2015 Resolutions I Intend On Keeping

Let's be honest, every year we make New Year's Resolutions with every good intention to keep them. Haha, yeah right. The ones like lose 10 pounds before spring break, get healthier, drink less, quit smoking, etc. Yeah, we get it. You try. It's never going to happen. So I have compiled my list of perfectly doable resolutions that I fully intent on keeping this year.

 

1. I will update the apps on my phone in a timely manner because that little red icon annoys the shit out of me.

2. I will listen to my voicemails within at least one month of receiving them also because of the big red notification.

3. I will say "no" more often to things I should do but simply don't want to do. If I do not want to go, I will simply say "I don't want to go." I feel no need to give anyone an explanation anymore, except for maybe that I'm already in my pajamas and I don't feel like showering.

4. I will stop trying to please everyone. It is impossible.

5. I will eat more cheeseburgers, with extra bacon, because I can.

6. I will drink less cheap wine. Not drink less wine, just less cheap wine, those hangovers are the Devil's work.

7. I will not chase anything. Men, friends or shots. I am not a little bitch.

8. I will not fix myself to be a picture perfect society posterchild. If it pleases me to look in the mirror everyday, it should please you. If it doesn't, don't look.

9. I will not wear heels just because I am supposed to. They hurt.

10. I will spend more time recognizing what my boundaries are and enforcing them in a timely manner before they get out of hand.

11. I will spend more time surrounding myself with people who enlighten me and challenge me rather than people who are there just because they've always been there.

12. I will eventually get a haircut.

13. I will buy jeans that fit, from the kids' section, and not feel bad about it.

14. I will spend more time with my parents.

15. I will attempt to learn to be patient with myself and my child.

16. I will not eat salads. It's rabbit food. Just eat your lettuce and be sad. I will be next to you eating a steak.

17. I will not go to the gym for the 28th year in a row.

18. I will do a better job of picking up the french fries in the back seat of my car.

19. I will not wait until my tank is on empty to stop at a gas station.

20. I will buy an extension cord so I can stop using Christmas lights to charge my phone and still sit my lazy ass on the couch.

21. I will change the batteries in the living room remote so I can stop cursing it every single day of my life.

22. I will stop crossing oceans for people who won't jump puddles for me.

23. I will not let my laundry pile up for months at a time.

24. I will try to pay my water bill on time.

25. I will do a better job of actually responding to texts and not just mentally responding and forgetting to actually respond.

26. I will no longer allow people to stand in the doorway of my life. You're either in or you're out, not both. If you're in, be all in. If you're out, I'll hold the door for you.

27. I will allow people to help me even though I don't want to admit I need the help.

28. I will clean out my friend's list on Facebook. Eventually.

29. I will delete people from my phone and my life entirely who have done nothing but be a problem.

30. And last but not least, I will be easy with myself. I will tell myself "Self, know yourself. Know your boundaries. Know your feelings. If you don't want to, you don't have to and that's okay."

 

Here's to a happy and healthy 2015. Cheers friends.

 

 

Soul Searching And Thank Yous

I always think of what I would say to my son if I had the chance. Even to know that he would go away again, I have so much I want to say to him and it's probably not what you think. I would tell him thank you. I would thank him for being him. A lovable, cuddle-bug who cried too much and always wanted his momma. I would thank him for eating so much food, I thought I'd go broke trying to feed him. I would thank him for looking more like me than his daddy. I would thank him for making me a more compassionate person. I would thank him for teaching me that love is undying and never ending. I would thank him for making me a better mother.  I would thank him for making me a more gentle soul. I would thank him for those moments I got him out of his crib in the middle of the night so I could hold him without a fight. I would thank him for only putting me through 3 hours of labor. I would thank him for every night I came home and all he heard was my voice, but his eyes searched for me. I would thank him for everything he taught me in 13 short months.

When I had my son, it was an instant connection. I looked at him and he looked at me and I was done. He calmed me in ways I didn't know I could be calmed. I had found where my soul rests. We were one in the same. Each child has a soul unique to them. Tyler Grace has an old soul and a fiery spirit. She will be my child that spreads her wings and tries new things, tests me relentlessly, but will always return to her roots. She's her daddy's child. Keller was my gentle soul. He gave love freely to everyone he met. He was trusting and kind. He didn't get upset when Tyler Grace tried to drown him in the bathtub by pouring water over his head. He just sat there and stared at her. He didn't get upset when she took his toys from him. He trusted that she would give them back. He trusted everybody. He and I embodied the same spirit.

I feel as though I will search for his spirit, his soul, my whole life. Whether it be in a stranger's child at the Chick-fil-a or whether it be in a grown up I've never met. I will look for his spirit, search for his soul in everyone I meet. I will search my whole life to find pieces of him here on this Earth to comfort me and let me know he's still here. I know he's here. I feel him here. Call it divine intervention. Call it God. Call it what you want. Maybe it's God using my son's spirit to speak to me, to guide me. Whatever it is, it's there and I feel it. I feel him around me when I have bad days. I feel him in the smallest of moments in my days. I feel his calmness rush over me when I am angry with his sister. I feel his strength holding me together on the days I think I can't get out of bed. I feel his love washing over me when I want to hate. I feel his soul protecting mine.

As silly as this sounds, when I was 18 years old someone told me that ladybugs were a Chinese symbol of protection. Probably not true, but nonetheless, I got a ladybug tattoo on my foot to protect me from where my feet may walk. When I tell you I find my son's soul on this Earth, I am not imagining that I do. After his funeral, the first time I went back to my house, I stood in my front doorway for a moment to catch my breath before I went inside, a ladybug landed on my right shoulder. Today, taking a break from writing this post, I watched a ladybug crawl in the grass right in front of me. Think I'm crazy all you want, but he's here.

 

I know why he protects me. He protects me so we can spend eternity together. He saves me from myself so that when my last day on Earth arrives, I will be able to hold him again, because I would like to think that's all he's ever wanted - just get her here, and she'll be okay. Reunite us and we'll both be whole again. And I think that's why my soul searches for his. It longs to fill a void he left, to make myself whole again.

So tomorrow, on his birthday, I will go to where his body rests and I will tell him thank you. I will thank him for being him and I will thank him for protecting me in all the ways I didn't know I needed and I will thank him for showing his spirit still holds me even though his arms no longer do.

Because my soul searches for his and in the smallest of moments it is found, it is well with my soul. 

 

 

Ten Minutes With You

Ten Minutes With You

 

If I had 10 minutes with you, what would I say?

Would it surprise you if I said nothing, other than I love you?

I would just sit and stare at you.

I would take in every inch of your tiny body.

I would memorize the shape of your eyes, mouth and nose.

I would breathe in your scent.

I would hold your hands and stroke your skin.

I would hug and hold you and wish those 10 minutes would last for eternity.

But then how could I let you go?

I would scream and cry and beg you to stay.

My child, I may not have that gift of time, but I will always have you.

You will live in my heart, until the day I die.

And when I have taken my last breath, please be waiting at the Heavenly gates.

I will run to you and sweep you up in my arms, we will swirl and laugh and giggle.

From that moment on we will be together forever.

-Z Clark-Coates

 

 

Things People Need To Stop Doing At The Bar

This blog post was a special request and group effort with the lovely Mallory. We realized we're no longer 21 and there are certain things that adults who partake in the bar scene occasionally should not being doing. If you are between the ages of 21 and 25, you get a free pass, although we will point, stare, laugh and write a blog post about it. We pondered, we thought, we processed and below is our list of things people should immediately stop doing at the bar.

 

1. Don't be rude. We understand that when alcohol is involved we tend to let our mouths run freely. Fine. That doesn't mean that your rudeness is acceptable. For instance: if you walk up to two lovely women who are sitting alone and try to strike up a conversation and it's obvious neither are interested in you, we're not being rude, we're just simply not interested. When you walk away that doesn't give you the right to tell the one girl that told you she wasn't interested that her friend is prettier than her anyway. Chances are, the one you were rude to was the nice one. The other girl sitting there didn't even acknowledge your presence and probably would have told you to your face to fuck off.

 

2. Stop invading people's personal space. If you're a stranger and you would like to meet someone, fine. Be nice. DO NOT speak to them three inches from their face. I don't know you and your breath smells like Yaeger and bad decisions.

 

3. Girls, if you can't handle the shoes you are wearing and within two hours of being at the bar you're walking about the nasty floor that's had drinks spilled on it, thrown up on and has ashes all over it, don't wear those shoes. Sensible shoes ladies. Because I know for a fact when you get home you will be too intoxicated to remember to wash your feet before you crawl into bed. Disgusting.

 

4. Do not be rude to your bartender. Wait your turn. Do not yell at them or wave your money in their face to get their attention. You will automatically become the last person they serve.

 

5. Tip your bartender well for a job well done. She makes awesome shots? Good. Tip her well. There's no telling how many drunken assholes she has to put up with every night.

 

6. Also, regarding bartenders, sure, ask her for her number you drunken piece of shit that was falling down when you left, I bet she'll call you. Not. You look like a fool.

 

7. If you are with your man or significant other, go dance, have a blast, I support you. But if you and your man look like you are about to procreate on the dance floor, please, for the sake of everybody's eyes, take that shit home or to your car. I don't care where, just somewhere other than here.

 

8. Also, on that note, if you are doing nothing but sitting in the corner sucking face with the guy/girl you're with, I will secretly stand beside you and photobomb you and post it on social media. Get a grip. Everybody gets makeout happy when they're drunk, just do it out of the public eye.

 

9. If you can only squat like it's warm, then don't get in the middle of the dance floor and attempt to drop it like it's hot. It's not and you will go home alone.

 

10. If there is a pool table and you think you're hot shit and ask me to play and I tell you "I'm better than you think." Do not insist that I play you then get mad when I beat you and take your money. Because I will and I won't feel bad about it.

 

11. Don't be a thirsty girl. If you're single and you see an attractive potential mate, for God's sake, have some class. Do not, I repeat, do not let me catch you asking a guy "do you want to see my titties?" He might want to see them and he might take you home, but you'll never hear from him again.

 

12. Girls, if you have to pee at a bar and you insist on hovering (we all do), but sometimes at a moment of "I've really had too much" then just sit your ass down. You won't remember it anyway and I don't want to have to come in behind you and wipe your pee off the toilet.

 

13. If you're too drunk to stand up, here's a thought, sit your drunk ass down instead of running into people and bouncing around a crowed bar like a damn ball in a pinball machine while you spill the remainder of your drink all over everybody you run into.

 

14. If someone you're trying to hit on tells you "I'm sorry, I'm really flattered but I have a boyfriend, girlfriend, fiancee, husband, wife," that does not mean you need to try harder. That means you're a disrespectful cunt.

 

15. If you take shots and you've reached that point where they don't go down smoothly, and after you throw one back you do the "hand over mouth, wait no, I got it, I'm good," that's your last shot.

 

16. When dancing, if you do, in fact, drop it like it's hot and you end up on your face, your dancing for the night is over.

 

17. If you "only smoke when you drink" you're allowed to bum one cigarette per person. After that you're just an annoying asshole and I didn't come to the bar tonight to satisfy your nicotine fix, repeatedly. If you know you're going to be drinking, hit a gas station on the way and buy your own damn cigarettes.

 

18. It is not your friend's job to keep up with your shit. If you can't keep up with your own ID, credit cards, cash, cigarettes, keys, etc., we will let you leave them at the bar.

 

19. Guys, if you're an angry drunk and you want to pick a fight, just don't. Simply, just don't. Grow up.

 

20. Girls, help your girlfriends out. If they look like a drunken fool with no shoes on, black eye makeup all over their face, peed their pants, and busted their face on the dance floor, take their drunk ass home. Even if you want to stay and have a good time, if they're at that point, take them home. They will hate you for letting them make a fool of themselves. #girlcode

 

21. Know who you're going home with. If you want to have a one night stand with a stranger, fine by me, but don't come crying to me when you get locked in someone's basement. Use your judgment or better yet, go to the bar with people you trust that won't let you make that decision in the first place.

 

22. If you pass out at the bar, people will take pictures. You can't be mad. #sorrynotsorry

 

23. If someone tells you they don't want to dance with you, that is not your cue to physically put your hands on them and try to drag them to the dance floor. I, for one, will punch you in your drunk face if you touch me.

 

24. Better yet, if you don't know someone, don't touch them at all.

 

25. If there's a line at the bar waiting to get drinks and you're tired of waiting, that does not give you permission to "big boy" people out of the way. We all went to Kindergarten, wait your fucking turn.

 

26. Don't bitch about the music playing or the band. You don't like it, go somewhere else. Nobody is forcing you to stay. But now you are forcing me to listen to you bitch. Go on somewhere.

27. Crying at the bar. OMG, stop. The bar is for people to go and drink and have a good time with friends. It's a happy place. It is NOT your weekly therapy session.

28. If you cannot speak a coherent sentence, then the age old Japanese artform of Karaoke is not for you. Sit down and shut your mouth.

29. If you and your girlfriends want to get out and take over the entire dance floor, fine. When others are trying to dance, do not form a dance circle around the guy another girl is with. Y'all are all bitches and it's not funny.

30. And last, but not least, do not try to drive your drunk ass home. Call a fucking cab. Seriously.

Look, we've all been there before, myself included. We've all been the "drunk guy" but at some point we have to ask ourselves, aren't we a little too old for this? When you're in your late 20s +, your time to act like a complete ass at the bar has come and gone. Should have taken advantage of it then.

Don't be this guy. Know your limit.

 

Grief Blankets

How people cope with losing a child is different person to person. How people cope with any kind of grief is different person to person. Here's how I have managed to NOT cope with my grief.

 

But first, some backstory. My son died in February of 2013. He was 1 year, 1 month and 1 week old. I had him for 404 days. That's it. He was murdered in my home that I still live in to this day. His room is the same as he left it. His clothes are still folded in his dresser and hang in the closet. His toys are still scattered about the floor. His pacifiers are still in my kitchen drawer and I just recently threw away his baby formula that was still in my pantry.

 

When he died, I was in shock. Period. Shock. Comfortably numb. I went back to work after one week with no hesitation. I refused any medication that anybody wanted to give me. I didn't want to make myself numb, although I understand now that I already was, probably wouldn't have hurt anything. But I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel his loss. I wanted to cry about it and be upset. I felt I owed him that, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't cry at his visitation, I couldn't cry at his funeral. Comfortably numb. My brain refused my efforts to pause my life and grieve. Maybe it's a mom thing. Maybe it was my way of protecting my other child, just take it one step at a time momma, live as normally as possible so this doesn't screw her up anymore.

 

So that was my first grief blanket. Shock. Numbness. Total lack of emotion. Thinking to myself: I can totally do this. I can totally survive this in one piece. Then, 7 months after he died... a knock on the door. My mom woke me from a deep, Nyquil induced sleep (I had an awful cold) to let me know a representative from the Sheriff's Department wanted to talk to us. We sat at my parents' kitchen table and was told that what we thought was an accident, wasn't. Plain and simple. All in my face. Here's the medical evidence, here's what was said happened, and here's the discrepancies. Anger. So much anger. The first words out of my mouth were "I want the motherfucker dead."

 

Anger was my second grief blanket. It covered up the sad. It replaced the numb. Anger. Never have I been so scared of a single emotion. So scared that I retreated. Retreated and hid in the safety of my home for months at a time. So scared that I might see this person in public and wondering who on this Earth would have the power to stop me should I get my hands around his neck. Scary anger. But anger I could deal with. Ok. Dealt with. Then came meetings with attorneys, court dates and being around more cops than I prefer. Blanket three.

 

I call this blanket "The Unhealthy Obsession." It was hours and days pouring over every detail of his death, reading and rereading court documents, searching for court cases that mirrored my own, googling overturned verdicts in cases like mine and generally trying to attorney my son's case myself. An unhealthy legal education. I poured over medical information that I did not understand. I read countless legal opinions. Numerous articles with medical backing that said Shaken Baby Syndrome did not exist. That's just one factor that contributed to his death, but not the only factor. Read, reread and overanalyzed everything he said to me after my son's death. This went on for a year. Blanketing my emotions with an obsession. The Unhealthy Obsession. Anything that would distract my mind from raw, real emotions. Then we won. Happiness. Justice. Wait. Shit. Now what? Well "now what" is currently right now.

 

It's like someone ripped the sutures out of my heart and I am now bleeding out on the table. Emotions out of nowhere. Emotions I have never felt before. Emotions I don't know what to do with. It's sadness, anger, guilt, depression and anxiety all rolled into one. Shit. Drugs. I need the drugs. Drugs would probably be a good option at this point. I still say no. But in my mind I thought I had already done the work to cope with losing my son and by now I should just be doing "follow up work." You know, the every so often breakdowns on holidays, anniversaries and birthdays? Apparently not. And apparently I'm not the only person that thought I was coping well with losing my son.

 

You suddenly realize that people don't want to talk about it anymore or they seem to veer off subject when you bring up your child's name. You realize that people cut you slack in the beginning with your emotional outbursts or your unkind words or inability to pay attention, but now that they assume you're "over it," they are less forgiving. But what if I was more okay in the beginning than I am now? Where is this timetable that other people have for grief? Is it online? Was it sent out via email? Maybe I should check my junk mail. Because that's what it is. Junk.

 

I have become that person. That person that buried her emotions so deep down in her soul that it took her almost two years to bring those emotions to the surface. So to my friends and family, I apologize. I'm sorry for being cold. I'm sorry for being emotionless to you. I'm sorry I don't pay attention when you speak. I'm sorry I say hurtful things without thinking. I'm sorry I don't consider your feelings first before my own. And I'm sorry that you don't understand. Actually, I'm not sorry about that. I hope none of you ever understand what this is like. It's emotionally crippling. It's word vomit when I should be silent and tears when I should be happy.

 

I am stalled out in an emotional hell that rears it's ugly head on a daily basis. When will it get better? Valid question. Apparently, I am stupid or smart enough (not sure which one) to NOT have dealt with this in the beginning so I can emotionally cripple my life and the ones in it to deal with something that should have been dealt with two years ago. Awesome. Sometimes, I have a really fucked up way of coping. I wish I could just use my normal everyday attitude and be like "fuck it, I'm over it, moving on." But grief doesn't work that way. You can move on all you want, but when that moment comes and the blankets are ripped off, grief will stop you dead in your tracks. Remember when I said I felt as though I owed it to my son to grieve his loss? Well, son, here it is, all ugly and unyielding. Grief. I hate that bitch.

 

So the two year anniversary of Keller's death is this February and I believe I am worse off now than I was in the weeks following his death. Grief Blankets - layers of warm, fuzzy comfort until they're ripped off layer by layer, then you're just left cold. Grief Blankets -  they suck.

Let Us Talk About Girlfriends

Let's take a moment to talk about girlfriends. Yeah, I said it, girlfriends. You know the ones. Those girls that have your back 24/7/365, no matter what. Here's my favorite things about my gaggle of crazy bitches who I love almost as much as my own children.

 

1.  It's a judgment free zone. No matter what. That includes sex talk, bathroom humor, I hate my job screaming telephone calls and OMG my kid is being such a little asshole right now texts. Nothing is off limits.

 

2.  You can tell each other when you're wrong or when you're acting like a cunt, but if someone else outside of the girlfriend zone calls you out, guess who's got your back... your girlfriends. Right or wrong. They got you.

 

3.  You tell them all your secrets, even the nitty gritty ones. Girls, you know which secrets I'm talking about. Those are to be shared with girlfriends only and those are the best kinds of secrets.

 

4.  Those girls you can call snot-nose crying when a boy breaks your heart and they laugh at you because you sound like a blubbering idiot and they can't wait to put you in your place and tell you to get the fuck over it and come have drinks instead of being a debby downer.

 

5.  The girls that, if you die, will immediately know what to do.

     A. Clear your browser history on cell phones, laptops, any electronic devices.

     B. Dispose of anything sexually embarrassing they know you wouldn't want your parents to find.

     C. Will insist that your funeral have a happy hour with mimosas, even though your mother says no.

     D. Prepare a eulogy starting with the words "she was the craziest bitch I ever knew."

     E. Use the embarrassing pictures from your ugly teenage years because you would do it to them.

     F. Hide the alcohol in the house so your parents don't think they raised an alcoholic.

 

6.  The girls that snuggle in the bed with you after a breakup, without talking and watch marathons of Grey's Anatomy, just because.

 

7.  The best damn bar bathroom conversations ever.

 

8.  The "do I look fat in this?" girls that will laugh and tell you "hell yeah, lay of the Pringles, fatty."

 

9.  Bad moods don't affect us. You mad? Call me a bitch and cuss me out, it'll make you feel better. Then we can go shopping.

 

10.  The girls who know and respect your wine preferences.

 

11. The girls you will offer your home to at a moments notice for a weekend staycation or a temporary breakup getaway or even for weeks or months at a time. The girls you rearrange your life for to accommodate for their well being, no matter what.

 

12. When in the 10 years you've been together, you've gone through numerous breakups, car wrecks, divorces, boyfriends, children, deaths, weddings, wedding showers, bachelorette trips, baby showers, overnight "OMG will this baby ever get here" hospital stays and you can't imagine any of them without your girls there.

 

13. The best conversations always start with "this bitch right here..."

 

14. The ones that will lie to your face when their ex is dating someone really pretty. "That bitch is tore the fuck up. Don't even worry about that bitch. She fat anyways."

 

15. You've had each other's clothes so long you have to ask to borrow your own stuff back.

 

16. There's no need to get each other birthday/Christmas gifts. You show your love in non-material ways all year long.

 

17. Periods are just normal, everyday, conversation.

 

18. Your sex life doesn't belong to only you and your partner, it belongs to you, your partner, and your gaggle of girlfriends you trust enough to tell all the details to.

 

19. The ones that when you lose the most important person in your life, a child, you can't imagine any other people you'd rather lean on. They've literally held up your entire weight to keep you from hitting rock bottom.

 

20. The ones who hold your hair back while you throw up...

 

21. Will be the same ones who are taking pictures of you throwing up and will never let you forget it.

 

22. The ones who were there for that secret one-night stand and will never tell a soul but will always crack an inside joke about it in public, just to make sure you never live it down.

 

23. The friend you tell to their face you are going to steal their kid and fly out of the country with them and deep down she knows you won't, but she still wouldn't put it past you.

 

24. You've wiped their ass and/or changed a tampon for them due to wedding dress issues and/or car wreck incapacitations.

 

25. When you go through a breakup, they'll tell you "honestly, no one liked him anyway." Whether true or not.

 

26. You've "had it out" with them more times than you can count and they'd still be there for you if you needed them. Mad as hell, but be there in a minute... like... "bitch, imma help you out, but I'm still mad."

 

27. The girls that know when you've had too much to drink, but will give you that last one anyway.

 

28. The people you miss while you're on your honeymoon. OMG, drinks are included... can you imagine the shitshow if the girls were here?

 

29. The ones who will sit beside you in a court of law.

30. The ones you've known so long, they used to write you love notes in high school and you still have them.

31. The girls you can send your random thoughts to... like talking to Giraffes.

32. The girls you trust with your children and your own life.

33. The girls that you show outward, OMG excitement for when they get engaged, but cry on the inside because someone is going to steal them away.

34. You're so close, you've talked about hemorrhoids because sometimes pushing a child out of your vagina has consequences.

35. You know that your children will be close enough so they best know better than to put you and your girlfriends in different nursing homes.

36. You and your girlfriends WILL cause problems at the nursing home and you can't wait to grow old with them.

37. If your girls don't like your dude, sometimes, you just gotta cut one loose. They were there before him and they'll be there after him... with wine and breakup food.

38. You've basically lived with them for weeks at a time just because.

39. You've drunkenly punched them in the face for trying to sober you up by shoving Wendy's chicken nuggets in your mouth so they do the only thing they can think of, slam your head in a car door. True story circa 2004.

40. The girls who know the ends and outs of your family and know exactly what you mean when you text them "my mother has been here for an hour" and they text back "oooohhhhh."

41. No matter what, they've got your back. Period. No questions asked. Ok, some questions will be asked, but at a later time, because sometimes "now" is not the time to be asking questions, bitch.

So shout out to all the great girlfriends out there who love each other and protect each other like family. The ones you've drunkenly considered just being lesbians with, minus the sex part, because it would be way easier than dating. The ones you know you could call in the event you had to bury a body. Your person. Your people. Your girlfriends are nothing less than the family you get to chose for yourself and my gaggle of bitches is pretty damn fabulous.

 

My Piece On Ferguson

I said I wouldn't comment on the events surrounding the Michael Brown case in Ferguson, Missouri, but it's hard not to. I have read numerous articles and social media posts, most of them continue to spew hatred and add fuel to the fire. Let me just say this: while everyone has a right to their opinion, I know I wasn't there. No one I know was present in the grand jury hearings. Side note: the grand jury was selected in May, I bet they had no clue the shit storm they were about to be thrown into. Poor guys. Most of the posts I've read via social media make "us," and I mean "us" as educated, non-violent, hard-working Americans, look like utter trash, from both sides of the issue.

 

I am not naive enough to believe that racism does not exist in our world today. I am well aware that it does, but I, for one, will not tolerate it. I do not practice it, I will not teach it in my home, nor will it tolerate it publicly. Until "we," as a society, learn to respect the man sitting next to us, no matter what the circumstances, we will continue to have a problem. I do not believe the heart of the Michael Brown case is rooted in racism. I believe the public outcry and public media has made this into a race issue. Take this with a grain of salt folks: Do I believe that Mr. Wilson was justified in killing Michael Brown? I don't know. I haven't read every single fact of the case, so I can't make that assessment. But I will say this: If it were me and a person of any race, sex, size or stature made me believe my life was in danger, I'd shoot. Period. That's not racist. That's fact. I only hope Mr. Wilson can justify to himself that he felt his life was in danger, because we, as Americans, do have the right to protect ourselves when we feel our life is threatened, cop or not.

 

But this is where it stands now: we have two parents mourning the loss of a son. Two parents who have been thrust into the media limelight during what is probably the most horrific time in their life. We have a veteran officer of the law who will probably never wear a badge again and a bunch of ignorant A-holes, on both sides, spewing hatred and violence thereby escalating an already tense situation.

 

So today, in the midst of all you hear on the news and social media, at what point can we all just be Americans? I'm not saying don't pick a side, you're entitled to your opinion, I'm asking at what point will the side you pick not include race as a factor? And let's be clear, I'm talking to both sides of the issue here. This post is not meant to be offensive in any way, shape or form and strictly my opinion. If you read further and I offend you, I am truly sorry. It is not my intention.

I'm talking to you, black folks, who are validating the hatred you spew on this case because your ancestors were oppressed. Valid point, sort of. Except it doesn't exist in this day and age. Your children will go to school with my children and have the same opportunity at any future they choose to pursue. On paper my child and your child are equal. Period. Now what I teach in my home and what you teach in your home may be different. If you teach your babies that they are less than, they become less than. They learn it, they believe it and they continue to teach it. No American is less than any other American. We all start equal. It's what we are taught to believe that we carry through life with us. You want your child to be less than, teach them the world is against them and they can do no better and watch them fail. Watch them perpetuate the stereotype like the looters and criminals in Ferguson. Tell them they can conquer the world and watch them strive to be better.

 

Ok white folks, your turn. Seriously? Because Mr. Brown looked a certain way he's automatically a "nigger." Excuse me. Hold on a minute. Y'all idiots got folks cooking meth in the trailer park, rotting their teeth out their heads, going on shooting sprees high on meth and you want to use a decades old moniker that might be the most offensive term ever used to describe a person? Really now? Work with me here, white folks. According to the evidence released, Michael Brown wasn't the perfect kid. He had been in some trouble. Ok. Great. Find me a white family that doesn't have problems somewhere that would constitute them being called white trash... don't worry... I'll wait. (While not equally offensive, I can't think of a word at this moment that's equally offensive as the "N" word.) But seriously, stop. Stop teaching your children to fear the black man. He is a man. Simple as that. Nothing more, nothing less. He is no scarier than the white dude who looks at you like he may or may not lock you in his basement one day. Some of the most educated, thoughtful, wealthy and kind people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting were black men. White folks, stop teaching your babies to fear what they don't know.

 

And why do we have "Black History Month?" It's my history too. We, as a society, are telling Americans they are not equal to other Americans. You are telling young, American kids that because their ancestors of a certain color were wronged by people of another color in the past, you get a whole month dedicated to your inferiority in American history, solely based on the color of your skin. No. Now wait a minute, it's not "black history," it's "American History" and we, as a society, should be past that. It's a part of all our history. No black person's more than white's. But then again, original slaves from Africa were sold by their own people, but I'm not here for a history lesson today.

My skin is light, but does that mean I'm "white?" I'm a hodgepodge of more European descent than I am willing to admit. Am I European-American? No. No more than any darker complected person I know is African-American.  I am an American. Call me "white" if you want, but I am nothing more than an American. And I damn sure am not any more of an American than the gentleman with the darker skin sitting next to me. Until we all decide we want to be Americans instead of black or white, the problem will remain. So, do you want to talk about facts in this case or do you want to talk about race? That is my piece.

40 Things That Remind Me I Am A Mom

1. I'm exhausted. Just plain exhausted. So tired.

2. I look exhausted. Those dark spot under my eyes, yeah... everybody else sees them too.

3. Those yoga pants I've been rocking, while a toddler hangs off my hip, nobody thinks I've been at the gym and I've probably been wearing the same ones for over a week.

4. There may or may not be boogers, throw up, poop or food stuck to my clothing somewhere and I don't know it yet or simply do not care.

5. My house looks like an F-2 tornado hit it. I can only hope my child steps on a Lego herself so maybe she'll pick them up.

6. I've washed and rewashed the same load of laundry multiple times because I keep forgetting to put them in the dryer. Say no to mildew.

7. The dishes I just put up from the dishwasher may or may not be clean. Not again. Crap.

8. Sometimes sleep is more important than bathing.

9. I find myself singing theme songs to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Princess Sophia and Frozen during adult activities such as work. Hotdog, hotdog, hot diggty dog. Catchy.

10. Trying to make plans with my friends is exhausting. Can we schedule a drink 3 months from now because that's when I'm free again? Nope, you have a birthday party that day? Ok, how about next summer? Oh, family vacation? How about 2016? Ok, great!! See you then.

11. Talking to me on the phone is like trying to talk to someone with Tourette's. "Yeah I can tot-IF YOU DON'T GET DOWN FROM THERE!!-ally do lunch next week.

12. I have multiple bruises and I have no idea where they came from. Maybe that night my kid slept in the bed with me and ninja'd me all night, but who knows.

13. I have flipped off my kid behind her back. Because sometimes toddlers are just little assholes.

14. I'm not exactly sure when the last time I washed my sheets was.

15. Or vacuumed.

16. I avoid looking at my bank account. So many bills. Yay, just got paid. Just gonna hop online and pay some bills.... annnnnnnnd, I'm broke. Suck it, private school.

17. My hair looks like this... and hasn't been cut in well over a year.

 

18. But my child's hair looks like this... perfect at all times.


19. I may or may not have the same shoes on. Or they may be different and I don't care.
20. Makeup, what is that?
21. I have to remind myself to eat real food, not just the 2 leftover Dino Nuggets she forgot to finish before leaving the table to destroy my house further.
22. I can't remember the last time I bought clothes for myself, but I will drop $200 quick in the children's section at Target or Gap. Belk is the devil.
23. I am a piece of furniture. I have all this nice furniture in my house so my kid can sit directly on top of me at all times.


24. Mani/pedi... you're joking, right?
25. I can't remember the last time I checked the mailbox. Maybe last week?
26. I haven't bathed without an audience since I don't remember when.
27. I use my sick/vacation days when my kid is sick, but I will most definitely work through the flu.
28. Someone is constantly farting on me. Dear Jesus, what are they feeding you at school?
29. Every time I go to the bathroom I have to flush first because my 4 year old can't grasp the concept of flushing. And I thought getting her out of diapers was hard. Teaching her to flush the toilet... seriously?
30. Stretch marks. Don't even.
31. I steal CapriSuns from my kid... they're delicious.
32. Every time I drive through a McDonald's drive thru. Disgusting. What is even in that hamburger meat? Don't tell me. I probably don't want to know.
33. I've perfected talking over someone because I constantly have to talk over my child to any grown person I am speaking to. It's an artform, really.
34. I warm her school clothes up with a hair dryer because her clothes are cold in the morning.
35. I've skipped pages in a bedtime story because I just want to go to bed myself.
36. Any time my kid says a bad word, I am reminded that I created this monster. Like the time she turned around to that poor lady at the Elmo concert and told her to "stop kicking my damn seat."
37. I know better than to try and catch vomit in my hands. Lesson learned.
38. When my child throws a temper tantrum, I'm pretty sure I am not qualified to deal with it because I am not familiar with exorcisms.
39. If I have to watch Frozen one more time, I will break the DVD.
40. And the last thing that reminds me that I'm a mom? I have an undying, never ending, unfaultering, perfect love for a little blonde haired, blue eyed girl who lights up my world every single minute of every single day and when I come home and she wraps her arms around me, with sticky banana fingers all in my hair, I am whole.

 

Is That Weird?

 

So I'm really sleep-deprived today and had a long text conversation with my homegirl, Mallory, about giraffes. Yeah, we have those conversations. You ever look at one? Like really look at one? Especially a newborn giraffe? They seem like the most chill animals on the planet. Like they give 0 fucks. At all. I would like to imagine that if I could talk to animals, especially a giraffe, this is how that conversation would go:

 

Me: "Oh, hey little dude!! Welcome to life."

Baby Giraffe: "Sup?"

 

You know, instead of a cat being like "Why do you speak, human?" in all their Satanic glory.

 

Yeah, I said it: I imagine if I could talk to animals. Is that weird? I don't care. I need to use the sleep.

Life and Baseball

At what point does life get easier? Is it when we figure out everything, because I'm not sure I'll ever know everything. Is it when we realize that bills can be drafted automatically, because that sure made life easier. Or caller ID? I'm pretty sure that was a solid win for everybody. Is it when we learn to care less? Is it when we learn to let people walk in and out of our lives freely without batting an eyelash? I can see where that would take away stress. Take away the care, take away the stress. Is that how things work now? You're just supposed to be oblivious to your feelings? Remove the feelings, take away the hurt?

The funny thing about life is, it doesn't get easier. Seems like the older you get, the harder it gets. You learn more about yourself, know yourself better, allow yourself to be more aware of your feelings, allow yourself to become vulnerable to things you think you understand and then you get hurt. Seems like a never ending cycle... this grief that overpowers your life. Grief for different reasons, but grief nonetheless. You grieve the loss of loved ones, the loss of relationships, loss of opportunities, all of those things you grieve and you grieve them differently.

The loss of a child is life long. You have time to think it through, mull over it, because you will live it every single day. You have time to grieve. But what about relationships? Are they like a band-aid, you just rip them off, give yourself a few days to cry it out and then get over it? Drink yourself silly, watch marathons of Grey's Anatomy and then, put your big girl panties on and go about life? Because nobody has time to feel sorry for you because your boyfriend left you or because your parents don't seem to care anymore, or because you missed an opportunity to better yourself. Nobody feels sorry for you. But what if your grief is all wrapped up in one? What if it's more like a slow cancer than a band-aid? What if your feelings don't allow you to differentiate? Then what? You stay stuck in a constant moment of despair? That sucks.

What if there was a "tear ceiling?" Like, okay, I've cried X amount of tears, I'm done with this situation, move on? That would be wonderful. But life's not like that and life doesn't care that you've been hurt more than the next person or you've cried more than this person. Life doesn't give a shit. It continues to throw you curve balls and basically tells you to step up to the plate and do the best you can. That sucks too.

Like that brief moment when you think you have it all together, you're happy, you're content and life says "hold up, I'm not done pitching yet, here's my curve ball." Crap. Can I have a pinch hitter? Because I can't hit for shit right now. How many times do we have to strike out before life decides to throw us a slow one right down the middle? I am in dyer need of that pitch right now.

Sesame Street Live, Responsibilities, And Keepin It Real

Fun filled Wednesday with Sesame Street Live.
P.S. Cookie Monster stole the show. Screw Elmo.

Lots going on this past week. Like so much. We sat through an hour and a half of live Sesame Street. Let me just explain something real quick. I have a weird phobia of masks, painted faces and anything covering someone's real features on their face. Sitting through this is like sitting through my own personal Halloween nightmare. Awful. Thank God we were sitting dead center of the middle section so when these demon things walked down to hug and visit kids who were seated in aisle seats, they were nowhere close to me. Thank goodness for that. Other than that, it went really smoothly... until some asshole was selling balloons in the lobby as we left. ALL OUT MELTDOWN. Kill me. We were so close to making it out with no tears. So I told my child what any quick thinking mom would tell their screaming child "Tyler Grace, you know who gets balloons? When do you get balloons? That's right. On your birthday. Is it your birthday? No? Then maybe next time. I bet every single one of those kids have birthdays today." Bullet dodged. She told every child with a balloon walking out the door "Happy Birthday." Don't look at me like that judgemental parent, tell your brat to say "thank you" and walk off. Don't ask questions.

Totally excited to see Sesame Street.

Another thing I learned, kids' shit is expensive. Let's run down the total cost for taking a child to see Sesame Street Live:

3 Tickets: $120.00

Valet Parking: $13

2 Cokes & 1 Popcorn: $8

Cotton Candy: $5

That brings the total to $146.00 for an hour and a half with a 15 minute intermission. So 1 hour and 15 minutes to entertain my child. Wow. That's pretty steep. But she loved it and that's the reason I get up and go to work every day, so she can be able to do things like that. Even though it's not my favorite.

 

Another funny from Tuesday night. I met up with my mom and TG after ballet class at Cici's Pizza for some, stuff my face until I'm miserable, food. Probably shouldn't have ate those last two pieces. But whatever. We get home. She's supposed to be in bed. Haha, yeah, right. I walk in and what is she doing? Blowing up swimmies to wear to bed. You can't make this shit up. She wants to wear swimmies to bed. Ok, Mom, think. Is it cool that she's blowing up swimmies, absolutely. But what in tarnation am I going to do when she falls asleep with these things on and I have to get these things off her arm without waking her up? Yeah. So, crying, kicking and screaming ensues... her, not me and we finally wrangle these things off her arms and in to bed she goes. Two hours later... she's still up watching Netflix. A girl after my own heart.

Swimmies are awesome for bedtime.

Also this week, she has learned how to stick a straw through a CapriSun. Now this can be good or bad. Not sure. Before, I knew every time she snuck in the kitchen to get one because I would have to stick the straw in. Now, I'm no use. What am I even here for? She can reach the Poptarts, stick a straw in a CapriSun, wipe her own ass and brush her own teeth. Maybe this weekend we'll attempt to tackle learning to tie shoes. She can't wear velcro forever. My job is done.

 

With all the super exciting things we've accomplished this week, it's time for a break. A short break, but a break nonetheless. I've been married with kids and I've been single with kids. It's easier when there's two people helping. Trust me on this one. So tonight I've enlisted the help of the "Baby Daddy." After work, I will drive 45 minutes home to pick up Miss TG, pack our bags and head to GA to invade the "Baby Daddy's" apartment for the entire weekend.

 

Awesome. What's that mean? That means I get to sleep late tomorrow. That means she gets to see both of us, together. We do this at least once every 3 or so months and I'll tell you why. We get along, better than most ex's, it's never been weird or uncomfortable. It just is what it is. We were friends before we were "together" and we're friends now and co-parents. I think it's important for Tyler to see us together in a family setting, understand that mommy and daddy are a team and to never try to use us against each other when she's a teenager, because we will not have that shit. Ever. Sure, we differ on opinions of things, but never in front of her. Ever. We will hash that shit out privately and come to her later with an agreed upon decision and an unbreakable united front. Don't argue about crap in front of your babies. They know more than you think they do.

 

So shout out to all the single mommas, single dads, co-parents, blended families, step parents and everything in between who keep it real. Always remember who comes first. You make sacrifices for those you love, especially for your children, even if that means playing nice with someone you'd like to punch in the face on occasion. Occasions like joint birthday parties... see below. 

 

Generally how we feel most of the time at joint birthday parties for Tyler Grace.
Me: Oh, cute, a picture. Smile pretty. Act like you don't want to kill everyone here.
Evan: Keepin it real and telling everybody how we both really feel.

We do them together for her, definitely not for us. We do it because until she's a grown up, no matter who E and I are with, we still have to remain a family unit for her. That's OUR family. No one else's. If I ever get married again, he HAS to know that her dad will be present for Trick-or-Treating, Christmas, Birthdays, School Plays, Softball Games, Gymnastic Meets, Dance Recitals, Soccer Matches, Football Games and Volleyball Tournaments... every... single... time... sitting on the other side of me, "big-boy'ing" you out of the way. Dear Future New Husband, you're always invited and you're part of a new family, but I have a "Pre-Started" family and it comes with obligations that suck and that aren't for the faint of heart. Sometimes we don't like it and wish we had made babies with someone else, but we didn't. E and I started this family and we're determined to finish raising her... together... as her parents... the best we can... even when we don't like it.

 

So, Baby Daddy, thanks for letting us crash your pad this weekend because we needed a "get away" and for letting us turn it into a girls' paradise complete with hairdryers, straighteners, weird smelling shampoos and whatnot, makeup, fingernail polish and Taylor Swift. And also, for probably feeding us and buying me beer. It's much needed.

 

Also this week, Happy Birthday to this gem.

 

The Dreaded Christmas Card

2014 Christmas Card

Now's the dreaded time of the year to send out Christmas cards showing your perfect family doing perfect things. I loathe it every, single year. Can we at least have realistic cards where you open it and instead of music, it's my 4 year old screaming because she can't have candy before bed? I vote for those cards. Let people really know what's going on with us. Christmas card time also makes me sad. It makes me sad that we're missing a member of our family. The baby of our family. Last year was the first year I sent out Christmas cards since Tyler was a baby. We sent out that one in 2010, but my Shutterfly account seems to have forgotten about that one. But I decided to send one last year. The previous year, Keller was a baby and quite frankly, I just forgot to do it. The year before that, I was "about to pop" pregnant with Keller, he was born on December 30. I don't even think I decorated a tree that year. Pregnancy Problems. But nonetheless, last year and this year I pressed on.

 

2013 Christmas Card.
 

But it makes me sad that I'm missing part of my family. Makes me sad that I'll never have a Christmas card with him on it. Sure, I've got tons of pictures of him. Moments of his life frozen in time that I'll cherish forever. But you always regret the little things. It's the little things that eat you up the most. I do my best to not let them get to me, but on dreaded Christmas card day, it does. Halloween too for some reason. All the kids dressed up makes me sad. The year he died, I had already planned their Halloween costumes. Tyler Grace was really into any princess, so respectfully, they would be the princess and the frog. Genius, I know. Not really.

 

So I guess it's the milestones I miss the most. Him only having one of each. One birthday, one Christmas, one Easter, one Halloween... only one. Imagine that for a second as a parent. All you want in life is to give them everything they need to be happy. He was only allowed one of each. That breaks my heart for him in every way possible. I wanted so much more for him than only one.

 

I hate I'll never have a Christmas card with Keller on it and I hate even more that he's not on ours this year.

Bass Pro before meeting Santa for the first and last time in 2011.

 

"May your family share laughter.

Your songs always play.

May your wishes come true, even those left unprayed.

Hand on my shoulder, gentle cloud on the hill.

May your heart's doors be open forever and ever.

May you glass, it be filled."

-Widespread Panic-