Posts Tagged ‘funny’

Puppy Prose

Posted: September 16, 2015 in comedic writing, comedy
Tags: , ,

Puppy Prose :

…..I shall tear through the soft people clothes wide-eyed and crazed…
till I meet the soft (..the bigger humans more wrinkly and leathery) flesh.. until I hear loud shrieks of delight and fancy.

…..I will snub the 345 fancy bacon flavored plastic bones in favor of that squishy, padded  thing my mom sometimes wears in which she exhales in  relief every afternoon and exclaims !!

……”I wish I could burn these things”….

..I Will , however,  inhale the edible bones so fast, I choke.. and watch everyone shriek again in delight..but a bit more panicky  …”SCOUT !ARE YOU OKAY?”

……To which I say. .in my head ..
      “You know I can’t talk right?”

……Due to my frenzied ADHD like behavior (which I inherently adopted from these tiny and bigger humans)….I will suddenly &


narcoleptic-ally..pass out ..leaving my mom stressed out thinking I nibbled up a Tylenol pm..”

Love, Scout

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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.  While 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

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 “Sh..”.  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.

This is not me on a bike. .but I couldn’t find any of me on a bike !! and this was pretty darn fun too!!:)





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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

“oops this must be a mistake?”

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

The Race Guy commences the race.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

running sm (359x640)


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 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?

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. 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)

Manual & Odes.

Posted: April 6, 2015 in adhd

My questionairre manual:

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

Ode to Pollen

Dear Pollen,

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

Granny Ts Ode to droppin the mic at Easter blessing

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

Ode to Beyoncé

Dear Beyoncé,

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

My parenting manual:

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

My cooking manual to chicken.

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


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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Emails to teach:

Posted: December 19, 2014 in humor
Tags: , ,

“— is sick. still hasn’t eaten today. No fever as of this morning but just waiting to see if tomorrow is a possibility. She did get a flu shot this I’m hoping for the best
I’m emailing all of you bc is she misses school she will miss chorus and school class party and I was also scheduled to volunteer.
I’ll let everyone know by tonight/early morning”

“—– did have his reading log done last week but erased the first block to re write and I didn’t realize he waited a week to pass back in again. He said he would be a zero is there any possible way for him to get seem credit bc he had 75% of it completed as required last week?”

Insert melodramatic closing:

Due to the fact that it’s all about my children and I’m obviously unaware of the 23 other students you and their insane parents you have to deal with daily. I did write nice Christmas cards and delivered small gifts of appreciation as instructed by Huffington Post Parents.

I feel like I should add this is a satirical poke at MYSELF because from the comments section on The Onion , The Oatmeal and Huffington Post in general, people of the inter-webs are
a) extraordinarily cranky and pissed off about EVERYTHING or b) have no earthly understanding of dry humor or satire.

You’re welcome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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’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”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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


This blog was spurred by her most recent Facebook post (* 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.”

*( )*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.

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.   
What do we do when our brain WILL NOT TURN OFF? 
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.



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!



Yeah, I know monks live without stuff, but if you know my writing at all, I  am somewhat facetious so please do not take every word I write, seriously! YES, I do write some serious stuff, but my main goal is to make people LAUGH LAUGH AND LAUGH, be inspired and not take themselves so seriously!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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






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.

Shortest Blog ever by Scrappie Momma:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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:


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.




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.


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,


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


More jibber jabber on this topic ..later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What’s your kryptonite?


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

1) Bring drinks. Smuggle them in like Heisinburg if you have too.
2) DON’T GO JUNE THROUGH SEPTEMBER. Unless you like being soaked in humidity and scorched by a blinding, hot white heat thats so intense you will wonder if Orlando = Purgatory
3) Don’t eat a stack of protein bars prior to going in attempts to mitigate prolonged hunger because I can’t function hungry. Or “Hangry” as the hipsters coined.
3a) I ate too many protein bars and my stomach was so distended I almost bought a pregnancy test.
4) Don’t cry when your children are crying because of long lines, Purgatory humidity and alien baby stomach. It makes you look weak and it will piss off your spouse. Or family, if you thought it would be fun to go as a giant group.( I’m not going to comment on “giant groups at Disney” . Ill let you think that through as to whether this invokes fun or “lets go here no lets go here no lets go here no I’m hot no I want to see Cinderella no lets eat lets pee lets cry lets sleep”)
5) Don’t put on self tanner before the big trip. No matter what you do, it will literally streak off in the hellish humidity
6) Don’t look cute. As in, don’t flat iron your hair, wear heels or think “oh I just have to wear this ‘adorbs’ ensemble from the Premier Outlets. It will all be ruined within the first hour, and as dumb as I am when it comes to comfortable foot wear, I know enough to wear sneakers to an amusement park. (I did wear pointy heels to walk around NYC, so if you were insulted by #6, less I remind you, I make dumb-ass shoe decisions all the time)
7) Don’t show intense anxiety for death~defying, no wait death~invoking roller coasters

Due to my intense fear and “hell no MY kids are NEVER GOING TO BE TALL OR BIG ENOUGH for that shit” (pictured above..), they are now terrified of all rides. Even the little ones. Yes, my husband blames my ‘outward roller coaster hatred’ for the kids’ intense anxiety at the tea cup Antarctica ride at Sea world. There was a 10 month year old on the ride, and my 9 year old wanted me to hold him in the ride. My husband could not stop shooting intense looks of disdain my way, wondering too, “Did my wife really NOT get the manual when the kids were born?” No. And I rarely babysat either.
8)Don’t argue. Arguing in the humidity is like trying to blow dry your hair in the rain.
9) Plan out bathroom trips or DON’T drink any water and completely dehydrate your family. Being dehydrated seemed easier than schlepping through 780085 mini theme parks (within the one giant park) to pee or know an accident is on its way…which..brings me to #
10) Pack a change of clothes for every age. Even yourself. Even if its a bathing suit. You will be either soaked in humidity, someone will pee on themselves, throw up or something tragic will happen to the CUTE OUTFIT I TOLD YOU NOT TO WEAR
11) Be ready to people watch. I counted 150 daisy duke wearing ladies and lets just say my two piece has more coverage. I ain’t mad at cha, if you got it flaunt it and I think it appeased my husband’s irritation at my incessant belligerence towards my protein~alien~baby~ Sigourney Weaver ~stomach problems.
12) Don’t think the kids will want to go out for Thai food and sushi after 15 hours at an amusement park. SCRATCH that. Dons think anyone will want sushi and Thai food, except for this alien babied-stomach-protein-bar-eating-fool.


picture to be uploaded later..child snack out the door crisis….


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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

That is all I got today.


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

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

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

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

Till I Collapse bitches.

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


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



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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

And NOW???

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

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

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

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

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

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

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