Posts Tagged ‘life’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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