My kids have been sick this week. With vomit. GUH. It is seriously my most dreaded illness, especially because not all of them are able to use the toilet yet, so it becomes this violent pukefest all over the house. This time was not so bad though. Only two kids puked and it went really fast. Plus, we have escaped many, many illnesses this year, so I can't complain.
When I had my first, I was WAY worried about the puke. I had never dealt with cleaning up another human's vomit in my life. I felt totally unprepared, so, of course, I tried to arm myself. I asked my mom friends, "What do you do if they puke in the car? What do you do if they puke in the house? What do you do if they puke on the wall? What do you do if they puke on you?" By the time my first child threw up, I was armed and ready. Towels were on hand, bath was ready to go, bleach and hand sanitizer were close at hand. I found myself surprisingly calm and capable. I was mostly concerned for my poor, little baby who had no fucking clue what was happening to him and was wondering why I couldn't just make it go away. I felt so bad for the little guy. Cleaning up his mess seemed so easy.
Fast forward to two kids later. I am still prepared for every situation, weighing the odds of them all puking at the same time and trying to accept that that scenario *could* happen. Now, though, I am way less emotional. I go into robot mode. Bath, bleach, wipe. Bath, bleach, wipe. My only goal, at this point, is to get everything cleaned up so I can go to bed because it ALWAYS happens at some REFUCKINGDONKULOUS time of night when I am RIPPED from a dead sleep and TRYING to dream of a place where I am young and beautiful and no one is counting on me to make breakfast, wipe asses, or get them a GODDAMN DRINK OF WATER. Of course, once I have woken up enough to clean everything up and assure them that they will feel better soon, I can't go back to sleep! I lay there for hours, TRYING, then finally, sweet, sweet sleee...BLAAAAARRRRGH! More vomit. It is no use trying to get rest. It becomes a vicious cycle of bleaching, insomnia, stage 1 sleep, VOMIT
The worst time I remember was after my third was born, but was still a baby and sleeping in my bed. I was nursing her most of the night, so I was already exhausted. Suddenly, the Black Plague ripped through our house. It felt like it lasted forever. First one got sick with vomit. Then diarrhea. By then, the second was puking, so I was dealing with one puker and one shitter. Puke, shit, puke, shit. Then, the third started puking, but neither of the other two were over the shits. Puke, shit, shit, puke. Puke, shit, shit, puke. It was a fucking nightmare. I was exhausted. I actually wished for death, many, many times. The puking and shitting was something out of horror movies. I had been cleaning up puke and shit FOREVER. Then, one night, when I was near my end, I went to help my young daughter in the bathroom, shit everywhere. I was calm while I cleaned her up. I offered encouraging words, kissed her on her head, and got her ready to go back to bed. I pushed the hair out of my face and went to the sink to wash my hands. As I looked in the mirror, I was stunned. I had poop in my hair. Actual poop. POOP!! And right in that moment, I didn't freak out, I didn't cry, I didn't jump as quickly as I could into the shower (shortly after though). Right at that moment, it hit me. This is me. A mom. This is my job. It won't last forever, but right now, there is no time for vanity, there is no time for anger, and there is no time for FREAKING THE FUCK OUT BECAUSE THERE IS POOP IN MY HAIR. What it is time for is rolling with the punches and being able to laugh that shit off.
So, in closing, I had poop in my muthafucking hair. That is all.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Friday, February 15, 2013
Breaking Up Is Hard To Do
So, two things happened this week. The first thing is, I LEFT FACEBOOK!!! You heard me right. I broke the hell up with Facebook! Like done, finished, finito. It was a shock to me as much as everyone else cuz I never thought I would be able to break that chain!! Now for the second thing. Okay, I totally lied. There is no second thing. I mean, I have done plenty of other things this week, but nothing nearly as huge as my break up with the big FB. It may actually be the biggest thing I have done in the last ten years. Well, besides giving birth to three children, losing forty pounds and running two marathons. So, yeah. It's like the fourth biggest thing I have done in the last ten years.
Why did I leave, you ask? Well, I will tell you. First, a friend sent me this: http://www.cnn.com/2013/02/05/tech/social-media/facebook-breaks-pew/index.html?c=us.
I have been known to take breaks from FB and every time I have gone back, I die a little. The information coming at me seems to do a number on my brain that I just can't deal with. My friends list was out of control, I knew too much about people I would rather not know, and I felt like I was on display all the time. I was in a perpetual state of anxiety, worrying all of the time about what people thought about my posts or comments, wondering who I had offended that day or why I hadn't heard from such and such. I couldn't stay off though. I was ALWAYS on. Even if I wasn't, I was. FB was the first thing I thought about when I woke up, and the last thing I thought about before going to sleep. I even dreamed about FB. What kind of sick bitch dreams about FB?! When I read the article above, I felt like there was only one answer, but I hadn't quite gotten to that point. Then, the very next day, I was moving stuff around, rearranging my lists, hiding my stuff, stressing over who could see what, movingstuffaround, rearrangingmylists, hidingmystuff, stressingaboutwhocouldseewhat, movingstuffaroundrearrangingmylistshidingmystuffstressingaboutwhocouldseewhat... and then, I thought, "What the fuck am I doing? No, really! WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK AM I DOING?!" I would never involve myself in something that caused me this much stress. Ever. Not even for my kids.
"Mom, can I have my birthday at Chuck E. Cheese?"
"You know what? Yes. When you have a job and make your own money and can drive yourself, you are more than welcome to have your birthday at Chuck E. Cheese."
My anxiety level had reached an all time high and right then and there, I knew. Well, I knew right after I consulted a few of my peeps. I knew I had had enough. ENOUGH!! And suddenly, just like that, my heart slowed down and I felt at peace. A peace I had not felt in a really long time. Nothing bad was going to happen if I left PhazeBook. Nothing at all. I might lose contact with a few people, but not if they are important, right?
I decided not to just quit abruptly. There were actually people I needed to get contact info. from and I wanted to let people know that I was unfriending everyone, not just them. What better way to get the word out than post it on FB, amirite? So, I did. I gave everyone a few days to get used to the idea and send me their info. It also made it real for me so I wouldn't back out. I have quit stuff before and know that telling people you are quitting an addiction is the best way to make yourself follow through. Not sure if my Facebooking qualifies as an addiction, but if it doesn't then I don't know what does. Not everyone was as pleased as I to find out I was leaving. The sure sign I was doing right by me was the fact that I just didn't care anymore. If I stayed, it would be for others, not myself. It was not in my best interest AT ALL. I was so happy!! HAPPY!!
I waited until the last day to save all of my pictures I had posted over the last 5 years. That is when I broke down. For every picture I saved and deleted off my account, I cried. I cried harder than I have cried in a long time. I cried over my pictures, I cried about not being involved, I cried about the people I might lose touch with. Mostly, I cried about not being able to feel normal in the FB world, having no self control, and shutting myself off from real life for so long. It got even worse when I went to delete my account. Pictures from 5 of my friends popped up. "Lisa B. will miss you." FUCK!! Lisa B. WILL miss me!! Goddamn Facebook, you ruthless bitch!! I even started to bargain with myself. Maybe I didn't have to delete my whole account. I could just take a really, really long break. Like 6 months or something. Maybe I could start another page under a false name. Maybe I could just delete the majority of my friends list. And there it was. ANXIETY. So, no. I could do nothing less than get rid of that thing. The thing that had been consuming me for years. I have now been gone for 5 days and I already feel like a new person. I actually care very little about what might be going on over in Facebook land. Of course, I know that this may be the honeymoon period for me. By week 3 I could be a total fucking basket case, wishing I had never left. I am giving myself at least 2 months to feel perfectly normal without it. If it's less, than that is just an extra bonus!
Now, I don't think Facebook is all bad. I have made some very good friends through FB that I would not have known otherwise. I have also been able to reconnect with people that I never thought I would hear from again. But, for me, FB just doesn't work, at least not the way I was using it or the way I wanted it to. I need facial expressions, eye contact, human touch. I need constant movement and activity. What I don't need is to be sitting on my ass, most of the day, trying to communicate with people that do not affect my daily life. I do not need to dance and be "on" all the time. And mostly, what I don't want, is the person who does my eulogy to say, "We are here today to celebrate the life of my best friend, Apparentlyatotal B. I don't know her in real life, but MAN, She is funny as shit on Facebook!" So, peace out, Facebook. I am done being your bitch.
Why did I leave, you ask? Well, I will tell you. First, a friend sent me this: http://www.cnn.com/2013/02/05/tech/social-media/facebook-breaks-pew/index.html?c=us.
I have been known to take breaks from FB and every time I have gone back, I die a little. The information coming at me seems to do a number on my brain that I just can't deal with. My friends list was out of control, I knew too much about people I would rather not know, and I felt like I was on display all the time. I was in a perpetual state of anxiety, worrying all of the time about what people thought about my posts or comments, wondering who I had offended that day or why I hadn't heard from such and such. I couldn't stay off though. I was ALWAYS on. Even if I wasn't, I was. FB was the first thing I thought about when I woke up, and the last thing I thought about before going to sleep. I even dreamed about FB. What kind of sick bitch dreams about FB?! When I read the article above, I felt like there was only one answer, but I hadn't quite gotten to that point. Then, the very next day, I was moving stuff around, rearranging my lists, hiding my stuff, stressing over who could see what, movingstuffaround, rearrangingmylists, hidingmystuff, stressingaboutwhocouldseewhat, movingstuffaroundrearrangingmylistshidingmystuffstressingaboutwhocouldseewhat... and then, I thought, "What the fuck am I doing? No, really! WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK AM I DOING?!" I would never involve myself in something that caused me this much stress. Ever. Not even for my kids.
"Mom, can I have my birthday at Chuck E. Cheese?"
"You know what? Yes. When you have a job and make your own money and can drive yourself, you are more than welcome to have your birthday at Chuck E. Cheese."
My anxiety level had reached an all time high and right then and there, I knew. Well, I knew right after I consulted a few of my peeps. I knew I had had enough. ENOUGH!! And suddenly, just like that, my heart slowed down and I felt at peace. A peace I had not felt in a really long time. Nothing bad was going to happen if I left PhazeBook. Nothing at all. I might lose contact with a few people, but not if they are important, right?
I decided not to just quit abruptly. There were actually people I needed to get contact info. from and I wanted to let people know that I was unfriending everyone, not just them. What better way to get the word out than post it on FB, amirite? So, I did. I gave everyone a few days to get used to the idea and send me their info. It also made it real for me so I wouldn't back out. I have quit stuff before and know that telling people you are quitting an addiction is the best way to make yourself follow through. Not sure if my Facebooking qualifies as an addiction, but if it doesn't then I don't know what does. Not everyone was as pleased as I to find out I was leaving. The sure sign I was doing right by me was the fact that I just didn't care anymore. If I stayed, it would be for others, not myself. It was not in my best interest AT ALL. I was so happy!! HAPPY!!
I waited until the last day to save all of my pictures I had posted over the last 5 years. That is when I broke down. For every picture I saved and deleted off my account, I cried. I cried harder than I have cried in a long time. I cried over my pictures, I cried about not being involved, I cried about the people I might lose touch with. Mostly, I cried about not being able to feel normal in the FB world, having no self control, and shutting myself off from real life for so long. It got even worse when I went to delete my account. Pictures from 5 of my friends popped up. "Lisa B. will miss you." FUCK!! Lisa B. WILL miss me!! Goddamn Facebook, you ruthless bitch!! I even started to bargain with myself. Maybe I didn't have to delete my whole account. I could just take a really, really long break. Like 6 months or something. Maybe I could start another page under a false name. Maybe I could just delete the majority of my friends list. And there it was. ANXIETY. So, no. I could do nothing less than get rid of that thing. The thing that had been consuming me for years. I have now been gone for 5 days and I already feel like a new person. I actually care very little about what might be going on over in Facebook land. Of course, I know that this may be the honeymoon period for me. By week 3 I could be a total fucking basket case, wishing I had never left. I am giving myself at least 2 months to feel perfectly normal without it. If it's less, than that is just an extra bonus!
Now, I don't think Facebook is all bad. I have made some very good friends through FB that I would not have known otherwise. I have also been able to reconnect with people that I never thought I would hear from again. But, for me, FB just doesn't work, at least not the way I was using it or the way I wanted it to. I need facial expressions, eye contact, human touch. I need constant movement and activity. What I don't need is to be sitting on my ass, most of the day, trying to communicate with people that do not affect my daily life. I do not need to dance and be "on" all the time. And mostly, what I don't want, is the person who does my eulogy to say, "We are here today to celebrate the life of my best friend, Apparentlyatotal B. I don't know her in real life, but MAN, She is funny as shit on Facebook!" So, peace out, Facebook. I am done being your bitch.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Can't, Or Shouldn't?
Well, the new year is well underway and everyone has made all the normal resolutions of quitting smoking, losing weight, eating better, staying away from strip clubs, not committing arson, etc.. Normally, I do not make resolutions, but this year I switched things up and resolved to shut the fuck up. Not stop talking, but just stop talking about my issues. I could elaborate on that, but then I would be breaking my resolution and seeing it is only the middle of January, that would kind of suck and remind me of why I don't ever make resolutions. ANYWAY, in my thoughts about my resolution, I started thinking about the phrase, "I can't complain," and I have decided that this might be the most fucking ridiculous statement in the history of ridiculously stupid statements EVAR.
Just think about it.
Fred: Hey, Lara!!! I haven't seen you in awhile! How's it going?
Lara: Eh, can't complain.
WHAT?!? Can't complain?! You can't complain about the windshield you had to replace TWICE this past year? You can't complain about your Staph infection that won't go away? You can't complain about not being able to afford the new iPhone 5million billion gazillion? You can't complain about that guy that keeps following you around the grocery store on Thursdays? Um, yeah you *can* complain!!! It doesn't mean you should, but you most certainly *can.* Unless, of course, you have some physical thing keeping you from doing so. If that is the case, then I am truly sorry. Also, definitely complain about the grocery store guy. To the police.
When I hear people say, "Can't complain," what I actually hear is, "I have a lot to complain about that is really not any more than what other people have to complain about and I want you to fish for more information so I can complain." Um, nope. Not gonna do it. Because, in all honesty, I usually don't care. I know how the people I care about are doing and don't really need to know about the rest of the muthafuckas walking around. When I have said it, it has mostly been because I don't feel like getting into it with that particular person because I don't really give a rat's ass about them. I also don't usually know what to say. But "can't complain" is just about the most uncreative small talk outside of the weather or sports. I think we can do better.
I understand why someone wouldn't want to go into great detail though. No one really wants to hear about vaginal dryness or the pubic lice you just can't seem to get rid of. I can't even tell you how many times someone has started running down their list and I wish I hadn't asked or that I would suddenly be hit by a semi, just so I would not have to hear their boring/disgusting/inappropriate/far fetched bullshit. Listening to that shit is treacherous and uncomfortable and telling it is just embarrassing. Still though!! People should just be honest or shut the fuck up. "A lot has been going on with me, but I don't really like you and wouldn't share my personal life with you if you were the only other person on earth. Now step up off me, mofo." Or, "I could go on and on, but I really don't think you give a flying fuck, so I will just keep my mouth shut. Have a nice day!" Of course, I could always make some shit up that would keep them from asking me what's going on forever. I am pretty sure long winded descriptions of anal leakage and bed sores would keep them away.
So, in closing, please don't say, "can't complain." Say you shouldn't complain, won't complain, will not bother anyone with stuff that isn't relevant in their lives at the moment. Say anything. Just don't say that, or it is a nutpunch for you.
Just think about it.
Fred: Hey, Lara!!! I haven't seen you in awhile! How's it going?
Lara: Eh, can't complain.
WHAT?!? Can't complain?! You can't complain about the windshield you had to replace TWICE this past year? You can't complain about your Staph infection that won't go away? You can't complain about not being able to afford the new iPhone 5million billion gazillion? You can't complain about that guy that keeps following you around the grocery store on Thursdays? Um, yeah you *can* complain!!! It doesn't mean you should, but you most certainly *can.* Unless, of course, you have some physical thing keeping you from doing so. If that is the case, then I am truly sorry. Also, definitely complain about the grocery store guy. To the police.
When I hear people say, "Can't complain," what I actually hear is, "I have a lot to complain about that is really not any more than what other people have to complain about and I want you to fish for more information so I can complain." Um, nope. Not gonna do it. Because, in all honesty, I usually don't care. I know how the people I care about are doing and don't really need to know about the rest of the muthafuckas walking around. When I have said it, it has mostly been because I don't feel like getting into it with that particular person because I don't really give a rat's ass about them. I also don't usually know what to say. But "can't complain" is just about the most uncreative small talk outside of the weather or sports. I think we can do better.
I understand why someone wouldn't want to go into great detail though. No one really wants to hear about vaginal dryness or the pubic lice you just can't seem to get rid of. I can't even tell you how many times someone has started running down their list and I wish I hadn't asked or that I would suddenly be hit by a semi, just so I would not have to hear their boring/disgusting/inappropriate/far fetched bullshit. Listening to that shit is treacherous and uncomfortable and telling it is just embarrassing. Still though!! People should just be honest or shut the fuck up. "A lot has been going on with me, but I don't really like you and wouldn't share my personal life with you if you were the only other person on earth. Now step up off me, mofo." Or, "I could go on and on, but I really don't think you give a flying fuck, so I will just keep my mouth shut. Have a nice day!" Of course, I could always make some shit up that would keep them from asking me what's going on forever. I am pretty sure long winded descriptions of anal leakage and bed sores would keep them away.
So, in closing, please don't say, "can't complain." Say you shouldn't complain, won't complain, will not bother anyone with stuff that isn't relevant in their lives at the moment. Say anything. Just don't say that, or it is a nutpunch for you.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Coming Up For Air
When I was about 4 years old, my grandparents, aunt, and uncle coming to visit my family one summer when we were living in Oklahoma. One day while they were there, my parents took all of us to the pool. While I knew how to make myself float around, I was still very little, so we stayed in the baby pool. I can still remember the warmth of the day and the light of the sun shining off the blue water. I have visions of my mother in her light blue and brown, checkered bikini, standing in the middle of the small pool.
As I played in the water and went under to practice holding my breath, some bigger kids swam over top of me and trapped me under the water. I do not know if they did it on purpose, but I always feel like they were trying to be mean. I remember pushing up on them, trying to break free, my heart pounding in my chest and ears. I could hear the other kids above me playing and laughing, unaware that there was a problem. Everyone seemed so far away. I wanted to be laughing and playing, just like them. I didn't want to be trapped beneath those big boys, feeling crushed and helpless, where no one could hear me, even if I could have screamed out. Even though it was probably seconds, it still feels like I was under the water for a lifetime. Suddenly, my 11 year old aunt grabbed my arm and pulled me to the surface. I can see her looking in my face, asking, "Are you okay?!" I could only cough and gasp. I am not even sure if i cried, I was just so glad to be able to breathe.
Today, I have felt like that little girl being held down in the pool. Everyone is going about their business, laughing and having a good time. Christmas is almost here and people seem to be in high spirits, shopping, taking family pictures, getting together. I want to join in, but I feel like they are too far away and can't hear me because I am unable to make a sound. I know that tomorrow I may feel better, in fact, it is quite likely, but right now, that seems distant and unreachable. So, I wait. And hopefully soon, I will feel that hand grab me by the arm to bring me to the surface, where I can breathe again.
As I played in the water and went under to practice holding my breath, some bigger kids swam over top of me and trapped me under the water. I do not know if they did it on purpose, but I always feel like they were trying to be mean. I remember pushing up on them, trying to break free, my heart pounding in my chest and ears. I could hear the other kids above me playing and laughing, unaware that there was a problem. Everyone seemed so far away. I wanted to be laughing and playing, just like them. I didn't want to be trapped beneath those big boys, feeling crushed and helpless, where no one could hear me, even if I could have screamed out. Even though it was probably seconds, it still feels like I was under the water for a lifetime. Suddenly, my 11 year old aunt grabbed my arm and pulled me to the surface. I can see her looking in my face, asking, "Are you okay?!" I could only cough and gasp. I am not even sure if i cried, I was just so glad to be able to breathe.
Today, I have felt like that little girl being held down in the pool. Everyone is going about their business, laughing and having a good time. Christmas is almost here and people seem to be in high spirits, shopping, taking family pictures, getting together. I want to join in, but I feel like they are too far away and can't hear me because I am unable to make a sound. I know that tomorrow I may feel better, in fact, it is quite likely, but right now, that seems distant and unreachable. So, I wait. And hopefully soon, I will feel that hand grab me by the arm to bring me to the surface, where I can breathe again.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Back To Crazy
Well, it has been quite some time since I have posted and I now see that not writing has been A TERRIBLE MISTAKE. I am not sure what the fuck I was thinking when I thought I was "better," but I was completely wrong. It is like someone who has BPD going off their meds, or the child with ADHD taking a pill break during the summer. IT IS HELL.
So much has happened (or not happened) that I don't even know where to start, so I will just say that I am finding myself in a very familiar state of mind, much like the one I was in TWO FUCKING YEARS AGO. However, I have learned from my mistake and will work very hard to make amends. I will try to post instead of looking to social networks for escape. I will post if I feel the only answer is getting drunk all day long. I will post if my children are making me so insane I think I would rather give my a paper cut. When i am not posting, I will think about posting. When I am asleep, I will dream about posting. In between, I will try to get well and search for medical answers. Everything else will be about blog posts.
That was short and sweet and really, not all that hard. So, hopefully I will see you soon. You meaning the large, empty space that is the internet!!! Ciao.
So much has happened (or not happened) that I don't even know where to start, so I will just say that I am finding myself in a very familiar state of mind, much like the one I was in TWO FUCKING YEARS AGO. However, I have learned from my mistake and will work very hard to make amends. I will try to post instead of looking to social networks for escape. I will post if I feel the only answer is getting drunk all day long. I will post if my children are making me so insane I think I would rather give my a paper cut. When i am not posting, I will think about posting. When I am asleep, I will dream about posting. In between, I will try to get well and search for medical answers. Everything else will be about blog posts.
That was short and sweet and really, not all that hard. So, hopefully I will see you soon. You meaning the large, empty space that is the internet!!! Ciao.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Lessons I Learned In My Youth
"Growing the perfect sunflower is not as easy as it looks." This is something my grandmother told me when I was 12, as she painted a picture of 2 children playing in a field of sunflowers for a Sunday school lesson. I remember that day well, as she explained the loyalty the sunflower has for the sun, following it everywhere it goes. It is one of many odd things I learned as I made my way through childhood. It is something I will never forget. Every time I see a sunflower I think of that painting. I can see it as clear as day, like it just happened this morning and not 26 years ago.
It's funny the things we retain from our childhood. Useless information that crops up out of nowhere to haunt us, but really serves no purpose. Like the fact that a widow's peak is a recessive trait, or that snowflakes have six sides. I say that these things are useless only because they aren't really needed to function in every day life. I mean really, when the fuck do I, ApparentlyATotalB, need to know how many sides a snowflake has? Seriously. When? Why the hell do I know that? Why? WHY?!? Why do I care that sunflowers are loyal to the sun? Why? And as far as recessive and dominant traits go, I am not a Geneticist, nor do I aspire to be one. And yet, I carry around information about traits that are really useless to little old me.
Now, just because I find this information useless, doesn't mean I don't find it interesting. I am quite glad I know how to make chains out of clover, make friendship bracelets out of embroidery floss, and suck the nectar out of honeysuckle. I am grateful to have learned how to blow an egg and press flowers. I am very proud of the fact that I know the difference between a French braid and a regular braid and can do both. Why you ask? Well, I will tell you why. Because my kids think I am fucking MAGIC!!! I am a GENIUS! They actually believe I am some all knowing godDESS! When Mommy knows something special and different, it leaves them in awe. I fucking LOVE IT!!
Now, I know what you're thinking. That they won't think that forever. Yes, you are right. They won't. Some day, they will understand, as I do, that along the course of life, we pick up meaningless information and pass it along to our kids, who will then pass it to theirs, and so on. But, for right now, I have the power. I am the all knowing. I alone hold the information to get them through. Me. Myself. I. And I will cherish that time as long as I can. Because, let's face it. Not everyone gets to blow up the death star.
It's funny the things we retain from our childhood. Useless information that crops up out of nowhere to haunt us, but really serves no purpose. Like the fact that a widow's peak is a recessive trait, or that snowflakes have six sides. I say that these things are useless only because they aren't really needed to function in every day life. I mean really, when the fuck do I, ApparentlyATotalB, need to know how many sides a snowflake has? Seriously. When? Why the hell do I know that? Why? WHY?!? Why do I care that sunflowers are loyal to the sun? Why? And as far as recessive and dominant traits go, I am not a Geneticist, nor do I aspire to be one. And yet, I carry around information about traits that are really useless to little old me.
Now, just because I find this information useless, doesn't mean I don't find it interesting. I am quite glad I know how to make chains out of clover, make friendship bracelets out of embroidery floss, and suck the nectar out of honeysuckle. I am grateful to have learned how to blow an egg and press flowers. I am very proud of the fact that I know the difference between a French braid and a regular braid and can do both. Why you ask? Well, I will tell you why. Because my kids think I am fucking MAGIC!!! I am a GENIUS! They actually believe I am some all knowing godDESS! When Mommy knows something special and different, it leaves them in awe. I fucking LOVE IT!!
Now, I know what you're thinking. That they won't think that forever. Yes, you are right. They won't. Some day, they will understand, as I do, that along the course of life, we pick up meaningless information and pass it along to our kids, who will then pass it to theirs, and so on. But, for right now, I have the power. I am the all knowing. I alone hold the information to get them through. Me. Myself. I. And I will cherish that time as long as I can. Because, let's face it. Not everyone gets to blow up the death star.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
I Never Learned To Play Hopscotch
Actually, that's not true. I totally knew how to play hopscotch. Along with kickball, dodge ball, and jump rope. What I absolutely did not ever learn how to do, and always wanted to, is double dutch. That shit was fucking AMAZING!!! So jealous of all the little fuckers that knew how to do that shit.
I would love to try to learn how to double dutch now. I could totally see myself as a middle aged woman trying to maneuver that crap, tripping over the ropes, as well as my skin apron and sagging breasts. It.Would.Rock. My kids would skulk away, completely embarrassed to have such a pathetic mother. Actually, I know my kids and they would embrace me making a fool of myself. They love it when I act like a dumbass. They think it is HILARIOUS. Not sure if it is because they like to be silly, or if it is because they just want to see me act a fool. Oh well, as long as they are happy. Little bastards.
There are so many things I would have loved to know how to do as a kid. Back handsprings, high dive, triple lutz. I could have been an Olympic long distance runner, an astronaut, a successful lawyer, or an underwater basket weaver. I could have been awesome...I could BE awesome. Sadly, I never learned those things, whether it be from lack of motivation, low self esteem, or just no guidance and support, I will never know.
Fortunately, I am not one to dwell too much on the past. While there are many things I will never become, there are many more things that I can become, and some things that I already have become. I am a wife and a mother. I am a friend, a confidante, a stress reliever. I am funny, smart, sarcastic, silly, and at times, I can be a real fucking bitchass. I am a woman. All I can try to do now is make sure that I let my children know, if they work hard enough and want something with all their hearts, they can accomplish ANYTHING. In the meantime, I am going to try to find someone who can teach me to double Dutch. Specifically someone who will not laugh at me when I trip on my left breast.
I would love to try to learn how to double dutch now. I could totally see myself as a middle aged woman trying to maneuver that crap, tripping over the ropes, as well as my skin apron and sagging breasts. It.Would.Rock. My kids would skulk away, completely embarrassed to have such a pathetic mother. Actually, I know my kids and they would embrace me making a fool of myself. They love it when I act like a dumbass. They think it is HILARIOUS. Not sure if it is because they like to be silly, or if it is because they just want to see me act a fool. Oh well, as long as they are happy. Little bastards.
There are so many things I would have loved to know how to do as a kid. Back handsprings, high dive, triple lutz. I could have been an Olympic long distance runner, an astronaut, a successful lawyer, or an underwater basket weaver. I could have been awesome...I could BE awesome. Sadly, I never learned those things, whether it be from lack of motivation, low self esteem, or just no guidance and support, I will never know.
Fortunately, I am not one to dwell too much on the past. While there are many things I will never become, there are many more things that I can become, and some things that I already have become. I am a wife and a mother. I am a friend, a confidante, a stress reliever. I am funny, smart, sarcastic, silly, and at times, I can be a real fucking bitchass. I am a woman. All I can try to do now is make sure that I let my children know, if they work hard enough and want something with all their hearts, they can accomplish ANYTHING. In the meantime, I am going to try to find someone who can teach me to double Dutch. Specifically someone who will not laugh at me when I trip on my left breast.
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