I recently read a blog entitled "10 Simple Hints to Make Life Easier for Moms". I was intrigued to say the least. Could it be true? A mere 10 things to do to make my life easier? Oh, I'm in.
And then I read step #1 and realized that this woman must be a total whack job.
Just the title alone is an oxymoron. I should have known. But, curiosity got the best of me. Well, that and the dashing hope that maybe one out of ten things might grant me a moment's ease. A girl can dream.
So, allow me to share what I found to be the five most tantalizing items on her list.
1. Do 1 load of laundry a day.
Ok. Let me see if I can get this straight. ONE load of laundry a day? Apparently the darling woman's children are not allowed to eat sauces or condiments, they play no sports nor are they allowed to play outside. Or anywhere. At all. One load of laundry a day would put me back about 20 loads a week. Seriously.
2. Take at least 1 swipe of some area in the bathroom every day.
Well, this would work in MY bathroom. A simple swipe in my children's bathroom is not quite so simple. I have two boys. Enough said. A "simple swipe" would still require me to don a hazmat suit. And, that takes some extra time to slip in to. Nothing all that simple about that.
3. Plan meals ahead one week at a time.
We actually do this one. Monday, PB & J's; Tuesday, order pizza; Wednesday, leftover pizza; Thursday, pantry grab bag....I kid!!! But, okay, you get the point. It's not really that bad at our house. I actually have been more thoughtful about creating a menu. I am the queen of the crock pot. But, the planning thing, well, let's just say its a work in progress.
4. Get up 1/2 hour earlier each day.
I really don't even know what to say here. Does this woman even have children? My guess is one plus the assistance of a full-time nanny. Otherwise she'd surely know that the mere suggestion of this is a complete and utter epic fail. Sleep for mommies, my dear, is an elusive and coveted luxury. And, you're asking us to give some of it up? I think not.
5. Have a chore list.
For who? Me? Already got that. But, thanks, really, for the helpful tip, sweetie. I mean, I get it. I do. But, by the time I got said list written I could very well have had all of the chores completed. Properly. And in a timely fashion. And, if you're thinking "this gal's a total control freak" then you would be correct.
So, I decided to create my own list of helpful mommy tips tailored to the single mommies with full time jobs who just need a little, teeny, tiny break.
"5 Simple Things for single working moms to do in order to keep from losing their ever-loving mind and winding up in the loony bin"
1. Sleep in.
Whenever and wherever possible.
2. Enlist the shared help of other single mommies.
This is a gem. You share the same lot in life. Make it work for each other. How else do you expect to ever have any kind of a love life? Ever again?
3. Drink wine.
Or whatever. Not in excess, of course. Just enough to soften the edges of your severely frazzled nerves.
4. Exercise.
'Tis true. Endorphins are better than Prozac. I'm a believer. It's the time thing that's tricky. But, do it. And, yes, sex counts.
5. Breath.
It's easy to forget. But, you really shouldn't. I find myself holding my breath at times in order to keep from self combusting. But, it really is counter productive. I typically end up with a massive head ache. Breath. In and out. Count to ten and take deep breaths. It's kind of fun to see the kids faces when you open your eyes. They're always a tad freaked.
Honestly, it's whatever works for you. I try not to get too bridled down by how these self-professed super mommies make their lives look so effortless. Because, you have to believe that somewhere, deep down, they, too, are one toe out of the nut house.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Monday, July 9, 2012
The End
In every relationship there is a beginning, a middle and an end. Yes, I realize this is a rather elementary revelation, but, recent events have allowed my brain the opportunity to think more than is entirely necessary. So, I have found myself, yet again, analyzing my situation, looking for some sort of enlightenment. Not sure if I've found it exactly, but, as you know, I like to share.
THE BEGINNING
This is the tour de force. Let's face it, there is simply nothing quite as magical as the beginning of a relationship. It's all bells and whistles and fireworks and pure, unadulterated hysteria. This is the phase of the relationship where rational thinking goes completely out the window. It is when we lose sleep, lose weight, giggle incessantly, walk into walls, run stop signs and write sappy blogs.
But, in my opinion, there is no better place to be. You are in a state of ridiculous and unimaginable bliss. Happy. Yes, very happy. A stranger in your work place could throw their wallet at you and you'd say, "I think you dropped this!" as you hand it back to them with a genuine smile on your face.
You get my point.
The time frame for the beginning of a relationship varies. I think both parties try to hold onto it for as long as possible, but, inevitably time wears on and the next phase takes over.
THE MIDDLE
The middle of a relationship is usually where things start to get a little gray. You're starting to get more and more comfortable with your partner. You even start to notice characteristics and habits that could and will eventually drive you bat shit crazy, but, for now you overlook them because you are still extremely smitten. As my good friend put it, "You even lose your sense of smell. And then one morning you wake up with them and realize that their breath actually does smell."
In the middle of a relationship most women will notice a rather significant three-way tug-of-war that commences between our head, our heart, and our, uh, lady part. Though last time I checked mine was acting like anything but a lady, but, we will stick with that depiction.
Nonetheless, the head is usually the loser in this precarious phase. The heart and the lady part are completely caught up in duking it out for first place. Up until now, the heart was succinctly in charge.
Now, I must interject that there are times when a relationship never actually does have a middle phase. This happens at the unfortunate and exact time when we allow our lady part to be our decisive body part in the beginning phase. Big mistake. Next thing you know Romeo is "running late for an appointment" and he will "call you later". Naturally, later never occurs. And, you are unwittingly faced with a preemptive ending. Don't let this happen to you.
I was recently educated by a particular Romeo that jumping into bed too early, before you've created a substantial middle, will inevitably lead to a quick and painful ending. The hunter has made his kill....challenge met....game over. Sad, but true.
But, what you fellas may not understand is that there is a VERY short distance between our hearts and our lady parts. They tend to have frequent collisions and it can be very, very confusing! There is an almost useless, fine line between love and lust where we are concerned. We really don't know who to answer to, so we might just throw caution to the wind and hope for the best. Meanwhile the head is exhausted from all of the screaming and foot stomping it's been doing just trying to get a little air time, to no avail.
And, then, one day, you hear it. That faint little hoarse voice in your head saying, "Um, excuse me! Remember me? I'm the one who gives you rational thoughts. Yeah, you've been doing a bang up job of ignoring me, but, we need to talk. NOW!"
This is about the time you notice the crossroad in the distance. And, you get a little nervous because you don't really know which one to take. So, as women we do what comes naturally. We avoid it at all costs. We tell ourselves that it's okay because we're just not quite ready for this relationship to be over just yet so we will just pretend that all is well and sit back and enjoy the ride for as long as we possibly can.
Until we no longer can.
THE END
I suppose I could just leave it at that, but, no surprise here, I have a few thoughts about this.
The end isn't necessarily a simple occurrance. It has a tendency to build up over time. You know it's inevitable, you just don't know if and when you'll be ready to stamp the document. Because, as they say, when it's over, it's over.
Or is it? Not always. That's the frustrating part for most of us gals. We like closure. We like things tied up in a neat little bow. But, it's just not always that simple. I guess I can't remember who it was if anyone at all that told me that it would be simple.
The best we can do is move forward. You've ended it. That's a fact. The rest is not up to you. Well, not really. See what I mean? GAH!
So, here it is. In some way shape or form you have an ending. The initial outset sucks beyond anyone's imagination. But, it will get better. This too shall pass....as always, thank you for that gem, mother!
The best thing you can do is remember why you got here, but, don't regret anything. Each and every second meant something to you or you wouldn't have invested so much of yourself into it.
Live, love and learn.
The End.....and, maybe, another Beginning?
THE BEGINNING
This is the tour de force. Let's face it, there is simply nothing quite as magical as the beginning of a relationship. It's all bells and whistles and fireworks and pure, unadulterated hysteria. This is the phase of the relationship where rational thinking goes completely out the window. It is when we lose sleep, lose weight, giggle incessantly, walk into walls, run stop signs and write sappy blogs.
But, in my opinion, there is no better place to be. You are in a state of ridiculous and unimaginable bliss. Happy. Yes, very happy. A stranger in your work place could throw their wallet at you and you'd say, "I think you dropped this!" as you hand it back to them with a genuine smile on your face.
You get my point.
The time frame for the beginning of a relationship varies. I think both parties try to hold onto it for as long as possible, but, inevitably time wears on and the next phase takes over.
THE MIDDLE
The middle of a relationship is usually where things start to get a little gray. You're starting to get more and more comfortable with your partner. You even start to notice characteristics and habits that could and will eventually drive you bat shit crazy, but, for now you overlook them because you are still extremely smitten. As my good friend put it, "You even lose your sense of smell. And then one morning you wake up with them and realize that their breath actually does smell."
In the middle of a relationship most women will notice a rather significant three-way tug-of-war that commences between our head, our heart, and our, uh, lady part. Though last time I checked mine was acting like anything but a lady, but, we will stick with that depiction.
Nonetheless, the head is usually the loser in this precarious phase. The heart and the lady part are completely caught up in duking it out for first place. Up until now, the heart was succinctly in charge.
Now, I must interject that there are times when a relationship never actually does have a middle phase. This happens at the unfortunate and exact time when we allow our lady part to be our decisive body part in the beginning phase. Big mistake. Next thing you know Romeo is "running late for an appointment" and he will "call you later". Naturally, later never occurs. And, you are unwittingly faced with a preemptive ending. Don't let this happen to you.
I was recently educated by a particular Romeo that jumping into bed too early, before you've created a substantial middle, will inevitably lead to a quick and painful ending. The hunter has made his kill....challenge met....game over. Sad, but true.
But, what you fellas may not understand is that there is a VERY short distance between our hearts and our lady parts. They tend to have frequent collisions and it can be very, very confusing! There is an almost useless, fine line between love and lust where we are concerned. We really don't know who to answer to, so we might just throw caution to the wind and hope for the best. Meanwhile the head is exhausted from all of the screaming and foot stomping it's been doing just trying to get a little air time, to no avail.
And, then, one day, you hear it. That faint little hoarse voice in your head saying, "Um, excuse me! Remember me? I'm the one who gives you rational thoughts. Yeah, you've been doing a bang up job of ignoring me, but, we need to talk. NOW!"
This is about the time you notice the crossroad in the distance. And, you get a little nervous because you don't really know which one to take. So, as women we do what comes naturally. We avoid it at all costs. We tell ourselves that it's okay because we're just not quite ready for this relationship to be over just yet so we will just pretend that all is well and sit back and enjoy the ride for as long as we possibly can.
Until we no longer can.
THE END
I suppose I could just leave it at that, but, no surprise here, I have a few thoughts about this.
The end isn't necessarily a simple occurrance. It has a tendency to build up over time. You know it's inevitable, you just don't know if and when you'll be ready to stamp the document. Because, as they say, when it's over, it's over.
Or is it? Not always. That's the frustrating part for most of us gals. We like closure. We like things tied up in a neat little bow. But, it's just not always that simple. I guess I can't remember who it was if anyone at all that told me that it would be simple.
The best we can do is move forward. You've ended it. That's a fact. The rest is not up to you. Well, not really. See what I mean? GAH!
So, here it is. In some way shape or form you have an ending. The initial outset sucks beyond anyone's imagination. But, it will get better. This too shall pass....as always, thank you for that gem, mother!
The best thing you can do is remember why you got here, but, don't regret anything. Each and every second meant something to you or you wouldn't have invested so much of yourself into it.
Live, love and learn.
The End.....and, maybe, another Beginning?
Friday, June 15, 2012
The Morning Dash
"Mom.....mom? Mommy?"
It's #1. His voice is so faint. Oh, just let me sleep, child.....
"Mommy? I'm just gonna go downstairs, mm'k? Play X-box....you can stay in bed, K?"
"Mm hmm." That was all I could muster. Now....back to my lovely dream...about someone....and...something................
Child #1 is a genius, by the way. And, not just because he got straight A's on his last 3rd quarter report card, because he did, by the way. But, because he knows that the earlier he attempts his request for morning X-box play the better his odds are at getting my stamp of approval, as I am still groggy and still of somewhat mild demeanor.
A fleeting thought sneaks in....What time is it? I do a quick phone check. And, now it's on the floor. Crap. OK. Got it. 6:23 am. Early....nice. Back to dreamland. Very nice.
Wait! X-box at 6:23 am???? Not good. But.....I'm so cozy and snuggly and.....the dream. Oh, one day won't hurt him, right?...............................
FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT???????
I am suddenly flung involuntarily out of bed and onto the floor. It would appear as though a 747 has just crashed through the sliding glass doors in my kitchen.
Aaaaaggghhh! GAH! What the....????
"Baby! What happened? Whaaaaa?"
#2 is the proverbial stone-faced deer. He is immobile in a hot mess puddle of produce, cottage cheese, salsa, cans of Coke Zero and some left overs that should have been tossed a few days back. The only casualty I can spot so far is the bowl in which said left overs resided. Well, that and the cottage cheese. And the salsa. Dammit. I just bought that. Yeah, pretty sure we won't open any Coke Zeros for a bit. And, thank goodness I moved the milk to the door shelf.
Sigh.
Somehow the shelf to which my child clung to as he teetered on the ledge of the fridge remained in tact. Small favors.
"Umm...what happened?" I murmur as I slump to the floor to begin clean up.
"I was hungry, and, um, you told me to get it myself. I wanted yogurt...and...sniff...and....I...sssslipped...."
Oh boy. Here come the tears. Mother of the year strikes again...can't wake up to feed children and allows them to play video games at the crack of dawn. Awesome.
"Come here. I know it was an accident." Man, I hate to admit it but I kinda love these moments when he needs his momma to love him and he nuzzles his little head into my neck. Gotta enjoy it while I can.
Time check. 7:37 am. 7:37 am!!!!!! MOTHER FUUUUUdgecicle!!!!! OK. Calm down! Assess. OK. Finish clean up, 3 showers, dress self and help #2, dry hair, apply makeup, coffee...oh god, yes, 3 breakfasts, pack my lunch, drive through bank to get money for day camp field trip, drop boys off at YMCA, and get self to work...all by 9:00 am.
Totally unreasonable. Reassess. Clean up, shower children, bird bath for mom, straighten hair, 5 minute makeup, cereal for 3, coffee for 1....totally non-negotiable, order Jimmy Johns for lunch, bank, Y, work. OK. That should do it.
Yeah, don't judge me on the bird bath thing. Desperate times...desperate measures. All key areas were tended to, I assure you.
I am midway through my 5 minute makeup when I hear what sounds like a 1 gallon water balloon crashing down on my kitchen table. Oh...nope. Just the entire pitcher of juice I made last night spilling all over my kitchen table, chairs and floor.
"Oh for #@$% #%!^$#@#%#$^^&%*&%J*!!!!!!!"
And, now I have 2 stone faced deer in my kitchen.
#1 attempts an explanation. "I was getting us juice and I didn't want to bug you because I knew you were in a hurry and the lid, it just, I don't know, popped off."
Run to closet, grab towels. Toss at children. Bark orders for them to start wiping up while I finish makeup. I'm gonna need all the help I can get today.
Time check. 8:33. Not as bad as I thought. Time enough to do a quick Swiffer mop of the floor.
"Let's go!"
After about 10 lovely seconds of silence in the car, #1 speaks up.
"Mom? I have an idea. What if you started getting up a little bit earlier, you know, like 30 minutes or so. Maybe you wouldn't feel so rushed in the mornings. Just an idea."
I wasn't sure whether I should kiss him or flick him. But, yes, I realize he's right. Today, I blame the dream.
It was just another day in the life. One to which I'm certain many of you can relate. But through all the trials and tribulations one thing is very clear, every day is an adventure. Yes, that's a nice way of putting it.
It's #1. His voice is so faint. Oh, just let me sleep, child.....
"Mommy? I'm just gonna go downstairs, mm'k? Play X-box....you can stay in bed, K?"
"Mm hmm." That was all I could muster. Now....back to my lovely dream...about someone....and...something................
Child #1 is a genius, by the way. And, not just because he got straight A's on his last 3rd quarter report card, because he did, by the way. But, because he knows that the earlier he attempts his request for morning X-box play the better his odds are at getting my stamp of approval, as I am still groggy and still of somewhat mild demeanor.
A fleeting thought sneaks in....What time is it? I do a quick phone check. And, now it's on the floor. Crap. OK. Got it. 6:23 am. Early....nice. Back to dreamland. Very nice.
Wait! X-box at 6:23 am???? Not good. But.....I'm so cozy and snuggly and.....the dream. Oh, one day won't hurt him, right?...............................
FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT???????
I am suddenly flung involuntarily out of bed and onto the floor. It would appear as though a 747 has just crashed through the sliding glass doors in my kitchen.
Aaaaaggghhh! GAH! What the....????
"Baby! What happened? Whaaaaa?"
#2 is the proverbial stone-faced deer. He is immobile in a hot mess puddle of produce, cottage cheese, salsa, cans of Coke Zero and some left overs that should have been tossed a few days back. The only casualty I can spot so far is the bowl in which said left overs resided. Well, that and the cottage cheese. And the salsa. Dammit. I just bought that. Yeah, pretty sure we won't open any Coke Zeros for a bit. And, thank goodness I moved the milk to the door shelf.
Sigh.
Somehow the shelf to which my child clung to as he teetered on the ledge of the fridge remained in tact. Small favors.
"Umm...what happened?" I murmur as I slump to the floor to begin clean up.
"I was hungry, and, um, you told me to get it myself. I wanted yogurt...and...sniff...and....I...sssslipped...."
Oh boy. Here come the tears. Mother of the year strikes again...can't wake up to feed children and allows them to play video games at the crack of dawn. Awesome.
"Come here. I know it was an accident." Man, I hate to admit it but I kinda love these moments when he needs his momma to love him and he nuzzles his little head into my neck. Gotta enjoy it while I can.
Time check. 7:37 am. 7:37 am!!!!!! MOTHER FUUUUUdgecicle!!!!! OK. Calm down! Assess. OK. Finish clean up, 3 showers, dress self and help #2, dry hair, apply makeup, coffee...oh god, yes, 3 breakfasts, pack my lunch, drive through bank to get money for day camp field trip, drop boys off at YMCA, and get self to work...all by 9:00 am.
Totally unreasonable. Reassess. Clean up, shower children, bird bath for mom, straighten hair, 5 minute makeup, cereal for 3, coffee for 1....totally non-negotiable, order Jimmy Johns for lunch, bank, Y, work. OK. That should do it.
Yeah, don't judge me on the bird bath thing. Desperate times...desperate measures. All key areas were tended to, I assure you.
I am midway through my 5 minute makeup when I hear what sounds like a 1 gallon water balloon crashing down on my kitchen table. Oh...nope. Just the entire pitcher of juice I made last night spilling all over my kitchen table, chairs and floor.
"Oh for #@$% #%!^$#@#%#$^^&%*&%J*!!!!!!!"
And, now I have 2 stone faced deer in my kitchen.
#1 attempts an explanation. "I was getting us juice and I didn't want to bug you because I knew you were in a hurry and the lid, it just, I don't know, popped off."
Run to closet, grab towels. Toss at children. Bark orders for them to start wiping up while I finish makeup. I'm gonna need all the help I can get today.
Time check. 8:33. Not as bad as I thought. Time enough to do a quick Swiffer mop of the floor.
"Let's go!"
After about 10 lovely seconds of silence in the car, #1 speaks up.
"Mom? I have an idea. What if you started getting up a little bit earlier, you know, like 30 minutes or so. Maybe you wouldn't feel so rushed in the mornings. Just an idea."
I wasn't sure whether I should kiss him or flick him. But, yes, I realize he's right. Today, I blame the dream.
It was just another day in the life. One to which I'm certain many of you can relate. But through all the trials and tribulations one thing is very clear, every day is an adventure. Yes, that's a nice way of putting it.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Lobotomy vs. Beach
Maya Angelou is quoted as having said, "If you change your way of thinking you can change your life."
Okay. How does one do such a thing? Please, a little insight on this elusive task would be greatly appreciated. Is there an online course I could take and absorb and re-enter the life force a carefree, stress free and generally happy-go-lucky type gal? Oh, please....tell me it is so.
My mother frequently used a term to describe me. Get ready for it....wait for it.....uptight. Ugh! I loathe the word. But, alas, I know it fits me to a "T". And, frankly, it sucks. To be so uptight. It is THE thing about myself that I would most like to change. If only it were so easy.
Oh, yes. I've read self help "stop and smell the roses" books, blogs and magazine articles. My Pinterest boards are chalk full of inspirational quotes such as "Keep Calm and Carry On!", or "Live each day with a fresh start", or "If you want to be happy then be".......oh, blah frickity blah.
I mean, of COURSE I would love to be "that" girl. Kind of like the one, you know, in the New Freedom maxi pad commercials back in the 1970's? She was strolling on the beach with her sandals in her hand....kicking at the waves and giggling relentlessly. Not a care in the world, that one. Even though she had Barbie's twin sized mattress stuck between her legs she just didn't care. Why? Because she had found New Freedom! She was a trail blazer of the women's movement to "go with the flow". Truly, no pun intended there. That just happened.
But, there is something to be said about the beach. It, to me, is the most tranquil and heavenly spot on this great Earth. Any beach will do, but, one in particular is where I'd like to be. As often as possible. Any of you who have been there know exactly what I am talking about. It's a little slice of heaven on Lake Michigan. I only have to wait 6 more weeks before I get to go there. I hope my sanity remains in tact until then.
So, in the mean time I think I'll forgo the idea of a lobotomy. At least for now. Seems a tad drastic anyways. I'm not so sure that they even do them anymore. I'll have to ask my favorite local surgeon the next time I see him.
I choose beach. Yes. The beach awaits me and my uptight self.
Perhaps subconsciously I'm exposing my over-active uptightness to a higher-than-normal degree because I know that my beach therapy is in my very near future. It's a thought. Albeit a rather obtuse one.
But, hey, to know me is to love me. At least I hope so. Oh, wait...I don't care. But, I really do. Oh, whatever.
Okay. How does one do such a thing? Please, a little insight on this elusive task would be greatly appreciated. Is there an online course I could take and absorb and re-enter the life force a carefree, stress free and generally happy-go-lucky type gal? Oh, please....tell me it is so.
My mother frequently used a term to describe me. Get ready for it....wait for it.....uptight. Ugh! I loathe the word. But, alas, I know it fits me to a "T". And, frankly, it sucks. To be so uptight. It is THE thing about myself that I would most like to change. If only it were so easy.
Oh, yes. I've read self help "stop and smell the roses" books, blogs and magazine articles. My Pinterest boards are chalk full of inspirational quotes such as "Keep Calm and Carry On!", or "Live each day with a fresh start", or "If you want to be happy then be".......oh, blah frickity blah.
I mean, of COURSE I would love to be "that" girl. Kind of like the one, you know, in the New Freedom maxi pad commercials back in the 1970's? She was strolling on the beach with her sandals in her hand....kicking at the waves and giggling relentlessly. Not a care in the world, that one. Even though she had Barbie's twin sized mattress stuck between her legs she just didn't care. Why? Because she had found New Freedom! She was a trail blazer of the women's movement to "go with the flow". Truly, no pun intended there. That just happened.
But, there is something to be said about the beach. It, to me, is the most tranquil and heavenly spot on this great Earth. Any beach will do, but, one in particular is where I'd like to be. As often as possible. Any of you who have been there know exactly what I am talking about. It's a little slice of heaven on Lake Michigan. I only have to wait 6 more weeks before I get to go there. I hope my sanity remains in tact until then.
So, in the mean time I think I'll forgo the idea of a lobotomy. At least for now. Seems a tad drastic anyways. I'm not so sure that they even do them anymore. I'll have to ask my favorite local surgeon the next time I see him.
I choose beach. Yes. The beach awaits me and my uptight self.
Perhaps subconsciously I'm exposing my over-active uptightness to a higher-than-normal degree because I know that my beach therapy is in my very near future. It's a thought. Albeit a rather obtuse one.
But, hey, to know me is to love me. At least I hope so. Oh, wait...I don't care. But, I really do. Oh, whatever.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
The Ugly Cry
Oh, my God...why can't I stop crying? Oh my God! What the fuck is wrong with me? I can't stop!!! Breath...gasp....breath. Oh, for fucks sake, get a fucking grip on yourself!!!!!
Where are my kids? How long has it been? Do they know I'm curled up in the fetal position on my bathroom floor? What the hell is wrong with me?
Oh, shit....there's child #2, peeking through the crack in the bathroom door.
"Ummm....." I feign a sniffle but the snot to air ratio in my sinuses is a bit skewed.
"Hi, baby. Mom's just a little...... sad." Really? "I'll be out in a minute...okay, pumpkin?"
"Mommy, I need to poop."
"Well, then I'm glad we have two bathrooms. Please go use the hall bathroom, okay?" By the way, I'm certain I didn't come across quite this politely when this conversation actually occurred. Bygones.....
"The toilet's clogged up in that bathroom."
Of course it is.
"What's wrong with your eyes? They're sticking out funny."
"Oh, just allergies." "Allergies".
Yes. This is exactly what I need right now. A tad bit of reality to bring me back to planet not-so-crazy. Christ-a-freaking-mony-on-a-Popsicle-stick.
Only took me 5 plunges this time. Not a record breaking poop. How considerate.
"Okay, baby. Poop away."
"I don't need to anymore."
Of course you don't.
Okay, sister....are we done here? Quick check in the mirror. DEAR LORD!!! I look like hell! Note to self...who needs collagen?.....my upper lip could shade my entire torso from the sun at this point. The thought of which, of course, makes me begin to cry even harder.
Have you ever caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror in the midst of the ugly cry? I truly hope not. There is, quite frankly, nothing less appealing on the face of this planet than a middle aged woman having a chronic breakdown by herself in her bathroom....and then bearing sole witness to it in the mirror. Horrific, in a nutshell.
Oprah coined the phrase. Naturally. The "ugly cry". And, every single woman out there knows exactly of what I speak. It is a necessary and unwelcome event of every woman's life. And, typically it occurs about once each month....sometimes worse than others, depending on current life circumstances.
Tonight's episode hit me quick and hard. My head is killing me. Throbbing, at best.
But, what was it exactly that made me cry like that? Or who? Oh, wait....now I remember. But....was it really worth all that?
Sometimes, well, most of the time, the answer to that question is a resounding "no". Sometimes we womenfolk just need a good big fat ugly cry. To purge, so to speak. To release the toxins that consume us unto the world so that we may move forward, confident, happy and whole.
Yeah, whatever.
But, it's a nice thought, right?
So, here I sit in the aftermath of a level 4 (out of 5, by the way) "ugly cry" asking myself, and anyone out there who may care, why the hell do we do this to ourselves? Why do we allow certain circumstances of our lives to take us to a level where the only thing that we can do to amend the situation is cry at unholy levels until we can cry no more?
I suppose on some level it does make us feel better. But, for the most part, tonight in particular, I just feel tired and swollen.
I don't know. Food for thought.
P.s. Sorry for my absence. It's certainly not for a lack of topics. I have plenty of those. Oh, just you wait......
XO
Where are my kids? How long has it been? Do they know I'm curled up in the fetal position on my bathroom floor? What the hell is wrong with me?
Oh, shit....there's child #2, peeking through the crack in the bathroom door.
"Ummm....." I feign a sniffle but the snot to air ratio in my sinuses is a bit skewed.
"Hi, baby. Mom's just a little...... sad." Really? "I'll be out in a minute...okay, pumpkin?"
"Mommy, I need to poop."
"Well, then I'm glad we have two bathrooms. Please go use the hall bathroom, okay?" By the way, I'm certain I didn't come across quite this politely when this conversation actually occurred. Bygones.....
"The toilet's clogged up in that bathroom."
Of course it is.
"What's wrong with your eyes? They're sticking out funny."
"Oh, just allergies." "Allergies".
Yes. This is exactly what I need right now. A tad bit of reality to bring me back to planet not-so-crazy. Christ-a-freaking-mony-on-a-Popsicle-stick.
Only took me 5 plunges this time. Not a record breaking poop. How considerate.
"Okay, baby. Poop away."
"I don't need to anymore."
Of course you don't.
Okay, sister....are we done here? Quick check in the mirror. DEAR LORD!!! I look like hell! Note to self...who needs collagen?.....my upper lip could shade my entire torso from the sun at this point. The thought of which, of course, makes me begin to cry even harder.
Have you ever caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror in the midst of the ugly cry? I truly hope not. There is, quite frankly, nothing less appealing on the face of this planet than a middle aged woman having a chronic breakdown by herself in her bathroom....and then bearing sole witness to it in the mirror. Horrific, in a nutshell.
Oprah coined the phrase. Naturally. The "ugly cry". And, every single woman out there knows exactly of what I speak. It is a necessary and unwelcome event of every woman's life. And, typically it occurs about once each month....sometimes worse than others, depending on current life circumstances.
Tonight's episode hit me quick and hard. My head is killing me. Throbbing, at best.
But, what was it exactly that made me cry like that? Or who? Oh, wait....now I remember. But....was it really worth all that?
Sometimes, well, most of the time, the answer to that question is a resounding "no". Sometimes we womenfolk just need a good big fat ugly cry. To purge, so to speak. To release the toxins that consume us unto the world so that we may move forward, confident, happy and whole.
Yeah, whatever.
But, it's a nice thought, right?
So, here I sit in the aftermath of a level 4 (out of 5, by the way) "ugly cry" asking myself, and anyone out there who may care, why the hell do we do this to ourselves? Why do we allow certain circumstances of our lives to take us to a level where the only thing that we can do to amend the situation is cry at unholy levels until we can cry no more?
I suppose on some level it does make us feel better. But, for the most part, tonight in particular, I just feel tired and swollen.
I don't know. Food for thought.
P.s. Sorry for my absence. It's certainly not for a lack of topics. I have plenty of those. Oh, just you wait......
XO
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Thank you
I have no words.
A dear friend of mine posted this on Facebook the day her beloved left this world due to the atrocities of cancer. I remember thinking, "How could you have words? How could you know what to say? How will I?"
I'm not sure if I will have the right thing to say but, I do feel the need to say something.
Thank you.
Thank you, God, for Alice Mary Crabtree Rowe. She was your master piece. You should be proud.
Thank you, God, for giving my sisters and I the most amazing mother anyone could have ever asked for. She wanted us to be proud, yet thoughtful. Strong, yet kind. And, most of all loving, yet....no, just that. Loving.
My mother loved so many people. And, thanks to so many beautiful words from so many people I know that she was so loved in return. But, that really was never in question. She was one of the most lovable people anyone was to ever come across.
Thank you for the most beautiful life full of beautiful memories.
Thank you for giving one woman so much vitality and so much fortitude and courage and passion. And, thank you, God, for giving us so much time with her. I understand that you could use a gal like that on your team, but, we really needed her here for the time that we had her. A little more would have been nice, but, ok, fine. I get it.
And, I thank you, forever, for allowing my sisters and I to be there with her during her last moments. That is, I'm certain, the most precious moment of my life.
I am beyond sad. My heart is broken. But, I do understand. Most of all, I am grateful. All I can say is thank you for my mom. I will endeavor to leave an eighth of the mark that she left on this world. I hope that I can come even a tiny bit close to that.
Good bye, mom. I love you and I miss you so terribly. But, I promise that I will be ok. We will all be ok.
A dear friend of mine posted this on Facebook the day her beloved left this world due to the atrocities of cancer. I remember thinking, "How could you have words? How could you know what to say? How will I?"
I'm not sure if I will have the right thing to say but, I do feel the need to say something.
Thank you.
Thank you, God, for Alice Mary Crabtree Rowe. She was your master piece. You should be proud.
Thank you, God, for giving my sisters and I the most amazing mother anyone could have ever asked for. She wanted us to be proud, yet thoughtful. Strong, yet kind. And, most of all loving, yet....no, just that. Loving.
My mother loved so many people. And, thanks to so many beautiful words from so many people I know that she was so loved in return. But, that really was never in question. She was one of the most lovable people anyone was to ever come across.
Thank you for the most beautiful life full of beautiful memories.
Thank you for giving one woman so much vitality and so much fortitude and courage and passion. And, thank you, God, for giving us so much time with her. I understand that you could use a gal like that on your team, but, we really needed her here for the time that we had her. A little more would have been nice, but, ok, fine. I get it.
And, I thank you, forever, for allowing my sisters and I to be there with her during her last moments. That is, I'm certain, the most precious moment of my life.
I am beyond sad. My heart is broken. But, I do understand. Most of all, I am grateful. All I can say is thank you for my mom. I will endeavor to leave an eighth of the mark that she left on this world. I hope that I can come even a tiny bit close to that.
Good bye, mom. I love you and I miss you so terribly. But, I promise that I will be ok. We will all be ok.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Worry Wart
Well now, that title really conjures up some nasty images, eh? Never fear, I really do have a point. I'll get to it in a bit.
But, first and foremost, I must apologize for my lengthy absence. I have no valid excuses, other than I have a severe case of brain frazzle. I can't seem to think clearly or even get out an intelligible sentence as of late. Not even sure if I'm making any sense as I write. But, the fantastic thing about writing is a little something called proof reading.
Life comes at all of us a million-point-one miles an hour. The difference in our experiences is how we manage it. I don't think I've been managing it all that well. So, rather than do or say something completely asinine or, god forbid I have a complete mental meltdown in some public venue, I have opted to shut up and hole up. It's a relatively juvenile form of coping, but, it works for me.
Except for one little glitch. In spending more-than-normal time in private I am, in turn, at one with my thoughts. Not necessarily a good thing. Rather, a potentially precarious situation. You see, I tend to, um, over think things a bit. I like to worry.
So, it's your lucky day. I intend to use my current form of therapy, blogging, to "cleanse" my brain. To purge, if you will, my anxiety riddled mind.
We all have our worries. The ones that keep us up at night. The ones that creep in in the middle of what was a good day and tear it to shreds. Some relevant, some not so much.
I, however, make worrying an art form. I'm very, very good at it. I'm not saying I'm proud, just stating the facts. Fortunately I have very low blood pressure.
So, currently I am consumed with: a few moles that look a little suspicious; why my 5 year old's 2 front teeth have not started coming in yet; filing my taxes....don't judge; if my friends still like me because I never call; if my boyfriend still likes me now that he's REALLY getting to know me; if my ex has taken the dogs to the vet; if I'll ever find time to clean up my yard; how elaborate of a party do I need to have for a 10 year old; is Ben really going to choose Courtney; finances....BIG one; my children, my sisters, my nieces and nephew, and, most of all, my parents.
Welcome to the looney bin.
And, like the proverbial wart, I feel as though I might explode. Sorry about that.
I come from a long line of worriers. My mother, she is the Grand Dame of worriers. She is not content unless she has something current to worry about. Good thing she had four daughters. Plenty of material there.
It is an absolute amazement and such a gift that my mom is still here. She is fighting her cancer with every speck of strength that she has left. However, she is extremely anxious. When you ask her what she is so anxious about she can not come up with an answer. My sisters and I and mom's care takers all try to put her mind at ease. We tell her to relax, that there's nothing she HAS to do or even worry about. To no avail.
The other day in a relatively clear moment she said to me, "I'm so apprehensive.". I asked her why she thought that was. She simply said, "I guess you would be when you're about to die."
And there it was, the very reason that I have been so ridiculously anxious. I mean, I knew it. Deep down. It just took a little mother's wisdom to remind me.
Mom has always said, this too shall pass. I know I've shared that before, but it's more relevant than ever. Yes, it will. She will. And, I can't help but worry about that. It is an overwhelmingly troubling reality. So, I now recognize that I have packed my brain with somewhat mundane worries to cover up the one anxiety that could and will consume me with grief.
I certainly don't expect to stop worrying any time soon. There's no quick fix. But, I did recently read something that basically said to embrace your troubles because they are shaping your future. Hmmm. Makes sense. Okay. I'll sure give it the old college try. But, I make no promises.
But, first and foremost, I must apologize for my lengthy absence. I have no valid excuses, other than I have a severe case of brain frazzle. I can't seem to think clearly or even get out an intelligible sentence as of late. Not even sure if I'm making any sense as I write. But, the fantastic thing about writing is a little something called proof reading.
Life comes at all of us a million-point-one miles an hour. The difference in our experiences is how we manage it. I don't think I've been managing it all that well. So, rather than do or say something completely asinine or, god forbid I have a complete mental meltdown in some public venue, I have opted to shut up and hole up. It's a relatively juvenile form of coping, but, it works for me.
Except for one little glitch. In spending more-than-normal time in private I am, in turn, at one with my thoughts. Not necessarily a good thing. Rather, a potentially precarious situation. You see, I tend to, um, over think things a bit. I like to worry.
So, it's your lucky day. I intend to use my current form of therapy, blogging, to "cleanse" my brain. To purge, if you will, my anxiety riddled mind.
We all have our worries. The ones that keep us up at night. The ones that creep in in the middle of what was a good day and tear it to shreds. Some relevant, some not so much.
I, however, make worrying an art form. I'm very, very good at it. I'm not saying I'm proud, just stating the facts. Fortunately I have very low blood pressure.
So, currently I am consumed with: a few moles that look a little suspicious; why my 5 year old's 2 front teeth have not started coming in yet; filing my taxes....don't judge; if my friends still like me because I never call; if my boyfriend still likes me now that he's REALLY getting to know me; if my ex has taken the dogs to the vet; if I'll ever find time to clean up my yard; how elaborate of a party do I need to have for a 10 year old; is Ben really going to choose Courtney; finances....BIG one; my children, my sisters, my nieces and nephew, and, most of all, my parents.
Welcome to the looney bin.
And, like the proverbial wart, I feel as though I might explode. Sorry about that.
I come from a long line of worriers. My mother, she is the Grand Dame of worriers. She is not content unless she has something current to worry about. Good thing she had four daughters. Plenty of material there.
It is an absolute amazement and such a gift that my mom is still here. She is fighting her cancer with every speck of strength that she has left. However, she is extremely anxious. When you ask her what she is so anxious about she can not come up with an answer. My sisters and I and mom's care takers all try to put her mind at ease. We tell her to relax, that there's nothing she HAS to do or even worry about. To no avail.
The other day in a relatively clear moment she said to me, "I'm so apprehensive.". I asked her why she thought that was. She simply said, "I guess you would be when you're about to die."
And there it was, the very reason that I have been so ridiculously anxious. I mean, I knew it. Deep down. It just took a little mother's wisdom to remind me.
Mom has always said, this too shall pass. I know I've shared that before, but it's more relevant than ever. Yes, it will. She will. And, I can't help but worry about that. It is an overwhelmingly troubling reality. So, I now recognize that I have packed my brain with somewhat mundane worries to cover up the one anxiety that could and will consume me with grief.
I certainly don't expect to stop worrying any time soon. There's no quick fix. But, I did recently read something that basically said to embrace your troubles because they are shaping your future. Hmmm. Makes sense. Okay. I'll sure give it the old college try. But, I make no promises.
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