A Formal REJECTION of the Grinch Mentality

The holidays can suck.

Yeah, I said it. You thought it and I said it, so that makes me cooler than you. Kidding. But it really does. 

The holidays can suck. 

They can be stressful as FU.....DGE. (Holiday fudge, that is).

You run around like a chicken with your crazy ass head cut off, figuring out what to cook, what to wear, what to buy. You battle crowds of savage animals posing as human beings, in hopes of finding that perfect gift for the person who very likely is getting you a gift of equal or lesser value. So really, you just kinda end up breaking even. And if by chance, they get you something utterly bad-ass, you end up feeling like a pile of SHI.......SH kabob. (Hey, I hang out with a lot of Armenians, what can I say)? 

If you have kids, the holidays are all fun and games, until one of them invariably gets sick, acts like a spoiled brat, has a meltdown at a holiday party, or all of the above. 

Your Martha Stuart visions of decorating the house like the North Pole end up as a couple of Christmas cards (sent to you by other people and their perfect, functional, smiling families), a broken nutcracker, and a half eaten candy cane hung on the mantle with care. 

The Christmas cookies you were definitely going to make with your children (while listening to Christmas music, giggling, and that would ultimately end in the cutest flour fight EVER), in reality ends up being a bag full of cookie making supplies that sit on the table until February, with random begging sessions from your kids entitled: PLEASSSSEEE can we make the cookies now?? So you promise yourself you will make them into Valentine's day cookies. Who are we kidding? Easter, I mean 4th of July cookies.

You miss people. The ones who aren't around because they moved, or because they left, they went crazy, or they went and died on you. You miss the SH...SH... Oh fuck it. You miss the SHIT out of them. You wish they were there so many times, at so many moments, that you can taste it. You feel sorry for yourself that there are things, holiday things that you will never get to share with them again. You think of every happy, grand Christmas memory that you had together and you feel sad. 

Say whaaat?

You think of happy memories and feel sad?? 

Weirdo.

And if you haven't yet guessed, by YOU, who I really mean is ME. The holidays roll around and I experience all of these things. I hustle and bustle and my blood pressure surely skyrockets over gifts and getting places on time, and all things holiday. I formulate all of these grand, festive plans where everything falls into place the way it is supposed to, and the night ends with all of our arms around each other singing drunken Christmas carols. (In those same fantasies I wake up without a trace of a hangover, singing like Mary Poppins). But anyways. 

All of this holiday crap can really turn someone into a Grinch-ass Grinch. Know what I'm sayin?

But heres the thing.

I REJECT being a Grinch-ass Grinch! 

You will never hear me say bah, humbug! (Mostly because its cheesy and played out, but also because I WON'T BE A GRINCH!) I will continue every year to try really really really hard to pre-plan my gift-giving and not wait until the last minute. Ok, that won't happen. I'm a procrastinator 4 life. So, better yet, I will try harder and harder every year to not get caught up in the consume, consume, consume! mentality. I will embrace my children and all of their merry little flaws, just as I try to do all the rest of the days of the year. I will continue to remind myself that as much as I would love to, I can not control them and make them behave like sugar and spice and everything nice. I can only guide them in the right direction towards holiday cheer, and hope for the best. I will remember that decorating a house is far less important than building a home full of love and caring and hope. I will buy pre-made Christmas cookies from the store until my kids are old enough to work the oven by themselves. I will remember everyone I have lost along the way. Yes, I will continue to miss the SH...ORTS off of them! Yes, it will ache that they are not there in the flesh. Yes. It will probably always be bittersweet. But do you wanna take a guess at which part I will dwell on? You guessed it: The sweet. I will let all of those holiday memories of the past fill me with so much joy. I will reminisce and tell stories, pass them on to my children. I will continue traditions we shared, and create new ones of my own. I will feel gratitude for the time that we shared, and I will honor them for getting me where I am: Right here. Right now. Where I am supposed to be. 

I reject the Grinch mentality. Because if I adopt it during this, the most magical time of year, I am sure to continue on and let it infiltrate the rest of my life. And that ain't happening. 

The holidays can suck. But they don't have to.

Don't Feed the Beast Part II- Parents Edition

 As it turns out there are all different kinds of beasts that really just don't need feeding.

But there is one that is proving to be the most challenging, most frustrating, and most important one of all. This beast is a 4-foot-tall, cute-as-a-button, smart-as-a-whip kind of beast. This particular beast is my 6-year-old. Let me preface this by emphasizing how much I adore and love my child. Among her many wonderful character traits she is kind, loving, creative, talented, witty, and at times, down-right hilarious. Anyone who knows her will back me up on this. Anyone who knows her will also testify that she can have an attitude, a flair for drama, and meltdowns of beastly proportions. I'm guessing that a vast majority of 6-year-old's share these same charming qualities. But like many egocentric parents I am convinced that my child could win the award for such behavior. Blue ribbon. 1st place. Like really, she would get that really huge trophy if there was one. Ok you get the point. Let me digress.

While not ideal by any means, I have come to find that my kid's melodramatic flip-outs are not the real problem. Oh, don't you get me wrong. They are a problem. Oh hell yes they are a problem. They can make getting her to school on time a problem, brushing her teeth a problem, bathing a problem, getting dressed, picking shoes, eating vegetables, playing games, getting splinters, telling her no....all have the potential to become big ass problems. But they aren't the problem. The problem in all of this madness is....Well, its me.

Weird, huh? I seem so amazing, so well-put together, so damn good at this parenting thing, right? Ok, maybe that's my ego talking again. But on most days, I do feel like I am doing an alright job at this whole raising human beings thing. Its just that when it comes to these sneak beast attacks by my child, I have the tendency to allow my inner 6-year-old beast to rear its ugly head. This is the part of me that remains very well hidden on most occasions. It is the part of me that also can come out in full effect if my buttons are pushed in just the right way. And lord knows this little kid sure has mastered how to push them. But only (and here's the important part)- only because I let her.

In theory, I am the adult in the situation. As the adult it is my job to de-escalate any situation that is spinning out of control. And with kids, pretty much any situation has that potential.  I (again, in theory) am more emotionally developed and am more able to control my emotions. I (should) possess more rational thinking skills. Yet for some strange reason, there are more times than I care to admit when I do just the opposite. I argue about who is right and who is wrong- with a 6 year old. I try and yell and scream louder- than a 6 year old. I snap- at a 6 year old. And believe it or not, that is just what the little beast wants. To push me to the point where I flip out and start behaving just like she is. To get that reaction out of me no matter how negative it may be, because bad attention is better than no attention at all. When I become a little beast myself, I am basically serving up control of the situation on a silver platter to my child. Not effective. I am not only giving her control, I am teaching her that it is ok to handle stressful situations like a maniac. And thus, the dirty cycle begins. Sometimes its hard to tell where her crazy begins and where mine ends.

I am not implying that a parent should sit idly by as their kid disrespects, yells, screams, destroys, or generally misbehaves, with no repercussions. That is the opposite end of the spectrum and will produce a little beast who tramples all over their folks, expecting everything in life to always go their way. (And then the rest of the world gets to deal with that charming character trait later on). No, I am a believer in firm boundaries and consequences for children. I think they thrive on them, in fact. I simply do not think that imparting these consequences as a child is spinning wildly out of control is ever going to work. (This includes spanking, but that's a whole other nasty ass can of worms that I won't be opening any time soon).
 I say, let them wild out all they need to (unless they are trying to physically hurt you, in which case, awww helll naw).
Let them scream. Put on ear plugs.
Let them kick the wall. They have to deal with a hurt foot.
Let them destroy their room. They are going to have to clean it up.
Let them break their toys. They won't be getting any more for a long ass time.
Let them battle you about bedtime. Every minute they waste is a minute they have to go to bed earlier the next day. Not to mention being tired in the morning. Kids soon come to realize that it sucks to be tired.
Let them not eat their food. They don't get anything else until the next meal. And they sure as heck don't get dessert.
Let them whine or demand or yell at you for things. Calmly explain that when they can speak to you calmly/nicely/in a voice you can understand, then you will be able to understand what they want.
And the list could go on forever...(And just so you know, this is a list I need to post on every wall of my house, because I only do these things like half the time.)

If rules and boundaries are clear for everyone in the house, and  I stick to them, things generally tend to calm down a lot faster. When I try to reason, argue, yell, during my little one's maniacal flip outs the focus becomes the battle of the beasts rather that the issue or behavior at hand.

The bottom line is, things go so much smoother when I DO NOT ENGAGE. If I am able to accomplish the all too simple feat of just remaining calm during the storm, magic can happen. Real, true magic! Sure, my kid may still continue to flip the F out, but the difference is the effect it has on me. And what affects me, in turn affects her. And so on, and so on....

Not all cycles have to be dirty!!!!

Sin City

There I was, lil ole me in big ole Las Vegas. In between shots and 3 card poker and naps in the middle of the day (the best part), the wheels in this maniac mind wouldn't stop turning. Just like I do to everything/everyone else, I began to analyze what was going on around me. I began to compile a list.... 

Reasons why Vegas is awesome:

Because it's VEGAS! There is so much around that one word. So many have had so many experiences there, it is one of those places that is awesome just because it is. Everyone knows that. Duh

Because of the people. You can be sitting around a table with Jimmy from Alabama, Hector from El Salvador, Chin from China, and that one guy who sat behind you in 10th grade science class...all at one time. Where else does this happen on such a grand scale?

Because time does not exist there. 

Because it's the city of sin, yo! You can do all kinds of crazy shit and no one bats an eye your way. It's a place lacking the usual judgement we face in our daily lives. I find that lack of judgement pretty awesome. 

Because there are all kinds of ways to enjoy Vegas. You can come with a group of buddies, make it a couples getaway, you can bring the kids (but seriously why would you ever do that?), you can come with your whole family. You can gamble, or swim, or eat at every buffet, or dance your brains out at a club all night. Vegas can be whatever you want it to be. 

Because you can drink whenever and wherever you want. Not to mention the (FREE!) Alcohol while you are gambling. Yeah, yeah I know their master plan. But if you are a cautious gambler like me, free drinks work out jusssst fine. 

Because Vegas is synonymous with fun! You kinda can't NOT have fun there. Unless you are the lamest lame-o on the planet. 

Because it's VEGAS! Duh. 



Reasons why Vegas sucks:

Because of the cigarette smoke. Seriously. This is a non-smokers worst nightmare. Smoke is everywhere. It's hard to get used to being in an elevator with someone puffing away on those nasty ass shits. Yuck. 

Because you can go broke in the time it takes to say "FUCKKKK!!" No bueno, No bueno at all. 

Because some people act like a damn fool in Vegas. There they are living the "what happens in Vegas" dream, not realizing that other people gotta deal with their obnoxious ass. 

Because it's the city of sin. I'm down with some good ole fashioned sinning every now and again. But while you are in Vegas you are submerged in it. It feels absolutely filthy after a very short time. 

Because going to the pool can make a gal feel like a whale. A killer whale. But still....

Because you feel guilty for being tired. Like, shouldn't I be partying with strippers doing coke in a room somewhere? What's wrong with me?

Because despite all this shit, I can't wait to go back. :/

My Meandering Mothering Mind

*It truly amazes me the number of people who will watch me struggle with a double stroller and a door, offering no help whatsoever. I find myself praying there will be someone coming in or out of said door, so they will be forced to hold it open for me. Were people always assholes and I just never noticed it until I had kids?

*If I had a nickle for every time I said "No!" or "Don't touch that!" or ""Shhhh the babies are sleeping!" I could make a pretty heavy sack of nickles which, if used properly, would be a much more effective way of getting what I want.

No I'm not advocating violence of any kind. I'm simply pointing out that a heavy sack of nickles could easily slow a few little people down.

*Yes. They are twins. No they aren't identical. Yes. They are both girls. No. It doesn't run in my family. No. I didn't have any help from the many technological advancements in the field of reproductive health to aid me in having them. No. I can't believe you actually asked me that extremely personal question. You don't know how I do it? Well, its obviously because I'm THE SHIT. Yes, genius. I have my hands full. FULL OF BLESSINGS.

I'm making that into a t-shirt ^

*Airlines, some of you have begun implementing "baby free quiet zones" on airplanes, and people are pushing for kid-free flights. Awesome. Hows about you offer "assholes who apparently have never had, nor were ever a kid themselves-free flights." While I will admit that flying with a screaming infant is not ideal, neither is having people glare at and judge you, while you are trying to comfort a screaming infant.

While you are at it, airlines, how about making some flights that are "kid friendly." Play a damn cartoon, give some flippin crayons, provide a space to change a poop-ridden diaper mid-flight. Damn.

*Sleep you tiny, stubborn little creatures!!! For the love of God SLEEP!!!!

*Someone please explain to me how some of these women drop their kids off at school looking like they just stepped out of a magic f'ing beauty maker machine. I can barely get my kid to school looking like a human being and not a terrifying reptilian creature. Shiiiit.

*Everyone has their own ways of raising kids. So listen, pushy unwanted advice givers.... You may think that your way is the best way, the ONLY way, but really its not. Kids are different, families are different. Different strokes for different folks, nahmean? So kindly back the F up. Thanks.

Oh dear God I truly hope I've never come across as one of those people ^

*Its amazing how long reverse psychology can work on a kid.

Hell, it still works on most adults.

*The moment you realize your child is actually making sense when they argue is a horrifying moment.

*No matter how many times my children wake me in the night crying, throw up on me, throw fits and tell me I'm the worst mom ever, make me repeat everything a billion times, poop everywhere, cry and whine and whine and cry, won't eat their vegetables, won't brush their teeth or clean up their toys or GO THE F TO SLEEP...... Seeing their innocent gummy little smile, or their proud toothless little smile is enough to melt my damn heart every time. Slate clean. Well played, little ones. Well played.

*I'm a sucker for any baby product that has even the slightest potential of making my life easier in some way.

*There's nothing like seeing your worst character traits played out before you live and in person. Our kids are the best mirrors of who we really are. Mirrors who poop on our new bedspread and barf on our favorite sweater.

*Having twins was like becoming a celebrity over night. Everywhere I go, people stare and stop me. Its kinda awesome, I ain't gonna lie. Unless its an "I look like shit day." In that case, not awesome at all.

*It really does take a village to raise a child. Well, maybe not an entire village. I mean, we don't even really have villages around here. Actually, come to think of it, living in a village sounds pretty cool. I mean, sure, everyone would know your business, and gossip would inevitably be a big issue, but imagine having little bakeries and a blacksmith and everyone walking around smiling and greeting each other like at the beginning of Beauty and the Beast. Well, minus the beast and that annoying douche bag Gaston. Ugh that guy was so annoying. Every time I see how mean he is to the beast I just wanna...

Oh, my meandering mind... *sigh*

In the Moment

"Life passes most people by while they are busy making grand plans for it."

I used to consider myself a spontaneous person. If someone suggested something, chances are I was down. Spur of the moment trip? Sure! Last minute change of plans? No biggie. I was a self-proclaimed free spirit, always teetering on the edge of one change or another. I embraced these changes, held my arms open wide to new things. This mentality led me to many great experiences and fun times in my life. It also led me to many a bad situation. Trying new things sometimes meant trying bad new things. And constant change often meant constant instability and irresponsibility. Ironically the spontaneous, free part of me is usually what held me back in my life. Although I prided myself on my go-where-the-wind-takes-me attitude, on a deeper level I longed for stability.

Now, I would be a big fat liar if I told you I was a spontaneous person. Really, these days I am anything but spontaneous. What happened? Well, kids happened. Having kids is a sure-fire way to zap all of the spontaneouty out of a person. Spur of the moment trip? Ha ha ha ha ha. Excuse me. Its just laughable that I would ever dream to be able to do something like that now. I have bottles and onsies and wipes and excessive amounts of diapers to pack. Baby carriers and blankets and extra clothes and God forbid I forget anyone's favorite stuffed animal. Everyone has to be fed, and changed and bladders empty before we hit the road, and leaving at nap time would sure make my life a whole lot easier because a couple of us really don't like our car seats. Did I mention that this is just a trip to the park?

I have become a master at pre-planning and strategizing to ensure we end up on the path of least resistance in any situation that may arise. I can multi-task like nobody's business and I am now always a couple steps ahead of the game. This has transformed me into a pretty darn responsible gal. I am more stable in my life than I have ever been. That's what I wanted, right? There is just one problem with my new-found-super-calculating-mega-mind: I can't turn it off. I have become so used to organizing my life into neat little blocks of time where everything is accounted for and planned, that I forget to stop and actually enjoy the result of all my hard work. Take the park, for instance. Beautiful day, a nice little picnic set up, kids happy, all is well. And there I sit, unable to fully engage with my daughter who is showing me a cool new trick on the slide. Why? Because I am busy thinking about what my next move will be. When would it be a good time to feed everyone? If we leave at this time, I can do this when I get home. If we leave at that time, will everyone be too tired? What should I make for dinner tomorrow (because tonight is already planned of course). Sometimes I catch myself. And I try so hard to just, as they say, live in the moment. I am able to do it for a bit but sure enough, that running commentary is always playing in the back of my mind like white noise. Before I know it I am back to arranging and organizing and formulating plans again.

I'm tired.

Being this way is draining. It takes a lot out of someone when their mind is all over the place. It has also made me into someone I never intended nor desired to be. I am now that uptight person who I could never relate to. I am that person who I was so glad I was not. I have moved from one end of the spectrum to the other, and neither one serve me well in my life. More importantly, I don't believe either of these extremes serve my children well. Yes, all of my careful concocting is what ultimately makes our house run smoothly (most of the time) and is what gets shit done. Someone has to make the rules, and someone has to maintain order after all. Of course I no longer have the option of going where the wind takes me, because I have a trail of little people who depend on me for their every need following close behind. These little people thrive on routine and consistency. They deserve to feel stable and grounded, and it is my duty as their caretaker to provide that. BUT... They also deserve to have some damn fun! What good is all of my hard work if I never actually take the time to enjoy it? They (I) need to learn to be flexible so they (I) are more able to handle the many curve balls life is destined to throw at them (me), rather than feeling the need to stick to a rigid time schedule that plans every aspect of their (my) lives. They (I) need to see their mother, their model, able to actually take part in what is going on around her rather than living inside of her head where she is busy with the future. Whats more, they (I) need to really understand that we aren't even guaranteed the future. We are only promised this moment. If life has taught me anything, it has taught me that. Now I must use my hard-won knowledge and treat the present like the gift that it truly is.

Progress

Baby steps baby steps.
Just continue to step.
One step forward.
And another back.
Just continue to step.
Mountain.
Climb it.
Fall.
Get up.
Just continue to step.
Obstacles everywhere.
Yourself included.
Just continue to step.
Tired.
Can't breathe.
Can't go.
Want to let go.
Breathe.
Just continue to step.
Too much.
Too hard.
Too long.
Too bad.
STEP.
Baby steps baby steps.
Just
continue
to
step.

Don't Feed the Beast

A close friend of mine recently told me that her new goal was to "not engage." By this, she meant that she would no longer feed into other people's negativity, insecurities, or overall retardation by giving them the attention and validation that they so desperately seek. It was one of those things that was absolutely brilliant because of its simplicity. Something that was such an obvious solution to such an annoying problem that I often feel plagued with. Seriously. Why would I ever play a part in something that ultimately leaves me drained and feeling a little worse after I do it? Why sit there nodding my head in sympathy or feigned agreement as someone lays out a big ass buffet of their issues for me to share with them, with no real intention of trying to resolve any of them? Why even take one bite, when I know damn well its gonna make me sick sick sick?  How do these people trap me in their lair of self-pity, self-doubt, and above all, self-centered bullshit? And more importantly, why do I let myself keep getting sucked in? All I have to do is just....duh....not engage. Do not give them what they want, if what they want is to bring me to the no-fun place they are hanging out. You must think I am a terrible friend. One that hates to listen to my pal's problems? The kind that only wants to be around for the good stuff? Not true. I am more than willing and glad even, to be a supportive and caring friend. Especially during the hard times. After all, that is what a real friend does. I have no problem sharing others pain and find myself to be a pretty damn empathetic chick. Its just that I am more inclined to behave in this manner when I am dealing with someone who actually has a desire to come out of their dark place, rather than with someone who not only refuses to make any attempt at lifting themselves out of it, but has the intention of dragging me down with them. This is the running commentary going on in my head when I am in the presence of one of these unfortunate souls:

"Ugh. Here we go again."
"Really, though? We are going through this again?"
"Seriously? You want my advice? You sure you just don't want a person to vomit all of your toxic energy on? You sure you aren't just looking for someone to tell you that the way you are handling your shit is just dandy? Hunky dory? Peachy keen? Because guess what, dumb ass? YOU KNOW ITS NOT!!""
"OK. Maybe I am being too harsh. Maybe I should just hear you out. Maybe this time its different. Maybe this time you will get a clue."
"Nope. Not looking like that shits gonna happen."
"Listen bitch. I ain't got time for this shit. I have kids and dirty dishes and piles of laundry. A dog who I love but bless his soul he is ALWAYS IN MY WAY, kids, water and vegetables and fruits I am not consuming enough of, exercise I am constantly-thinking-about-but-never-actually doing, kids, and teeth that need brushing a minimum of 2 times a day. Bills that need paying, kids, rooms that constantly need cleaning, them groceries ain't gonna buy themselves you know, and damn if I'm not always feeding someone something. I've got aches and pains to deal with, some of them physical, most of them not, kids to deal with, stress to deal with, past and present issues to deal with, grief and loss to deal with, did I mention I have kids, and now I've got your stupid ass to deal with??"
"Oh. Hell. No."

Lets be realistic here. Of course I won't actually say these things out loud. As much as I would like to scream it from the rooftop, I just don't have it in me to be that callous. Maybe I can avoid these kinds all together? In a perfect world, yes, this is exactly what I would do. Since the world we live in is far from perfection, it is often unavoidable that I will be around this kind of noxious behavior. For it comes in the form of relatives, and co-workers, bosses and yes-even friends. If I could somehow get them to change their habit of dumping their crap on others, I would gladly do it. Alas, I learned long ago that you can never really make a person do anything, and the only one you can change is your own damn self.  But there is, as my ever-wise comrade pointed out, a sure-fire way to not subject myself to this torture any longer. Another way to perhaps preserve part of my sanity (yes, only part. See above reference to kids). There is one thing I can do, or rather not do, that will help ease my agitation and exasperation:  I can choose not to engage!! Because as I have also come to understand, everything is a choice. I can choose to only validate the things that I actually feel are worth validating. I can choose not to participate in the things that I feel are a waste of my time and energy (which as we established I have little to spare). I can choose to speak up and tell people what they need to hear rather than what they want to hear. I can choose to change the subject, and I can choose to walk away!! The beauty is that I can choose. And by making the choice not to feed the beast, I am choosing to put my focus on the things that really matter. Like say, for instance...... ME.

Fountain of Youth

Children are our fountain of youth.
Forever bringing into the light the things we have become too busy or too jaded to notice ourselves.
Like, how a stick picked up off the ground can serve as not only a sword, but a magic wand, a musical instrument, a fishing pole, a pen, a microphone, a shovel, or in some cases a snack.
Like how clouds resemble animals.
And how animals resemble people.
Like how it really is hilarious when someone falls down.
Except if its them of course.
Children are our fountain of youth.
Always reminding us that things aren't as bad as they seem.
Like just when life's problems feel too much to bear
Then they ask "Where do babies come from?"
And suddenly we know things could always be much worse.
Children are our fountain of youth.
Constantly keeping us humble.
Like just when we think we have it all figured out.
And then they come home from school teaching us something we didn't know.
And they are 5.
Or when they call us out on our crap.
And all we are left with is a measly, "Because I said so."
Children are our fountain of youth.
Loving us without question.
Forgiving us when we don't deserve it.
Being hopeful when we have given up.
Allowing us to be who we really are.
And making us want to be more.
Children are our fountain of youth.

A Day in May

There was a time when I dreaded Mother's Day. In fact, I downright despised it. I considered that day a slap in the face, a glaring reminder of all that I lacked. It embarrassed me, that day. It caused me to feel excluded and even worse; pitied. Although no one ever came out and said it, I would always imagine people feeling sorry for me, the girl whose mom had abandoned her, the girl whose step-mom never allowed her to think of her as a mother, the girl with no real mom to speak of. I felt sorry for myself on that day. I turned it into the one day of the year that I would dwell. I would dwell on my bad luck with moms. Its not something I did often, but on that day- I would dwell. I would use that day I hated to think of all the people in my life who did have a mom around who cared, and I would wish I was them. Just for that one day I let myself feel the envy that was always simmering somewhere inside, stifled by my constant desire to be happy. It wasn't a good feeling. It always felt terrible being the only one I knew whose mom had voluntarily left her life.  As the years went on, I had myself convinced that when Mother's Day rolled around, I would definitely not have a good day, and I would certainly be miserable. And so I was. For many years, I was.

That Sunday in May gradually began to change for me as I began to grow and change, myself. The pain of the day slowly receded, and little by little I began to allow myself to enjoy it in my own ways. But I would be lying if I said that the ache was completely gone. It was still in many ways a day that represented what I did not have, and every year it was a struggle to mold it into something better. But I continued to try.

As one would imagine, it was becoming a mother myself that altered forever what the day would mean to me. Now I have a reason to celebrate -even better- to be celebrated. I no longer feel left out, like the day does not belong to me. I no longer have to try to make it better than it is. It just is better. Being a mom forever links me to this special day, not sorrowfully, but in the most joyful way possible. I no longer dwell on all that I lack. I revel in all that I possess. Being a mother that has allowed me to recognize the many maternal blessings I did have, and continue to have. I now see the aunts, the grandmas, the mother-in-laws, the moms of friends, all of the women that surrounded me growing up, as what they were to me. They were pieces of the mother I never thought I had. I am now even able to appreciate what my own mom and step-mom brought to my life. So now, on this day I honor these women. I commend these women. It is because of these women that I am all that I am today. Whether it was something big or small that was done, it was something to me. I thank you from the bottom of my heart and my children thank you. I adore being a mother. I was made to be a mother. And I was made by all of you.

<3

These Things

Full.

I am bubbling over with all of these things.

These things which sift around inside of me daily.

Just simmering until they are tender and juicy enough to be served.

These things will be served on a platter of fury.

A rage so bitter that the flavor of the meal is sure to be tainted.

Poisoned by regret and diluted with all that could have been.

A taste so unpleasant that no one dares to go near it, let alone taste its sickeningly sweet pain.

These things are layered with bittersweet tears and glazed with nights spent.

Constantly agonizing over these things that will not

that can not

ever be changed.

Heaps of emptiness and mounds of thick nothingness cover my plate.

These things relentlessly fill me, never leaving me hungry.

I am full.

The Pills We Swallow

Not becoming bitter is a full time job.

There is so much out there that has the potential to push me over the edge.
Into the sweet oblivion
of
not
giving
a
fuck.

There is so much out there that is just plain horrible.
No matter which way you spin it.

Bad things happen to me.
But worse things happen to others
every day,
Every second of every day.

Sometimes that thought nearly crushes me.
Sometimes it threatens to tip my perpetually half full glass over.
Shattering it on the hard ground of reality.

Somehow.
Some way.
I always manage to catch it
Right before it
Falls.

Somehow.
I find a way to
Carefully balance
And
Strategically place
Sunshine
In all of the
cold
dark
corners of my mind.

Not becoming bitter is a full time job.

Tee Hee Hee

My Meandering Mind- Installment II

Things that are hard are usually the most rewarding. That's annoying. If things were easy and rewarding that would be better.

Sometimes I think I am really good at staring at people without them noticing. And then I wonder "what if they are just really good at pretending not to notice when someone is staring at them?"

Honestly I don't understand what is so great about oyster shooters. You swallow the damn thing whole. All you taste is whatever flavor it is drenched in. In that case, couldn't you just drench something else relatively small and slimy in a flavor of your choice, and swallow it whole? Wouldn't that be cheaper? Wouldn't it kind of give the same effect?

Sometimes I forget I put on mascara and then I rub my eye really hard. That never ends well.

I constantly am reminding myself that most things really don't matter in the long run. How clean my house was, or how great I looked in that outfit are not the things I will be thinking about when I am old and gray and reflecting on my life. I'll be thinking of moments I've had. Either really terrible ones, or hopefully lots of the really great ones.

Why do people have birds as pets? They are kind of pointless. Not pointless in the world, just pointless as pets. I guess talking parrots are an exception. They are pretty cool. But the small ones that chirpity chirp all day... Why?

I just thought of something. Those pet birds I was talking about ^ Maybe we have them so we can feel like we are outside even when we are not? Maybe it makes us feel closer to nature? There. I feel better about that whole bird thing now.

There has never been a personalized licence plate that wasn't douche-tastic in some way.

If you have a personalized licence plate ^ and you are reading this, I hope you aren't offended. I also hope you realize how douche-tastic you are by association.

I feel genuinely sorry for people who can not be their true selves for some reason or another. What a terrible way to live.

Allowing yourself to be lazy is one of the best friggin feelings in the world. Truly.

I consider people who work in places where there is loud, upbeat music playing all day very lucky. I bet it can make even the crappiest job a lot more bearable. Unless of course you hate the music. Then that would really, really suck.


I feel like if I worked in a place like that ^ (the good kind) I would have no choice but to randomly break out into bad-ass dance moves when I thought no one was looking.

Knowing my luck, when I did those dance moves ^ there would always be someone looking that I wouldn't notice was looking. Because I'm not good at pretending not to notice that someone is looking. I'm not even good at noticing someone is looking.  I'd do the bad-ass dance moves anyways.

Speaking of stores with loud music, I just realized that some of my favorite people in the world are those really flamboyant gay guys who work in retail. The ones that greet me like we are longtime girlfriends who haven't seen each other for ages. Now, those guys appreciate the loud, upbeat music at their job. You can see it in the way they walk to the beat and in the way they periodically belt out the chorus. Yep, I dig those guys. They make me feel fabulous, and I never think they are bullshitting about how I really look in those jeans.

This is a true story.
So, not even 5 minutes after I wrote out that deep-ass thought ^ I walk into a retail store. (Yup, the kind with the loud bumpin ass music). Not only is there one pretty gosh darn flamboyant fella, but all 5 of the employees on shift make up that particular segment of our population. Seriously. Every single employee. But guess what? Not a one of them were the aforementioned type I am so fond
of  ^. No one greeted me with a "hey girl!" No one swept me away to show me what would look hot on me. As a matter of fact, no one seemed to be all that pleased I was even there at all. I think I was interrupting their shit-talking session about some co-workers who weren't working that day. They did not make me feel fabulous, and even worse... those fools didn't appreciate a damn note of the music bumping out of the speakers above them. Bitches.

That will teach me to stereotype. ^

Actually it probably won't. Some stereotypes are so true its funny. And I like to laugh. So...

My Teenage Angst

Teenage angst. We all had it in some form or another.
When I was a teenager, I was a poet. My angst is documented.
My teenage poems are sometimes silly and self-indulgent, others simply cry out for someone to understand. Looking back at the life within these poems, I am at times heartbroken, and at times nostalgic. I both laugh and cry inside for my teenage self. Mostly I am grateful to be able to look back.
I will periodically add more as I come across them.
All of these were written when I was 15-16 years young...


Reside

set me free from this vicious chain
for I am being cut at the heart with a knife much too sharp
I can't do much
except sit and exist
expecting the worst
hoping the best
keep me locked inside your exclusive door
think about it first
and then look in my eyes


Zombie Walking

You are only sputtering and choking to me.
You are listlessly begging me with your pitiful eyes.
You are only dragging your tail and watching everyone pass by.
You look like a human skeleton I keep thinking.
Over and over and over in my mind.
I wanted to warn you.
Would you have heard?


Dominate

Refrain from chasing the glory out of my hands.
I never did that to you.
You know what you are doing when you do it.
As long as I can remember
You only liked me when I was under your feet.
I will enjoy the look upon your conquering face if
WHEN
I rise above you and smile.
A genuine, kind smile.
Like an angel.


Step

an immobile chip
on the shoulder
of you
you
my replacement subsitute
you
my grateful feelings
you
my only hope in this field
I spit on this possibility
and embrace it
in the same turn
you
who confuses my emotions
and swims in my heart
you
who cares so much
not to care
who cares so much
not to care
who you hurt
its me
its you who is here with me


Fresh

I am crawling into the sunshine
Slowly at first.
Today
Is a new day.
Tomorrow
Another.
My today has come
Beckoning for tomorrow.
People sigh and wave to me.
I wave with joy in return.
For my today has come
With a smile on his face.


Mother

Mother I don't know you.
I do know of you.
I sense a little anger.
Anger in the pit of me.
I sense a little nothing.
Mother I can call you mother.
I can call you mom.
But you won't call me.
I don't call you by your name.
You have no right to call me by mine.
Don't call me.
You don't.
I can't miss.
I can only wonder.
I can't despair.
I can only shrug.
As if nothing.
As if you call.
You just don't.


Long For

I sing a rich and pleasant tune to you
In my deep emerald fields I dance gaily
I sway freely
I play my tune and you stand there
Just stand there
Just smiling
My mind is filled with nothing
The good kind of nothing
The kind you long for
I am happy
The good kind of happy
The kind you long for



A Man I Know

Multiple personalities
An image of vomit comes to my mind
Then one of forgiveness
I am concerned for you Michael
For what I am doing to you
And your gray head
And your heart
Your bloodshot eyes expose pain
I cry for that
And I cry for you
To have you hug me and not cry inside
Do not blame yourself
Ok, Michael?
It is all part of the image in my mind
One of a girl
A girl who feels everything
This girl who is golden
And burns so many
Don't cry for me Michael
I know you get angry
Just don't give up
On me




All of these poems are about being grounded (which I was A LOT in my teenage years):

*
So ragged and emotional
Surrounded and encumpussed
By the everlasting fear and sorrow
Of solitude
The room is fierce hard stone
And nothing could be harder
But eternity shall be spent
You made your hell

*
I have spent endless hours in this rectangular box
only emerging for instants at a time.
I have speculated and pondered.
I have spilled my heart on the floor
and scrambled down on my hands and knees
to pick it up.
I have killed time with fury.

*
Into me, the bitter gaul of my nothing penetrates over my carcass.
I am not dead.
Yet.
I feel the sweet conquering death coming to me.
Beckoning with silver bony fingers curled at the end with a claw.
I stay and remain.
Trapped.
No.
That's an understatement.
Locked.
Imprisoned.
Pinned. Barricaded.
I am barricaded into this world which I truly despise with all the body I have.
I feel my soul curdling in the scorching heat of my life.
All I yearn to do is run to the waters edge and see my reflection composed of gold.
I would like to smile without a fog of hatred and despair clouding my eyes.
I need to live and I shall.
If I get to the water's edge.

Open My Eyes

I heard this song today, quite a perfect day to hear it. Turned my day around. :)

I open my eyes each morning I rise, to find a true
thought, know that it's real, I'm lucky to breathe,
I'm lucky to feel, I'm glad to wake up, I'm glad to be
here, with all of this world, and all of it's pain, all
of it's lies, and all of it's flipped down, I still
feel a sense of freedom, so glad I'm around,

It's my freedom, can't take it from me, i know it, it
won't change, but we need some understanding, I know
we'll be all right.

The day I am gone, and the day that i leave,
I'll never regret one minute of life,
I've learned from the joy, i've learned from the
tears,
I've fought through the dark, now i see the light,
every tongue of everyone, in every state, of every
land,
has everything to be thankful for,

It's my freedom, can't take it from me, i know it, it
won't change,
but we need some understanding, I know it be all
right,

It's my freedom, can't take it from me, i know it, it
won't change,
but we need some understanding.

Cause I, I wait on you, cause you wait on me, so I
wait on you.

I open my eyes each morning I rise to find a true
thought, know that it's real, I can't tell you how,
you can't tell me why, but livin' my life, is all i
care, the verdict can be sometimes bigger than me,
sometimes stronger than me, and hard to bare, but i
could careless, oh just cause Jah (or insert whatever you believe in) put me here.

My Meandering Mind-Installment I

Take sleep when you can. I see my kids fighting sleep and I ask. why?!?! Whyyyy?!?! What I wouldn't give to have someone forcing me to take a nap. For you adults... You'll sleep when you're dead? Really? No. You won't. You will be dead when you are dead. Sleep now.

Most things aren't worth the battle. Some are. But most aren't. Just let it go, and it will let you go.

Hands aren't the only limbs that can pick things up. Use your feet to your full advantage while you are young and nimble and relatively flexible. Kick shit outta your way. Pluck that stray dirty sock off the floor with your toes and deposit it into the laundry basket, while holding an arm full of dirty clothes and possibly an infant. And then give yourself permission to feel like a bad-ass.

Some expressions are just plumb stupid. For instance, (this one was pointed out to me by a friend who is an expert on what is stupid in this world...so thanks): "That's so funny I forgot to laugh." So, you are telling me that what I said was so utterly hilarious and you were spending so much time marveling over its comedic genius, that it totally slipped your mind to remember to laugh? Oh. you were being sarcastic. What I said was so un-funny that you forgot to laugh at it? That's fuckin stupid. Don't use this expression. Ever.

Most of the time kids are much more logical than we are. Listen to them. Don't dismiss what they say. It usually makes a shitload more sense than anything we can come up with on our own. Don't be ashamed when a pre-schooler schools your ass. Just go with it.

Speed bumps are so annoying. But they were a really good idea. People drive like buffoons. Appreciate speed bumps.

Its never a good idea to use your phone in any way, shape, or form when alcohol has entered your system. Our phones can do so much now. Its amazing!  And you will want to utilize all of it when you are wasted. That's the opposite of amazing.

Don't underestimate the healing power of water. Drink it. Lots of it. Who cares if you are thirsty. Drink that shit!!

Its not being humble to respond to a compliment by being self-deprecating in return. What it is, is annoying. Just say thank you and smile, and then I won't feel like my kind words were a waste of my precious energy.

Ooooh I love me some rocky road ice cream.


Stay tuned for more juicy tidbits from my meandering mind...