Posts Tagged ‘humor in parenting’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dialogue in my brain:

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

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

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

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

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

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

and so on and whence-forth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh it’s that time.  the Holiday Hoedowns.  Secret Santa Elephant Tree Recycle Gala.   The” WHEN DID I SIGN UP TO DO THIS?”  The, “Should I even try to add WHOLE wheat flour to the Christmas baking again so I can be rejected by my family and end up sobbing with a bag of cookies in the corner?” The “WHY AM I BAKING?  because the kitchen looks like an episode of the ‘Blindfolded Chef searches for a Bachelor who can cook”

Due to my ADHD-OCD  tinged with the incessant need to plan, pre-plan , over-plan, cancel plans –  juxtaposed with my spontaneous and carefree nature,   all recorded in hand- written calendarS, glitter adorned journals, smart-phone-gratitude -app-journals, sticky-note-hoarding-piles and this gem:

What was that phrase someone EMBLAZONED ON A GIANT PILLOW FOR ME  “Keep it…Keep it…oh darn, what was it                                               (simple.)

November 20th  I volunteered to help out with a science experiment at my son’s school. I  failed all lab experiments in College so I should be a beneficial asset. .. Maybe driving around listening to Journey and Rob Base in my friend’s car with the really LOUD speaker system, during lab, wasn’t the best use of my collegiate time.

November 21st  the 56790th orthodontist appointment this month.  My son’s expander fell out of his mouth. He denies any starburst consumption as the cause.  (‘Da Dun’ SVU music playing..)

November 22nd Nutcracker practice.  I ignored all emails from Dance Director because I assumed  vicariously living through my children through  Hip Hop Dance Class would translate into non-Nutcracker performances because  If it were my Dance Studio, I would do the whole Run DMC Christmas in Hollis Queens Dance Recital, yet maybe why I do not own a Dance Studio. #bizloandenied. Seriously, I am excited for them to be apart of The Nutcracker, sometimes the facetious nature of pointing out my idiosyncrasies, sounds way too sarcastic and flip.

November 23rd, same thing as above but I also have written “Truck $4382648732649873687264  payment”,hmmm, what could that mean?

Week November 24, my husband informed me we would be leaving for his Mee Maw and Pee Paws EARLY this vacation week because ‘I needs to get to cookin’.’    No I’m just kidding, he did not say this 1950s , stereotypically Southern phrase.  He did say we were leaving early, I missed the rest of what he said because the previews for ‘Mocking-JAY-part-1-of-56-HungerGames-omg-jlaw-is-literally-so00000amazing‘  was on the television.

  • Additionally, TAKE beautiful candid pictures next to cool barns and pastures, in hipster outfits with our Soap Opera messy-gelled- straight-curly with feathery wisps – gently cascading in the wind and ostensibly, in front of our face, but not –  “OMG-PLEASE-GET-YOUR-HAIR-OUT-OF-YOUR-FACE-FOR-THE-PICTURE!!!” — for Christmas cards.  Or see what the Kardashians cooked up this year and try to imitate that Goth masterpiece.   I love how my computer tries to spell check Kardashian to Guardianship.

December 3rd some kind of appointment for some child in my house AND I signed up to be a Secret Santa helper on the same day on purpose for some reason.  I think I actually wrote “intentional” on my calendar.

December 4th, a bunch of automatic payments are coming out of our account because it’s all red and highlighty on my calendar, wait I thought all payments were frozen to boost Holidays sales because that is the primary purpose of the season, cash-money.

December 5th  USA?  what does that mean? or USAA? ok, o think we owe them something monthly, maybe that thing that protects us from being sued if we drive horrendously in parking lots.

December 6th  Dress rehearsal for the Nutcracker AND My daughters chorus concert…rest Assured, I have emailed all affected Directors and  thoroughly explained my scheduling plight in grave detail, because essentially, all of these concerts and recitals are ABOUT ME and ONLY ME and collaterally pertains to the scheduling of my family.

December 7th. The NutCracker.  It’s gonna be Crunk.

December 8th “alkajdfp987349823″ I can’t read my handwriting. I think it’s someone’s birthday. Oh Snap, my sisters birthday is the 6th. and the 16th.  and the 12 and maybe the 8th.  I have 3 sisters, so . carry the 1 and…. Usually I just send them their birthday cards when I send the Christmas cards which are all late. It’s the thought that counts.

December 11th.  Help a teacher out.  Bring in Kale/Quinoa/gluten–dye-soy-dairy-air free Holiday PinTree-cakes drizzled with wheat grass infused compote.

December 13th an appointment on a Saturday?  WHO IS THE KEEPER OF THIS CALENDAR?

December 14th.  34500000 sticky notes on the fridge on how I really need to get shopping and wrapping. wrapped up.

I also bookmarked some article in Huffington Post titled “The disease of being over scheduled?”  Maybe I will read that in between unknown doctors appointment and Secret Santa on December 3rd.   Happy Holidays  (Which, as a phrase, is a hot-trending-topic right now on Social Media, get the popcorn out…..  )

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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let me break it down: 
1) Armageddon of arts, crafts & !$@## . this pic doesn’t do it justice. I dumped it all downstairs & hubby turned on a Mark Wahlberg movie THEN he cut me off from  Markie mark because I was just sitting in a pile of art supplies with my mouth gaped open watching tv.
2) a lonely bin of crafty crafts that will not stay like this.
3) the door to this cabinet used to be the door to an episode of hoarders.
4) all the misc &^/#! that needs a home.
5) games in the coffee table container thingy majig that annoys me ,  due to its massive size versus lack of functionality & the fact that my kids hide their vitamins and trash in it.
the end.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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