giant piece of cheesecake.
No, Im not saying I have gone to the other extreme of being completely unhealthy. Im saying I think I finally understand what it means to be moderate and good golly that is not an easy task for the “omg I want to be a superstar~master~athlete~director~of ablogistics” tomorrow because I liked  dance~fighting~aerobics more than I like your average aerobics” (I know no one uses the word aerobics, but my periodontist wrote “no aerobics until pain goes away” and I found that amusing because for my two years emerged in the fitness world that word was used for flashback 80s classes).
My brain does not automatically work in moderation mode. I have to conscious of my actions at all times because extreme (insert electric guitars) was my middle name. Extremely manic or extremely in bed dead. Its no way to live and I can do that to myself if I do not watch “it” ~ no don’t ask me what “it”is because I do not know.
  Healthy is truly a state of mind and it concerns a whole body connection. Ok. Im not dr Phil or Oz, but if I have learned anything its you simply can not enjoy what you are doing if you have to be obessed with the outcome of being perfect or having the perfect body or if “more” is never enough. (More money more “stuff”.) Less is usually more when it comes to a truly healthy, balanced lifestyle AND I DO NOT MEAN THAT IN THE CALORIC SENSE _ remember I just had a GIANT PIECE OF CHEESECAKE!

Be healthy. Find confidence. & shake what your momma gave ya!

I wrote this diatribe on my phone so forgive the typos…ill edit later.

STRIKE WHILE THE IRON IS HOT

Posted: January 24, 2014 in Uncategorized

My Grandma (gam – gam, gigi, me-maw etc) used to say this ALL THE TIME, pretty much about every conundrum I encountered in life.   At first I was like “g-moms, u knows I don’t iron, uknowwhaimsayin”  but she was all like “naw dawg, i’m talking like carpe-diem type stuff -you feel me?”.  Ok. No. I did not speak to my grandmother like this nor did she speak like Randy Jackson from American Idol; however, she did quite enjoy a tune or two from Boyz To Men; yet,  was kind of pissed off that they spelled “Boyz” wrong as she was an English major.

The reason this saying is so fitting in today’s society is life moves FAST.  Ipods, ipads, tablets, email, gmail, bmail, google +, google -, google play, google guts, chromed out google, dubbed out google, google crunk, edddit,reddit, digg, wigg, bigg, instagram, instaquote, instagoat, and samsung’s line of comically large phones and such means that INFORMATION IS FLYING AT YOU LIKE MAD RHYMES IN THE CYPHER. It never ever stops.  I currently have seven writing, poets, blogger magazines, 8 yoga magazines and 3 ADHD magazines sitting by my bed that I’m too tired to read at night but sometimes I place them under my pillow in hopes that the osmosis of knowledge will filter into the synapses of my brain. (I can do a downward dog without falling over..so progress)

“Strike while the iron hot”, does not mean , burn the candle at both ends and party like a rock star. No Ma’am, it means, celebrate what you have RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.  What’s right in front of you RIGHT NOW?  I have a sharpie (or two), a giant journal, a stack of UN-filed (but paid SON!) bills, and a giant sticky note with the words (DON’T FORGET EOM -CAR PAYMENT COMES OUT, but it’s written like this: ‘eomcarpymtcmesout’ – so I have to squint and work those synapses to decipher the code.   Most importantly,  I’m feeling fabulous surrounded by the clutter of my writing gear accented by the melodic whir of the dyer & kids, smiling with the knowledge that I can hit refresh on the dryer 70000000 more times before I have to fold the clothes.

I really hope you are not reading this article in hopes to glean some fancy ironing tips.  Scrappie Momma does not iron unless its a def-com-five emergency -like a wedding or church with momma in law- and at that point, I’m mercilessly begging my husband or mother n law to help this poor undomesticated soul OUT of the possibility  of ironing more wrinkles IN than OUT>.  I do have one of those steamer things in which I end up soaking the garment in steam and have to wait the next day to wear because well, it’s soaking wet…. Alternatively, I spray too much of the DE-wrinkle-sprayer on the garment and I have a sneezing attack.  Lastly, The refresh button on the dryer only works on the kids clothes, well because let’s face it, I kind of lowered the expectations for the actual definition of “unwrinkled” for my children.  Hey, isn’t that crinkly look in right now? So no. There will be no domestic tips in probably any of my blogs.

In closing – get off that hamster wheel and celebrate the idiosyncrasies of life. Make yourself laugh if you have too. I mean really, you can find something hysterically funny just by looking around your house. Me? I have been known to leave my phone in the fridge. I take my bra off around 4 and hang it on various door knobs throughout the house. I consistently talk to our pet bearded dragon, encouraging him to eat and even waving pieces of kale in front of his nose – while saying “yeah buddy, I wouldn’t eat at either..but I think oreos might kill you”.  The sights and sounds of your own house are a comedy in motion.  Breath it in.  Laugh it out. And go mash that refresh button one. more. time. on. your. dryer!

Technology Murderer

Posted: November 20, 2013 in Uncategorized

My husband lovingly refers to me as the computer murderer ; the antitheses of the computer whisperer, you know, derived from that fabulous dog whispering dude on one of the 543209876787656 channels on your TV.   Literally , just as I sat down to write this, I was delayed because I  couldn’t find my freaking password for wordpress; yes it’s on a sticky note, and yes I should have it memorized but it’s really complicated because , I’m in extreme danger of being plagiarized with my 6.4 followers.   I  frantically looked in our documents, because I typed out all our passwords a few weekends ago.  (STOP – if you are a hacker,  I didn’t really do this OR if you don’t believe that, I JUST paid off my 4 year liberal arts degree like less than a year ago, I’m 41, I’m a bargain shopper,  I don’t “work” per say- so sufficed to say, hacking into our financials is just going to piss you off……)  – I digress. I don’t remember what I named the document because I tried to be clever. I did name one of my documents “Throw some Dees on dat…dat…dat..dat” ,but it’s not my password document and that particular document has nothing to do with Daytona Rims (which by the way is what a Dees Be)  so I really don’t know where I was going with that document title.

Let’s just say, over the course of the last couple of years, I have sent “comments”, “feedback” “surveys” & what-have-you-  to Google, Itunes, WordPress, Microsoft etc – in a lame attempt to express my dissatisfaction towards computer and technology malfunction.  I’m sure; somewhere in IT land at some company, there is a dartboard or a voodoo doll with my name all of it.   Yes, I’m the user that gets frantically angry, clicks 1056998340474 times, screams at the computer with intense vitriol resentment, so much so,  I’m terrified that Dr Phil’s camera crew is going to come busting in at any moment to document and analyze my years of buried malfeasance.  I will admit, nine times out of ten – the problems I am experiencing are what the IT departments anywhere most affectionately refers to as “useless user error”.

Let’s go back, way back, 10 or so years ago when I worked at a credit card company.  I know those IT people (‘those people’ – insert smiley face) played some type of rock, paper, scissors, lizard, spock, game to not have to deal with moi as my name lit up on the help desk phone.  My stoic face, is kind of a grumpy face, okay okay, let’s call a spade a spade, I could be and was kind of a bitch when my computer was not working or maybe I was kind of a bitch in general. I would not want to help me with my computer problems.

I remember this one system we installed in the Human Resources department, let’s just call it the  GAH system because I am not sure if it was a top secret system? again, because well, you know,  I worked for a credit card company, not the CIA so I’m not sure why  I’m protecting the name of the system. Anyhow, this system cataloged interview candidates and it repeatedly got backed up , because we got backed up with candidates. It was supposed to work “real-time’, like the drive through at Starbucks, but after 600 mocha choca lattachinos ordered and only a couple people to handle the frothing machine- you do the math.  For whatever reason, I was vehemently  displeased at the GAH system. ( I think I even made up an angry RAP song about it Eminem style..)

I remember sending one of my infamously long (see my blog on Procrastination) emails to the head of the IT department about our issues with the GAH system and I used all caps and cheese and crackers, did I bold and underline and CC other people?   His  response was so eerily calm to my outright PMS tantrum, I’m pretty sure he put a curse on  all my future technology purchases.  In essence , these two paragraphs are dedicated to him, his patient staff and IT people around the globe that I  have dealt with- My amends to you for for all the emails/ surveys titled “I will be putting a fork in my eye if I receive any more error messages” , my guttural screams, my incessant “leave-words” and whatever fresh hell I cascaded upon your departments.

Phones: I have never had a good track record with mobile phones.  One because I rarely have them turned on so when I lose them, I can never find them. Recently my “smart phone” ended up in the fridge; and hubs was none to happy to have been the UNSPOILED VICTOR in this quest on finding MY COLD PHONE before I dashed out the door to a baby shower.   Yes, I take witless actions; such as,  PLACING PHONES ON MY RUNNING BOARD OF MY CAR BEFORE DRIVING  OFF LIKE  MADEA; only to realize 10 minutes later the tragic death that had bestowed upon my cellular companion.. My torrid relationship with phones can be summarized by the following image; A wide-eyed, bushy pony-tailed Mom,  in her frayed , extra long yoga pants,  barefoot, topped with a NIKE swooshed “Just Do IT” t shirt-, frantically dodging traffic to pick up the mangled wreckage of what was once a communication vessel.

Computers:  Sigh. I could write an entire book on my war with these  B____S (you figure out the word, Jesse Pinkman used it lovingly and frequently in Breaking Bad)_, okay I gotta be nice – because I really think there is something to that movie the Matrix. This “computer” I’m typing on, controls me. Nice computer. honey bunny smoochies. Momma loves you soooooo much!. Before you call the people who house the straight jackets to come get me, read on.

Last year, this one Scrappie Momma became unconditionally stonewalled  with the “perceived” slowness of her computer ( I mean really, It shouldn’t take THIS LONG TO UPDATE FACEBOOK I gottts stuff to say…) and after 5684957398 clicks with the mouse, 5423795748 rambling texts to my husband, I finally ordered up one of them “handy-dandy-click-amma-bobs-helpful-virus-scanware-guaranteed-to-make-your-computer-faster-or-your-money back”.   Sufficed to say, my computer seemed to run faster that day. Then it literally started to melt, like the dude in Raiders in the Lost ark who drank that holy water?   I tried to blame it on Minecraft because my son was all up in dat.  And I still claim to this day Minecraft had something to do with it.  Although the shaming finger points wholeheartedly in my direction as , case in point the whole melting-of-the-face- scenario mentioned above.

In closing, I have panic attacks when I see the swirly circle that never ends , when I click on a “screen” and it just swirls and swirls and swirls.  I envy the savvy computer dudes on Person of Interest with their lightening speed communication tankers and their access to multiple fancy-schmancy smart phones and ear pieces.   Who do they call when the “machine” is broken?  Why is everything so fast? Why are they not seeing the swirly , twirly gumdrops of death on their screen?  Why aren’t they calling in to iTunes DEMANDING to speak to a supervisor?   How come they have never left their phone in the freezer or on a running board or fallen prey to the shiny ads on their screen that “promise to make all their computer blues disappear”  Yes. I have a love-hate relationship with technology and I’m eternally grateful my husband has lots of back up files.

  • During my mad-vacumming blitz I got lodged in between the tank of a washing machine and corner of a wall and couldn’t UN-lodge myself for a good 3 minutes. I utilized my limited YOGA skills to slither out of this domesticated Jason Bourne laundry def-com crisis.
  • A massive robo blitz call went out to all parents of all schools in our area stating “your child is absent”. I did not know it was a system-glitch and hyperventilated until almost passing out while calling all the schools to reach a busy signal. Thankfully, I received the update via a text from kind friends, before face-planting on the tile.
  • My latest complaint to I-tunes is headed “Every-time I try to fix a playlist, download music or even click on the I tunes Icon,, I reach for a fork, in which I plan to stick in my eye”

Good Day.

What’s the Message

Posted: October 17, 2013 in balance, diet, eating, fitness, food, Uncategorized

We really need to see more Dove Campaign Special K type body shapes and Messages- in the Fitness /Health world. If you truly want to reach those who are having serious health risks because of their addiction to food, you have to take a good look at what society , is saying to them.  I am passionate about people seeing themselves as a whole being and being inspired versus being guilt -ed or shamed into getting off the sofa. If a person is “guilt-ed or shamed” into getting off the sofa and eating healthy, the person will not stick to a plan and make lifestyle changes. This is a fact.. Page 127 American Council and Exercise ACE Group Fitness Manual “The least effective type of motivation is a form of extrinsic motivation called intro-jection,(Deci & Ryan) With intro-jection people report being physically active because of some external factor suggested by someone else and NOT ACCEPTED BY THEMSELVES..and are likely to experience feelings of being controlled, tensions GUILT or pressure..” The chapter goes on to describe that people have to feel intrinsically motivated- Which does not come from feeling guilty about themselves. Therefore,I vote for inspiration,authenticity and humility versus “what’s your problem” or”what’s your excuse” every-time.

Speaking from a busy stay at home parent’s perspective, (yes I’m busy even though I don’t “work” full time in society’s eyes), the pressure to “do it all”, is unbelievable.  There is a major Supermom atmosphere that radiates out over myself and my friends on a daily basis and it isn’t all in our heads.  I have yet to see a cover of a magazine regarding Parenting that truly depicts what’s going on in a parent’s life.  I get it, pictures of disheveled parents , is not going to cut the mustard;however, I do think the parenting/health/fitness industry could do a much better job in providing an authentic  view of how to balance the stresses of life while creating, routines (exercise included!) into their life.

If I had to got back to work tomorrow, full-time, I know that I would not be as disciplined about it as I am today. You know why?  BECAUSE I’M HUMAN.  You are human. Give yourself a break.   I’ll admit that actually have to back off of the exercise from time to time,  because I do not want to become obsessed with working out and eating healthy because I do NOT think it’s a good message to send to my children.    I do get caught up in the comparison game but I’m much better at stopping that undeniable,self-defeating train-wreck-thoughts of destruction,  to realize that I’m doing the best I can based on my abilities. 

 

I do not know the answer on how to reach the masses in helping America fight obesity and/or unhealthy sedentary lifestyles. I think there are some great programs that do attempt to reach all parts of society. I also do know it’s a sore subject and even writing  the word obese makes me a little uneasy because I feel like America automatically associates that term  with outward “image” and/or “lazy”.  That  isn’t always the case. You have NO IDEA what’s going on in that person’s life and whats going in their life.  You have no idea if they walk 50 miles a day or if the were starved emotionally and physically as a child.  We need to stop labeling people and meeting them where they are now so they can find their intrinsic motivation!  Food may be their shield and they used it to protect themselves, my goal is to help them find another, healthier shield.


All I know is I want to help people get active and feel good about themselves because I do not want people do die from unhealthy life styles that can easily be prevented by  making slow, steady balanced challenges in their life. .  It’s NOT ABOUT SIZE.  A super. skinny runway model can be five times as unhealthy as a person that may be a little bit overweight on a “medical chart” or worse by “Cosmos’s standards”   I used to smoke, drink , and run. Sometimes all at the same time, because I thought I was a freaking rockstar! (insert electric guitar music..)  Was I healthy? heck no. Quite the opposite. I’d much rather be 10 to 15 lbs heavier with a little junk in my side trunk then ever go back to being a spindly , spidery crazy-eyed-crack-en trying to run off my the previous nights’ beer calories only to go home to chug Pinot.

My point is, life is not fair, it’s hard, there is always going to be someone that’s better, faster, thinner, more muscular , better hair, funnier personality..whatever… and some of it’s genetics, upbringing..etc.   My Dad’s nick name is Spider, so go figure, some parts of my body are natural going to be thinner, whether I eat white bread (gasp!) or not.  My sister is tall , I am not. I’m working with what my momma gave me and what I’m trying to give myself!  You need to define what a comfortable, healthy weight and size is FOR YOU , your heart and your soul. It’s the whole picture.  If you are a size 6 and you want to rob a bakery every day , have major headaches and are miserable, maybe your body is not meant to be that size.  If you let yourself got to a size 8, and you feel much better as a whole person, then you have your answer!

There are  SEVENTY ONE ROADS IN ATLANTA WITH THE WORD PEACH-TREE IN THE NAME.   Look, I do not have a very good sense of direction, in fact, I have gotten lost  a multitude of times; however I have lived in Georgia for a cumulative total of eight years and I have NEVER gotten lost as much as I have in this state.

I indicated one major conundrum above. Imagine Siri or the google chick’s confusion when there are that many road/streets with labeled “peach-tree’”.   I have also been cited a few times for illegal u-turn, all in Georgia (amazingly I have never received a ticket.. I guess I”m pretty darn charming).  Listed below is the common dialogue betwixt Siri or the google dame and myself (I use both depending upon which catches GPS signal first)   -

Siri” “make a u-turn when possible”

Me: “for real?”

Siri “No really , make a flipping u -turn now..what is wrong with you anyway”

Me: “Stay calm. Say the Serenity prayer. Let’s not fight today Siri”

Siri: “ok, ok wait. no like totally. no wait, let’s stop and re-route.”

Me: “OHH EMM GEEE are you flipping kidding me?, like whatever gurhhhl. “

Siri: “No, ok I got this. I GOT DIS, hold up. Re-do that last u-turn, and make a reverse u-turn”.

Me:  “*&*&&*&#*&&$*#&!&@%”

Siri  “Oh eff it, turn around when possible and go buy a map”

Although I am grateful that I live in an area that is rapidly changing, it can prove to be quite a kerfuffle to get from point A to point B at random times during the day. Let me explain, firstly, in my area,  it seems as though a gaggle of builders all go to the same watering hole and say “HEY LET”S BUILD 7500 subdivisions along a country two-lane road AND THEN widen the road once the congestion becomes completely unbearable.”   I am not a city planner , but sometimes the logic and timing of when the department of transportation decides to widen a road, escapes logic.

Secondly, I mentioned random times during the day and I really meant that phrase. One would think, that these two-lane-country-road-DOT-projects, would only get congested during rush hour.  That’s simply not the case.  Yes, it does become grid-locked during rush-hour; however, there are many times, when I am traveling along said-above road at 10:30 or 2:00 in the afternoon, and it is completely jammed with traffic.   Besides my important self, where are all these other people going in the middle of the day?

I say all of this out of good clean fun. I find it ironic that with my complete lack of any kind of directional sense , I live in an area that has lacked originality naming it’s roads and albeit we are the peach state, I think 35 roads with the name “peach” in it would have clued any city planner to pick another fruit or state celebrity.  Additionally, the names of the roads are undoubtedly, the longest, I have ever seen in my life.

Peach tree Industrial Boulevard

Lawrence ville-Suwanee Road

Nelson Brogdon Blvd/Georgia State Road 20/Buford Drive/Highway 20 – I’m not flipping kidding you – Siri will spit this ALL out when telling you to travel on this road

Buford Highway/Georgia State Road 13

 

Let’s stop here. The above road (Nelson Brogdon)  or /Buford Drive/Highway 20 is NOT to be confused with the road Buford Highway/Georgia State Road 13 are two totally different roads AND I live near both of them, so when I try to give directions to my house I literally have to think about how to phrase this to any newcomer.  Better yet, there is a Nelson Brogden ROAD which is not the same as the mouthful of roads (which is just ONE ROAD) listed above. I know right, just reading that makes your head what to explode. KABOOM.

The other day I was traveling to a neighboring town for a trail run (near Lake Lanier, which is a massive lake) thinking, “oh, i’ll figure it out” and lacked the forethought to map out the big picture.   With hopeful glee, I knew Siri would pull through and guide my directionally challenged mind.  Needless to say, I ended up on Peachtree Industrial Blvd, when I should have been on Nelson Brogdon Blvd/Georgia State Road 20/Buford Drive/Highway 20  fervently yelling at my phone, “Please why are you doing this” and speak-texting into my Facebook inbox that I was going to be late, because heaven forbid I use a map or call anyone directly anymore.  That would make too much sense.

“40 is the new 30″  I think I read or saw that somewhere.  Maybe Jennifer Anniston said it on the cover of Fabulously Forty. In that case, 40 through 70 is the new 30 if you LIVE IN HOLLYWOOD.  No disrespect to any celebrity that works hard to maintain a youthful glow – I totally get the yearning to have clearer, softer younger skin and not having to actually search for my lip line when applying the latest shintastic glam-slam-dunkalicous goo to my lips.

Just the other day I was rattled out of a semi 1/2 conscious afternoon moment when some dazzling looking 50 year old was screaming, I mean singing “YOU LIGHT UP MY LIFE”.   I was like, “what in the Oz great road of bricks is this all about”.   It was a commercial for life lift, a semi-surgicial procedure in which you get a face lift, but you don’t look like you got a face-lift. You know, very similar to going to get your hair highlighted or low lighted or blown out with chemicals but not so much actually  looking like you spent 6500 hours in the salon chair till your ‘tookus’ went numb all so you can get that naturally “30″ looking look.  Beyond that, I’m not 100% sure what the point of screaming this song at the top of her lungs was all about and now I mute or change the channel, because quite frankly the commercial just depresses the heck out of me.

I apologize for my lack of inclusion to the twenty year old population and male gender.  Let’s face it, in your twenties, you aint’ worried about nothing and if you are a man, getting older just means looking more distinguished and they actually sell “salt and pepper” HAIR COLORING???  to get the “mature” look. I warned the twenty year olds already and I do not have a lot of sympathy for the aging male considering their metabolism doesn’t do a kamikaze  dive bomb and they cut out “cheese-itz and beer” and lose 15 lbs in a week.  I have no sympathy for their plight :)

Let’s be clear on what really happens as we venture in to this twilight era of our life.  The half-quarter-way-new-kinda-sorta-mid life crisis, depending upon whatever life expectancy is these days .  Things do not just start to fade, lose gravity, become sallow, less bendier, more crackly – they sprint.   Here’s my all time favorite, you start growing more hair on areas like your chin, your feet  and the hair you currently have on your head or legs becomes coarser and more brittle.  Really?  Is God so much of a comedian that he thinks this is funny?    I remember near my thirtieth birthday it had already started because I was driving my car and my dearest friend grabbed at my chin and said GOT IT.  I was like ” What in the rabbit’s hole of Alice’s wonderland are you doing?” She said “You had a long, dark, curly, straggly, crackly hair coming out of your chin.”   So whatever hormone that pulses through our womanly veins had started to pillage into mine at this young age.

Do you really want to know why I am writing this article, blog, vlog, or clog of words or whatever hipster terminology is out therefor randomly sharing my thoughts with the world via the internet. (OMG OH EM GEE, I sound like a forty year old).   Do you know how or why I got the idea to write about this?  I had just finished inhaling my lunch (another phenomenon that happens with age, my table manners have got down that rabbit hole with alice)…Anyways,   I often go into the parlor after lunch to read. Ok no, I don’t really do that.  I went into the “parlor” or the front room, which I utilize because it has amazing light, no not to read, I would rather squint in the dark to do that activity.  – I go into this room, to pluck my eyebrows.  Yes I use this God-given  natural light to ensure I get every last one of those hairs to create the Victoria’s Secret model arch on my brow.

Okay, again, I stretch the truth.  I  occasionally get my brows waxed, and I KNOW these ladies are smirking and talking about me in hushed tones in the back corridor. They come back with their long strip of wax dripping in their gloved hands as I squirm and reel back a little knowing the pain about to be inflicted on my amazing arch and tell me directly  that I really, truly need to stop  plucking my own eyebrows.

I cannot tell a lie, the other reason I use that room is to pluck the dark hairs that appear on my feet the morning of my fortieth birthday.  I’m not getting my feet waxed. Yes, Ill share the fact that I have man-feet with the world, but I will not allow wax to be applied to my varicose “veiny” , bony feet.  Oh yes, that’s another fantastic phenomenon that comes with age.   A more translucent , Robert Pattin son-eque skin tone, that allows the bubbly , inflamed vein of our yesteryear to debut it’s vampire-ish elegance.

And I shall end with the notion that every time you told yourself as a teen or a twenty year old “Hey it’s okay if I lie out today without any sunscreen” or “hey , it’s after 2:00, baby oil should be a safe barrier from the sun”.     You will be happily welcome what I call “oh great I have freckles now, and they aren’t cute like the girl in the Gap commercial”. They don’t cascade around your nose into cheeks and give you that  Emma Stone  adorableness. (seriously could she be any more adorable..) They are a misshapen-pea to Lima-bean shaped in size and they are the color of what you can imagine to be called “drab-khaki” in a paint store. Oh and what’s really great, if they become raised or “crusty”, you have to get them laser-ed or aqua-net freeze-dried off and biopsied at the dermatologist office for cancer! Yipee!! So fun! I have had that done a few times and it’s like a manicure ON YOUR FACE.   It’s different for everyone, depending upon their skin tone, but whatever skin-tone or color you don’t want, that’s the color of the sunspot you will have for every. time. you. “forgot” sunscreen.

If you were twenty, and you read this. I warned you.

We live in a world of polarizing extremes.   I recently got rid of a book I purchased a few years ago, titled ” So and So’s method to a flat stomach” I don’t know why I even purchased the book, lets just say it was an impulse buy during a massive outbreak of PMM- Pre-menstrual-mania. I’m sure I even purchased the book at some super cute Starbucks-BarnesNobility along with a frosted orange-cranberry -scone (my favorite treat , in case you were wondering what to bring me as a baked-good surprise.  )

I’m not immune to the strobe-light eye-bulging-pings of pictures of muscled up models , with their fashionably tousled,  frazzled hair and looks of  undeniable pain and beautiful desperation in their face with quotes such as “If you do not look like me while you are working out, then you should go eat that orange-cranberry -frosted scone while you sob in the corner for not pushing yourself this morning, you lazy , sad person”  Yes, I’m being facetious with my quote; however, unless you live in a hole, you have seen something of this sort somewhere in a magazine, in social media or at the nail salon while buffing up your nails.

I have been down the exercise-lunatic road-  secretly running at 3 am in Boston Massachusetts, ironically “hiding” my completely obvious obsessive compulsive-exercise disorder in the depth of the pre-Team Jacob  hour, praying that no-one would notice my mania.  I would- pretend I was “just taking out the trash” when I came back dripping wet, limping from overused tendons and shaking from hunger in my “running clothes.”  I have had to ceremoniously burn all my fitness fanatic magazines as a form of therapy to rid myself of the demons to have what I thought might have been the perfect figure because I imagined that punishing myself for eating would bring me peace, content and eternal happiness.

I really do not know many women (and some men) who struggle with their body size, image & food intake,  etc on a daily basis. Lest, here I am again , teaching fitness , joining a run club and blogging about what continues to creep into my mind , yes sometimes on a daily basis  Am I dancing with the flame that burnt me to the ground twenty years ago? Should I teach Dance as fitness? (which I came to the conclusion after a few classes that , no , this might not be my skill set , as Carlton Banks tried to sue me for stealing his patented moves)  I have also listed other questions that pop up in my mind and minds of others due to the insidious ADHD’ness of the fitness-fanatic posts..

“Am I working out enough? Am I eating too many carbs?  Am I eating enough carbs? Are carbs and grains really that bad for you?  Seriously now fruit has too much sugar in it??  Am I doing the right exercises? Should I be lifting weights more because strong is the new sexy which is the new skinny which, inevitably the people lifting still look pretty darn skinny so that’s just totally confusing and overwhelming? Should I try to lose 5lbs because someone asked me to be in their challenge group to “get fitter?”   STOP!!!

I want to inspire and motivate people to be and live a healthy lifestyle; yet not let it consume them in a negative self-centered, controlling manner.  I haven’t figured out the best means to carry out this message, but I am learning slowly that standing up for the us “middle-grounders” is a good place to start.  You can be healthy, run, exercise, walk, jog, crawl, teach, box, tae-bo, turbo, ski , jump, hop , bungy jump , swim, zumba, dance, frog jump, play red-light , green light or what have you  and ENJOY IT!  I guess I just feel like health& fitness on social media sends the message that inevitably frightens people the most that really need a reason and an authentic, stimulating catalyst to get up and start appreciating exercise as a part of their life that’s flippin’ fun! not agony!!!!

As I am trying to put into my own words, I’ll lean on the very media that sometime pushes the negative voices in ourselves to an advertisement that literally makes me want to cry because I’m so in love with the message.  I’m referring to the Special K advertisement currently on tv. (google it!).  In a nutshell it’s a variety of beautiful women, all different shapes and sizes, trying on “size-less’ jeans ,with words of inspiration as tag instead of “size x, y or z”.  This advertisement is such a breath of fresh air betwixt the other messages of “do or die to get to a size” .

The inspiration for this blog was my post on Facebook today “What do you think of the popular fitness/health Facebook post “Abs are made in the kitchen”.    Here is a quick summary on how I feel about this post:

  • Being healthy & exercise is more about how I feel than looks. Yes- I want to feel confident about myself- but quilting my way out of something enjoyable to have ripped-up abs- is just not my cup of Joe- Plus Cups of Joe should be starting in the kitchen..For me, it about feeling peaceful & healthy and intuition and moderation play and major role in my decision making when it comes to eating. I do not measure, count calories or weight myself.  (ok, occasionally I step on the scale, but I really try to avoid at all costs)  I am not saying that people who want to lose weight – should follow my protocol, I’m just saying that if I’m not listening to my body in terms of what I feel like I need to eat , and stop when I am full and I’m going by a calorie counter- I end up feeling deprived, restricted and angry.  
  • Please let it be noted, I’m not disrespecting anyone who uses these methods to stay healthy, I think that’s awesome! I’m a HUGE HUGE fan of weight watchers and my fitness pal.c om because it does encourage moderation and nothing is “off limits, I’m simply referring to how my brain works and hoping to inspire people to think about a variety of ways to be healthy, lose weight, gain muscle – etc!

In closing, Do not let your self worth be determined by number on a scale, jean size at  Jones, or a flat stomach flapping in magazine in front of you.    Ok, I wanted my blog to have more of a humorous slant, but for me this is a serious subject too because of the fact that anorexia and obesity are one of the same disease. They are eating disorders, and both should be treated as such. Do you know that when I was anorexic, my therapist made me go to Over-eaters Anonymous?  What the frack?  Well, what I realized is that OA, is not just about – overeating!, it’s about using food to control your emotions!!!  Therefore, my message to anyone that may be struggling with eating and health,  if you feel like you have a serious problem- there is help, and getting control of the emotional aspect of literally “what’s eating away at you”, is the first step in freeing yourself from emotions that bind you into using food/exercise (lack of /overuse) I will list a few hotlines, links below.  Thanks so much for reading! I hope i have inspired or helped at least one person to take the step for a health life , that is not driven by a jean size or a scale number.

http://www.oa.org/

http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/

http://www.recoverymonth.gov/

I tape 106 & Park to create my playlists for running or jamming in my car. (When I say jammin, yes I’m the crazy suburban mom, practicing the Dougie at the stop light). While I am unable to watch every single episode, I can not tell a lie, I’m absolutely fascinated with hip hop culture, music and straight-up bootie music.  Sadly, I have never been blessed with much of a bootie – as Sir Mix a lot once referred to ” flat butts are the scene”  – I think maybe he had my bootie in mind.  However, I have worked on increasing the capacity for my bootie to possibly contend with the junior booties showcased in possibly the blurry, smoke-filled background of a hip hop video, due to some running, lunging – and yes, maybe an occasional practice “pop lock and drop it” in the mirror…

Look, right now, my favorite jam is “Headband” by a variety of artists (B.O.B and 2chainz, yes that’s with a z.) who showcase the beauty of a bootie. There is nothing deep or emotionally moving about this song. It won’t “inspire you like the lights of NYC” or make your eyes well up with tears.   It just makes me want to get up and practice what I’m genetically inclined to not be able to do..”bootie-poppin in a headstand” . Seriously dawg,  if I tried this gymnastically inspired “urbanassticastic” move (yes I made up a word), I would most definitely , end up at the local “doc in the box”for head trauma.   Maybe I’m just green with old fashioned jealousy that no one has shown their adoration for the convenience of being able to set a cognac “back der”.

I did not grow up in the city, or next to LL Cool J.  Yes my family did a stint in Cleveland Ohio, but that does not count.  My formative years were spent on a farm  in Maine.  My sister did listen to a ton of Run DMC and I wrote out every single word to “Five minutes of Funk” by Whodini for a 2nd grade poetry assignment in which we where charged with the task of writing   out the words to our favorite poem.   I do not have any musicians in my family. My brother was obsessed with Led Zepplin and most of my friends at school had Bon Jovi posters plastered on every wall of their bedroom. Now, don’t get me wrong, Bon Jovi did make some great hits and I know all about Tommy and Gina and yes, I have been know to howl out “Tommy used to work on the docks  …” at many a traffic light as well.

Maybe it comes for my Dad’s indelible love for the Blues. So much in fact, he played the trumpet to a number of tunes by BB King, Louie Armstrong , even Muddy Waters – who I do not believe, even owned a trumpet.  These Trumpet paying solos occurred in the driveway, with a old fashioned vinyl record player plugged into an outlet in our barn.  Usually at twilight, in the summer,  rolling my eyes incessantly begging Spock to tele-transport  me to the mall.  Fast forward 15 years from these torturous “dadbarrassments” (yes, another made up word), and I’m jamming out with BB King and Lucille…

Sometimes “bootie music/hip hop/ rap  gets a bad ‘rap’ (haha)  because it can be degrading to women, or it celebrates violence and a lot of hip hop uses the a highly controversial and overuses a derogatory word that Oprah has openly criticized rap music for utilizing way too much.   I do not like that part either. I try to download the cleanest versions I can find and do my best to not have it fill my ears.  However, that’s not a battle or topic I really want to dig into at this moment, but I did want to touch on it as I’m sure there will people that will be critical of this blog – for that reason, and I respect the criticism ahead of time.  

I do not know the ins and outs of all hip hop. I’m by no means an expert on the subject.  I do know this. The majority of the songs I listen to have a message (majority, I say!!, no, “Headband” doesn’t necessarily have the strongest of all messages). 

If you are a so-called critic of all Hip-Hop/bootie music etc, and you think it’s all degrading and violent. I challenge you to listen to Tupac’s “Changes” or Common’s “Announcement” or Eminem’s “I’m Not Afraid”.  

Let’s take Tupac’s Changes for one minute.  Every time I Listen to that song, I literally get chills.   This man was before his time.    Take a look at this verse  :

All I see is racist faces.
Misplaced hate makes disgrace to races we under.
I wonder what it takes to make this one better place…
let’s erase the wasted.

And although it seems heaven sent,
we ain’t ready to see a black President, uhh.
It ain’t a secret don’t conceal the fact.

Can’t a brother get a little peace?
There’s war on the streets and the war in the Middle East.
Instead of war on poverty,
they got a war on drugs so the police can bother me.
And I ain’t never did a crime I ain’t have to do.
But now I’m back with the facts givin’ ‘em back to you.

I think he words speak for themselves without any translation on my part.

Enough of the deep thoughts by Laurie Jane.  For the most part, I like hip hop music because it moves me. If the beat is deep & strong and the lyrics are fun ( or moving) – I want to move.  It makes me want to be an active person,  it makes me feel soulful, young and alive, and yes, at times it makes me want to tackle the courageous feat of “bootie poppin in a head stand”

 

Seriously, let’s talk Writers Block.  No, I really should call it “developing my creativity”.  The last post in this blog was a year ago, because the more time goes by the more I tell myself the worse it is because the longer I waited so why not wait longer to develop myself more creatively because I’m developing my brain in some sort of creative boot camp. A friend in college referred to my insane way of thinking and writing as my “stream of consciousness” writing and thinking. Nowadays, experts call this ADD.   No matter what it’s called, the way my brain operates is far from the norm.

I have flickers of inspiration throughout the day. everyday In the car.  In traffic. As I fall asleep. In the bathroom (don’t even try to deny that if you have family of any sort, this becomes a hiding place for your thoughts).  I have even written entire stories in my head as I have fallen asleep and I kick myself to this very day I didn’t harness my  Jerry Mcquire moment and write them down in spastic Tom Cruise fashion.   I try to jot down my thoughts on my ‘note pad in my phone’, or on the beautiful collection of sticky  notes I have amassed throughout the years, and alas, through social media. My tweets, Facebook posts and instagram revelations have been in part, the surge of my creativity.  My English Professors are going to cringe in horror at this next statment.  I told myself that this past year of twittering to the world was suffiiently filling the “Write for at least 2 hours a day To Do item” that  would pop on on my reminders every. single . morning.  Oh, it gets better. This “to do item” , changed throughout the year.  It changed to “OMG LAURIE WILL YOU WRITE” to “HEY YOU< WRITE OR DIE PLAYAH” to several other, eye catching blurbs that I inevitably would hit “snooze” or “re-remind” or whatever other fantastic button Steve Jobs allows us to organize and reorganize our life through apps & such.

Another piece of advice that one of my dearest friends have giving me about writing is, “KEEP IT SIMPLE LJ.  People Be busy. ”  I’m long winded.  If you have ever received a text from me, I’m sure you have rolled your eyes and sighed deeply as you pulled your reading glasses out of the drawer… or maybe you jumped for joy because you got a free novel text-ed to you and  counted it as “escape to the bathroom to read” time.  I  love to write. SO alas, I haven’t written in my blog this last year, many of you have been recipients of long long emails bordering on the line of Freudian in nature, ridiculous texts that were so long they vibrated your phone  off the dash board in your car, or my occasional hand-written letter that was so illegible you  asked your Doctor if 1) he/she could translate and 2)  Should she be tested?

I don’t know what happened but when I hit forty things changed. Look! it’s not all bad and I swear, I rebelled against it and said it was mind over matter and things weren’t going to change just because of a number, but they did.  Not necessarily in a bad way though, because I feel a whole lot wiser for some reason, and I want to impart some of this wisdom on to you with a few quick tips to avoid the “latching phenomenon

When I was 10, I thought people in their 40′s, knew it all.  Not in a snobby, arrogant way, they just had been through “stuff” and seemed to get a lot of mail, like stacks of mail, so they must be pretty important to be receiving all that mail!!!!! (bills??). Now I’m forty and I’m getting the same stacks of mail and I feel so popular that so many banks and politicians and colleges want ME  to help “support” “stuff” ..   I feel like I am at the age which looked like the “suburban-Dalai-Lama” to me when I was 10.

The Latching Phenomenon. Everything , seems to latch on – from me to my shower door. I call it the “Latching Phenomenon.” Here are some things that I have noticed that have latched on to me/or inanimate objects in my house (clothes/shower door).     Maybe they were here all the time and my vision got better??? or to refer upon my first theme, I got wiser, more intuitive and created solutions quicker than I had previously had in the past? Nonetheless, I wanted to pass along some helpful hints for the Latching Phenomenon.

Here is my Doctor Oz moment, so I’m going to start with the most uncomfortable one first.  If I do not eat PERFECTLY, and drink the perfect amount of water and literally avoid all cheeses like the plague PERFECTLY, “things” slow down.   While this is an uncomfortable topic, think about it how it affects YOUR ENTIRE mood.  Lets just move on to the solution okay?  Here is how I stay “happy” and ,well “unlatched” from those “things” that do not need to be “Latched”.  Prebiotic, probiotic, fruit, veggies, hydrate with water,  and a balanced exercise schedule. I know , it sounds so boring.  However if I constantly keep a steady stream of these types of foods ,water and supplements on a consistent basis , I am able to kick this part of the latching phenomenon out the door!!! Quickly  and to make this more FUN,  I have 3 simple tips. Roast your veggies on stoneware with safflower oil, Mrs. Dash, fresh herbs & sea salt, mix your fruit and prebiotic in a smoothie with powdered peanut butter and your leftover morning coffee, and find an exercise that YOU LOVE.   Google what invigorated you in the past (, hoops, kickball, hunting, skiing..)  I guarantee you will find an exercise program that incorporates what YOU LOVED as a kid or as a recreational hobby. There are a GAZILLION exercise programs out there, and there is one for YOU.  I PROMISE.  ME?  I have always wanted to help people with their fitness & nutrition goals AND be  hip hop dancer or a boxer, so I got certified to teach hip hop, and kickboxing set to loud thumping music!

Secondly, let’s on to move to  chap-sticks,white deodorant, stickers, and mildew (we have moved on from the human body to inanimate objects).  For some reason, every sticker and chapstick my children acquire gets washed and dried on high heat. (ok, ok, if you are my husband reading this, Yes a small percentage of the chaptsticks, might be mine??)  Let’s not discuss my hyper-drive-fast-furious-vindisel-type laundry skills; where attention-to-detail , is overshadowed by the need to  hyper-extreme-wash super-dirty childrens’ clothes on high-hot-speed.  Unfortunately the clothes can be collateral damage when items are not removed  and are washed and dried on high temperatures.  First, if a vaseline or chapstick doo-dad explodes in your washer, your best bet is to find that sucker before you dry it.  Once its dried and that greasy stuff get’s in your clothes, it’s probably ruined with those spots (unless it’s white  , then you can bleach!!bleach!!).  Now, if you catch the catastrophe, take all the clothes out and hold them up to the light and look for the darker ,grease spots.  Spray a ton of resolve or oxi-clean on the spots, add a scoop of oxi-clean back into your clothes and re-wash with warm water ! This will help remove that greasy look.

As for stickers , if you catch before putting in the drier, usually you can scrape off with a scraping tool from your kitchen or place under warm to hot water and soap and scrape the sticky residue off in the sink.  Now, if the article of clothing with the sticker makes it to the drier, it’s a mess, BUT, I have a solution!!!  Mix about 1/3 of a bottle of  non-acetone nail polish remover with about 1 cup of warm water and place garment in the solution in the sink.     Take a kitchen scraping tool ,use pressure to gently scrape of the residue. Add more nail polish remover if  you need too!

For the white-zombied-deodorant-look that you just smeared on your  new black cocktail dress. Don’t fret, I have a solution.  Get a hanger from the dry cleaner that still has the foam cover, dab a tiny bit of the non-acetone nail polish remover on the foam part and rub gently on the white-zombified area.  If you don’t have the foam thing, try a light foam sponge or sponge from the market.  Clear deodorants? they  do not work on me.  I have to use the white-zombie stuff!!!!

Mildew! – I never use to have a problem with mildew , but I also used much harsher cleansers in the past.  I stopped using them a few years ago, because they made my daughter cough a lot and quite frankly made me light-headed.  Now, I use a combination of Clorox Green and water.  For daily spraying of the shower,  especially on the edge and corners and base of the shower, I use a  mixture of white vinegar and peppermint soap!   Simple as a dimple. Get a re-usable spray bottle (new one, don’t mix with any old residue from old cleaners – not safe).  Fill bottle 3/4 way to the top with vinegar and fill the rest with the peppermint soap.  It will look like salad dressing because the peppermint oil separates from the vinegar while still, just shake before you use and spray.  I spray this DAILY on the shower, RINSE, then spray again in just the corners and cracks and floor of the shower and let that sit till next time.. It’s a great way to prevent mildew from building UP and it’s so much better for your respiratory system!

Two other quick tips to help prevent things from “latching”.  I have also noticed, that in my twenties and early thirties, I could eat salads for a week (with lots of blue cheese) , run an extra mile and lose 5 lbs. HmmmUMMM. That does not happen now. ever.   When I  need to get back on track after holidays or vacations of rich and industrious eating!, I have to switch it up with the salads!   I use the Mesculan greens and the darker greens for more vitamins and fiber, and I make my own dressing when I can because I am not a fan of the “Light” dressings and some of those dressings have a ton of sugar and salt in them.  Easy Peasy,   1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil , 1/4 c red wine vinegar, 1/4 cup balsamic vinegar, 2 tablespoons of agave syrup or honey, 1 lemon squeezed,salt, pepper and any spices that light up your life. The second trick? Toss the squeezed lemon in the disposal and add 1/4 cup of baking soda and 1/2 cup of white vinegar (into the disposal and you will help unlatch all sorts of debris and smells from the disposal area)

This is just a brief overview of how I have tried to buck the latching phenomenom in my forties. I will continue to update my blog weekly with tips, ideas, suggestions and opinions on how to enjoy a balanced, well-rounded healthy life!

Peace Out, Scrappie Momma!

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This quote “don’t need much splainin’” but I’m a writer so, ‘splainin’ is my business.

I’m a messy perfectionist betwixt a swiss cheese layering of benevolent narcissism.   I struggle with thinking my best isn’t ever good enough (for who ?? See below) and as much as I try NOT TO,  I absolutely do compare myself to my peers. Im human. I am shocked when people really LIKE me and I sm just as shocked when they don’t really LIKE me.

My therapy? Group therapy. Writing. Mediation. Music. Specifically , bootie music (I have blogged about this a few times. :)) Exercise (in moderation). Apologizing when I am wrong. (Which is a lot) . Good food. I am a foodie. Bc I do love layered foods and I hate feel deprived or ‘hangry’ as the hipster call it. (Sometimes healthy &sometimes because I want a piece of lemon pound cake. ) Moderation. BALANCE. Writing. Writing. Writing & more writing. Laughter. Laughter. Laughter. And more laughter.

I need to read more and analyze less. I need to chill more and analyze less. I need to ‘be in the now’ more and analyze less. I need to feel more and analyze less. When I was a child, my father constantly and consistently told me to ‘slow down’.

If you take away one thing from this short blog, it should be this. You will never regret to moments where you just let youself accept yourself where you are at this VERY MOMENT.

Dream and Grow but don’t criticize yourself for all the you are and all that you will be AT THIS VERY MOMENT.

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Footnote ** I “stole “don’t need much splainin’” from Jason Derulos new song and “benevolent narcissism” from Rob Lowes description of himself. Read Steal Like an Artist by Austin Kleon.