Archive for the ‘humor’ Category

I am a Stay at Home Mom. I should just leave that title as such. Yet, I feel it should be justified with, ‘I am a Stay at Home Mom, with a very busy working husband.’

What if my husband worked 10-2? What if he did not work? What if we lived on a modest trust fund, hell ! what if we lived on a PHAT trust fund and we were straight up ballin’ in our crib?  Would you judge me differently? Why do I feel the need to justify my existence and parameters as a SAHM?  Society , Mommy Wars and a bad case of PTCS. ( Post Traumatic Commenting Syndrome = reading too many comments on Huffington Post Parents Blogs).
Are you judging me now of all my urban vernacular?  Word Press is judging me because it’s turning all  my slang words red words with lines and emogees of disdain. 😐

I’m not blaming any one person or group of people for the Mommy Wars, because the blame game is a collateral caveat of the phenomenon itself. Truth be told, if I see a fly-looking-Momma, with perfect hair, gorgeous outfit , amazing accessories and ‘hawt’ stacked heels – my small-insecure-bitchy-voice MIGHT say  to myself.. “Wow, she must have a lot of time on her hands!”
OKAY !! before you get mad- Fly Looking Mommas – the GIANT-non-judgemental -good-voice- says “stop judging Scrappie Momma,  her flyness is not a personal attack on YOUR deodorant shower”  Seriously,  I have mad respect for Fly Looking Mommas, I may be sizing you up for fashion advice because it’s truly a hit or miss for me. I do realize the importance of self-care and feeling good about myself from the internal to the external and that is truly different for every individual, so NO Judgements!!. I’m just being honest and human about the voices in my head. I’m not crazy, I have been tested and I am properly medicated.

I weave in and out of my obscurity and promotion when it comes to blogging, again from my PTCS and insecurity and even more so when the topic is on straight-up-serious-motherhood stuff.   I KNOW how incredibly harsh I rate and criticize myself, I am not sure I am ready for anyone else to do it, so I do kind of revel in my ambiguity because even good attention, scares the flipping shit out of me.   However I do want to impact other moms in sharing my stories in an effort to help them know it’s ok to be vulnerable and unique in your Momness.

I have a twitter account and I decided to test my 140 characters of Momisms and quirky sense of humor.  I tweet and search hashtags as I’m tweeting and I typed in #Mom and #”mommittment” came up, and I thought “What a cool hashtag!”, not really knowing what it “meant” or that it was a movement created by @nextlifenokids on twitter (or @Mommitment duh!!),  Leave it to Scrappie Momma to literally scrap my way into a hashtag!!  I tweeted about 10 or 15 tweets with this hashtag attached to it, mostly quips of streaming-voices-in-head-humor about mom-shenanigans.

@nextlifenokids, messaged me on twitter and graciously explained the  hashtag because there were a lot new moms following and she wanted to make sure she was sending the correct message via #mommitment.  (link to change.org Mommitment petition at bottom of page!!).  She also tweeted and asked me to write a blog after realizing I was a blogger!  In essence, Mommitment is a commitment from all Moms to other Moms to end the Mommy Wars.  (read the entire definition on the petition and sign!)

I think any mom or parent could write an Encyclopedia Britanica on the storm of emotions that broil inside us simply from being a parent. It’s not as simple as waking up and taking care of your child, or sleeping with one eye open, which is how I slept as soon as I have kids to this very day.   Honestly, I am not sure I could even put those “emotions” into any type of simple or completely understandable context.  What I do know, is that the “Mommy Wars” or discontent and strife between different parenting styles , is all rooted from the same place.  The varying levels of emotions parents feel in knowing that even if they do every single effing thing to protect their child from the atrocities of this sometimes, cruel world,  it may not be enough to protect them. So when a Mom flips her shit in a comments section on a Huff Po blog, She’s just scared and it’s not worth proving my momness in a flip-shitting-war over wearing yoga pants to vaccination appointments. 😨 (that’s kind of an exaggeration of various mom duels…:)) It’s more important to spend time and energy through supportive dialogue.

For example, when I was in the “health and fitness” industry, I was privy to a lot of very healthy moms and their blogs and opinions on what we should be feeding OUR kids.  At some point, I was freaking the eff out on what I was feeding my kids.  As a person with (diagnosed by a doctor) ADHD, going to the grocery store was difficult enough, therefore, going to the grocery store with an arsenal of 5000000 Pinterest pictures of what healthy moms make for their kiddos tattooed into my brain, was enough to drive me bat shit crazy.

I was angry, with everyone.  Why? because I was terrified.  What if the foods I am feeding my children is festering some scary crazy pesticidAL -GMO’d-alien inside my BABIES and WHOSE fault is this apocalyptic child snack nightmare?  MINE?  Pinterest?  the Grocery store ?  Farmers?  my lack of farmland to grow my own food?  I got lost in this cyclical panic of fear until I realized that as long as I was doing the BEST I COULD based on my resources and I needed to turn the scary voices off.

The scary insecurities that roar out of me or any Mom as judgement is truly from pushing down fear, inadequacy, comparison, and “shit !what If I am doing THIS WRONG?” Maybe it is the fact that I never got the manual and I was all like “Maternity Nurse People, this manual says 0-6 months? Where is the rest of the manual????”

Just today as I was blogging this post, another mom asked me:

“What are you writing?”
Me ” a blog on mommitment” and I explained the premise and source.
silence
click. clickity clack. click. tippy tap. (me typing )
Mom ” Do you get paid? ”
Me ” No” and I gibber this long-winded justification of all the
failed part-time Jobs and my busy working husband thesis…….
….and then stopped and said
” I just love to write!”
Mom : ” You could get sponsors”
Me: “Right now I’m satisfied with my mom duties, writing my blog and book”

…And then we both started laughing because we couldn’t stop making each other yawn.

Old bitchy me would have been pissed because I felt soooo judged because she didn’t say “OMG YOU ARE SO FREAKING AMAZING! WOW YOU ARE MY HERO FOR BLOGGING ABOUT MOMS FOR FREE” and jumped up and down with joy. New calm-voices-in head me, welcomed the questions and answers and truly felt like she was just interested in what another Mom was doing while sitting on the dance mom sofa.

For me “mommitment” is all Moms wanting our kids to be “ok”,
not perfect
not bullied
not bullying
away from danger
safe, loved and nurtured.

As moms, if we a feel that we might be doing anything less than perfect and we are “challenged ” by some other mom …the claws come out. I know I’m sensitive to it, but my nails are always broken so I have to channel-my-Victor Newman-middle-brow-wrinkle-scowl into a sympathetic Mom-nod-of-understanding!

Sign the Petition , it takes 10 seconds or less!!

http://www.change.org/p/moms-make-a-mommitment

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.

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) My son put my exercise core ball thingy on the treadmill , then hit the highest mileage and elevation , until it exploded, now I will never have that six pack of abs.
4) My kid hide their dirty clothes with masterful deception rather than just placing them in the dirty laundry hamper.
5)  minecraft……..
6) I miss my kids when they are at school but I have full -blown-splotches on-chest-panic-attacks when I think about snow days and summer breaks.
7) When children have stomach viruses  it’s always on spaghetti or ice cream cake day and time always ends up  on the one clean spot of carpet.
8) My kids think kleenex and general hygiene is kryptonite  for their soul.
9) Children recognize their power in numbers. I have the utmost respect for teachers and they should  be paid 7 billion dollars a semester or 1 billion per each child , with a bonus billion for a child who has parents who think their child is “not being challenged enough” by the school curriculum or thinks their child is some sort of prodigy.
10) They dance when they eat and they dance on their food like it’s prey so as to smoosh into the other only clean part of the carpet.

bonus. whoever invented carpet did not have kids or pets.

That is all.

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.