Your Pet Peeve is probably my pet peeve

This week's Sunday Confession's prompt is PET PEEVES





I was driving down the road listening to, gasp, the radio, and it was talk radio because not one Top 40 station in town doesn't have some morning show. I can't remember if it was Elvis Duran or Bob and Sherry or some other show, but they were talking about Pet Peeves. People were calling in with stuff like...

Talking loudly on the cell phone in public... Um it's ok to talk loudly to each other in public so as long as it's not on a cell phone? For me, all conversations you people have in public is loud and proud because I have heightened senses. I hear everything. People on their periods with a weird rash. Yes I heard you whisper about it to your mother getting your cream. Or I have no idea who you are talking about, but it sounds like a family member, and they sound like an asshole. And by the way, Frank already told you 3 times he was going to automotive Miss "where did Frank go?" So to someone like me, this has got to be the dumbest motherfucking pet peeve I have ever heard of.

Children in public places... Ok, for all you people who didn't breed, probably because you can't get laid, children are hyperactive, run all over the place, loud, bored individuals. They tend to cry when they don't get their way and over boo boos that are nonexistent. They fight with each other over "she's copying me" and "she's not my friend anymore." When they feel strongly about something, it usually comes out in a loud banshee scream. And newsflash, you used to be one of those assholes. Consider it karma when I take my kids in public and they step on your oh so sensitive nerves. And all you moms who be like, "I don't want to hear your kids when I'm away from mine," my suggestion, next time you get away, go to a fucking bar. See this one, this one makes me want to describe what it's like watching your kid throw up spaghetti.

People who write a check... You know, how a person handles their money is their own business. If they want to be old school and write a check, I DO, let them. I'll tell you why I do. I have 2 accounts. One is a debit card account, one the husband accesses. The other is a check and atm only account, one the husband doesn't access due to its lack of debit card. I do that for two reasons. 1. to have a stash of cash because the husband will spend it if he can touch it. 2. my bank charges 25 cents for every debit card transaction. They can kiss my ass with that shit I'll write a check. I'm sorry if you had to wait an extra 60 seconds to get to your turn to take forever to do whatever it is you are doing. If you are annoyed that someone tells you to have patience, then you probably need to follow their advice to save your soul.

Pet peeves are supposed to be something like, "the line on the form isn't long enough to write my name." Or music that sounds like strobe lighting. Tea that is too sweet. Not stuff like, "this person was living." Hello. Anyone in there? Think McFly. Think.There's a fine line between rude people (i.e. people who drive fast to pull out in front of you in traffic and then go real slow) and people (i.e. a mom going grocery shopping with her kids and paying by check while talking on her cell phone). If you are bitching about people living, you are my biggest pet peeve. In the words of Too Short, "Let my nuts go, biatch."

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Blogs who I think sent me traffic to my blog that you should check out if you haven't...  I do read all of these blogs regularly.

The Bloggess

Insane in the Mom-Brain

More than Cheese and Beer

Finding Ninee

Ooops I Said Vagina Again

Janine's Confessions
of a Mommyaholic

I wanted to make a button for my blog. It goes no where, but I can easily figure out a URL for it now. :) 

Crumpets and Bollocks

Confessions of a Bad Driver: I probably do what you dream about doing when angry

This week's Sunday Confession's prompt is IN THE CAR




This is a pretty big confession for me. Not my best look...

My biggest in the car confession is enough to make Daffy Duck spit all over the place trying to say the word Despicable. My driving is so bad, I use it as an argument that God does in fact exist because divine intervention is the ONLY logical explanation to the fact that the kids and I are still alive, despite my Mario Andretti Kamikaze Pilot driving. I'm also amazed I don't have a freak amount of sobriety testing under my belt.

I get it from my mother. It's really bad when I'm following her somewhere. I feel like the song Who Let the Dogs Out remixed with Move Bitch Get out the Way. It's like we are a posse of bad driving owning the road and some of the grass alongside of it. The other cars literally jump out of the way like the grasshoppers when a foot hits the field.

To make this confession worse, as much as I know I'm a bad driver, I still bitch about other people's driving.

Factors to my driving experience:

1. The kids
2. The kids
3. Random Ice cream cone launched at my head
4. The kids
5. I was talking to someone next to me
6. My exboyfriend Todd (I can't drive if he's in the car at all)
7. The kids

I drive better and worse when I'm pissed off. And that is the real confession. When I'm pissed, I'm in better control of the vehicle paying much better attention to the road. I'm like Jason Bourne with my driving observations. I notice every bird and butterfly, and I can tell you how many cars are behind me without looking because i just passed them. But I seem to have no value for human life when I'm pissed off behind the wheel. All the sudden, we are not humans but robots in a video game. I know I do this. I've been controlling it much better, but there are moments...

At my worst, years ago, my friend and I were arguing about a misplaced comma in her paper while I was driving. My driving got considerably faster and more intentional, and when I pulled up to her house where my other car was sitting in her driveway that she was borrowing since I had two cars and was single, I intentionally hit my car with my car.

Fast forward a few years, we are driving home from the club at like 3AM. I'm giving some random guy a ride home. My friend is bitching about my driving swearing it will attract cops (she gets pulled over more than I do mind you), and it was a big, life threatening deal because the asshole I was giving a ride to had cocaine on him. So my friend is yelling at me, "We are all going to jail because you can't implement a left hand turn," and I'm like, "No because the douche in the back seat had to bring cocaine in my car," my friend was like, "It wouldn't be a big deal if you knew how to drive," and I'm like, "If he could sell the shit right he wouldn't be bumming a ride in the first place." I got so pissed off I rammed the car into someone's lawn and parked it. Took the keys and walked away from it all.

Now that I'm a mother of children, I've grown up a lot. I have calmed down dramatically compared to my old days; however, I still have my moments. One day people kept repeatedly pulling out in front of me and then went no where. That pisses me off. People in a hurry to pull out in front of you and then drop you 20 mph slower than what you were going. Like if you aren't in any hurry, then wait for me before hitting the road. Well enough did that in such a short period of time, I started passing them. I drove like I was in Puerto Rico aka Grand Theft Auto. I passed them on the sidewalk to the right. On the median to the left. It wasn't that dangerous because not one of them was going over 15 mph. But it is still unusual driving on my part.

Now the one that pisses me off the most is when I'm trying to drive, and the kids are acting a fool, and I pull over obviously on the brink of losing my shit entirely, on the brink of falling into the fetal position in tears because my kids are being a-holes, and I pull over to regulate, and some ass behind me has to honk and flip me off. This is the moment where if I had a gun, I'd use it to shoot out their tires. All Jose Wales like. I'd spit their way too. Fuckers. And they'd deserve it. Period. Never provoke a pissed off deranged mother ready to spank her children. That's like trying to french kiss a rabid dog.

The other one that pisses me off: the parking lot after school picking up the kids. That is a place where we are dependent on people letting our ass through. Because of that, we all generally let each other through like it's a way of life, but those days those bitch moms avoid eye contact so as to scoot right on up in line and not let you through, get me 3 of those in a row, and I weave around the parking lot to get 3 cars in front of the first one, and I break in the line like I'm in Boston, and then I stop and let everyone trying to get through through. I even motion them to come over. I make those bitches wait for it. If you want to be a douche canoe, I will row you up shit creek and take your paddle.

So yeah, my Sunday driving confession, in the car, I'm a total bitch. I beg people not to piss me off behind the wheel. Please don't provoke the Hulk. You just make me turn into a big green monster who's driving will not only make drunk people appear sober, it will scare them into sobriety. I have literally seen people go from angry to scared with my driving, whether they are a passenger in my car or a driver driving near me. Occasionally they are a pedestrian. The car is a weapon of mass destruction, and I hate using mine as a weapon, but when the bitch switch is flipped, run.

If for whatever reason you listened to too much Ice Cube in your Ice T and you like my blog, you know, you can subscribe to it.

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Blogs who I think sent me traffic to my blog that you should check out if you haven't...  I do read all of these blogs regularly.

The Bloggess

Insane in the Mom Brain

More than Cheese and Beer

Finding Ninee

Ooops I Said Vagina Again

Janine's Confessions of a Mommyaholic

Happy Easter and Love from the Beatles Soundtrack

I don't think I can beat last Easter's Post with a balance of religion and humor. So if you are debating on reading one of the two, so far I vote you read last year's Easter Post. Are you still reading? Oh, you opted to read both. Good for you. Or even better, you already read last year's post because you have been with me that long. No you aren't old yet; I have yet to grow up. I know, most of you are more actually like, "Eff-ornicate you I'm not reading that other post with this one, you are lucky I'm reading this one... make me read two posts bitch be trippin." Well I'm going to bring it up again. Just sayin.

Okay, so Sunday Confession's writing prompt is LET.

Well that reminds another random person and I of the song Let it Be. So maybe we should listen to that song while we read. Mmmkay?

This is not really a political blog post, but to introduce my concept... I posted a Facebook status about how it completely dumbfounds me the way Murica is right now. If you aren't from 'Murica, if you happen to dwell on the outskirts of earth since 'Murica is earth, or you've been too busy watching reality tv you didn't notice, let me explain our political and religious ideals in a nut shell. We have Republicans and Democrats. The Republicans are generally Christians who go against everything Christ ever taught. The Democrats are generally anti-Christian yet they stand for quite a bit of what Christ stood for. Which concludes, yes all you outsiders, we are exactly what you've suspected all along. Petty. We lack substance. We have no idea what we are doing. We are hypocrites. It's probably the water, the pills, and the ketchup.

This country gives our people the freedom to think for themselves, and this is what they do with it? It's a downright dirty shame. True patriots who bled for that freedom are tossing and turning in their graves. We are the children they fought for. We are the children they expected to think and learn with our freedoms of thoughts and speech and liberties like free education. We are supposed to be the evolution, not the revolution.

Why not listen to the words of not-so-holy Paul McCartney's Mother Mary? Let it be.

All you Christians freaking out about feeding the hungry and healing the sick. That is the way of Christ. They agree with you. Let it be.

All you Atheists freaking out about Christians who are shoving their religion down your throat. Love and humanity is the way of Christ. They agree with you. Let it be.

Now let's flip the soundtrack a bit with these fresh funky beats for the rest of this...

Easter is supposed to be a time of renewal and resurrection. Last year I posted about this, did you not read it yet? If not, take a second to find out about how T'is the season to eff word. I say this year, we all try to up the game and resurrect ourselves out of the icy shells winter brought us, out of the pettiness Christmas made us, out of the hibernation the cold kept us in, and be inspired by this season when the bunnies frolic, when the love birds build a nest together, when Jesus resurrected from a brutal harsh death, and we should strive to become the shining, warm light in this world that makes the flowers bloom and the grass green. In other words, stop being assholes.

It's the time of year to be fuck-happy, not Scrooges. We should be opening ourselves up to the love others have to give, and giving love in return. Let people worship Jesus or Allah or whoever the fuck they want to worship. It's all good. Feed some hungry people. Take care of some sick people. Forgive. Let go of the past. Embrace the future. Be positive.

And most important, let other people live. Don't get up on their game like you the referee. You don't know their shoes. I promise you, nobody is as stupid as you think they are, despite their opinion. Instead of trying to change their mind, change your attitude. It's not about winning the debate, it's about getting along. It's not about your ego, it's about your aether.

Speaking of which, I also promise you that you are right. You are the victim to some sort of circumstance that sucks. How do I know you, in particular you, are the victim? Because everyone is the victim. Any YOU can read this and I'll be right because we all are victims to suckage. That doesn't mean your sob story has to beat the next guy's sob story. Sob stories are like time. It's relative. It's sadness depends on where you are standing. I'm just saying. Remember that. Because someone complaining of a broken nail might seem like a pansy, but sometimes they are just as broken as you who endured so much more.

This is a problem in this world. People stopped caring about other people's pain. People stopped listening to each other's sob stories in an effort to eliminate their own pain. Instead of getting all holier than thou I don't need you in my life, why not just, I don't know, offer some sort of inspiration or motivation or encouragement or something. Do that instead of overacting. Please. Overacting is the very reason people don't give a shit about sob stories anymore. And being stuck on your own story invalidating everyone else's also kills credibility and fucks people could give. Always remember, you are not the only person on this earth who bleeds. In war, it's a bleeding soldier who cares for your wounds.

I would say the theme of this message is, this world is more than about you. When you debate politics, when you discuss family goals, when you are standing in line at the check out counter staring at unruly children, remember IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU. And it doesn't have to be. The more you make your life about you, the lonelier your death is going to be. We all need to stop staring at the world like it's a gold we have to obtain, or a mountain we have to conquer. It's a place where spirits dwell; where love is the ultimate prize.

I wrote a poem. Sort of.

The Message of the Playlist: Decoding the secret messages the Beatles have been trying to tell us

Yesterday,
A Day in the Life across the Universe,
The Long and winding road,
I saw her standing there.
Oh Darling, I want to hold your hand--
Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
Love me do.

Hey Jude! Drive my car. Don't let me down.
Come together.
Norwegian wood, a hard day's night in my Life.

I am the Walrus.
Obla Dee Obla Da; Twist and Shout
Something.

Help!
Can't buy me love.
All you need is love.
Let it be.
Here comes the sun.

What does it mean? We are all just walruses in yellow submarines trying to find love.

We chase after rainbows all our lives looking for what? Love. That's all people want. That's all we need. And that's the one thing we are most reluctant to do. And one thing we are most reluctant to accept. The one thing we try to buy with money and find ourselves more desperate for it than ever. So Let. Let love happen. You will find love when you love.

You do totally realize I just took the message of Christ and cloaked it as if it came from The Beatles, right?

If you are totally daft and missed what wasn't so obvious, this whole post is about Love, defined by one of the Corinthians in the Bible, which sums up to, "Don't be a selfish asshole. Be a decent human being." I'm just saying, tis the time of year to wake up and smell the dirty diapers and clean house. It's the time of growth. And the way we humans grow is via love.

I know. I'm a little abstract.

Tolerating Life

This week's Sunday Confession's prompt is LESSONS





I was always good at school, well learning, I kind of sucked at school, but I was always good at learning, well math. I was always good at learning math. I guess we all have subjects we excel in. Mine were always math and English. The class I always struggled the most was the Life Lessons class at the School of Hard Knocks. Yep, that's the class I keep repeating.

I am the type of person who has to make the same mistake 15 times before I even realize it was a mistake let alone how to improve on how I do it. It's almost like I get autism goggles, and I can't see beyond what I am seeing. The epiphany usually doesn't happen until I overanalyze things and then pray about it. I can have 35 friends tell me, "Don't do it," and I won't listen. I do it. Find out it failed. And then I do it again. Fail again. I repeat this until I'm like, "God why?" and then it hits me, "Because you shouldn't have done it in the first place." Okay. Progress. Slow progress, like I'm so life learning disabled, but I still rejoice in my baby steps.

My recent lesson was on friendships. It's a weird subject for me because I'm not fluent in social, but I'm going to try to speak socially for a minute. If I sound like I have a Chinese, British accent, I am sorry I didn't learn the national language of Murica, which is Social Language. I'm still trying ok?

I am the type of person who is friends with anyone willing to be my friend. If you are nice to me, I'm nice to you. If you want to hang out? Ok. If you don't invite me to something? Ok. If you only want to hang out with me when you need something? Ok. I learned the life lesson many moons ago to accept people for who they are and that is part of it. I have friends who are very flaky, but when you are with them, it's a good time. I'm cool with that. I have friends who like to hang out and play cards. Friends who want to go to the club. Friends who have drug addictions. Friends who served time. Friends who hang out at the country club. I don't discriminate.

But then I have those moments where a friend does me dirty. I know it before it happens. I expect it. In fact, I accuse the friend in my mind and dismiss it before the friend admits to it. People think I don't know. Nope. I usually know every time someone does me dirty before they do that they will. But it's like Jesus and Judas. He knew it was about to happen. He even called his friend out on it beforehand. He let it happen. He forgave his friend. That's what I do because I believe it's the right thing to do. But I'm not Jesus. I don't want to be crucified.

A lot of times, I guess I fail Life Lessons, but I do it to excel in Lessons for the Soul. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. It builds character. But I'm sure I'm missing something obvious in both realms to find that balance. I always do. The part I need to understand I guess... If I were passing the Life Lessons course, then I wouldn't be learning anything.

And to quote myself, "Life is like a beer. Eventually you build a tolerance."



And I started blogging all my religious thoughts as they are many lately on a different blog if you want to read and follow. It's more serious. I'm actually a Christian believe it or not, and I'm blogging my soul searching efforts. It's deep. It has some humor. It is still me. Preaching to myself. Today's post is about what it really means to accept Christ.


If for whatever reason you think I'm hot because you've had too much life to drink and you like my blog, you know, you can subscribe to it.

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Blogs who I think sent me traffic to my blog that you should check out if you haven't...  I do read all of these blogs regularly.

The Bloggess

Insane in the Mom Brain

More than Cheese and Beer

Finding Ninee

Ooops I Said Vagina Again

Janine's Confessions of a Mommyaholic

Watching Time: Is that looking at time? Or is it time to watch?

This week's Sunday Confession's prompt is Time




Before the invention of light, Time stood still in empty Space. Nobody realized they had feelings, Time and Space, because nobody was there to realize they have feelings. Nobody realized they were in love. Space was scared to be alone, and Time wanted to fill her void, but how can time catch a glimpse when space is too busy escaping from her emptiness? She is trying to fill her void with meaning, and Time is jealous. This is why Time is never on our side. 

Just so you know, giving things like time and space aspects of people, such as emotion, is a literary device called Personification. It was used a lot back in the day when English didn't make sense. Now you can teach your kid something.

What am I trying to say in the language of metaphor? 

We people are like space. We try to fill the void time left us in this life with meaning. We are always seeking that meaning, whether it's spiritual aether or superficial gold, we spend our time looking for it. I honestly think we are spiritual beings trying to find God/Love/Light. Many times we look in the wrong places (like our checking accounts) thinking that something like money can bring security, which will bring peace, which will result in happiness, and then when that doesn't work, we keep looking. On the flip side, many seek it in religion and find that's not working out too well either. The secret is that God is more of a verb than a noun. He is Love, something you will find when you do it. He is Light, something you will find when you shine. He is Kindness, something you will find when you are kind. Whether you sought God in your checking account or in your church, you can find Him in both places. I digressed didn't I?

The fact of the matter is we use time to find meaning. During those moments it feels like time is working against us, it's because we are working against time. We became too preoccupied with filling our space that we neglected Time. So then we invented Time Management for people who do that sort of thing. For people like me. And it never works out well for us because we still take time for granted with too much emphasis on filling up space. 

This is where my issues lie. I want to fill up my space with things I want to do, and most people believe I should fill up my space with things they think are more important. For instance. I'd rather blog this post than clean my house right now. I'm sure my mother in law thinks I should be cleaning because that's how she fills up her space. It's the sacrifice she makes because unlike me, she loves her family. But in my mind, that's why she's a bitter bite to swallow and people avoid her. That's why she ruins a good buzz. Misery loves company. Knowing this, it's easy to decide to blog now and clean later. 

But then what happens is, cleaning is something I never want to do. At some point, I have to decide to clean now if I want a clean house. There are responsibilities I HAVE to do or I will somehow summon the demons who will open Pandora's Box and create a zombie apocalypse. I have to get the kids to school so when they can't read, I can blame the school instead of myself. I have to make my doctor appointments in case I'm dying (spoiler, we all are, from the moment of conception), and I have to make those appointments on time to avoid getting smited by the doctor's office or bookkeeper or someone who has nothing better to do with their TIME. I have to bake these cookies to help the charity, no I'm kidding, to one up the other moms because nothing says "Fuck Cancer" better than obesity, and of course, nothing says "Butthurt" better than making your stuff about me, in this case, cancer about obesity. And only an a-hole would kill the buzz of cookies talking about health stuff that isn't exactly proven to be true because last I checked, people ate more home-baked goods in the 50's because that's what June Cleaver did to express her love for her family almost every other day, and they didn't have an obesity problem. I digressed again. I have to stop doing that.

Point is, the majority of the things I do to fill up my time and space anymore are dictated by culture and society, things that really aren't important when you realize that your time on earth is short. Yes I know I need to clean my house and make it to my shrink on time. These are things I HAVE to do. And thanks to needing to see a shrink, I'm struggling doing it. But the majority of things I catch myself wasting the most time trying to do are things society gave me to do, and that includes time management. 

And I surrender. I've spent most of my life flipping off society's great expectations, and it's gotten me no where. I think it's because, again, I'm preoccupied with space. Neglecting time is bringing me chaos. 

Einstein was right when he said time isn't linear, that it is relative. The only constant is the speed of light. With time being relative, the paradox Dr. Emmett Brown feared is happening. The past, present and future is all happening at the same time. This moment, right here, right now, you have a memory of the moment right before it, you are in this moment, and you anticipate the next. When you read "anticipate the next," that was something that was your present but now it's the past already. Too fast time. Too fast. But the fact of the matter is, the past is relative to the present and the future, and vice versa. If you didn't have a point of comparison, you wouldn't have noticed time. Which is where I am... 

To go another level deeper... The things we do now result from our past, and the things we do tomorrow will be a result of today. The things we do now also affect our past as today is the day you were planning for, and the things we do now are usually attempts to plan for tomorrow. 

As confusing as that sounds, read again if you have to; it does make sense; I triple checked it to make sure it made sense, but the confusion of it is the reason why I think it's time I attempt a Planner. I need something to organize my past, present and future because time is not linear. It's relatively chaotic. I have no idea what today is, or what tomorrow will bring. I have no idea what I did yesterday. And I wonder why I miss appointments and people's birthdays. I don't even know what my goals are. I'm a penny with a hole in it. Hopeless. (that's a reference to a song on the Love Jones Soundtrack). 

To bring it back full circle, I will find Time when I time. "And how does one time?" Alice asked looking mysteriously at the Mad Hatter. It's simple Alice. Time is relative. Relate. Relate to the future by setting goals. Relate to the past by finishing the unfinished. Do something different and epic once in a while to give you a point of reference. It's time I learn how to time. I even got a watch for it. The kids already lost my watch. Watches better watch out in this house. Watch out. Eh. 

If for whatever reason you murdered time and are sentenced to a perpetual tea party and like my blog, you know, you can subscribe to it.

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Blogs who I think sent me traffic to my blog that you should check out if you haven't...  I do read all of these blogs regularly.

The Bloggess

Insane in the Mom Brain

More than Cheese and Beer

Finding Ninee

Ooops I Said Vagina Again

Janine's Confessions of a Mommyaholic

It's the Little Things of Parenting.. that make you go insane

This week's Sunday Confession's prompt is LITTLE




They say the Joy of Parenting is found in the little things.

• The little hands caressing your giant honker claws
• The little hugs
• The "Mom! I love you." 
• Tucking them in bed
• Kissing a cheek while the little one sleeps

Awwww. But the Insanity of Parenting is also found in the little things. This is the part people don't usually get. This is the part that I think goes without being said when I start talking about any story that entails my children with other people who CLAIM to have children. I don't care if I see you grab your little minion from the cluster of PTA in front of the school every day, if you fail to get this without it being said, you are not a parent. You might be a sperm donor or womb carrier but real parents know what I'm talking about here. It's the little things that bring on the insanity, and everyone with normal human children experience it.

It's not the easiest thing to describe. It changes for every Psychosocial Stage.

• The heart drawn on the wall in deodorant and Preparation H
• Complete disregard for the words, "Stop Fighting." 
• The inability to walk from the car directly into the house
• The puddle of pee on the floor the kid splashed into like a mud puddle
• Clean clothes piled with dirty clothes covered in Shredded Cheddar
• A banana launched at your face (she was aiming for her sister)
• The mysterious pile of pizza crust in the corner behind the TV
• ...

Even a list of the little things just doesn't give it justice. These THINGS (not the children) are like Power Rangers. They are just little things dressed in bright colors, but they have the power to combine forces into a big monster transformer. Imagine BOTH lists happening in the span of an hour. Yes you can drown in the little things.

Long story example because we are talking LITTLE THINGS compiling into a BIG THING:

We are late a lot for school. Tardiness is my virtue. One I seemingly hold dear in my heart. And when you sign your kids in late at school, the stupid sheet asks in the LITTLEST box on the thing, "Reason." Which translates into "excuse" because according to the school, there is no good reason to be late. Car breaking down being attacked by chupacabra wolves and receiving open heart surgery just isn't any real excuse for being late.

I don't know why they ask. They don't really want to know the answer. They don't care what the answer is. Most parents put down "Late."

Me, no I put down things like, "The centripetal force from the kids was so strong that it increased earth's gravitational pull slowing down time for us." One time I put down, "Karma."

What does that mean? It's the little things that make me late every day. It's never one thing. It's always a cataclysm of meaningless events entwined with bad luck, proper parenting, and some procrastination. Time doesn't exist in my world. My kids have their own clock.

My morning tea party punishment (for murdering time like the Mad Hatter) consists of the first thing. Waking up. This is a new thing we've added to the ritual. I really did go a few years without any sleep whatsoever so waking up was never an option for me in the past. It's so weird actually having to wake up. I'm not really used to it, so I don't always remember to bring my phone to bed with me (alarms). Big deal. Most people at the school had the luxury of little things like sleep. They are sleep experts in my mind. I'm a newb. Baby steps. I'll be there some day. But until then, I actually sleep in sometimes. By accident. And it's a new thing because before when I was always late, the fact that I hadn't slept in days was usually the reason I forgot to pay attention to the time. Only people who have actually been there could possibly understand that. Sleep deprivation isn't for the holier-than-thou perfect people out there.

This post explains why I didn't sleep and how I got to a point where I could sleep again. 

After I wake up, I have to actually wake up. The morning drink. I've been doing this red energy drink that doesn't really give me energy but like coffee, I just tell myself it does so it has a psychosomatic effect on me. Nobody is to bother me until I'm well into my second drink. They do anyway, just so we can start the day with a good blow to my inner peaceness. Usually before I can get to a sip, a kid is asking for something. I need a bottle (she's too old for a bottle she doesn't need it she just has issues), put my blanky on me. Remember the pancake syrup you had mom?

At this point, any mess I leave sit there, even if it's pancake syrup all over the floor at risk of being stepped in and trudged through the house, and we all know hardened syrup is harder to clean than soft recent syrup. I leave it. I'm determined to get my beverage. I get whatever I need to get to stop the "MOM" noises long enough to have my beverage.

Then I lose track of time because I check Facebook and Email. The reading of things wakes up my brain. I have absolutely no idea what day it is, what year it is, that I have children, that they might have school, I don't know any of this until after I read a few things people say. I think this is what black and white men on 1950's television was attempting with reading the morning paper.

So then I usually have an "Oh shit" moment looking at the time like when people slept in, and we are not late yet, but we are going to be. I don't always have this moment where I'm thinking Oh Shit. Many mornings, I'm thinking, "We have over an hour to get ready for school we will so be early today they might get breakfast at school instead of home." Regardless, I pick a point in time and decide, "It's time to get the minions."

Sometimes I wake up kids. The oldest never wants to wake up early for school unless it's Saturday. Sometimes they are already awake. Most of the time, I'm waking up a kid with the other 2 awake. While only 2 kids are school aged, all 3 kids attend the dropping off the two kids to school ritual. For a long time, all 3 kids attended the dropping off the one kid to school ritual. It was so convenient, taking 3 kids to drop off 1 every day.

I grab their clothes (usually before waking them up or while waking them up), and I throw it at them, "Get ready." I don't know why I do this step. It's my attempt at teaching my children to be independent people. They can dress themselves. But when I'm around, only the 4 year old wants to do it herself which takes 10 times longer than if I did it, and then she gets stuck. She's been this way since she was 2. The older two "NEED" my help. So I then dress each kid. Then I find socks. Then I find shoes. Then I brush hair. EACH KID gets this.

I do all this while they fight, ask for things, demand things, fight, more fighting, can't find something unimportant, wants to play a video game, spills milk, dumps a trash can...

So I'm finally at the point where 17 gray hairs popped out of my head and 27 brown ones fell out. We are now already late because the children made sure of it. I'm proud of myself because they are wearing their own clothes and while their socks don't match, at least they fit their feet. This is when one of them will sit on ketchup somehow, or paint, or pee or poop themselves, or go wash their hands and end up drenched... Or the one on the autism spectrum doesn't like her pants... Something to put me back at square one with at least one kid. I can't leave without dressing a kid a second time.

Then we get to the car. The kids scatter into the parking area in 3 different directions looking at mud puddles, rocks, toys, lizards whatever. I'm screaming, "Get in the car" as I'm putting backpacks and things in the car. This goes on for 20 minutes, "Get in the car or I'm going to spank your butt," and it usually entails herding them like I'm a cowboy on a horse. Morning PT. I don't need the gym. I have kids and I got them in the car. Then the fun part. I get to buckle them in. Whoever invented car seats is a sadistic bastard. "Here use this to save your kid's life, break a finger trying to buckle them in."

I get all 3 kids in the car, buckled. I sit my butt down. Turn on the radio. Breathe. Shit I forgot that paper the teacher wanted signed. Hold on kids. I go up, FIND the paper, get the paper, come back, and they are unbuckled. How? How can they unbuckle something so easy that I struggled so much to buckle in the first place?

I buckle them back in. I sign the paper and read it for a second. I pop the car in reverse, "Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom."  Are you fucking kidding me? Can you hold it? "No, I have to go now."

So I unbuckle that kid, walk them up into the house, wait, wipe their butt, get them back in the car. Rebuckle the kid.

I usually get as far as the mailbox before I realize I forgot my wallet and purse. Sometimes I get much further than that before making this realization. Either way, I turn around to retrieve item. And why?

Shit, they need breakfast. They missed school breakfast now I have to come up with Breakfast. McDonalds it is.

And we get to school at a roaring 9:30 AM.

It's the LITTLE THINGS that make the JOY of parenting. Really. The LITTLE THINGS will make you and they will break you. But the best part of the little things, you can't explain it to people in a sentence, especially people who don't give a shit and will judge you nevertheless.


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Blogs who I think sent me traffic to my blog that you should check out if you haven't...  I do read all of these blogs regularly.

The Bloggess

Insane in the Mom Brain

More than Cheese and Beer

Finding Ninee

Ooops I Said Vagina Again

Janine's Confessions of a Mommyaholic

Awkward Pumps and Love

I haven't done the Sunday Confession thing in a while because I have been struggling to blog as real life kicks my donkey. I have high moments and low moments, and someday I might confess what is really going on with me, but I'm kind of hoping I just get better and don't have to. If you people knew how crazy I really was, you probably wouldn't want to read this blog, or maybe that would make you want to read it more. I don't know. Crazy seems to be the in-thing now. Maybe I should just spill my guts out like an online group therapy to get famous. Maybe I need a pair of cojones first. They are like socks. You can always find one, but the other was probably eaten by the dryer monster.

Anyway, today's Sunday Confession writing prompt is Awkward Moments.


TODAY's AWKWARD MOMENT

I went to the gas station that uses old pumps because I know the owners and am a loyal customer to that place in particular. It's the one where the people who work there become friends because they work there and I go there that frequently. I mentioned older pumps because it was kind of busy when I pulled in, so I had to share a pump with a guy. That sounds dirty. Anyway, he's got a huge honker truck and I'm in a Toyota Camry, so I have the smaller tank, (which makes total sense because he was a black man and you know what they say about black men and their pumps and tanks) and the entire time I pumped, I felt so guilty for slowing down his pump. I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was like Tell Tale Heart, I murdered his time and I should have waited until he finished to pump like a lady, but who does that? Nobody. Just me. So I'm pumping right? And when I was done, without thinking, I thanked the guy.

Rereading already sounds more like porn than getting gas. Anyway. He looked at me like I was on crack. I would have too. He was just pumping gas and some crazy white woman wearing a nice red sweater and purple sweat pants thanks him randomly. For no reason. He hadn't heard all my thoughts about sharing pumps. So of course, to make the situation "better," after realizing I thanked him, I decided the best thing for me to do at that point was.... Duh Duh Dummmmmmmm. Explain. I don't know why because that ALWAYS makes it worse. ALWAYS! The more I talked, the more stupid I sounded. I'm not even sure what I said exactly, but I was telling him we were sharing pumps and I pumped slowing down his pump and I'm sorry. You know, it sounds much worse telling you than it felt at the time.

Then I just stopped mid sentence and walked away telling myself I am so stupid and that's okay.

TODAY's MOMENT THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN AWKWARD BUT WASN'T 

I want to get cereal for a minute (cereal is what I say for serious sometimes). I also ran into a random lady at Church offering me assistance. I was trying to find someone and he had already left, so she asked if she could help me. I told her I just needed prayers. She offered money. I said, "Just prayers." Then she said, "I love you." Now that was an amazing feeling, being told by someone you just met that they love you. I needed to hear someone say that so bad today. And it felt even more amazing to return it with, "I love you too." Then we hugged.

I don't think I can ever relay in words the importance of this to me. I'm the type of person where Love is like my anti-kryptonite. When I feel loved by anyone and everyone, I'm on a high like no one can take me down. Like the Happy Song, Ain't nobody gonna bring me down my love is too high... When I don't feel loved, I don't go Katy Perry psycho evil dark horse. I love too hard for that. When I don't feel loved, I still love all those around me despite my feelings. And that makes me feel helpless because I have nothing to fight. I have nothing to revenge. All I have is a lonely pool of self pity. That feeling is my kryptonite. I'm useless when I don't feel loved. All it takes sometimes is to hear one person say they love you to open your eyes and see the love around you. 

AND when I did find the man I was looking for, I learned a new prayer I'm sharing. I know, I don't sound religious on this blog, but I want to share the prayer because this isn't about religion. It's real. My new Mantra for the time being, one I hijacked from Dessert Monks...

Breathe in saying: Jesus, Son of the Living God,
Breathe out saying: have mercy on me, a sinner

Let in the Jesus. Let out the sin.

And just so you all know...

I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

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