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-

Elmo Madness

So today I bought my child, myself and my mother tickets to see Sesame Street Live... for $120.00. Really? Kids are expensive as shit. For $120, Elmo better buy me dinner and a drink. We went year before last and let's just say, it didn't go so well...

 

Pre-Elmo Excitement

It's gonna be great, right? What could go wrong?

Let's set the scene. We're all pumped up about Elmo!! It's all we've been talking about for the 2 weeks prior. We get to the MPAC and it's packed. My kid is in the middle of potty training. After fighting the crowds of people with other tiny humans to enter the MPAC, she immediately wants to buy something. So we buy... wait for it... worst decision ever... an Elmo kickball. Whoops. Not my best idea. Then, right on schedule, she has to pee. Cue frustrated mom... now. We make our way to the bathroom with swarms of other frustrated moms with tiny, potty training toddlers and all we can do is give each other a look of "glad I'm not the only idiot who thought this was a good idea."

#thatmomentyouimmediatelyregretadecision

 

So, I pee the tiny human and make our way into the venue to find our seats. My mother purchased the seats online and actually got us really good seats. We're on the 4th row on the right side of the stage. Awesome seats!! Thanks, mom. She's pumped!! Wait... only for a second... now she wants popcorn. Ok. Great. I take her hand and we make our way through the crowds of people being seated, out of the theater and to the concession stand for popcorn and Sprite. Ok. Done. I notice other parents are buying alcohol. Noted. Parents who are smarter than I. *High Five* to those parents that night. I'm sure the night was, at least, tolerable for you. I was driving, so no Mommy drinks for me. 

 

We make our way back down to our seats. Dim the lights... awesome. She's about to be the happiest toddler on the planet, right? Not exactly.

 

Her initial reaction to all the characters on stage. FML.

Her reaction when Elmo comes down off stage to say hey. Not her finest moment.


 

My child has now cried through the first 10 minutes of the opening number and in my head I'm thinking "I'm pretty sure we should just leave at this point." But not to be defeated, we press on... crying and all. For over 2 hours.

 

After the show is over and having asked her numerous times, "Do you need to tee-tee?" we leave. We had valet parked our vehicle and mom jumped in the driver's side of my Volvo SUV. Guess what? Now she has to pee. I said, "Mom, just pull over at the Renaissance and I'll run her in and let her pee." Awesome. We press on, into the hotel and find the bathroom. All good. Great. Please, sweet baby Jesus, let's go home. We get in, buckled up and ready to go. Mom pulls off and without thinking or paying any sort of attention whatsoever, she runs the driver's side door of my brand new 2013 Volvo SUV down a concrete pole. Huge dent, paint gone. FML. Kill me now. Ok Mommy... try to be calm, it's only a car, don't get upset in front of your child, material things can be replaced, thank goodness we weren't in a real wreck. But let's be real... you just ran my $60,000 brand new SUV against a concrete pole. What in the actual fuck? Fuck.

 

So this is what I learned from our first experience with Elmo: My kid would rather have popcorn and Sprite and kick around an Elmo kickball than actually see Elmo in person, never let my mother drive and next time, buy the alcohol. Let's hope this year goes better than the last time.



To My Sort Of Veteran...

To my sort of Veteran:

 

You're not a Veteran, per say, because you aren't active military, nor have you yet to be discharged in some form other than dishonorably, and your National Guard status doesn't consider you a Veteran. Trust me, I googled this shit. But I did want to honor you on Veteran's Day because you're nothing short of my hero.

 

I've watched you go from a smiling, brown haired, brown eyed, curious child to an intelligent, genuine, kind-hearted, beautiful young lady.

 

 

I have beamed with "big sister pride" watching you be a stand out softball player, a cheerleader, a Homecoming Queen, a beauty queen, a wonderful aunt, a friend any girl would be jealous of and a heartbreaker. 

Miss Congeniality. Miss LHS pageant 2013.

Luverne High School Homecoming Queen 2013

 

 

Just making memories in Seaside.

Girls beach trip to Seaside 2014.
 

 

You have inspired me in ways you will never know. From your no nonsense attitude to your uncanny ability to always see the bright side of things, you have been a sense of comfort and peace in my life. You have made me a better person and you have made me believe in family again. You've made me believe that no matter how shitty your family can be sometimes, we make it through, in one piece, together, with love in our hearts for each other and endless forgiveness.

It's really difficult to get everyone to participate at the same time.

 

I wish I could tell you how much I boo-hoo'd when you decided to forego the college experience, only because I wanted to live vicariously through you, and sign up for the military. I cried because I thought I wanted so much more for you. I cried because I thought "how could this beautiful, smart, young woman want to trade cheerleading uniforms and crowns for camo and kevlar." But I was wrong. So very wrong.

 

I have seen a significant change in you since you joined the Army. I've seen a sense of pride and responsibility that you did not before possess. I don't know if the Army taught you that, or you've just grown up so much in the past year. Either way, I am an incredibly proud big sister.

 

But I worry about you. I worry about you getting called to deploy. It literally scares me to tears, but that's the path you took. You took that path knowing the possibilities and stared them in the face with no fear and I admire you for your strength. I am jealous of your strength.

 

Not only am I jealous of your strength as a military woman, but as a woman in general. I'm sure childhood at times wasn't easy but you've endured with a sense of pride and humility that few people carry with them into adulthood. You are giving and loving, a quality few adults these days have and I am humbled by your loving nature.

 

Your personality has become as big as your ass (forgive me, I couldn't help myself) and your loud, outspoken, often innappropriate shenanigans are a constant source of laughter in my day. Not a day goes by that I don't receive some absolutely stupid snapchat or text from you. You've grown up so much that I'm not sure my big sister advice is needed much longer and that makes me sad. But to see the woman you've become makes me oh so proud.

I could never go 3 months without you ever again. Don't make me.

 

I will love you my whole life and look forward to spending the next 70 years or so being best friends. So to my sort of Veteran, my baby sister and my heartbeat: I love you. Happy Veteran's Day... sort of.

Moms And Driving... Don't Be A Dick

For most of us moms, driving in the car alone is either a blessing or a curse. It can be a place of quiet solitude or listening to whatever the hell you want and not Taylor Swift on repeat, but that’s my struggle. Maybe yours is different. I hope so. Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off” is miserable after 171,482 (yes, that’s a specific number) times. But, behold, there are ways that you, the general driving population, can make this a more pleasurable driving experience for us moms.

I’ve polled numerous moms and for most of us driving to and from work without our beloved children is a time to have uninterrupted thought process or a short time to zone out and not think about anything. Regardless of which it is, assholes that we travel along roads with make this increasingly difficult.

If you are reading the news on your IPad while driving, I hate you. Same goes for the actual paper newspaper. If you are putting your makeup on because you are late for work and insist on trying to do it in my lane of traffic, I hate you. If you are shaving in your vehicle, it just makes me want to swerve into your lane and hit you so you’ll cut your jugular and bleed out. One less asshole on the road. If you are on your cell phone in a brand new Mercedes Benz with an “I need to speak to your manager” haircut, I hate you. I’m not stupid, I know that $50,000 vehicle is capable of hands-free. Nobody cares you now carry an IPhone 6 instead of a 5. Nobody.

If your music is so goddamn loud that I can’t hear myself think, you should probably see a doctor about your hearing problems and I hate you. If you are trying to fly swat your children in the backseat while simultaneously swerving into my lane, I hate you. If you are too busy staring at the wreck on the side of the road that you cannot drive the speed limit, pull off the road, stop and kill yourself. If you insist on “Mexican road blocking” me to talk to your friend, please get out and run because I will kill you. It is not the social hour, it is the get the fuck out of my way so I’m not late for work hour.

If you have no idea where you are going, please have no idea where you are going sometime other than rush hour. There is a turning lane the majority of the way down 231, if you brake before you ever turn your blinker on, I hate you. The turning lane is for you to get into to not impede the flow of traffic. You braking 200 yards before you even get in the turning lane makes me want to ram my vehicle into the rear of yours and then drive off.

If you drive a Ford F350 and haul a backhoe, do us all a favor and learn that the drive-thru is not for you. Not ever. Especially not at 7:30 a.m. I’m sure you need your coffee just as much as I do, but you’re holding up the McDonald’s line and you are the definition of an asshole. If I look in my rear-view mirror and all I can see is the top of your head and no headlights, I will brake check the fuck out of you. Back the fuck off crazy person. I promise you don’t want to eat the ass end of my Volvo SUV.

So PSA to morning and evening commuters, don’t drive like an asshole. I’m trying to have the few moments of quiet that I’m allowed every day and you make me want to scream. Can we collectively agree that assholes on the road need to be stopped? I think so. Especially for those of us moms who are trying to enjoy some quiet time instead of feeling like we’re taking a defensive driving class every single morning. Seriously guys, stop being assholes. Drive like you have some damn sense. Or not, I don't care, but pay the price.

The Dentist And The Elephant

So today, TG went to the dentist, among other things. But first, the dentist.

She did surprisingly well considering someone had sharp objects near her face and there was no blood or tears. But this child, I swear, cannot, for any reason, keep her hands off things that aren’t hers. I’m actually surprised she didn’t burn down the dentist’s office. She is now 4 years strong with no cavities. I’m 28 and never had a cavity so she’s got a little bit to go before she’s in my league, but nonetheless, she’s doing alright. Even on the weekends when she lies about brushing her teeth. Child, you are in my face 24/7, I know if you didn’t brush your teeth. Don’t lie.

She also said “ass” which was hilarious. Mallory said she had never had a patient play with her hair and caress her face while she cleaned their teeth. First time for everything, Mal.
 

Afterwards, as a reward for behaving for Miss Mallory, she got to go to the mall and ride the carousel… twice, alone. Yay for kids wanting to do things like that alone. I will literally throw up my lunch if I even look at that stupid thing too long. Then, what does she want? A pretzel. Awesome. Gimme, gimme, gimme, that sweet, salty goodness with extra fake cheese sauce. We get our pretzels and proceed to sit down at the table and eat. Nope. Apparently not.

Me: “TG, what are you doing? You’re just sitting in the middle of the mall floor. That’s gross. What are you doing?”

TG: “I’m just sitting.”

Me: “Well please get up, it’s gross.”

TG: “Nope, I’m having a breakdown. I’ll come sit at the table in a minute.”

Me: “Umm… okay.”

So I just stand there, in the middle of the mall while my kid sits in the floor with her mixed lemonade/strawberry freeze and sorts something out in her mind. Like… just standing there… while she sits… Indian style… in the mall floor next to Auntie Annie’s Pretzels. No tears, no talking, just sitting.

Is my kid having a mental breakdown in Eastdale Mall? What’s happening here? After about 5 minutes, she stands up, looks at me and says “Ok, I’m good now. Let’s sit at the table.” And we did. We sat, we ate. I asked her what she was having a breakdown about and she said “nothing.” Nothing like, it’s none of my business or nothing like, I was just thinking and I needed a minute? I’m not ready for nothing, it’s none of my business. If I still occasionally have to wipe your ass, it’s still my business.

Side note: I am a Bama fan and Evan an Auburn fan. I do my best to accommodate for her to be an Auburn fan, but for very good reason. When that boy breaks her heart when she’s 19, Auburn is a hell of a lot closer than Tuscaloosa. I have sang the fight song, taught her the cheers and suppressed my cheering for my beloved Tide all in preparation of her going to school at Auburn. BUT today, passing by Bama Fever/Tiger Pride, she wouldn’t leave until she took home an elephant. Not going to lie, I smiled a little bit.

Things You Should Immediately Stop Saying To Strangers

Here are some things you should stop saying immediately before someone punches you in the face:

1. You look pretty with makeup on. Sorry, was I ugly yesterday without it? It's my face. Shut up.

2. You did your hair today, what's the occasion? Umm... my kid allowed me to go to bed on time, therefore waking up on time and she actually got herself ready today. Shut up.

3. You're too pretty to be single. Yeah? Well, I'm crazy so I win. Shut up.

4. You're too young to be hurting like that. My kid is 45 pounds. I have all this nice furniture in my house so my kid can sit directly on top of me. She's heavy. Shut up.

5. When are you having another baby? None of your damn business. My vagina, my business. Shut up.

6. When are you getting married again? Never. Shut up.

 

7. Your eyes are so pretty. Thanks. Now stop staring at them, it's creeping me out. Shut up.

 

8. You're so skinny. Do you ever eat? Yes. Like a grown ass man hostage. Every single damn day. Shut up.

 

9. You're so short. I'm aware. I've known me my whole life. Yes, I can ride the roller coasters. Shut up.

 

10. You're too young to be tired. I'm a single mom with a 4 year old. Oh, I also have this gig on the side called a full-time job. Shut up.

 

11. You're so sarcastic. Nope, I'm just mean and people think I'm joking. Kidding. Maybe. Shut up.

 

12. You're so nice. No, I'm not. I would punch you in the face if it were socially acceptable, but it's not. Shut up.

 

13. I bet your parents pay for your car. Nope. Perks of having good credit. Shut up.

 

14. I bet your parents pay all your bills. Nope. I'm not a moron. Budgeting is not that hard. Shut up.

 

15. You look good in (insert certain color). I'm sorry. Do I look terrible in all the others? Shut up.

16. Why are you wearing your sunglasses inside a store? Because I obviously don't want to be bothered or I would look you in your face sans sunglasses. Shut up.

17. Your little sister is precious!! That's my kid. I'm 28, not 12. Shut up.

18: Well, she doesn't look anything like you!! Thanks? How am I even supposed to take that? Just shut up.

19. OMG!! Your hair is sooooo long. Yup... I have eyes and I can use them. How long did it take you to grow it out? Really? It's been growing my whole life. Shut up.

20. When guys say "you're really intimidating." Don't be such a little bitch. Shut up.

 

21. And last but not least... my favorite - SMILE! Seriously? It's called resting bitch face and it keeps me from getting wrinkles. Otherwise, it's just how my face looks. SHUT UP!!

Because you will get this face every, single fucking time.

Co-Parenting, Dreaded Weekends Alone And My Superman

Being divorced is never what I wanted for my children, but it happens and it is what it is. It's frustrating yet rewarding. My marriage didn't work out, but our co-parenting did. I feel like I picked the perfect person to have children with. Maybe not the perfect husband, but definitely the perfect father. He's not perfect all the time, but he lives for this little girl and I couldn't have asked for a better co-parent. It's not always perfect and there's HUGE speed bumps along the way, but he's a constant presence in our everyday lives even from another state.

 

I hate weekends without her. It's lonely and sad and I miss her more than words. I get to be her mom every single day of the week, with the exception of four or so days out of the month and that's okay with me. Some weeks I need that two day escape, some days I don't. This weekend I wanted her home. I was so incredibly bored and just wanted someone to play with. I know she had an awesome weekend with her dad. They rode bikes, ate good food and probably stayed up way too late playing. He gets to be the fun parent and I gladly give him that.

 

It's never been about the child support. He pays me when he's able and that's okay with me. I promised myself when we divorced that I would never make sharing her about the money and it never has been. Sure, the money is great when I get it, but she's mine. I take full responsibility for her 24/7. She's my child and I am her mom. She's mine to take care of and I make it my sole responsibility financially. I don't bitch at him when he doesn't send money. That's fine. He does what he can, when he can and that's alright by me. He buys her clothes for his house, takes her to do fun things when they're together, and that's enough for me. She's happy and taken care of and that's all that matters to me.

 

I'm a huge proponent of single, divorced dads. I believe that you divorce your spouse, not your children and not your money. If I call him and say hey "I need this amount of money for her to take dance lessons" he's right there helping in every way he can. It's never about the money. As long as he's front and center for every dance recital, soccer game, school play, and any major event in her life, then he's all he needs to be as a dad. Being a dad is not about financial support. It's about being there for your children. I'm not saying they shouldn't do their part, I'm just saying that if their part isn't being financially supportive, then they can make up for it in other ways and he does that 100%. I will never, ever complain that I don't get what I'm owed according to the State of Alabama. We do things our own way and we refuse to have some Judge who doesn't know us meddle in our business. He's a constant support to me when I need him and a great father to Tyler.

 

She adores him. He's her hero and she thinks he hung the moon and that's the way it should be. Co-parenting isn't easy, but we've managed to each make sacrifices for Tyler that I know she will appreciate in the future. She has two of the most supportive parents any child could ask for and I know he'll be there at the drop of a hat. He calls her daily, sometimes twice a day and calls to Facetime almost every night. I couldn't ask for more.

 

But back to the weekends. I miss her so much. It's hard. It will always be hard to share your child. Divorce is hard. It's hard on the kids but I'm glad we did it when Tyler was young. She knows no different except that Daddy doesn't live with Mommy and that's okay with her so that's okay with me. But oh the happiness when that baby comes home. She makes me whole again.

 

Normally, she doesn't sleep in the bed with me, but sometimes, I just can't help it. To have my little superman passed out in the bed next to me makes my heart whole and I can't give E enough credit for being the father she needs, even if he's not physically there every single day. He's there for her in every way he needs to be, every single time and both Tyler Grace and I adore him. She's my superman and he's hers and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Why Being An Adult Is The Dumbest Thing I Have Ever Done

My general look... all day... every day.

Can we just all agree that being an adult is the dumbest thing we've ever done? Because it is. Everything's on a schedule, that I'm always late for. Things have to be paid for. Things have to be where you can find them. Everything has a place and there's a place for everything. Well, fuck you, places. Here's my list of why being a grown up is the dumbest thing I've ever done.



  

1. Waking up early. I think we can all agree this one sucks. I'm tired, cranky and would rather spend my life in bed than do anything else. I can do everything from there. Except pee and like shower and stuff.

 

2. Working. Good for you if you love your job. I hate you. But for most of us it's a constant disappointment that we get to wake up and go to for 8+ hours a day. I get yelled at and called names by people who are literally too stupid to participate in life. It makes me want to buy an island and should you want to come live on my island you have to have proof that you exceed a certain IQ. Period. No exceptions.

 

3. Hair ties. Do they grow legs and walk the fuck off? Do they? I need someone to actually answer this question with scientific fact. Do they, in fact, grow tiny legs and walk off? Because I've held in my possession about a million of these little bastards in my lifetime. You know how many I can find right now... maybe 5... 7 at the most. This goes for bobby pins too. They're never there when you need them. Why do you fail me tiny hair fixers?

 

4. Cooking. Hate it. Terrible at it. Also goes along with... wait for it...

 

5. Grocery shopping. Pardon me, but why is a gallon of milk over $5? That is absurd. Is it coming from special rainbow unicorn cows? I would raise and milk my own damn cows for that... except see No. 2.

 

6. Bathing my kid. Seriously. Terrible, I know. But have you ever been there when they fart in the tub? It's like 10 times worse than regular. Happiest day of my life when my kid learned to shower by herself... while singing, which makes it even better.

 

7. Paying bills. Why do they want so much from me? Didn't I just pay you? Oh again this month too? Fuck you, Verizon, Brighthouse, Edgewood Academy, Holtville Water, Alabama Power and Chase Credit Card Services. Fuck you all... equally. Even you, Chevron gas, even you.

 

8. Hangovers. Did I miss the memo that they now require a 2-4 day recovery period?

 

9. You ever try to be a parent at 8:00 am with a hangover? Shit sucks, man. Why are you so loud, tiny Satan? Get your own food and water.

 

10. Pretty panties. Seriously, Victoria's Secret? Screw you. Is it too much to ask that they cover my entire ass?

 

11. Why is it required that I be nice to EVERY fucking BODY? I don't wanna. When people are talking to me and I'm tired of listening, I'm just going to slap them and say "Oh, shit, sorry. I didn't think you would ever stop talking and I freaked out."

 

12. I have ADD, if you interrupt what I'm doing to ask me to do something else, make a decision. Which do you want done? You get to pick one or neither, not both. That's not how it works.

 

13. Yearly OBGYN visits. Collectively, can I get a hand clap? Thank you.

 

14. Shaving my legs. UGH... not again. Didn't I just do this like 2 days ago?

 

15. Car shopping.

 

16. Christmas shopping. Why do kids want so much that the stores are already sold out of by the time I have time to go Christmas shopping?

 

17. Wrapping presents. My mom wraps presents beautifully, mine looks like a blind, homeless person wrapped it with the newspaper he shit on the night before.

 

18. Savings accounts/future planning. All of it. IRA's, retirement accounts, 401Ks... why are there so many?

 

19. Contacting Blue Cross Blue Shield for any reason, ever. Unless you have an extra 2 hours in your day.

 

20. Calling your cable company. I'm talking to you Brighthouse. Screw you. You're impossible. My cable bill is in my ex-husband's name. Try calling for a service call and see how pissed off you are when you get off the phone. No. I don't know his social. No. He no longer lives here. Ok. So you're telling me I have to get him to travel from another state to sign your form to put this bill in my name so I can have my cable fixed? Just making sure I heard you correctly. Fuck you.

 

BUT there's always a bright side to being an adult - we get to buy alcohol and most of my days just end up like this...