Pinterest ... *audible eye roll*

So. I was on Pinterest last night ... And ... I thought vaporizing shower cubes looked absolutely, mouthwatering-ly delicious and now I'm wondering if I have pica.

Ughhhhahhhhhhhhuuuuuhhhhhhahhhhhhh ...

Here's a picture of what I thought were Elsa Ice Cream Cubes or maybe on second glance, cheese??

You are correct when you are saying out loud, "But she wouldn't have even made those??" 

Yep. They looked delicious to me despite the fact that they say Vaporizing Shower Cubes in fairly large font and the tub of vapo rub behind them. Me at 11pm with no business on Pinterest was ready to pin that sh*t to my Om Nom Nom board. If you don't Pinterest that is where I keep all the recipes I will never make. 

WHAT. inTHEliteral. you know ...

But here we all are. 

Not surprisingly, I have a lot of questions about vaporizing shower cubes. For instance, how? How do they work? Do you ... set them on the floor? Which I'm sorry but that has FALL RISK written all over it. Don't even @ me on that. I've always wanted to use that phrase. Do you ... set them on a ledge? I guess so if you wanna smell like vapo rub soap all day errr'y day. Do they ... dissolve? Like? Immediately? We've learned you don't eat them. That's for damn sure. 

I feel like I could understand their purpose if they were meant for a bathtub? If they dissolved? But they look like cheese? So maybe they are dense? Would your skin get all prune-y before they dissolved? DO YOU USE MORE THAN ONE AT A TIME????!!!!!! 

Ya'll freakin Pinterest. Because here I am almost 24 hours later thinking about something that I would never buy nor make ever in the history of my life ever. 

Also, I guarantee you, this is something that they will warn us about in 20 years. They will be all, Hope you didn't make shower cubes because that stuff is so lethal and a waste of time because they kill you. And then I'll be all, Well, they, thank GOD I can't craft because here I am. Lone Survivoring it. 

Which. I guess would make me a national treasure at that point. *dusts dirt off shoulders* *fluffs shirt, pops collar* Move over, Nick Cage, there's a new national treasure in town ...

Ho Ho Ho

The other day as I was driving out of my way to go to a new Kroger because that's the stage I'm at in life now I was thinking to myself: 

What if my parents did name me Stephanie ... I don't think I look much like a Stephanie ... If I was named Stephanie would I have blonde hair ... 

Then I almost missed the light and quickly went back to my #deepthoughts as I was getting ready to park. Which was an internal debate over whether I should get gas before grocery shopping or after. Which if you must know, never happened because I forgot. I found a spot that was far enough away from the door to STILL GET THEM STEPS IN and yet close enough to the door so that I could scream if I was being attacked and someone would hear OR that I could run back inside if I noticed someone hiding under my car who was going to slit my Achilles tendon with a knife as I got in the car. This would quickly progress to my kidneys being cut out. Blood would be everywhere. All in the Kroger parking lot. In broad daylight. Because #anxietygirl.

Anyway, during my grocery shopping I was pleasantly surprised by how calm and polite everyone was despite the store being extremely crowded. People were very patient with me as I was staring blindly into the produce searching for shallots. Why can't all Kroger's be laid out the same? For the love!! I even gave myself a little scavenger hunt and tried to find the pomegranates!! Which was fruitless ehhh??? Y'all like that!! Because y'all it's impossible to find something when you can barely spell it and you have no idea what it looks like. The neat thing was that the gal who bagged my groceries was having a little fun of her own when she took each of my onions out of the produce bag and placed each one into a bag with either canned goods or bread or cereal?? My personal early Christmas present though was that upon exit all the carts were returned to the cart return my pet peeve and I think the one true indicator whether someone is a jerk or not. 

Why all this positivity you ask? Why all this train of thought? Well, I knew going into the Holiday season that this year was going to be a lot different from those in the past and not just for the obvious we're in Texas and family is in Virginia reasons. As some of you know I had a hysterectomy in early December. There was supposed to be not a lot of recovery but I've experienced some complications that are still on going. This has prevented a lot of traditions that have been going strong for 28 years to not be able to happen and I hate it. The older we get, we realize how fragile life is. How short time is. And how important family is. My Dad and I have been going out shopping together on Christmas Eve since I was 10 years old. That didn't happen this year and I hate it so much. I miss them so much. But, what's been amazing is having framily to help us through the hard and weird and new. Framily that is just as precious to me and my family as if they were blood related. They have taken away a lot of the new and different and kept it as new and familiar and special and full of just as much love and gratitude as if we were home. We are very lucky, very fortunate and love that our hearts are always in two places.

So, this Christmas and New Year love your family and framily hard. They will help you pick up the pieces when you need them the most. And maybe, just maybe they can also show you what a pomegranate looks like!! XOXO

Also, since no one asked, a good Resolution for 2020 is to stop calling Kroger, Krogers. And if you have $0.10 to call it 10 cents not 10 cent. You're welcome.

Puzzled

Why as adults do we torture ourselves with things that they say will make our minds sharper. Because let me tell you what, they, I just did this 1,000 piece STAR WARS puzzle and feel like I can barely say the alphabet anymore.

Actual image of one of my worst allergic reactions ...

That right there my friends is one of the least fun things I've ever done. Less fun even than cutting my kids finger nails. Trust me. 

**Also, worth noting Matthew was supposed to be doing this puzzle. But I'm a helicopter Mom even when my kid is doing a puzzle ... And I believe they and want to keep my mind sharp ... Just in case they are right.**

Ugh guys, they were so wrong. My smarts are gone from looking at stupid Star Wars for like 48 hours straight. In every effort to get my mind back from Darth's control See!! I'm going legit batty I've determined that there are two factors that bring one to puzzle. The first is when one thinks that they are bored when actually there are a lot of toilets to clean, and the second is when it's raining/snowing/or they're anxiously awaiting the GOT Final Season. 

Then, once you are IN IT and you are definitely doing a puzzle there are these phases: 

1. Purchase/Excitement/Feels smart about puzzle
2. Immediate defeat, and the realization WOW. This is ... a lot more pieces than what I thought 1,000 miniature versions of the same color of yellow would look like
3. The words F*** this sh*t over and over and over again ... when you're not sneezing from puzzle dust

Somehow we survived this dumb puzzle. It's all a blur to be honest. BUT!! The Parkers aren't quitters. And we also have a hard time learning lessons. And we fall into the anxiously awaiting GOT final season category. We have decided to take on another puzzle!! This time, it's a 2,000 piece puzzle of the world. Yep. The WHOLE GD World. All 2,000 puzzle dusty pieces all over my dining room table. It's fine.

If anxiety had a "face" it would look like this ...  

Maybe we can insert some logic to help ... rationalize why we would do this to ourselves again???

If you're not sure what to do then Puzzle!
If Titos Vodka then Puzzle!
Therefore, always do puzzles with Titos vodka!!!

Speaking of the Super Bowl. Snoozefest, yes? The best part of our Super Bowl was cleaning up Abigail's puke. On her way to the bathroom. That was a real treat. 

So naturally, afterwards we made a vodka drink and started that GD world puzzle.  #cheers #winning

You know you're old when ...

You wanna talk about how to handle your nose hair. Y'all. I could write a novel about the millions of ways to handle every other part of your body with hair that is up for debate about whether it should or shouldn't have hair. But when it comes to what do about your nose? I wouldn't nose where to start.  

Do youuuuu ... wax it? For the record it = nose hair Which sounds really, really painful. And maybe a little ... brain infection-y??

Then it's like ... Do youuuuu ... pull it? That sounds very Medieval Times-y and like ... joust-y? And horse-like? And kinda like you live in a time where you eat with your hands and there's hay everywhere. And!! If you've been around hay, and horses and swords!!! There's nooooooose way you're coming at me with a pinched finger or tweezers. So. Un. Sanitary. shudder

But you guys!! You crazy beautiful beings must do something!! Because I pay attention. And your noses nose what's up. Share with me what you do. Warning: if you pull or wax your nose hair, then ask your friends what they do and share THAT with me. 

I know. Y'all are like:

Angela. Why are you an anti nose hair waxxxer? 

Well. Because I feel like my luck is really bad. So, of the 0.009999% of the population that gets a brain infection from waxing too hard, I'd be that person. Or like I'd tweeze a hair too hard and my sinuses would collapse? Also, because I don't know if iiiiii am supposed to do the wax? And if you leave it to me, I'll somehow have a third degree burn on my eye and be in critical care. Not even joking. 

I present you, Exhibit A: 

Looks worse in person. I'm not shy. I'll show you! And you don't even have to show me yours! No seriously.

That's just from learning from how to use a hair wand. Which was TOTALLY worth it bytheway.

Then lest we forget ringworm that wasn't ringworm from learning to use a flat iron. If you're smelling what I'm stepping in, we aren't dealing with a full deck of beauty IQ cards here people. 

At any rate. My nose hair is long, and it's strong and it's down to get it's freak sh*t on. So, ladies, yeah! Ladies, yeah! Clue me in to what you all noseabout nose hair. I'm hair for it. Get it. Instead of HERE for it. 

Dog Food Cookies By: Pinterest

Meet Angela. Angela is not good baking, but she is VERY good at other things like ... ... ... well. Other things. Angela often visits a magical world that promises things like:

1. Organization at the click of a mouse
2. A new kitchen pinned to a mythical, non stressful, non anxiety ridden, "board"
3. Clothes that will look good on any body type
4. Riding boots that will fit over large calves 
5. All the recipes that will ALL turn out delicious and magazine ready 

But the magical world was EVIL and full of so many lies; she quickly realized that:

1. Organization wasn't attainable and involved having to clean on a SCHEDULE wtf - which resulted in so much Clorox wipes that Angela didn't have finger prints anymore
2. A new kitchen that you could pin to a board, but said kitchens were so laden with MARBLE that they weren't even efficient much less practical
3. Clothes that ... Just. NO!! Scarves cannot be worn as tops!! OMG.
4. Lies, lies and more LIES!!!
5. All the "cookie" recipes turn out to look like dog food:
   
   
   

This evil world is known as Pinterest. Where Angela's soul is stolen, where innocent men and women are led to believe that Barbies can be baked into a cake. An evil, unattainable, Barbie cake where the cake is her dress and somehow ... THAT'S OK. This is NOT OK!! Barbie is a doll and she is meant to be loved and live in a Dream House. I never had BARBIE baked into a cake in my childhood and did I end up OKAY?????????? DID I!!?!?!!!

One night, in order to attempt happiness for her three children, who only want to eat sugar, live in sugar, and one day grow up to BE sugar. Angela set out to make these:

Semi healthy. Presumably delicious. Golden brown. Circular. 

As usual, she followed the directions to a GD T, and said a silent prayer that THIS would be the recipe to renew her faith in baking, in Pinterest. 

But Paradise is lost. Utopia is but a myth. Unicorns are DEAD IN QUICKSAND because ... Angela wants you to see what the "cookies" came out looking like:

Just so we're clear: On the LEFT is dog food and on the RIGHT is dog food are the PEACH PIE COOKIES!!! 

WHAT IN THE LITERAL FUCK. 

Angela, as well as the children, tasted the "cookies" because MAYBE, just maybe, they tasted better than they looked. As they tasted the "cookies" one by one by one a sadness came over them: 

But. Angela knew this was basically going to be a shit show so she rallied and was all: 

With regards to the outcome of her "cookies."

Angela knew, deep down, that Pinterest had whore-like, sad, hopeless qualities; which this recipe only affirmed. In fact, Angela now takes solace in the fact that Pinterest ranks right up there with ...

As a dangerous, highly UNsanitary world, full of false hope. For when gynecologists say, "There's no summer's eve in Summer's Eve." Angela knows they are actually saying:

DANGER: Douching or Pinterest-ing. It's basically THE SAME THING.

The end.

Odds & Ends and Jon Snow

Lookit this beautiful Texas sunset!! 

While this is beautiful, it doesn't even do it justice.

They are really spectacular. This was from a few weeks ago and it was so beautiful, it was worth driving and taking the picture at the same time. Sorry, Mom. Mother Nature made me do it.

Speaking of wine! Our electric wine opener had been on the fritz for a while. She was really magical. I have never been able to open wine manually, so she had literally saved my life on multiple occasions. Then she finally died. Part of a cork got stuck in the side of her inside manual part and she just ... had enough. We got her as a shower gift back in 2010 so she had a really good run. Here's my wine "area" when she was still alive and kicking ... for those who don't know her she's on the far right (RIP Electric Wine Thingy):

I know. This picture calms me down too.

When she died, I realized life was about to get real. One night OK maybe more than one night I had my very smart husband teach me how to use the manual wine opener. He makes it all look so easy! BUT!! I'm proud to say that under his steed, this Momma has MASTERED the art of manual wine opening. In fact, we're considering putting this little guy on our insurance policy! Also, when he's not in use, doesn't he look like a parrot? 

Parrot? Or life saving device?

This still calms me. I think the crystals AND the wine, is the key.

So since:

Kids = Wine  

That brings us to Jon Snow. Mike and I are big Game of Thrones fans but, for the obvious reasons, we don't watch the show until the kids are asleep. Lately, this has been the conversation in the car: 

Abigail: Dah, let's say our alphabet!!!
Matthew: Well. Jon Snow doesn't know his alphabet.
Abigail: I know. He only says his numbers. He says his alphabet as Sunshine, sunny, sunny, sun, sunshine, sunshine, sun, sun, sun ... 

Or ...

Matthew: Abigail, what'd you learn today.
Abigail: Nothing. Like Jon Snow. He doesn't know his letters.

Or ... 

Someone at the dinner table: What was your favorite part of the day?
Abigail or Matthew: Jon Snow didn't have a favorite part of the day because he doesn't know his letters.

Or, while I was writing this blog and looking at pictures of Jon Snow ...

Matthew: Doesn't Jon Snow remind you of Uncle Michael?

I don't know why, they are so fixated on Jon Snow:  Pictured for reference 

Hellooooo, Kit Harrington!

OK OK OK OK ... So mayyybe I do know why they are so fixated on him.

Regardless, the fact that Jon Snow doesn't know his letters cracks me up. Pretty sure, at some point, Jon Snow will be our only hope. And wine ... 

These are some of the things my favorite LIVING things cannot do ...

All of our kids are good at SOMEthing. I don't care how disrespectful, or bad at listening they are, they are good at something. Believe me. It's not lost on me that kids are blessings.

But, it's also OK to acknowledge that our little blessings aren't 100% all of the time; and aren't perfect at everything all of the time. Fortunately, for you, I have come to terms with my purpose in life:

To make others feel good about ALL THE THINGS that may go wrong in their lives because everything, but especially craft things and cooking things, tends to go wrong in MY life. But I ESPECIALLY do not craft.

I struggle because I feel like I hit the kid jackpot because I have three kids who, at my helm, love getting lost, new adventures and have really, really GREAT self esteem. But then, I just can't deny that they are really,  realllllllly BAD at a lot of things. Maybe this just means I need to get out more?

Here are just a few of things at which my favorite things do NOT excel:

1. Brushing their teeth
Regarding this most mission critical act of personal hygiene, my kids are awful. Meaning, they are forever brushing their teeth. I get that it's the go-to stall tactic at bedtime. But my kids use this as their stall tactic for existing in life. Weekends? Brushing their teeth. Before we are leaving for anywhere? Brushing their teeth. Late to get anywhere? Someone's brushing away. Always. So. Either they will need gum grafts in the next year, or we will have to start investing in toothbrush companies because I feeeeeeel like we're kinna keeping them in business right now.

Sitting ON the counter is the only effective way to brush your teeth, FYI.

Suuuuure, brushing your teeth is great until you have toothbrush dribble all over your house, your kids clothes, your clothes, your dog, your leather sectional ...

This toothbrush was soon acquired by Walter (read: the dog literally ate it).

2. Throwing things away
I cut Abigail's hair last week, and this is what she did with her hair that fell on the floor:

I'ts amazing how much we can love them. 

It's totally normal to keep your non-first-haircut-hair in a sandwich baggy, right? I know. She'll be making skin suits out of the people she keeps in her basement. It's ok. We'll stay on top of it.

3. Flushing the GD toilet
No explanation necessary. Also, this isn't singular to the males in the house ... they are all deplorable at expelling their deplorables into the potty .... and being SANITARY about it in the process ...

So. Gross.

4. Eating
These eggs are from this morning, pic taken after lunch. Yet, these Base 10 Blocks a learning tool are "cake" ... what am I missing here??? Clearly, something is being lost in translation??

As we came downstairs, from putting them to bed, I stumbled across a package of Hormel pepperoni in the playroom??? Where am I when they raid my refrigerator???

5. Distinguishing toys vs anything
These are Scrub Daddy's. We are gigantic Shark Tank fans, the Scrub Daddy is their most, if not one of their most, successful products to date. I am here to assure you that they are LIFE CHANGING!!
Here's a picture of the girls using them as dance partners:

#dontmakemecallyourdaddy

6. Using the counter top for its intended purpose
This picture was taken right before dinner but it's a good picture of what my life looks like at 8am, 10am, 11am, Noon, 1pm, 2pm ... go pick up kids ... 4pm, 5pm, 6pm ... and repeat ...

Yummmm ... honey ... Yummmm ... Chardonnay ... 

BUT!! If all their missteps mean that I get to console myself with this ... then please meet the sixth member of our family ... the effect that the three causes, cause ... sweet, sweet wine. Cheers!!

I *heart* you, Chloe!!!!

2017 Update

So far, 2017 has been off to a great start. Except for the fact that it looks like I have ringworm on my forehead where I burnt myself with the straightener ...

Not ringworm.

Fortunately, this will heal. Some wounds take longer. Like the one I received on New Years Eve, which truly blew my mind. 

You see, I love The Rolling Stones. The musicians not the magazine. Growing up, my parents exposed my brothers and me to some AMAZING music ... Motown, The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Sinatra, Eric Clapton, just to name a few. It was great. NYE the kids were watching Despicable Me which has an awesome soundtrack by the way and The Rolling Stones come on during a scene and I sing along to the lyrics how I have for my ENTIRE LIFE:

"... It's just your 1930's breakdown ..." 

I hollered out to my husband to "Add this song to our playlist!! It's one of my favorites!!" He responds with, "What's the title?!" To which I respond with, "1930's Breakdown!!!" Gosh. Get it together, husband. To which he comes in to the bathroom and unloads the bombshell:

It's actually called 19th Nervous Breakdown. Love you.

SHUT UP!!!!! So you mean to tell me this isn't a song about The Great Depression!?!? Which admittedly, looking back, is odd that The Stones would be singing about that. But. My mind was/is blown. All my life. Still kinda in shock? Not sure I can trust myself? Feeling a little ... let down.

Not gonna lie, it may take a while to get over this one. So, I want to know, what's a learning experience you've had so far in 2017?

F$%& You, Eyeliner

My first experience with eyeliner was in 2010 for my bridal portraits. And!! I was I only putting it on the top lid. My justification was because I have small eyes and hooded eye lids and felt like if I lined the bottom then I'd look all smudgy and walk of shame-y. However, now that I'm pushing 40, I feel like there are just some things that have to be done; and lining your bottom lids is one of those things. Lucky for you, I decided that tonight was the perfect time to try it.

For reference, here's what a normal application of eyeliner looks like. When I see other people use eyeliner their application looks like this:

Then, I tried my hand at it. I was skittish so I only did one eye first:

Before you start in with the "Your eyes are not small," bs, they are. I'm fine with it. Basically, my cell production in the womb was really lazy. They were just too tired after growing my larger than average sized head, to "fuss" with my eyes. Whatever. It's fine.

 A few things to note:

1. Yes. Those are elf pajamas. Let's stay focused here. But, Merry Christmas, hope you all got everything you wanted.
2. Yes, I am tired.
3. See how I immediately look like I should be at a concert? Or like I slipped and fell right on my eye? Or like how I look MORE tired?!? 

And then like 30 seconds passed and I look like I've been up for four days straight ...

RIGHT!?! Awful.

You guys. Hide your trash, cause apparently I'll come scavenge in it for food. I look like such an animal!! At this point in the experiment I was feeling like eyeliner can just go die a slow death with the curling iron:

Yeah. I drew on my face. So what? I beat the eyeliner to it. Because this is basically what I was going to end up looking like anyway. Maybe we chalk this mess up to oily lower lids? Because this shit is waterproof and it's like ... all over my baggy under eyes.  

But!! Because I don't give up when I should, I said to myself, "Hey. Look. You aren't a quitter. Let's line the other lower lid." 

I mean. I just constantly torture myself with my internal dialogue. I just need to STFU sometimes!! So this is basically how THAT shit show went:

All in all, I look like the elf of your nightmares. In fact. I bet you'll have one tonight. I would/am. Don't even try to tell me that liquid would go so much better. No. It won't.  

Guys, WE CAN'T ALL BE GOOD AT ALL OF THE THINGS!! So, that's why I say f$%& you, eyeliner. #toplidonlyforLIFE

How Bullet Journaling Cost Me My Sanity and a Small Fortune

Sometimes, I feel like I still don't know who I am or what I want to be when I grow up? Sometimes, I feel like maybe there's something else out there for me? This internal dialogue usually happens in the early morning or late at night or when I'm alone in the car, because it's quiet and I forget that I am a stay at home mom. Then someone starts crying or whining or throwing up or I go on Huff Po or Facebook and read an article on how your child should be potty trained at birth/18 months. 

So! To help solve some of these feels I have, one night last month, I got on Facebook and read a post about how someone was watching Real Housewives and Bullet Journaling AND drinking wine. Immediately I was all WHAT THE!!!! Because!! I am already obsessed with two out of the three of this person's hobbies!! They are basically me but not me!! I quickly wandered over to Pinterest, searched "Bullet Journal" and fell into a dark, dark hole. If I used a bullet journal I was promised hope, DESIRE to be organized iiiii know!!!, beautiful pens that won't smear and all the notebooks that your heart could ever want. Naturally, I was all in. I created a Pinterest board, called my best friend and told her all about it and was really, really freaking excited to go shopping for my supplies. Howeverrrrrr ....

I was totally cheating on this, like, massive 18 month calendar. She has stickers, a front pocket to hold papers !!!!!, an extensive notes and address section and is so colorful and beautiful: 

But she promised me no hope of becoming an organized person over night. So, naturally I fell hard and fast for a "Design Your Own" bullet journal. Plus, a bullet journal is portable. This calendar is basically a stone tablet from the dark ages which made her SO hard to WANT to take with me. And I have to take my calendar with me everywhere because I am basically Dory. Plus, my Pinterest board of bullet journal ideas was staring at me saying bullshit like:

YOU are the pilot, you can plan your calendar exactly how you like, in any order you like, as colorful or as black and white as you like, it's how YOU like. 

Ugh. I'm so controlling. Maybe something some other Pinterest thing can solve for me? Anyway.

Being all googly eyed, I went to Target to shop for my journal. When I look back at this shopping trip now, I can recognize that I was feeling very frustrated and defeated with my ride or die, Target. They didn't really have what I was looking for and I was starting to feel sweaty and nauseated. And sometimes angry? But I rallied and pushed that down because, Target. I was really working hard to suppress thoughts like:  

WTF? Target of ALL places should have BULLET JOURNALS. I mean. Everyone is doing it. Gosh. Hop on the GD bandwagon already. 

I should know myself well enough by now, to know that this should have been a major red flag. But, judging by the amount of times I still get way too drunk, I clearly don't. So. I settled for this journal - on a scale of one to ten, it's a six because she has lines. I'm very OCD so lines mean A LOT to me, so I knew this would not end well. And boy was I right. See below for the decline of Bullet Journal #1:

I love peonies and glitter so naturally, it was love at first sight.

So much time and effort, but realized that it was a lot of effort for me. This was basically exhausting and I think I went to bed early.

Quickly, my kids decided that my bullet journal should be their bullet journal. Just like my food. 

It's basically Abigail's journal. It's fine. 

So. I don't know. I should have just threw in the bullet journal towel. But like our drunk example above and just ... well, if there's one thing I am, it's stubborn. See? We can admit our flaws. It's safe here. Anyway. I wasn't 100% about the journal above so I decided to high tail it to Barnes & Noble, because you know, let's see if we can torture ourselves a little more. And I found one without lines!! For me this was like seeing a unicorn. Situation took a nose dive when I got home; because I tried to take the price tag sticker off the front cover and it left a film. Which side note: why do they do this??? It would be so much easier if the sticker was on the back. For. the. love. Naturally, this rendered it useless. Here are pics to prove it:

See all that sticker film!! (Bottom right corner if you're blind.) Worthless journal. 

She had so much potential. But this also makes me panic a little? 

The reason I have a blank journal to show you, is that my bullet journal career?? Hobby?? Whatever we want to call it, it lasted all of 24 hours. I threw in the towel. I realized I need to stick to what works for me, like this:

I love this kind of journal. Also, if poetry was this, I'd like poetry too.

Sooooo ... I guess ... I guess now I do bullet journal??? But my bullet journal stands for Cabernet Sauvignon. The En ... 

But WAIT!!! How are you staying organized for crying out loud??

Well. I am an organizational work in progress. But to keep my dates in line and my thoughts in order I went back to drinking wine and using a CALENDAR. A beautiful, simple, ikat patterned calendar. And we are very happy together.  

Ain't she a beaut? 

Sticking to what I know.

Staying modest. And portable.

November 6, 2010

Six years. Six years that feel like a lifetime ago where I still remember every detail and feel all the feels as if they were yesterday. Our wedding day was the happiest day of my life. Not only because it was full of happiness and love and JOY but because on this day six years ago Matthew got a Dad. For the first time in his life he had a Dad. Because of this day, for the rest of Matthew's life, he has a man in his life who will not abandon him, who will love him, who will show up for him, who will guide him, who will discipline him, who will show him what success and hard work looks like. A man who will BE there. I still feel so lucky to have found someone who started my family.

Shortly after we got married Mike adopted Matthew. Signed, sealed, delivered - euphoria. Second happiest day of my life. Mike and I knew that one day, Matthew would look at his beautiful skin and realize that he's not at all in the same color family as we are - even though we are a family. We met with a counselor who told us that our concern was very valid and likely this question would not be brought up by Matthew but by other curious children. We told her we needed lots of guidance on how to navigate this specifically because the man whose DNA makes up the other half of Matthew hasn't been a part of his life (his choice) since I found out I was pregnant. She was an angel and gave us lots of great advice and talking points - that I never would have been able to come up with so eloquently on my own. Even armed with these great words, I felt a pit in my stomach that I would have to have this conversation one day. But life continued along at warp speed.

And then this Spring, in the car on a sunny day, I felt as though someone had punched me in the stomach. Matthew says:

Why is my skin not the same color as the sisters? Why do they have peach skin and I have brown skin? Am I Indian? Why do I look so different? 

His words were very demanding. There was no getting out of it. The time had come. I responded:

Do you know what color hair Nana and Papa have? Black. Like yours. Do you know whose eyes you have? Mine. Do you know how much you look like each of your sisters? So much!! Bud, families are made in all sorts of different ways and tonight I want to talk to you about how our family was made, ok? But right now you need to understand that you are made up of many different parts of our family - the color of your skin is just the way God made you. Absolutely perfect.

I will never forget that day. It truly sucks having an adult conversation with a child. Later that night we had a deeper conversation like I had promised:

Do you remember where you lived as a baby and before our wedding day? With Nana and Papa. And then Daddy found us and we got married - do you remember that? How much fun that day was? Daddy has loved you ever since he met you. And then do you remember how after Daddy married us, we had the sisters? Well some families are made after you have a wedding. Some families are made before. Some families are made by adopting children, some people have two families because they are divorced. Before Daddy found us, Mommy met a man who had black hair like you and brown skin like you and that's how you got such perfect skin. And Mommy loved you from the minute that God put you in my belly. And Nana and Papa love you so much - and your uncles love you so much - And Daddy loves you SO MUCH - everyone basically loves you SO MUCH. There's not a day of your life that you weren't loved.  

He asked a few questions in between but he loved hearing about how much he was loved. Then we looked at some pictures of when he was a baby and that's been it since. We kept it about the love. Mike and I thought it was important to not lie to him, as did the counselor. But she also said to keep things simple until their minds can handle the bigger conversations. The last thing you ever want to do is stress a child out.

That is the very long version of the importance of our wedding day. Our family story of how we were made. A day of gratitude and joy that will always hold such special meaning. When things feel hard and life feels hard and conversations feel hard I try to hold onto these sayings:

                      

                      


Cheers!

**Please know that the conversations here are personal to our family specifically between me and our child. It may not apply to all families or situations. I also know what my child can handle - emotionally and mentally and socially. Please if you decide to comment keep it kind and thoughtful. Thank you!**

Exorcism, Possession and Animal Role Play

You may have heard me say this before, but if I had a penny for every time I said:

My kids are possessed, or 

My kids need an exorcism

I'd be rich. Not the richest. But pretttttttty rich.

Usually, what precipitates these phrases is when my kids pretend they are animals. You may have noticed on your own that when kids pretend they are animals it's either cute AF or creepy AF. Because my kids take everything too far, it's for sure creepy AF. Since I like to help others, and because I have extensive experience in children pretending they are animals, I have outlined below the three stages of animal role play. Enjoy!

Stage 1

This is your sweet, innocent dog/cat role play. This stage has you thinking:

My kids are using their imagination!! No one can judge me for too much TV time now!!

Should you encounter this stage more than three times per week, it's a red flag that Stage 2 is imminent. Mine usually let me know they are approaching Stage 2 when they help themselves to cups or bowls from their kitchen set, fill them with water and then proceed to lap up the water. All the while meowing and barking. Also, in this stage they become humans only to momentarily shout back to your plea for please no mess by saying:

But MOMMA!! We're cats/dogs! That's what cats/dogs do!

In Stage 1 it's fine to pick your battles because you aren't Code Red just yet.

Stage 2 

This stage is  more severe. This is your lion or tiger or bull or longhorn role play. You actually sometimes in this stage have to yell say:

STOP IT!!!! You are going to kill/hurt yourself/sister/brother!!!!

You can't pick your battles in this stage because of risk of serious injury. Timeout is a nice starter. After which, they will go right back to a less aggressive lion/tiger/bull/longhorn. I'm warning you now, this won't last long before someone takes it too far again and you need to act fast. Because injury/death is near. Not to mention it's starting to feel creepy. 

Stage 3 

Code red, holy crap, this is the stage where they have truly crossed over to the other side. You worry about their mental health because they are so IN character. There is no less than 100% certainty that you will say:

OMG. They are totally possessed.

And you have the Internet search history to prove it with gems like, "Exorcism in Frisco, TX." This stage has the most obscure animal role play to include: ring tailed lemurs, crocodiles, panthers, wolves, squirrels, fish, dolphins, etc. Writing this I wish I didn't know these from experience. The dolphin was especially interesting. 

When my kids pretend they are reptiles or ring tailed lemurs wtf? it's usually after watching Wild Kratts on PBS. This show is a blessing and a curse. A couple years back, my children were ring tailed lemurs and they were on all fours and proceeded to rub their butts and backs on every wall in the house. When I protested this, they said:

But this is what ring tailed lemurs DO!! We are IN OUR natural habitat!!

Trigger word for me here is their use of the word "our." Like they are truly not able to distinguish between human child and lemur child. And let me tell you this!! I will not add to my search history "Natural habitat ring tailed lemurs" or "Ring tailed lemurs rubbing off on walls." For one, I don't care. I don't want to know that information. And for two. No! No, no, no. Whatever. So, I left it at:

Great. Don't break anything. 

While I likely poured myself a large glass of wine and cried in a corner - both out of need and fear. Because you never know!!! With Stage 3 animal role play ANYTHING can happen. It's also impossible to discipline in this stage because they are so far gone. I mean they literally think they are the animal. If you get here, pray that it's short lived. 

I have now armed you with what I think are the necessary things to watch out for to determine your kids level of animal. And if all else fails - WINE. 

That time I smoked some serious crack

For the record, crack is metaphorical. I have never smoked literal, actual crack. But metaphorical crack? I would be classified as an addict. When I come down from my high, I usually learn a life lesson. It is what it is, kids.

Last Fall, after picking up Abigail from preschool one afternoon, there was a flier in her backpack about registering for the 2016/2017 school year. Abigail would be going to our assigned public school for Kindergarten but Mae! Mae would absolutely be going to preschool!! Over the course of the following months through about January, it dawned on me that I was not comfortable with Mae going to preschool. After discussing the option of not sending her with my mom and a few other trusted friends, I decided to keep her home with me. She has a November birthday, so her school career is going to include many, many years. 

Here's where I put my metaphorical crack in a spoon and took a lighter to it and went to town ...

I will be able to do so many THINGS with her! We can do library THINGS, story time THINGS, musical THINGS, park THINGS!

Then, I decided that I needed more metaphorical crack, because I still don't know my limits as a 35 year old, and actually said ...

It will be SO easy having JUST one at home!

I'll let you process that for that a second. I said it out loud ... to other people!! To other mom's!! #iwasanass

See what I mean about the crack? WHAT WAS I THINKING!!! Then at some point we also decided to get a dog? WTF? WTF WAS I THINKING. I mean. Clearly, I overdosed.

You see, we live in a society that places a LOT of emphasis on this math equation:

MORE of anything = HARDER than everyone else

HARDER than everyone else = BETTER than everyone else

And it really drives me bat shit crazy, because it isn't true AT ALL. As you can see from my experience above, I bought into this equation back in the Fall - three kids is harder than one kid. Three kids and a dog is harder than one kid and a dog. Three kids and a dog is harder than a dog. WRONG. Wrong. Wrong. wrong.

A kid, or kids, and/or a dog aren't JUST. They are living beings that rely on their parents, or their owners, or foster parents, or adoptive parents; to care for, and love them. Whether you have one of these or six of these, or some combination of all of the above, it's hard. Hard work. Living with a dog is like living with a mime. You are constantly trying to figure out what they are thinking, why they aren't listening, what hurts them, why aren't they listening? OH right. It's cause you are trapped in that box. *eye roll* #mimesarecreepydogsarecute

We need to do a better job of appreciating everyone's life and recognizing that whether they have more or less than we do, they are doing hard work.

Ask me how many of those THINGS* I actually do, that thought I would be able to do with JUST one at home?

None.

Because it's hard. Taking care of one is hard. Trying to get anything and everything done with one is hard. Having a dog is hard. My God, let's give each other some credit. Cut each other and ourselves some slack. Moms and fur moms alike need a tribe, NOT one more reason to overfill that wine glass at the end of the day.

I have no regrets keeping Mae home with me this school year. I understand this is time I will never get back and I love being able to experience cleaning and laundry and dishes and carpool and errands with her by my side. But none of it is easy because loving a living being, someone other than yourself, isn't to be taken lightly and certainly isn't easy.


*Fun fact: In an effort to give Mae some of those experiences I wanted to back in the Fall, I signed her up for a tots soccer class. It will meet once a week for eight weeks. Well, they just called to say it was cancelled because they are getting new turf.

The TGIF Shit gods

It's 9:45 am on Friday and I've already bathed the dog and Mae. If I saw that sentence on Facebook I'd be all Shut your face, you overachiever. Or maybe even Oh good for her, she's finally mastered time management. Well, get ready to feel better about yourselves kids! 

The dog, Walter, has had a bath because he was rolling in his own shit in the backyard, got all muddy, and was later drinking from the toilet. My kid has had a bath because she shit herself AND the stairs. The events of this morning have changed my day. I had hopes of making a spaghetti squash in the crock pot with my own meat sauce for dinner! What!!!?!? However, now, when I think of dinner, I think of the shit I just wiped off my kid; so dinner is might be a bottle of wine and a big ole middle finger. It's fine. 

You are probably saying to yourself, How does all this happen? What are you doing while everyone is shitting themselves? Happy to explain, especially since I'm in the business of making people feel like they have their shit together, while I do not. When the dog goes out, Mae goes out. She brings everything with her to go out: sippy cup, bowl of fruit and a toy. While I'm out with the dog she will want to go back in. Because WE APPARENTLY WANT WHAT WE CAN'T HAVE ALL THE TIME. Mae can't open doors. Which basically translates into me either letting people in or out of the house all day. As most of you know for shit to get real it takes about 5 seconds. I'm also allergic to whining. Highly allergic. There was a lot of that as I let Mae inside. I made it stop and got her a drink of GD water while the dog was outside, in the backyard that's fenced in, unattended. I even thought I'm sure the dog will be fine for like .5 seconds. WRONG. Hence the shit, mud sequence. The toilet water came when I was cleaning Mae's shit off the stairs. Mae ran upstairs in her room, where she was probably playing with her shit, and the dog went into the downstairs bathroom and was drinking the toilet water. Mae shits herself because she's still in a diaper. #judgeaway

When shit like this happens to me and involves actual shit, I want all the sympathy, all the kudos, all the reassurances that I don't have SARS or ebola or (insert awful disease acquired by shit here). Because it's so. disgusting. By the way, isn't Friday when we say Thank God It's Friday!!! I mean WTF, Friday?!? This morning the only god that heard me say Thank God It's Friday!!! was the god of shit. Friday Shit Gods I surrender. This is not a weakness issue but rather a sanitation issue. You are gross AF. Let's collectively hope, for the dinner options for my kids if nothing else, that this day gets better. 

The Curious Case of the Pussy Pocket

Like you, I hate the p word. The details listed in this blog are not ones that I am proud of as a parent, but I had to share because I just can't even sometimes. At the time the p word was used, it was in the most innocent way. Lastly, it's sad that there are two parts to this story and I will move mountains to ensure that there's not a third. Pray for me.

Part 1
Last week, while I was straightening my hair, Matthew was playing a game on my phone in my room and Abigail and Mae were watching a show in the family room. (Which is right outside our first floor master bedroom.) The girls were perfectly calm and occupied and I have a hard time doing two things at once, especially with a hot iron in hand, so I wasn't giving Matthew much attention. With one ear open I think I hear the word pussy? I told myself:

No way, you're just hearing things.

Because there's absolutely NO logical reason why annnnyone in my family would use that word. So, I continue to focus all my attention on straightening my hair, keeping one ear open. Then I hear Matthew giggle and say:

Siri. Show me a picture of Boushie Parker. (Read: He asked Siri to show him a picture of Mae)

Now, that both my ears are open, I hear Siri, clear as day respond with: 

I'm sorry. I can't find any images of a pussy pocket on the web.

At this moment the only thing that comes to my mind is:

Fuck.

Matthew starts giggling and comes into the bathroom with a big innocent smile on his face and an eruption of laughter and says: 

Momma!! I asked Siri for a picture of Boushie and she said A PUSSY POCKET???!!!!! WHAT EVEN IS THAT??!??? I know what a pocket is but a PUSSY???!!!!! WHAT'S A PUSSY!?!??

As he's talking I'm all WTF, Siri!!! Also, slightly surprised and grateful she couldn't find a picture, doesn't the Internet have a picture of everything? I have so many weaknesses as a person and parent and one thing that I clearly need to work on is thinking on feet and becoming better at lying. Because I told my  9 year old the severity of the word "pussy" ... while he's giggling ... because that's what you do when you hear pussy pocket for the first time.

Sweet Mother of God, then there's Part 2:

Yesterday was a wash from the get go. Mae came into our bed at zero dark AF thirty and neither she nor I fell asleep til around 5 am. At 6:30 Matthew came down, got the dog out of his crate - at which point Mae was up and out of bed to participate - they took him out to the backyard to do his dooty. Mike was up at 7 to get ready for work.

Usually in the mornings, I try to stay in bed for as long as I possibly can - desperately hanging on to any small fragments of sleep that the kids will allow me to capture. While lying in my bed I am able to yell into the family room from my bed when I hear things getting out of hand. Depending on how much sleep I got, I sometimes try to convince by babies to come in and snuggle. That wasn't the case yesterday. I tried my hardest to keep them relegated to the kitchen until it got to the point where I felt like I was being a bad mom.

Mike left around 7:30 at which point I got up and put my contacts in. I came out into the kitchen to find Mae at the dog bowl, eating dog food with the dog. Wait? What??!???? As I scream at her to:

OMG!!!STOPIT!!!OMG!!!

And pry her mouth open to try and remove as many remnants of dog food as I can, the dog goes into the dining room and pees on the rug. Awesome. Is it too early to drink?!?

In the afternoon, I took the kids to the mall. I was on a unsuccessful quest for a new handbag. During this excursion I was told I was the meanest mommy ever because I wouldn't buy them every GD thing they saw or touched. In every story they asked when were were going to leave because they were soooooooo bored! So, after the millionth time they asked, I responded with:

Never. Keep asking and we're staying here until the store closes. 

The we love you so much, Momma's and the you are the best Momma ever's came rolling in after that.

After providing free birth control for everyone at the mall, I took the kids to get take out Chipotle for dinner because Mike was at a team dinner for work. Back home, after the kids have finished eating and are running around playing puppies, I'm cleaning up reflecting on how the day seemed to have redeemed itself from the morning's antics. That's where I went wrong, you think I would have learned by now to never reflect on how your kids redeemed themselves when there are still waking hours in the day. As if reading my mind and wanting to prove me wrong, Matthew comes up to me at the kitchen sink with this gem: 

Hey Momma!! When the dog is being bad we should call him PUSSY POCKET!!!

SHUT UP. Are you kidding me? I have to digest these words AGAIN!!???!!! What did I ever do to deserve this??? While he's giggling uncontrollably, my eyes are as big as saucers trying to stifle laughter and process all of this. At which point Abigail, not to be outdone by her older brother, strips off her shirt and screams:

LETS GET NAKED AND HAVE A DANCE PARRRRRRTYYYY!!!!!

Today's agenda:

1. Dropping my kids off at church.
2. Leaving them there until they are AT LEAST 30. At. Least.