WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?

I have been struggling with something lately. But let’s be real here, I’m a mom. So of course I’ve been struggling with something. I have so many questions. I’ve been doing this for 9 years now. I try so hard, but I’m in constant fear of screwing everything up. I don’t aim for perfection, I just want to raise decent human beings. Why after all this time, can I still not figure out what the hell I’m doing?

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When I have concerns about my child at school, it seems like emailing the teacher would be the right thing to do. But should I do it? Is the issue even big enough to bring up? Or should I trust that my kiddo is in good hands and it will work itself out? I certainly don’t wanna be the psycho parent that gets the eye-roll every time an email pops up with my name on it. I don’t want my child to be treated differently because his mother is a ball of nerves that overreacts and asks for “a quick chat” after school. I mean hell, why would the teacher want to stay after school to talk to me when they have probably been counting down the minutes for the bell to ring? Tonight’s probably the night they planned to meet friends for happy hour. Should I only bring things up if they are directly effecting his learning? I need a freaking graph that shows me which issues warrant contacting the teacher.

Dammit! I suck at this.

If some little punk assholes are picking on my kid, should I get involved and threaten to smack their mothers? Or should I back off and let him learn how to deal with these jerks on his own? I’m not always going to be able to be there to save the day and he needs to learn to stand up for himself. However, the fact still remains…one mustn’t f*ck with a mama bear’s cubs. We tend to get defensive and the last thing I need right now is a criminal record.

I’m not qualified for this position.

If I come home from dropping my kid off at school and I notice that he left his backpack in the middle of the kitchen floor, do I run it up to him? I’ve been there. I’ve done it. I forget things all the time. Hell, I showed up at the veterinarian’s office last week for an appointment and I brought the wrong dog! This kind of thing happens. But would bringing the backpack up to him be considered “rescuing?” Is it better to let him learn the hard way to remember his things? Or do we all need a little help sometimes?

Momming is hard.

How do I know how old the kids should be before I let them play outside alone? Should I stay outside the whole time and watch from a distance? Is that hovering? What if I actually rented a f*cking helicopter and hired a pilot to fly me over them while they are out playing and when they go to school so that I can always keep an eye on them? Eventually they’d get used to the noise and the extreme winds. Is that too much? Maybe I should say screw it and go full-blown free-range. I could just let them all get emancipated and call it a day…then I’ll go meet the teacher for happy hour.

I’m totally free-balling this mom-gig.

I do know one thing. My biggest mistake has been trying to figure out situations like these based on how I think other moms would handle them. That doesn’t work because these are MY kids. My circumstances, my life, and my children’s need are different than everyone else’s. There is no one that can make these decisions for me. I need to follow my instincts. I need to do what I feel is right. So maybe in a way, I know what the hell I’m doing after all. I’m doing my best.

That’s what I’m doing.

*Share or like if you like to share! Thanks for reading. xoxo*

My Ridiculous Avocado Story

Have you ever really wanted an avocado? Have you ever had the ingredients to make guacamole and gotten really excited about it?

But your avocados weren’t ripe enough yet. So you couldn’t make it…

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And so it made you sad. And it brought you down and reminded you of all the other stuff you can’t do. You began to actually feel like this avocado. It was like you were existing and knew you had potential to be something great, but you just weren’t there yet? And there was no guacamole there to comfort you?

I’ve been there. Once, my kids were at my mom’s house and I was caught in this very same predicament. Here’s my story:

See, I had remembered reading something online a long time ago from some random-ish website that you should put the avocados in a paper bag to speed up the ripening process. So clearly, I had to go to the liquor store and get a bottle of vodka.

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Then I naturally removed the beverage from the bag and filled the empty bag with the avocados.

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Then, all I could do was wait. And I thought, what the hell? I may as well make a cocktail. There’s no need to waste a perfectly good bottle of alcohol. I even used a fun cup so that I felt fancy while I waited for my avocados to ripen.

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I wasn’t sure how long this process would take, so I thought it would be wise to make another beverage.

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This was taking way too long.  But something had changed. I thought to  myself, “hey self…you are multi-tasking the living shit of this situation right now.” I felt like I didn’t have to sit around and wait to be great! And neither did the avocados! I didn’t need to be sad anymore. I was going to make that guacamole come hell or high water because the liquid courage told me I could. So I dug them out of the paper bag and cut ’em up just like I saw Barefoot Contessa do it on Food Network.

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Except it didn’t work. I dug at it with all my might, yet still it was pointless. The pieces were hard and the pit broke in half and it was a disaster.

The avocados and I were both completely wasted.

***

I learned something from this experience though. I learned after researching that it takes at least two days to ripen them in a brown paper bag. And since I just bought some avocados and I may feel like having guacamole this weekend, I better be proactive and head to the liquor store now to get a new paper bag.

The End.

Keep That Video Dude…

“Shaking a little bit does not change someone’s personality. It doesn’t mean you won’t have a successful life. Having Tourette’s just means I move a little bit. It has been both positive and negative. I feel different, but I kind of like being different. Sometimes people stare at me and I’m embarrassed. It’s okay if they don’t know and I respect that, but staring makes me uncomfortable. Maybe if people knew more about TS they wouldn’t stare. I completely get that not everyone is going to understand it. But they could try and learn. I do know I’m really good at guitar. I love music. My favorite bands are The Beatles, Guns N Roses and Shinedown. Hard rock is my favorite. I want to be a rockstar and start a band or join a band. I just want to play lead guitar.”

These words came from my son. Life is not always easy for him but he has a great attitude about it. I am sharing this for many reasons. One of which is this:

The other day, we picked up my husband for lunch on his break and tried to have a little family time. The restaurant was busy and sometimes when places get crowded, it increases my son’s tics. His tics are mostly motor (hand shaking, blinking, tapping things) although he has a few vocal tics (whistling and occasionally a little crack in his voice). As we sat there, I noticed two older boys, probably twelve-thirteenish, maybe. They wouldn’t stop staring. They were sitting with whom I assumed to be their dad. My son noticed their eyes on him, which increased his anxiety. I just kept trying to distract him to keep him from focusing on them.

Mind you, I was ready to slap their Dad! He did NOTHING to stop them! (I don’t condone violence but I’m just being honest…) Who lets their TWEEN-AGE kids do this kind of thing while they sit and witness it all without telling them to knock it the hell off??

As time went on, I noticed that one of these boys had gotten his phone out and was recording my son! It was at that point that mama bear was ’bout to have her porridge hot! I was fuming, but didn’t want to embarrass my son by drawing even more attention to a humiliating situation (for him). Luckily, we were in a booth and I laid him down on my lap and rubbed his back so he was out of their view. I wanted to lose it. I wanted to grab that phone out of that dude’s hand and throw it. It was hard, but I restrained myself in that moment. I was respecting my son. He is basically just a better person than I am.

Here’s my message to those boys at the restaurant:

Please know this…I know you have that video of my 9 year-old son. Keep it. Save it. Don’t delete it. Let it remind you of what you did to hurt someone that day in the restaurant. Your staring embarrasses him, but you are no match for his spirit. You see…my son is not sitting around staring at people and trying to record those who are “different” than him. He’s not going to run over to Instagram and show his friends someone else’s neurological disorder for fun and laughs. He is busy. He is busy practicing guitar, writing songs, and working hard to overcome people like you. Seriously boys, keep your phones charged. Because one of these days…when you are at a concert waiting for that band you’ve been wanting to see and you look up on stage…you’ll want to record him again. Trust me. He’ll be amazing. He’ll have worked to accomplish his dreams. My son has a photographic memory. He’ll most likely remember you and throw you a guitar pick. That’s just the kind of person he is.

He has Tourette’s. It doesn’t mean he won’t be successful in life. It’s okay with him that he’s a little bit different. Nothing will stand in his way, especially some kids with a phone that their Daddy pays for. So maybe he shakes a little bit. So what? It doesn’t change his personality. He inspires me every single day. I truly in my heart hope that somehow this story finds you and inspires you too. Maybe if you knew more about it then you’d understand. So try and learn, mmm-kay? Oh and I’m not gonna lie…I still wanna smack your dad.

Remember…keep that video dude. It may be worth a lot of money someday.

Does She Cuss Like That In Front Of Her Kids???

Being a blogger/writer person I have gotten use to criticism. I ALWAYS read the comments. I’m super lucky because I feel like I have the most supportive and awesome followers and you have no idea how much that means to me. I love to see people’s points of view and how they react to the things that I’ve written. I can take the heat, good or bad. However, the one comment that makes me cringe is this one. You ready? Okay here it is:

“Oh the language in this article! Does she cuss like that in front of her kids?”

I’m gonna settle that shit right here and now in my own typical sarcastic way. Yes. I do.

In fact, this morning as my three kids woke up and walked in the kitchen, I greeted them with, “Good morning fuckers!” I then gave them cereal, orange juice and a gummy vitamin. We had a fairly crazy morning as usual. “Okay boys, go brush your goddam teeth and fix your hair,” I said with a friendly smile.

After I threw a signed permission slip in my oldest’s backpack, I gently reminded him, “make sure you turn in this motherfucking permission slip buddy, or your ass isn’t going on that damn field trip. I don’t want you to miss it, ’cause that shit’s gonna be educational as fuck.”

He promised me that he wouldn’t forget.

I hugged and kissed my two oldest sons goodbye. “You guys get out there and make this day your bitch, okay? Oh, and sweethearts, please don’t act like dickheads at school! I love you, you little assholes!”

After that I went and read a book with my 4 year-old. First he chose a Dr. Seuss book, but I explained to him that I couldn’t handle that shit right now so to go pick a different one. When he returned with, “I Love You Forever” I clapped and yelled, “Awwwww shit! This book used to make me cry like a pussy ass bitch, but I love it. Now get over here and let’s read this shit.”

Then my phone rang. “Oh son-of-a-whore!” I yelled. “Why the hell do these motherfuckers always have to interrupt story time?” I declined the call. The story continued and we finished it with a giant bear hug and then read one more. Next, we had a great idea to go surprise his older brothers at school and meet them for lunch. They were so excited to see us!

“WHAT UP BITCHES?!?!” I threw my hands up and yelled as we walked into the cafeteria. “LET’S GET FOOD! I’M SO HUNGRY I COULD EAT MY OWN TITTIES RIGHT NOW!” I went and sat with my boys and talked a bunch of shit to the kids at the next table. It was really special and I love getting to spend any extra time I can with my children. These moments go by so fast and (like Steven Tyler) I don’t wanna miss a thing.

After a fantastic lunch, they hugged me and their little brother goodbye, and I turned and yelled, “I’ll see you little bastards after school! I love the shit out of you!” I blew a kiss in their direction, flipped them off and walked out the door.

BUT REALLY…

If I stub my toe in front of my kids, I may say “shit.” Or if I drop something, it may occasionally be an F bomb. I am a grown up and once in a while I may say a bad word in real life. But the fact of the matter is, I write for an adult audience. My children don’t read my blog. So basically, someone suggesting that I “cuss like that in front of my kids” in the same way I write a humorous article, well that’s just the dumbest fucking shit I’ve ever heard.

I hope that clears things up a bit.

I love all you motherfuckers!!! Thanks for reading me🙂

I Just Don’t Have My Sh*t Together

Are you often referred to as a “hot mess,” a “trainwreck,” or “that mom?” Well guess what? So am I. And I don’t give an F-word. It’s just how I roll. There are so many scenarios in which I do not have my shit together, but I’m trying hard. I really am.

*I mean, so what if I send school permission slips in with a dab of spaghetti sauce on them once in a while?

*Who cares if I forgot that it’s “hat day,” or “pajama day,” or “wear a flip-flop on your ear day” at the kids’ school? If it wasn’t important enough for the kids to remember, then that’s on them, K? Not me.

*And yes you can ride with me, just slide all that shit off the passenger seat onto the floor and I’m sorry all the cupholders are full. They are all old drinks, so feel free to dump one out the window and throw the cup in the back to make room for your pretty water bottle.

*No sorry, I don’t carry Band-Aids, Kleenex, or hand sanitizer on me, but I could offer you a hug and some Goldfish crackers?

*I know…I know…my kiddo is wearing two different shoes and the the other one has his shirt on inside-out. But really, it’s that third kid…you can’t see it, but his underwear are on backwards, I mean that can’t be comfortable.

*I may not be excellent at returning phone calls, but it tends to get loud in my house and I don’t want to be rude by yelling, “SHUT YOUR BIG YAPPERS!” at my kids while I’m on the phone. I’ll get back to you eventually, I promise. Let’s just text, shall we?

*I’m sorry I have a “late problem.” From now on let’s just add 30 minutes on to whatever time I say I’m going to meet you. Problem solved.

*Okay, so I accidentally sent my kids to school without coats today in the 30 degree temps because I was looking at the forecast in Vegas instead of the local weather. BUT…I took coats up there once I realized it, so it’s cool.

*Oh good gracious. Would you look at that? I can’t seem to find my credit card for all of these groceries that are already rang up. Yes, I know there’s people behind me. I swear I just had it. Oh for the love of….oh wait! Here it is at the bottom of my purse. Sorry about that. It was underneath two matchbox cars and a Pull-Up that’s been in my purse for months. Oops-a-daisy. Is it the green or red button for credit? Oh wait…this is debit.

*My kid is having a birthday party and guess what? You are invited!!! When is it? Tomorrow at noon. Late notice I know, but don’t worry…it’s no biggie. I won’t get mad if you can’t come and I don’t even expect an RSVP. I don’t keep track of shit like that, so no pressure.

*Oh man! I know I was supposed to make a dessert, but these store-bought cookies are better than anything I could hand-make. I’m not very good in the kitchen, but I still like to contribute. So here ya go. And I brought wine. So now there’s wine.

*I can’t confirm plans, but I’ll make tentative ones with you. I can’t set anything in stone. One of my kids WILL puke if I do so. It’s almost like magic. I just don’t jinx myself and more importantly, I don’t jinx my kids like that.

*Please excuse the fact that the receipt with your kiddo’s birthday present shows the date and time and you can clearly see that I bought it on the way here. I mean, it’s the thought that counts and we showed up. And aww snap…I actually remembered to ask for a gift receipt this time. Sorry I forgot a card though. Damn, I always forget the card!

*I am dressed up for this event! Okay, so they may be jeans, but they aren’t yoga pants and I didn’t sleep in them last night. What do you want from me? A freakin’ kidney?

*My phone is out of battery. It was laying by the charger all night but I forgot to plug it in. And I forgot the car charger in my house. Yes, I know it belongs in my car. Yes, I know it’s not that hard. No further questions please.

The list could go on and on.

So yes, I tend to be the mom that’s all over the place. But hey, it’s not the end of the world. There are plus sides to being this way. I can laugh at myself and I don’t judge other moms. I’m able to look beyond their disheveled hair and shirt stains and see that there may be some major behind-the-scenes shit that they ARE holding together. And when dealing with BIG stuff, some of us tend to forget trivial details. Many of us are forgetful. Lots of us are overwhelmed. Many of us are smiling through exhaustion, or depression, or some other major life stressors. And honestly, this “ hot mess” vibe is just the way that some of us are wired. We are doing the best we can.

At the end of the day, there’s no trophy or award given to the mom that has it all together. And I wouldn’t want it anyway because it would probably just end up broken, lost, or covered in something sticky, cause you know…

I just don’t have my shit together.

Bitch slap that like or share button if ya liked this!! Thanks!

Where Did It All Go Wrong?

Where did it go wrong? How did I end up here? Here, meaning behind the keyboard literally slamming each letter that I type with stiff fingers because I’m so effing done with this day. Am I bitching? Yeah, maybe I am. Sorry about that. I’m not trying to be a whiner. But I’m also trying to pinpoint the exact moment that I broke. It could have been any of the following:

  1. When one kid decided to “jump in the shower” five minutes before we were supposed to walk out the door for school.
  2. When we were running late for one of the kid’s dentist appointments to get a cavity filled and we got stopped by a train, moving…at…the…speed…of…a…three…toed…sloth…
  3. When I went to take a kid back to school and my 3 year-old ran ahead of me looking as if he was in a slot tournament, and pressing the school’s doorbell about 50 times before I could reach him.
  4. When I took another kid to a doctor’s appointment and my 3 year-old decided to tell the therapist that his mommy has boobs, two of them. And then told him that he likes zombies and blood. Yeah, that was fun.
  5. When my 7 year-old decapitated his little brother’s Play-doh gingerbread man and by his screaming, blood curdling reaction, one would have thought that he was passing a marble-sized kidney stone.
  6. When I told my son to get his guitar and notebook ready, because he had to leave in 5 minutes and 5 minutes later, I looked out the window as he rode barefoot on his bike past the house with no musical instrument in sight.
  7. When I let my youngest two kids go 5 houses down to a friend’s to play basketball and as I looked up from pulling weeds, saw my 3 year-old pissing in their driveway.
  8. When I made them both come home and “sit and think about how to act” and the next thing I knew they had each other in chokeholds.
  9. When I decided I was so thirsty so I grabbed the milk jug and took a big swallers, only to realize it was sour and expired and so now I’m a vegan. Milk was a bad choice.
  10. When I realized that I had been literally yelling every word that I had been saying to my kids for the last thirty minutes and my face and neck were sore from scowling.
  11. When I got a throbbing headache right behind my left eyeball.
  12. When my kids wanted snacks but they didn’t want to share, so they made two separate bags of popcorn and I had nothing left in me to fight it so they can just have the fucking popcorn because I. Don’t. Care. As. Long. As. They. Stop. Fighting.

Yeah, it could have been any of these things.

I may not be able to pinpoint the exact moment things went to shit today, but it doesn’t really matter because it’s only 6:20 p.m. right now.

They may not be finished with me yet…

Thanks For The Minute

My kids are friggin’ high maintenance. I’m just being honest. I love them more than anything, but damn they are needy. From the time my eyes open, until the time they close, I probably hear the word, “mom” over a hundred and fifty times. It’s like they are afraid that if I’m not looking directly at them at all times, they will have to seek counseling for abandonment issues. All this time we spend together is great and all, but it’s also exhausting.

My mother stayed with me last night. She knew we’ve had a lot going on lately with my kids being sick on and off and my husband was out of town, so she packed her little bag and came over to “help.” (Honestly, I think she wants to make sure I remember to lock my doors and not talk to strangers, you know…typical mom-type things).

I woke up at 6 a.m. knowing my kids had early dentist appointments and immediately heard, “Mom, if you fell from 8 feet on a pillow would you die or would the pillow save you?” DAMMIT! I was hoping to get some coffee before the little minions sensed that I was awake. Searching for my contacts, I looked up to see my 7 year-old standing there in his jammies. I remember just thinking, ALREADY??? IT’S STARTING ALREADY??? Mumbling a random answer, I made my way to the kitchen to start breakfast. He followed me. “Mom, do you think people who live in Florida go to Disney World like every single day?” More questions. Then I felt another minion was lurking behind me, “Mom, can I have some water?” It was my 3 year-old. NOOOO! I wasn’t ready for him yet. Needed coffee. Needed to pee. Haven’t peed. “Mom, did you send in my yearbook order form?” came a voice from behind me. It was my 9 year-old with his eyes halfway open. I’M NOT READY!!! FOR THE LOVE OF HARRISON FORD, I’M NOT READY!!

Suddenly, like a walking care package, my mother trotted into the kitchen. She was showered, bright eyed, bushy tailed and ready for work. WTF? She’s all ready to go and I look like an extra on the set of The Walking Dead. She told me to just go and get ready and she’d make sure the boys got breakfast and got dressed. I began to protest, but my bladder wasn’t having it. I thanked her and took off to my room. That’s when a choir of imaginary angels surrounded me and sang a beautiful hymn as I took my morning piss in peace.

I began to wash my face when suddenly, I heard a voice from downstairs. “Mommmmm!” SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! THEY’RE AFTER ME! Then it happened. I heard the words. The four words I have been needing to hear for so long. It was my mother’s voice.

“Give her a minute.”

Basically, my mother was telling my kids to back the hell off. They listened. I carried on my “get ready routine” with no interruptions. The whole time I felt this insanely weird sense of protection. The only way I can describe it is feeling like I was in prison, but had a protector who wasn’t going to let anybody mess with me. Only thankfully I didn’t have to do anything freaky to get this protection, because that would just not be okay on so many levels.

I desperately needed a minute.

I finished getting ready in a nice quiet bathroom. I had makeup on. I had my hair looking decent. I brushed my teeth, got dressed and went down to find all three boys completely ready with shoes on and all!  And there stood my “prison protector” smirking, like…Bitchyou’re welcome.

So now that I returned to my children, I was in a great mood. I was ready to take on the pediatric dental experience. I was even smiling. No joke. I’m just not used to being able to take time for myself as I’m just normally scrambling to get everyone else ready. It was such a simple thing, but I was so grateful. I grabbed my mother and kissed her face while she cracked up laughing. Then I loaded up the offspring and away we went into the morning sun, listening to metal in the minivan.

Having kids is a full-time job (cue all the people that get offended because I used the word “job”) Sun-up to sun-down, and often in the middle of the night can really take a toll on a person, especially if your little critters are high maintenance.  With all the questions, needs, and wants from our littles, a break can be a precious thing. Sometimes we need a vacation, sometimes we need a girls’ night out or maybe a date night. But sometimes, just sometimes…all we really need is a damn minute.

*So Mom, THANKS FOR THE MINUTE.