Archive for the ‘humor’ Category

I was inspired to write this blog, amidst the Dad/Mom Bod phenomenon. When I turned 39, I decided it would be a fantastic  idea to break into the fitness industry. There was pressure to eat clean,  train lean and not be mean, while teaching fitness and testing the   the “21-Day-Restriction-I-might-Faint-Diet.”   It stimulated dysfunctional behavior that was triggered by an alcoholic and anorexic past.  I’m not in obsessive mode right now, I  have some work to do with regards to my relationship with food.

I am not going to rattle of obesity statistics and spew out health knowledge because it’s been done to death. I think that our culture has made food a flashy-fast by-product of our day, washed down with Skinny cocktails,  OR became the complete center of our attention.   I just dropped banana peanut butter on my key board, (peanut butter side down) because I ate my sandwich in 23.5 seconds, so I lean towards flashy-fast.  Finding the middle ground with food, is like trying to find that happy place with the thermostat….when you are pre-peri-menopausal.

There are so many blogs, vlogs, experts, diet commercials, pills, foods, trends, kale recipes that are bombarded into the atmosphere,  I’m beginning to wonder if the demon who plank-walk backwards in horror films, just finished an article from an “Eat Healthy or DIE” blog.

Every day, I talk to or see one person who is giving up a food group in the name of health. …I do not hang out to find the reason.  It’s too much of a trigger for me to restrict food and dislike my my body or feel as though I should be giving up the same food group.

‘There is too much sugar in everything.’
“Simple carbohydrates are Eldiablo.
  As a society, it then becomes acceptable eviscerate those who do not exercise with the message of , “Go Big or Go Home.”  Moderation equals lazy.  If we aren’t dripping sweat from every orifice of our body  as we screen shot our rippling abs, it’s not worth effort, so lets just order a cake and eat the whole freaking thing.

The other day I went for a bike ride.  On a non-mountain bike trail with my mountain bike that was built for Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson.  Thirty Three seconds into my ride, my phone rings.  My daughter had a tinkle accident. I picked that bike up like “The Rock”, threw into my bad-ass Ford Pick up, fulfilled my mom duties, and went right back to the  trail. Forty Five seconds later, the chain jammed and came off. This happened fifty three more times.  I was ecstatic.  I was covered in grease and sweat and glory.  I did not care about time or cadence or wind speed or calories burnt or if my core was engaged or whether my inner thighs felt tightened. I had fun. Exercising.

This is a love letter to you.  Let us love our extra skin, cellulite or whatever perceived flaw we have imposed upon our beautiful , amazing , womanly ,  bodies.  We are women.  We are designed to have MORE FAT ON OUR BODY THAN MEN. Period. That shit is genetic.   I’m not trying to leave the dudes out, I know they struggle with body image as well, but I’m speaking from my own experience and hope.

What happened to us?   According to this article http://money.usnews.com/money/personal-finance/articles/2013/01/02/the-heavy-price-of-losing-weight  

Americans spend SIXTY BILLION DOLLARS on weight loss products.  I’m not a mathematician, but I think we could do better things with this type of cash-money. Yes,  some of those dollars are used towards positive lifestyle choices. Why so much money for magic dust, magic pills, starvation diets, or anything that perpetuates skewed mind-body-food and wellness connection.

The affects of the health and fitness industry are not all bad. There are sites that promote moderately infused health and balance, such as My Fitness Pal.   When I treat my health journey moderately, I learned a lot of healthy  habits and craved  healthier foods. I stopped cycles of binging and purging and starving and over-exercising.

The  diet demons are still there.   The voices that tell me that  flour and sugar will turn me into a raging cocaine addict. Somewhere, Somehow, Someone made a flawed comparison of cocaine to sugar and flour.  Puppies and Meerkats  stimulate the same “nerve receptors’ as cocaine and sugar,  so no more cute and cuddly ?  The voices that expel disparaging rhetoric in our brains propels polarizing extremes in a society that desperately needs balance.     The voices that tell us that moderation is for the weak and carbohydrates are the spawn of all things that sag and dimple.

I ask you today, to write a love letter to your body. Simple. Balanced. Elegant. If you do feel overweight or need to lose weight for medical reasons, Trust me when I tell you, if you learn to love your body for what it’s able to do RIGHT NOW AT THIS VERY MINUTE, and you learn to love yourself for WHO YOU ARE AT THIS VERY MINUTE, the scale will become less of an issue.  The  jiggle and cellulite blogs will be out of your radar.  You won’t gawk at abs.  Okay maybe Magic Mike Dancing Abs.  I’m not 100% there in 100% acceptance of my body. I still turn around and examine my cellulite.  I still step on the scale and say “Shit”.  I still compare myself to my friends that don’t eat sugar or bread.

But I love myself so much more than I ever did when I was skinnier, ripped and could hold a plank for two minutes.

 

 

 

 

5:30 am Why Is my alarm screaming.

Snooze

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

8:15  Need. food.

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

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

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

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

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

Love, the self proclaimed Coffee Champion of the world.

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What are your lofty plans this summer?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

image

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

Cest Tout Chiennes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need you in my life.

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

I need to love you from a distance right now.

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

I voted for President Obama. Twice.

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

Yes, I like to sleep in.

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

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

Yes I like hip hop music.

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

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

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

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

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

1000speak

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Pharmaceutical Haiku:

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

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

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

yet.

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

Possible side effects:

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

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

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

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

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

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

“NOT for any Momtocktails”

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

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

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

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

Recently my husband and I watched “The Theory of Everything” *( this blog isn’t about the movie, but there is a quote in there that resonated with me with regards to the word – ambitious. or driven. or successful. )

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

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

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

Cotton-Grammit. Head Explosion !

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and

Say splendiferous 50 x in a row :)

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

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

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

computer murderer. returns.

Posted: February 26, 2015 in humor

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

He  matrixed me without the Oracle.

Target under 20 minutes.

Less than $100.

Used bags & coupons.

Bomb-ass deal on Starbucks coffee.

Resisted the urge to splurge at Ulta.

Laundry NOT in procreation mode.

Lived in the moment by guzzling said coffee down like gatorade while speed-reading Melodie Beattie  meditation book.

Restrained from smooshy-face-furrowed-brow-syndrome-resting-bitch-face tantrum over malfunctioning  technology.

Filled up gas tank before it bellowed out in disdain “GET SOME FREAKING GAS  WOMAN”

Jammed out 30 minutes of kickboxing without giving a shit about “which body part was targeted for my skinny jeans or whatever the eff”. (…can not type the actual cuss word here..  dammit I’ve lost all my South Boston Mark Wahlberg street cred…)

Refrained from rolling my eyes inappropriately in irritation at things that irritate me because I’m easily irritated as denounced from smooshy-face-irritation-syndrome aforementioned.

That’s my marathon,  bitches. So let’s put that on a sticker  and slap  on the back of my bad-ass truck.

betwixt peace & love of course.

If Facebook were woman TEXTING

1) did u see at that lump pic text? SHOULD I SEE A DR?

2) My meal is FANTASTIC, see!! steak-crab-cake-flamin-fusion with a lime-mint-jollyrancher blueberry-choclate-acai-gogi Berry-TINI. It’s FULL of antioxidants.

3)HI! I ATE A PIECE OF KALE! It tasted like a Carmel MACCHIATO, & I LOST 3 LBS & ran 16 miles.

4) IM SO BLOATED. IM GOING to my Zumbatasticstrength CROSSFITish GymACROBATIX..YOGAPILATESWIM class. YOU know when  PINK flies through the air ON ROPES and shit. We do all that while in water so it’s easy on the knees and an AMAZING core workout.

5) I ATE half a bag of chips but they were NOT GMO  modified so it doesn’t count as calories. Did YOU GET THE 56 EMAILs on GMO I TEXTED YOU directly FROM OPRAH.

6) I TEXTED YOU 670 pics of Golden GLOBE FASHION DISASTERS. AND never heard from you. I’m very upset and Journaling.

7) passive agressive cryptic story. sigh. “”What SHOULD I DO???

8) DO YOU LIKE THESE JEANS I FOUND AT FOREVER21 with CUT HOLES in the THIGH & HIP area and strategically placed holes in the knees.

9) WHY HAVE not YOU JOINED THIS MOVEMENT TO END injustices OF OUR WORLD? I sent you 678000866 evites!!!

10) I DECIDED TO GIVE PINTREST A STAB and craft, decorate and practice zen stuff. I have pinned 678, 000,000 tp my 6000 boards. LET”S DO THIS PINTREST 2015

11) I hate Pintrest.

memories

Posted: December 19, 2014 in humor

It has been suggested that I write
three pages of memories every day for my memoir.

Here is an excerpt:

My mom was a smokier, slightly less rested & less perkier version of Marilyn Monroe with sandy brown hair.  She had that sultry voice  that same pain in her eyes from mental illness on hypersonic speed.

That’s all I got.

Weather in Georgia. For the day.

“where are my flip flops??”

“hats. we all need big fluffy hats today”

“will someone PLEASE open the windows?”

“my feet are FREEZING, honey will you fetch me some socks from the singles, sock pile. I’m too cold to get up or try to match socks.”

“I’m sweating from my eyelashes again!!”

“everyone!! quick by the fire ..it’s like that scene from “The Day After Tommorrow” (you know, the movie with Jake Gyllenhaal, before he turned into a kind of scary but still kinda cute & sweet, actor) where they all have to burn books and snuggle to stay warm.”

“Why am I sneezing?? Is something blooming ??”

“What?? It’s going to be 84 on Christmas? Have you seen my toes and legs? Honey ! get the chainsaw and sanding machine out of the garage please.”

“Where are my LL Bean layers?? the windchill could possibly make my skin flaky.”

“Ok, pack summer and winter clothes for holiday travels because Mee Maw and Pee Paw keep the heat on 99, so changing outfits are not a problem”.

“Let me hold the baby, they are warm, wait a second…where are you going, are those tickets to Cabo?”

“Where is the umbrella? Yes I know I just asked for my sunglasses. ”

“I am really wrestling over the decision on whether to wear Uggs or Flip flops on Black Friday. I’ll draft s survey for my friends Facebook for assistance in outfit decision making ”

“Snow in the forecast. Now is NOT the time to go gluten-free. WE MUST HUNT DOWN ALL THE BREAD (WITH EXTRA GLUTEN)  IN THE METRO ATLANTA AREA”

“Wait. What is the logical purpose of an open-toed-shboot (shoe-boot-sandal) with heels?? , oh yes,  these were designed specifically for Atlantonians”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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I guess I haven’t quite buried the “my kids will never feel hunger EVER EVER EVER” demon quite yet. Sometimes I feel like I have made so much progress in my perpetual need of protecting my kids from my childhood, and then I look in the pantry. or freezer. And I am like “oh crap. I have some Journaling to do this week”

I have to laugh at myself and some of my quirks because they are a part of my DNA.  My family has no choice but to laugh with me OR feel an abundance of gratitude that we will absolutely survive a Zombie Apocalypse. In fact, we may be the “go-to” house for snacks and non-perishables. Well, except for the Ben & Jerrys. That will most likely be gone by then….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

And No, I am not drinking.

 

 

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

I have been struggling to keep up with word press and blogging so I apologize if I haven’t seen comments or read blogs in a while!!

If I had less ——(I can’t think of a word to capitalize on what exactly less of I need to write more..), I could write all day , but then I would have nothing to write about because my life is the antithesis of boring, which I am grateful for in every single way. My point is, I’m hard on myself because I feel “behind” on my writing and book but it simply comes down to a catch-22 situation. I have adhd, OCD which drives my chaotic time management skills but it’s also the catalyst for my creativity.

A therapist once asked me in a session “Scrappie😆, do you think most Moms spray their child’s backpacks down with lysol everyday after school?”.
I have come a long way since my lysol-backpack-spraying-clorox-hoarding days, but I have a long way to go when on comes to truly letting go some of the control-mechanisms that I thought kept me sane for so long.

Yesterday my son said “You complicate answers to yes or no questions and you provide too much information”. He’s nine. I’m 42. He gets my brain which is amazingly wonderful but also undeniably frustrating when I am trying to discipline and set guidelines because he mashes on my buttons like a two year old in an elevator on a high rise.

that’s all I got. disjointed. a mess. unedited. done.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

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1) My kids are out of school.

2) I absolutely give myself an F in multitasking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

 

++++++  Usual Disclaimer: DO NOT TAKE ME SERIOUSLY.  This stuff sounds extremely funny in my head, I have deemed myself a “comedic writer”, but I am too chicken to even attempt stand up. Anyhoo, another writer friend told me that comedic writing does not work well unless it’s narrated verbally, and people just think the writer is “angry”.   That’s so not the case, this is my free therapy and my goal is to make myself laugh at myself and for you to just LAUGH!
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1) My kids slept in outfits below and ate cookies for breakfast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My 2 cents today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Happy Nurses Week :)

 

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

On with it:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WAIT, I almost forgot. Bonus) Forgetfulness.

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

PS.This is ALL in good fun.

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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.

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.