...2013 Christmas Gifts of the Year: Coupons

As I run out and attempt to purchase gifts for friends and family, I find myself wondering "what do I want for Christmas?" Of course the normal things pop up, I want world peace, a cure for cancer, and happiness for everyone. Those are my top things by far, but if I could have some "extra gifts"....I would want a shit load of the following coupons.

1. This coupon entitles you to one dinner at which you will be allowed to actually sit at the kitchen table as opposed to standing and eat your entire meal without interruption.

2. This coupon entitles you to one free pass from having to wipe Miss B's ass while eating out at a restaurant because she is bored, ready to go home, and has picked up an attention seeking behavior called "mommy I didn't wipe my booty good".

3. This coupon entitles you to one carpool drop off line at which time the giver of this coupon will pick your fighting children up in the morning and take them to their designated locations.

4. This coupon entitles you to walk away from the shit load of homework that your children brought home. The giver will tutor and thoroughly check the homework and also provide comfort for the tears and screams that usually come with the math problems.

5. This coupon releases you from any participation in the science fair this year. Giver will not only think of the winning project, but will also build the project away from the home.

6. This coupon allows you to go get shit faced with your friends and vomit in public with out being judged.

7. This coupon can be redeemed for a courtesy phone call at which time the giver will call you and tell you "It's not you. It's them".

8. This coupon allows one free bitch night fest (alcohol provided) with giver about the struggles of parenting. Shit talking about husbands will be permitted.

9. This coupon is for one laundry pass at which time the giver will sort through the shit stained underwear, smelly socks, and filthy clothes. All clothes will be washed, folded, and put in their assigned areas.

10. This coupon entitles you to one free pass to ask the mother judging you for allowing your children to slide across the floor in the grocery store..."What the fuck are you looking at bitch? Look away. Look away."

11. This coupon can be redeemed for help getting the children dressed for church on Sundays, so that you may actually attend church with sound body and mind and not feel like you may ignite into flames because you have screamed "get in the damn car because we are going to be late."

12. This coupon entitles you to a 2 hour nap in you car in the parking lot of your choice while the giver stands watch to make sure you are not robbed or attacked.

13. This coupon can be redeemed for a shopping spree that does not involve looking for seamless toed socks because Miss B has gone without socks so far this winter. Better yet...the giver will go out and find the damn socks.

14.  This coupon will allow you to switch bodies with the giver when the SBF has decided to have a "come to Jesus" meeting about the budget.

15. This coupon is for one free pass of Taxi services at which time the giver will pick up the three Divas from three different locations, drop them off at three different locations, and pick them back up and bring them home. All of these things will be done within an allotted 1 hour time slot.

16. This coupon entitles you to a lunch free pass from the Divas' schools. The giver will show up after being given a ridiculous lunch request, rush to get there on time, and then sit as the Divas completely ignore you.

17. This coupon allows you to ignore the "Mom, come here!! I need you" at which time the giver will jump immediately and save the day!

18. This coupon entitles you to one prank phone call to the Nissan dealership.

19. This coupon is good for a "get out of taking down all the Christmas shit" card at which time you are allowed to leave the house after Christmas and return to home with your house back to it's normal condition.

20. This coupon is for a Sunday night meltdown at which time you are allowed to kindly throw all of your children's newsletters, field trip forms, and all other paperwork from school in the garbage. You are even allowed to say "Fuck this shit" for dramatic purposes.

21. This coupon is for a free night from trying to figure out what to feed your family who are not ever really pleased with anything but pancakes for dinner.

22. This coupon grants you one night freedom from attempting to pick out the Divas clothes from school only to have Miss B wear the same shit everyday. Short long sleeve shirts, leggings, boots with no socks, and a side ponytail are her favorite.

23. This coupon entitles you to "decline" the phone call from your mother in law. Giggle

24. This coupon allows you to tell your aunts that continue to question your choice to change churches ..."I see dead people, bitches!!".

25. This coupon entitles you a free pass from having to flip someone off for almost running you off the road while you are driving the three Divas and begging Miss B to roll up the window and to stop fighting her sisters. The giver will immediately step in and "flip the bird" as high as their alarm will allow it to go to the asshat that's not paying attention while driving.

26. This coupon is for a tag team pass at which time the giver will come in and play with Miss B. The giver will sit patiently and allow her to pretend to feed you with dirty ass play spoons she found under the playroom couch. The giver will also allow her to check his or her forehead for a fever with her hand that has probably been in her ass less than 5 minutes ago.

27. This coupon allows you to "tap out". This coupon can be redeemed in any situation at which time you realize that you are going to be once again sucked into doing something that will only add more stress and chaos to your life. The situation starts off with some lazy ass coming up to you saying "Do you mind....".

28. This coupon entitles you to one serenity shower at which time you will be able to lather up completely, wash and shave all needed areas, and not have to listen for screaming and fighting or have a conversation through the glass mirror.

29. This coupon allows you to walk away from the piece of shit that is floating in the toilet with no tissue paper. The giver will not only flush the toilet, but will find the culprit and wipe her ass and explain to her the importance of good hygiene.

30. This coupon gives you a free pass to think all of the bad shit, say all of the wrong things, forget some of the important things, and blow up over the little things because everyone knows you love them immensely. You love them so much so that you allow them to drive you bat shit crazy. They have your soul, your mind, your body, and your heart. They have taken all of that and yet you feel complete rather than empty the majority of the time. This coupon is for the day when "the shit hits the fan".

Feel free to change the names and pass these coupons on to friends and family. They are priceless!!

...Crazy mom seeking cheer

I cannot believe that Christmas will be here in two weeks. What the hell??????? Our household has been a complete blur since Thanksgiving. Confession: I broke my rule of no Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving and I think I have whipped up a shitload of craziness because of it. Thanksgiving break brought cold wet weather and to keep myself from running through the neighborhood naked, I decided it would be fun to go ahead and get started on Christmas. The whole family was experiencing a serious case of cabin fever. So, nothing like a tree and some lights to show us the end of the tunnel. The SBF brought down 12 boxes of Christmas mania from the attic and walked away. His job was finished. I began the task of Christmas cheer. Ten minutes into the madness, I realized our prelit tree was no longer prelit, but I was prepared. I had purchased tons of Christmas lights. There was Christmas music playing in the background and I knew this would be a moment of happiness...true bliss.

Within thirty minutes of this process, my house looked like a fraternity party gone bad. The Divas had stepped on and smashed several strands of lights. They were fighting over who could climb in the boxes and the SBF had decided to put on some "African spiritual music". We are a family with a vast variety of musical tastes, but I wanted damn Christmas music. I wanted the f---king cheer. The Divas loved it and decided to turn over boxes full of ornaments and beat the empty boxes like drums. I think I bit a hole in the side of my mouth, but I did not say a word. I continued to "fluff" out the tree. For one second, I became fearful that one of my ancestors would come out of the tree and choke the shit out of me. Why???? Why did my house sound like this...the screams, drums, and mumbling had me thinking we participating in some voodoo craft. As they pranced around and the SBF sang into a microphone, I went through my ornaments. Long gone are the days of fancy ornaments. All of my ornaments bounce. It took me three years and numerous broken glass ornaments to realize that I had to make the switch. I was finding some peace in meticuously placing every ornament in it's

designated spot until the SBF decided to scare the shit out of the Divas with his "moans" on the mic. So, they ran to me wanting to help. I told myself this would be a moment they would remember. So, I foolishly accepted their help. The fighting and crying that erupted caused me to black out a couple of times. I watched them push each other into our Christmas tree, fight over ornaments, bite, wrestle, and snatch Christmas shit for the next thirty minutes. I stepped back and allowed them to put six ornaments on one limb only to watch them all fall to the floor. I said nothing. The rage inside of me had left me speechless. The oldest Diva began to chase Miss B around the house with a stuffed Grinch which she's scared shitless of. The SBF was still singing and I contemplated walking out the door. Finally, I could not take anymore and I let lose a good old "F--K" followed by some shit that sounded like I was speaking in tongues. They all stood there frozen as if I had lost my mine. They had their "mommy said "f--k" while putting up the Christmas tree" look....blasphemy!!! The SBF cut the music off and escorted them to bath time. I flipped him off as he walked by. I decorated the whole damn house by myself and it currently looks like I had a Christmas seizure. Every corner of my house is decorated with Christmas cheer to the point that I want to vomit.

(check out the shard of ice coming out of his cheek)

Miss B begged me to put up outside lights this year. So, I did...hoping it would make her Christmas extra special. Currently, there are lights going half way up the only three trees in our front yard because I didn't have the courage to climb a ladder and go all the way to the top. I also have three wooden trees that are lit up by 100 watt flood lights. They shine so brightly onto the trees and into our house that there is no longer a need to turn one damn lamp on. Matter of fact, I think those sons of bitches are actually heating the house. There is an orange forty foot cord going through our front yard and at the end is what is sure to be a fire hazard. But there are candy canes, lights, and an inflatable snowman damnit!!!!!! The front door is nicely decorated. So, I am at peace with the debacle and I could give a shit what the neighbors think. The shocking part....the Divas could give two shits about those lights. They only think of them when they want to bring up something mommy is not doing right. A couple days of ago, Miss B came to me in her scolding voice "Mommy the snowman is not up?"  In my head, I said "f--k you" and then asked for forgiveness. I put on my green suede slippers on and marched through the wet frozen grass and proceeded to pry a frozen completely flat snowman off the ground. I screamed. I cursed. I yelled. That bitch ass snowman was going to inflate if it killed me. I snatched the wet cord and plugged it into the strip of hazard and prayed it would electrocute me...not kill me. I just wanted it to shock me to the point I would pass out in the wet grass for a while. It did inflate and there was a nice shard of ice sticking out the side of it. I felt it was symbolic of how I was feeling. I stomped my frostbitten ass across the yard, entered the house, and proceeded to scream to the SBF not to unplug one damn Christmas decoration... "EVER!!!!" and I called him a son of a bitch. Oh. Yes. I. Did.


To continue our Christmas cheer, I decided to purchase a gingerbread house. I went over a friend's house and fell in love with her nicely decorated gingerbread house. What a great idea for my Divas? I came home with the box and their faces lit up with joy. I cleaned off the kitchen table and vowed that I would be happy and joyful during the entire process. I told myself I would not get caught up in how they decorated the house. I wanted them to cherish the memory. First, the bitches began to plead with me to allow them to eat the damn candy for the house. Miss B could not understand why she couldn't bite into the roof. You would think I deprived them of sweets. I ignored the nonsense and the fighting over peppermints and began to squeeze out the white icing aka as white crack. Those bitches saw the icing and lost their mind. They begged to eat it and I started screaming "It's for the damn house". One of them suggested using glue and I almost went to a dark place. We put the damn house together and I ignored the fact that Miss B licked the icing off of one side. I ignored the fighting over gumdrops. I quietly watched them make a complete f--king mess. When it was finished, I decided to take a picture. I bullshit thee not....3 seconds after snapping a photo the damn house fell apart. They screamed and I just stood there. The SBF came running and had the nerve to rub my shoulder and comfort me. "You tried your best" he said. I politely whispered in his ear..."I could give two f--ks about that house. Y'all are driving me f--king crazy". The Divas tried to put it back together and were unsuccessful. I said nothing. I watched them eat the icing and candy. I even watched Miss B take at least 5 shots of green sugar crystals to the head. I left the shit of a mess on the kitchen table and climbed into bed. Miss B ran around for 3 straight hours in circles due to a sugar high and I watched TV.


Now on to our elf...Mr. Jingle Jangle. He is male and he likes to wear skirts. Don't judge him. I have developed a love hate relationship for this little shit. I hate to admit he is over Jesus in our house right now. Miss B will shit bricks if I tell her that I'm going to tell Jingle about how she screamed for five miles on the way to school because she didn't want to wear socks. Homework, extracurricular activities, and Christmas parties have taken over our life. So by the time I crawl to bed, I don't want to do anything nice to that Jingle. I seriously thought about cutting his damn arm off to traumatize Miss B. One night, he did not move because he was placed on the "No Fly" list due to the banshee like screaming that had occurred from all three Divas at supper time. My ability to create funny little situations have turned into some "Shining" shit. I giggled one night as I wrote a message from Jingle on our chalkboard in the kitchen. I wanted to write "redrum". Yep, that's where I am on the holiday cheer list. I hate the ELF ON THE SHELF!!!!! But for my children, I will still participate in the nonsense.




I am tapped out and still have two weeks to go. I am ready to remove all of the red and green shit in my house. I don't want to listen to Feliz Navidad on repeat every day. I want to drop kick Jingle's ass into the front yard by the inflatable snowman with the ice shard sticking out of him. I remember Christmas as a child and I would literally sit quietly for hours and stare at our Christmas tree. It was pure bliss or either my mother drugged me during the holidays with Benadryl and I was hallucinating.

After our Christmas Pageant at church tonight, I will have my cheer alright. It's going to come over me as I pop open my champagne and drink directly from the bottle. And I will sing loud and merrily "Cheers and to everyone....goodnight!"

....Thanks living

The holiday season is approaching. Actually according to the commercials and stores, Christmas is here. I have had mixed emotions over the last couple of days of what seems to be the slow evaporation of Thanksgiving. The child in me still yearns for the Thanksgivings full of food, laughter, and fun. That child yearns for "home". In reality, that "home" is gone and that child has created her own "home" which is somewhat bittersweet. Sadly, my mother and her mother died within 1 year of each other, they were the most important and influential women in my life. They were total opposites, but they had one similarity....an insane love for the holidays. Since there is no "home" to go visit to recreate those beautiful distant memories, and there is not enough alcohol or drugs available to assemble together what is left of my dysfunctional family, I try to create my own.

Last year, we spent Thanksgiving at an Ihop. I was quite disturbed at first. The Divas were in heaven. They practically had the whole restaurant to themselves. As I sipped my coffee, I was comforted by their giggles. There was no dysfunction. Holy hell....was I happy and at peace? I did feel as if I were cheating the Divas. They needed the turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, and a game of  Life to be complete in the world. They needed the homemade rolls, the pear salad, and the "good silverware" aka as the forks that stabbed the back of my throat. They needed the hams, and the pies, and the German chocolate cake. My mother's mom, my grandmother or as I called her my "Maene" managed to create a spread for years that could feed the entire community. I would watch as she scolded her three daughters, one being my mother, for giggling during prayer or sneaking a pinch of the caramel cake. It was seriously like fucking Camelot on that side of the family...surreal. From that side of the family, I got my ability to recreate some shit that would make Martha Stewart tear up. I have baked, cooked, hosted, and decorated some pretty fabulous fucking feasts trying to get a hint of that fix that I long for only to realize that after half a bottle of wine, I am pissed and frustrated. One year, I looked around at the attendees of my pieced together family and friends and realized the main characters were missing. No matter how hard I tried the ingredients I needed the most were unattainable.

Thank goodness, in my childhood, I was also exposed to my father's side of the family who offered something totally opposite from Camelot. My father's side offered a variety every year similar to Christmas Vacation. Barbeque..chicken...turkey and maybe even pizza were items on the menu. The only two things that were constant: the out of the box "sock it to me cake" and a 5 hour game of Spades. My father's mother aka Grandma Alice is still alive and a firecracker to say the least. She had a stroke in the 80s that left her "different". Some years (mostly around the holidays) she was blind in one eye and some years she wasn't. Some years she was apparently "paralyzed" until it was time to jump out of her chair to claim that my grandfather wouldn't touch her anymore and she was going to die the following Friday. My grandfather would kindly reply while playing spades..."Awe, Alice, nobody wants to hear that shit." And I would giggle and somehow my heart was warmed by the behavior.  From that side of the family, I got my ability to recreate a comedic act that Richard Pryor would laugh at.

"Thanksgiving is the day when you turn to another family member and say, 'How long has Mom been drinking like this?' My Mom, after six Bloody Marys looks at the turkey and goes, Here, kitty, kitty." - David Letterman

Both families gave me two polar opposite pictures of Thanksgiving. A fairy tale and a comedy. I consider myself blessed to have had those two. When I am not trying, searching, or longing, I see a glimpse of both sides recreated in my everyday life. The scent of pecan pie or a good ole "nobody wants to hear that shit" reward me with the memory of "home". The "home" that takes up residence in my heart and my soul and where it must stay because as stated earlier the ingredients have expired.

The SBF finally decided a couple of years ago that the dysfunction was just not worth putting ourselves through....especially being that no one on my side of the family really drinks. BLASPHEMY!! I swear I think we would all get a long a little better if every one had a bottle of wine or too. For the second year in a row, I will not be up till 4 am cooking a fucking ham with pineapples and cherries strategically placed on it. I will not be at our local grocery store asking a random stranger how the hell do you cook a frozen turkey the night before Thanksgiving. I will not be up making my favorite sweet potato casserole. Awe......the infamous sweet potato casserole: one year, the oldest Diva came to me on Thanksgiving Eve and told me there was a "toon toon" on the floor. Well, "toon toon" is what we call our privates in the Davis household. Bewildered, I asked her numerous times..."What? Where?". Each time she innocently responded "there is a toon toon on the floor". Flustered, I grab her sweet little hand and asked her to take me to the toon toon. As I walked, I thought about all of the SOBs I would call the SBF that day for leaving out his "toys". I was shocked when she pointed down to a pecan half on the floor and looked up me with the a huge smile. "See mommy, there is a toon toon right there." Chopped pecans are obviously an important ingredient in my sweet potato casserole. Pretty fucking hard to cut up a bunch of pecans without thinking about toon toons. Toon toons everywhere. Pecan halves are no longer allowed in our house. Oreos are not either, but that story is for another day.

So, this year, we are eating at our local church that is serving the community. Once again, I was all like "Shit. What am I doing with my life?" I felt the internal struggle resurface on whether I am cheating my Divas again. I then remember I am chasing something that just cannot be and if I continue chasing that "home", I won't reap from the beautiful "home" I have now. My Divas will have various memories of many different types of Thanksgivings and I pray the varieties give them a
spark about them. A spark that will enlighten them, comfort them, and nurture them. I have many years to screw their lives up and I just can't let myself believe that eating pancakes on Thanksgiving will be the topic on the couch at their psychiatrist's office. If so....those bitches are pretty lucky. Confession: some days, I do dream of the Divas coming home on Thanksgiving with their families and the beautiful feast of food, flowers, cakes, cookies, wine, music, and games I will present to them and then the circle of life will be complete. Giggle.......

I wonder if Thanksgiving has lost it's appeal to some of us because we are yearning to recreate the impossible or that families are less "cookie cutter". Is it too hard for us to say, those memories were great, but they are not my current reality? Or my family is fucking nuts and I don't feel like being bothered? Basically..."It is what it is". Maybe we have all bought into what it should be and have rejected what it truly is. For one day, you are suppose to put aside all of the skeletons in the closets, feast, and avoid drinking too much and cussing out your uncle. There's just food and fellowship...fellowship that can bring up memories both good and bad. Fellowship that can lead to family fights, inappropriate comments, cursing, drinking, medicating, sneaking out to smoke a cig, and vowing never to return....

Unlike Christmas, there are no gifts presented at Thanksgiving to mask the sight of  the empty chair of the loved one that is no longer present or the gifts from the cousins that you only see once a year but manage to get you something that proves you are indeed related and not complete fucking strangers. It's just a time for giving thanks. A thanks that may come out as a "thanks for being a jackass all those years" after that second glass of bourbon. Or "thanks for biting my nipple out of anger over a doll that time when I was seven" which really made breastfeeding go sooooo well. Found this to further support my theory........

Whatever your "story", "situation", or your "home" may be, Thanksgiving should still be celebrated and celebrated for what it simply is. A day to fellowship with whomever...wherever....however and give thanks. A thanks to just living. Plain and simple

So however your Thanksgiving turns out...whether it is good or bad...you are living and that is something to give thanks for and celebrate. Living takes balls. Giggle

"Thanksgiving is an emotional holiday. People travel thousands of miles to be with people they only see once a year. And then discover once a year is way too often." – Johnny Carson

Cheers and Happy Living!!
  

...he called you a "what"????

Public service announcement: To the little boy that called one of the Divas a "hoe". Your mama is a hoe and I wish I knew her name to relay the message.  Real talk

The above statement may be harsh and tacky to some. I know fighting fire with fire is not something I want to pass down to the three Divas. I know it it best to turn the other cheek and walk away. The problem is how do you teach those values, but instill in them that they have permission to stand up for themselves by any means necessary.

I was bullied from the kindergarten to the 9th grade. I vividly remember pissing on myself while standing in front of the teacher on the playground in kindergarten because I was horrified of two bullies in the bathroom. These girls quite often pushed me, called me names, and pulled my hair. The shame I felt that day destroyed me. Unfortunately, that day was just the beginning. We moved around quite a bit in my early childhood, so I was often the "new" girl. New girls get both positive and negative attention. It didn't help that I was very small for my age and rocked a nice Eddie Monster unibrow.

At every new school, the bullying always started with just name calling and moved on to physical threats and interactions. I was pushed in a fucking locker in the 7th grade and my clothes were thrown on top of the locker. I was also bitch slapped that same semester for getting a girl out in dodge ball. In the ninth grade, a young girl got so upset because I was riding in the backseat with her boyfriend during Driver's Ed. I could see the look of rage in her eyes and I quickly exited the car and tried my best to run to the front steps of the school. I made it to the last step and felt like I had just slid into home base. Until a big ass rock, hit me on the side of my head. Yep, the bitch took a rock and hit me in my head with it.

My father spent countless hours at school because I was hysterical most of the time. Who the hell wants to come to school and get their ass beat??? I remember the principal pleading with me to not call my father one day after a girl knocked my books out of my hand and pushed me into the wall. He called me "Jones" which is my maiden name. "Jones, now don't go and call your daddy and stir up a ruckus. Just go back to class and avoid the girl" he pleaded. I was dumbfounded. The son of a bitch basically said I was the problem. Luckily, they had payphones at school and I called my father. My father came to school that day to whoop somebody's ass and was not going to stop until his daughter stopped getting her ass whooped. My dear grandmother even resorted to giving me a sharpened pencil to stab a little girl at church. This little girl beat my ass literally 6 days a week. My only off day from her was Saturday. Luckily, my mother questioned me about the sharpened pencil I was holding tightly in my hand. She took the pencil away from me and told me once again the words that have stuck with me forever. "It's cause you're pretty and they're ugly". She told me those words over and over again for the 15 years I had her in my life.

The majority of the time, she would add personal information about the family in her pep talk and gave me permission to repeat the information verbatim. And I did. I would walk up to the bully the next day and say word for word what secrets my mom had revealed. "You're just mad because your daddy left your mama for another man." BAM....of course, I would get slapped again and I would run to the principal's office and the whole damn cycle would start over again. I endured hell until I was old enough to get a boyfriend. If I didn't have a boyfriend, I had a shit load of male friends that were willing to beat the hell out of anyone that dared to approach me. I actually became well liked and walked away from high school with many titles: Miss THS, Homecoming Queen, Hall of Fame, Class Favorite, etc.  

The bullying I experienced as a child and throughout my teen years were physical and verbal. The verbal shit that I was told hurt 10 times more than the physical stuff. Unfortunately, I didn't learn how to fight with my fists. I fought with words and I played dirty and hard. To this day, I frighten myself with the words that can come out of my mouth when I feel threatened.

So, I was not shocked when my first response to the little shit calling my Divas a "hoe" was to go straight into a ratchet verbal assault. My two oldest Divas had no idea what a "hoe" was. They just knew it was a bad word. I tried to explain that "hoe" was short for whore and that a whore was.....hell....a lady with a lot of husbands and boyfriends. I know...but it was the best I could come up with. Miss B was listening in and of course started repeating "hoe" over and over again. I'm trying to get her to stop and she's screaming "Santa says it." Shit....I could shake the hell out of the little bastard right now. His mama is such a "hoe"!!!!!!

Fuck, now I feel like a hypocrite. How I will maneuver through the next couple of years will be shocking to say the least. How do you find a middle??? I want my Divas to stand up for themselves. I want them to scare the shit out of someone with their words if they are ever bullied. Confession: they have been given permission to knock the hell out of anyone that touches them. They are small for their size. So, they have been told to fight dirty. 

Seriously, I didn't even know what the word "hoe" meant at their age. So, I worry about their generation. I worry about cyber bullying. I worry about mean girls. I work about shitty boys. 

My job is to protect them, to nurture them, and to build their self esteem. I'll be damned if some little shit messes with that. Mama plays dirty. 

We have an obligation to teach all children that any form of bullying will not be tolerated. I will gladly take on that responsibility one "your mama is a hoe" little prick at a time. 

...Holy Halloween

Halloween is approaching and it may very well be what I need to get me out of this damn funk. Confession: I love it and I am not sure why.  The middle Diva asked if we were celebrating the birth of Satan and I just looked at her. What in the hell happened to the fucking fun in Halloween? Why must the devil be involved? Halloween is about candy and scaring the shit out of little kids. Sadly though, I wish I could say we had some rock out Halloween "adult party" to go to and have found the best costumes. One year, when there was just one Diva, the SBF and I attended the local bar in our college town and I was like a kid in a candy store. There was a guy walking around like Tom Cruise in a pink button up and tighty whities, a guy walking around with a shower curtain built around his body and the skanks....oh the skanks where magnificent. It was a freak show and I loved it.

I hinted to SBF that I may dress up like a Xanax pill this year and happily go door to door with my children. He has encouraged me not to. "What would people think?" he says. Maybe they will think that I am fucking happy and they should get some too. So instead, I will probably show up in my normal Halloween costume: The tired, angry mother of three walking down numerous sidewalks in the dark cursing under my breath and pissed that I forgot my flask of Bailey's for my coffee. I will see the local bars in a distance and spit at the college kids enjoying their life and shit. The Divas will be dressed as Cleopatra, a mummy, and a pink ass Bratz tiger. Guess who is the tiger....yep, Miss B. The costume is not one of my favorites and I find myself calling her "Richard Parker" from Life of Pi. Picking out costumes for the three Divas caused me to question the costume industry and if I had passed down some "slut genes" to these three girls. It took hours to convince them that the Bride zombie looked like a Meth Head, the Pop Star Diva looked like a stripper, and the Southern Belle looked like she was the "Head Madame" at a Brothel. What the hell is going on? I swear there was a picture of a five year old girl posing seductively as a cop with handcuffs in her hands. I know my past. I know my genes. I know there is a pretty good chance that I could end up with a tramp as a daughter. I am not putting that idea in the universe as a for sure, but I know there is a possibility. I will do my best to fight it and love the tramp unconditionally. 

The girls love to ask me what I dressed up as for Halloween when I was a child. In the fifth grade, I swear I went as a hooker. I wish my mother was alive to confirm this, but I promise I was a hooker with a mole drawn on my face. Giggle. She was a young, wonderful, free spirited mother...don't judge her and I turned out fine.
 

My love for Halloween has caused me to fall off the wagon. I am in deep. Let the crafting madness and Halloween parties begin. Right now my kitchen table is a mass of newspapers and orange paint. Pinterest is my poison and I may OD this week. Miss B has a party this morning and once again I was up past midnight cutting ribbon and painting bags. I looked at the beautiful pile of shit everywhere and I was at peace. The SBF came through and stated that it must bring some peace to me because there is no way in hell he would do that shit. He seemed to have forgotten he had just finished spending over an hour cutting out jack-o-lantern faces for me. 

In my defense, I have not gone fully ape shit crazy into the Pinterest dark hole. At 12:30 am, I said the hell with trying to tie cute bows through the holes of tags that I created for goodie bags. I grabbed a stapler and stapled tag, ribbon, and the whole damn bag. Ha!! 

...I'll be watching you

The NISSANITY I have suffered from has come to an end. Purchasing another car last week (NOT A NISSAN) was just the right medication to cure this evil disease. Mama is happy. My new lover is an Aucra MDX and I love it. As I pulled up to the Nissan dealership to remove my items, yes I was blasting rap music..."U.E.O.N.O" was my song of choice for my entrance. To some this may seem a little over the top, but I don't give a shit. I stepped out of my new vehicle and approached my former lover and my sandal broke. WTF really...my sandal broke. It was a sign, but not some sort of bad karma sign. It was the laws of the universe confirming that I was indeed dealing with "shit" and would continue to experience "shit" until I relinquished myself of all associations with this company.  As the service lady cautiously approached me, I made sure to tell her that every time I step on this lot...my shit breaks..."look at my sandal". 

She was not amused with the comment and again I didn't give a shit. I was there to get my personal items and cause no harm. She offered a box to put my things in and I felt like I had just gone to an ex lover's house to get my shit. "Hell no, I don't want a box. I will carry my items like a lady." I refused to be the wounded ex girlfriend picking up her items with tears running down her face. Been there...done that. I think I literally skipped back and forth as I went back and forth.

They bought the car back in full and I don't feel a need to be appreciative of their actions. They only did what was required by law and that's all they did. Never once did they attempt to go above and beyond.  When I approached the Twerk Tank, I experienced flashbacks of what I thought would be a happy life for us. I would be lying if I did not say that a sadness did come over me. I very well know this is just a piece of metal...an item in my life used to get me from point A to point B. This sack of shit did a detour though and took me to hell and back. So, I had two choices: get my items and "keep it classy" or be me. Why hide the frustrations and pain I had felt over the last month? I did not do shit angels. I did not sing Ceelo's song "Fuck You". I decided to just be me...giggle.

I kept my car blasting my theme music the entire time as I switched back and forth with my items. Yes, I slammed car doors. Yes, I  had a full on commentary out loud. Nobody wanted to make eye contact. Nobody wanted to acknowledge me really. They wanted me gone. I admit I wanted to leave something for them to remember me by. Tons of scenarios of the worst kinds of behavior that I could exhibit were going through my mind. I looked for "Sam I am" because I wanted to tell him that I didn't give a damn. His rules were for fools. Yet, I could not find his gray headed ass. So, I said farewell to the service men. Yes, I sang in my best opera voice as I stood like Rocky Balboa did when he won a fight..."This bitch has left the building. May God have mercy on your souls". The service lady interrupted me and told me I could not be in the service area for insurance purposes. I kindly replied.."Now, you want to follow rules. Fuck you." and I walked off with my broken sandal flopping still holding my arms in the air because I was "winning".

The SBF was frightened to hear of my behavior and reminded me that "God does not make cars. Man does." I know that and agree. God made man. And if anyone in that dealership or corporation had showed me any compassion and understanding, I am pretty sure my NISSANITY would have never
developed. I never asked for anything unreasonable, just a car that I could transport my Divas in. Our history will soon be a very distant memory. My new lover is taking care of me now and he's "the shit" if I may say so. I left the dealership with my new boy fraaand blowing my horn while waving my hand out the window and "woohooing" to the top of my lungs...

Best break up ever

But I end this chapter in my life with a song playing on repeat....
                           
                            "Every move you make
  Every vow you break
  Every smile you fake
  Every claim you stake
  I'll be watching you....."

  And my friends will be watching you.....

 Giggle
 

...Dancing Machines

We are a dancing family. Friday nights no longer involve barhopping and clubbing. The three Divas make it very hard to do such, so we have learned that to bring the clubbing to us. I hope in the future when the Divas are "airing our dirty laundry" to their shrinks that they will remember that in the midst of all of the drama, the dirty house, the cries, and the screams....

"WE DANCED OUR ASSES OFF"


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ip2N3m_bvi0&list=PLTcUPUXNBbDUCxnZykkns-0X_wOwu6Em_

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FacfJV4BEkI&list=PLTcUPUXNBbDUCxnZykkns-0X_wOwu6Em_

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=93rEpnWbnws&list=PLTcUPUXNBbDUCxnZykkns-0X_wOwu6Em_

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=HJP4EpUwtog&list=PLTcUPUXNBbDUCxnZykkns-0X_wOwu6Em_

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=G_2h-VDE1qA&list=PLTcUPUXNBbDUCxnZykkns-0X_wOwu6Em_

..."SHE GONE"

Oh, I have gone and done it......I have lost my shit. The recent events and activities in my life that I like to think of colorful strips of paper have driven me to the breaking point. My strips are all scattered about like I went on a rampage with a leaf blower. Over the last few days, I have tried to narrow down the exact occurrence that has caused me to go into a dark place of giving 0 fucks. The best I can come up with is that my superwoman cape has wrapped around my damn throat and is currently choking the shit out of me as I type these words. I have always known that I am somewhat of a volunteer whore, but over the last month I have walked too many street corners. I also like to consider myself a warrior and this warrior has fought way too many battles. Seriously, I am not sure when I started swapping out happy hours for volunteer meetings, making school crafts instead of watching trashy TV, and scheduling play dates instead of girls night out. So, I am issuing a public service announcement: "SHE GONE"

I swear there are subliminal messages out there to mothers that say we must do it all, keep our shit together, and die trying. If you have not fallen victim to this phenomena, please do not judge the mother who has...send peace vibes her way. I think it will happen to all of us at one point in our lives. Either we are the bat shit crazy over the top mom or the mom feeling guilty for not being the bat shit crazy over the top mom. Both result in a mother hiding in a closet with her wine and her pills and whispering "Dear sweet baby Jesus please just let me make it to bed time." They both result in a mother feeling like shit at the end of the day and that my friends is just fucking nonsense. I read the funniest post the other week that made reference to "Namaste" and ever since I have wished I could purchase some "Namaste" water to baptize myself in...in hopes that I would resurface as a new, refreshed mother, wife, and friend. Hallelujah!!! Mama has risen...and yes I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell for the last statement.   

The very thought of volunteering, doing homework, cleaning, decorating, working, parenting, and just fucking caring sends me into slight convulsions. I have never pretended to have my shit together, but I think me losing my shit is starting to surface. I am all about letting my crazy show, but it's on my terms. I'd like to think I have some control over it, but my freak flag is flying higher by the second. I swear I caught the middle Diva looking at me today with a "what the fuck is up with my mom" look as I kissed her goodbye. I can't blame her. I would be worried too if my mom was walking around with pieces of silicone bandages on her arms and nose. When I get busy, I get clumsy hence the two iron burns on my arm that resemble suspect cutting behavior. When I get stressed, I tweeze and squeeze hence the Gorbachev scar I am currently sporting on my nose. The SBF thought it was quite entertaining to come to me and ask if I needed to "talk so someone". Me: "What the hell are you talking about?". The SBF: "I think this is how it started with Michael Jackson. Pretty sure he got stressed with all the demands in his life and he started focusing on his body and developed...". Me: "Oh, go to hell." I am pretty sure rumors will start to surface that I am in some sort of abusive relationship or either I did in fact go to the Nissan dealership and get into a fist fight with the owner. I have found myself having to bite my lip when people ask "how's it going?" because there is a beast inside of me that wants to verbally vomit some of the most foulest shit ever. These people include not only friends, neighbors, acquaintances, but also random strangers or anyone that manages to make eye contact with me. Wanting to mouth to random bystanders "this shit sucks" has forced me to make some changes in my life.

The truth is simple...I am tired as FUCK!!! So tired that I don't have the energy to fight the SBF over the fact that he put three 100 watt light bulbs in the very small hallway leading to the girls' rooms. When the middle Diva came to me earlier with a look of horror saying that the light was too bright, I just blew her off and put her complaint in the "middle child nothing makes me happy" category....that was until I cut the damn light on and proceeded to scream "Jesus Christ". The SBF is quite frugal and known for cutting the air off during the day causing the house to be a nice 81 degrees when the Divas and I come home. The shit he has put in this light socket is sure to run the electricity bill up $200 and I am too tired to express any concern. I just pray no one suffers sunburn while walking down the hall that I now call the "highlighter to hell". I am also too tired to find the energy to participate in the
schools' local fundraiser. Yep, the former Parent of the Year and PTA treasurer and VP has not sold one damn raffle ticket and she has three children in three different schools. I think the cause is great, but I cannot stomach asking one more person in this community for money. The Divas remind me daily that I have not sold any tickets...never mind the SBF...he has no obligation in this process. In their minds "Daddies work and mommies do EVERYTHING else" which will be great shrink material for them. I just finished helping raise a nice amount of money for an organization that helps the children in the community. But, in reality they could give two shits. They want the free Disney pins and lanyards for selling their tickets. I am contemplating confessing to them tonight that mommy is not going to sell one damn ticket and take them to Dollar Tree to help the confession sting a little less to them. I have also let the SBF and the oldest Diva do a school project together. Holy hell...the world is coming to an end. I closed my eyes and said a little prayer when I saw the SBF trying to help decorate a poster on Alaska last night. Then, I was reminded of  this wonderful woman I met on the beach a couple of weeks ago whose carefree personality was intoxicating. She told me the way she made it through homework and projects was by simply stating "I already earned my degree. You earn your own." I was totally dumbfounded and caught myself wanting to ask her..."is that allowed?"

So, I have realized one thing...the world will still go on without me. Other mothers are selling raffle tickets. The Divas have managed to pick out their own clothes. I even caught them putting little notes in each others lunch boxes which brought tears to my eyes. Just the other day I witnessed the oldest Diva taking the middle one to the side and telling her to slap a bully in the face...atta girl. Giggle. I tried to do it all and it sucked ass. Today, I declare that I will allow myself to give 0 fucks and let the pieces fall where they may. Funny, I never realized how much in control I thought I needed to be. So for right now... the calendar may just remain blank, homework and backpacks may go unchecked, meetings may be skipped, and emails may be ignored.

I do offer my condolences to those that will be affected by my behavior. If someone should ask, what the hell happened to me...just reply "SHE GONE".  It's just humanly impossible to be everything for everyone. So, I'm going to let my freak flag fly high in the world of not giving a shit for a little while. Join me if you would like....I'm getting on the "Peace Train".

...Dear Karma

Dear Karma,

In light of recent "life events", I have had a lot of time for some self reflecting and I would like to start off by saying...KARMA is a bitch. I'm not sure what the hell I did in the past years, but I take
this time to ask for forgiveness...

• To the ant, I stepped on when I was in the 4th grade, I am so fucking sorry dude. My bad.
• To the lady who said she wanted Dr. Pepper when I was a waitress, and I mixed Diet Coke and Coke and never said a word..I apologize.
• To the guy who was also elected Favorites in the 9th grade and picked me to pair up with him which caused me to go into hysteria, I am sorry for being a bitch.
• To the man who said I cut him off and proceeded to try to make me wreck, I apologize for flipping you and your young son off and then for screaming "roll your fucking window up" repeatedly for almost a mile, I am sorry.
• To the many jobs I quit on the spot or never came back from my lunch break, I am sorry.
• To the lady at the Chinese restaurant that told me I could not put noodles in the to-go soup container and I did it anyway while yelling "you can't tell me what to do with this container", I am sorry.
• To the guys I wrote papers for in college full of plagiarism and charged $10/page, I am sorry.
• To the numerous vehicles I hit in parking lots and drove away and parked in another spot, I am sorry.
• To the many mothers I looked at during my single years and judged them while their kids acted like complete asses, I apologize. You should be happy to know Miss B makes sure to publicly embarrass me every day.
• To the guy that owned a local pizza place, I am sorry for getting upset because you never delivered my order and then calling back and ordering $50 worth of food and refusing to go to the door when you did deliver.
• To the guy that I cheated on with the SBF, I apologize for not being able to resist that bald head and killer smile that caused my loins to scream..."get on that". 
• To the random thief that withdrew $30 bucks out of my bank account, I am sorry for tracking down your number and proceeding to call you and tell you that I would choke your children.
• To the SBF, I apologize for going behind your back and getting a "secret credit card" that resulted in a stranger charging $467 dollar worth of apps causing me to have to confess my wrongdoing...I am sorry.
• To the Divas that I love so, I apologize for throwing your toys and numerous paintings away at night.
• To the random college boys, I apologize for vomiting on you while I was stumbling to my car.
• To our dog that we dropped off at the Humane Society because it started shitting black tar and I didn't want it to mess up the new house we had just closed on...I am sorry.
• To the movie goers that had to listen to a wine bottle roll down the aisle of the movie theater, I am sorry for sneaking it in and then pretending it was not mine. 

I hope these apologies serve as a peace offering for you to move on to your next victim. I have learned my lesson....maybe the Nissan Corporation is due a visit from you. I am sorry, I didn't mean that....

Sincerely and formerly,

Your bitch

...NISSANITY

Where have I been??? Well for the past month I helped raise money for an organization that is dear to my heart. Though the process almost resulted in a straight jacket, everything went well and I have peace with my service.

On a serious note, I am currently suffering from a severe case of NISSANITY!! Yes, I am still dealing with the shitty purchase of a new 2013 Nissan Pathfinder SL. I am currently on my fourth loaner since August 30th and probably on my 7th plan to do snow angels in my own shit in the floor of the dealership. Yep...I said it. This may sound insane, but there is nothing left in me that is "rational" when it comes to Nissan. I swear I saw a Nissan commercial for the new Pathfinder and I blacked out last night. The rage that is inside me is dangerous to say the least. I have tried to break up with Nissan because our relationship is no longer healthy, but they won't let me. They keep pulling me into that damn dealership where I get to see my new car sitting in their garage and I have to listen to the bullshit they vomit all over me. When I began having trouble with the Nissan

Armada they gave to me as my 3rd loaner, I prayed to God to spare them. It took six attempts before the piece of shit would crank. So, I was forced to return to the Hell hole. As I was driving, I promised myself that I would remain calm and not lose my shit. I prayed for their safety as I turned into the dealership on two wheels.

I got out all poised and looking cute and I ran into "Sam I am". Big mistake...because all "Sam I am" knows how to say is "no". Everyone knows my face at the dealership. Most run when they see me coming. "Sam I am" thinks he's a bad ass. My presence does not scare him. He asks me what I am doing here and I kindly reply "The Armada is not working." He shakes his head and says "You are having the worst luck" and the son of a bitch walks off. Nissan has provided me all of my loaners through the Hertz company conveniently located in their facility...fuck-cility...same difference. Poor Daniel at Hertz asked me what was wrong with the vehicle and before I knew it I replied.."The hell if I know. Get your ass up and go check it out". The guys around him giggled and I scolded myself because I was determined to be a lady today. Shit!!! I followed him out and of course the car starts immediately. I reassure him that I would rather be ripped have my asshole and vagina ripped openf from childbirth than come to this dealership. Finally after I watch him crank the damn car twelve times, it starts to show signs of battery trouble.

At this point, word has gotten out that Mrs. Davis is on the property. The service men come from the back to sit and watch. I calmly ask for another vehicle that would accommodate my family. Voila..they have a Tahoe and Surburban. The owner and service manager were both out at the time. So, I had to go talk to "Sam I am". This bastard tells me that they will only pay for me to drive a Nissan and they would not pay for the Tahoe that I decided to rent. I was not shocked because from the beginning he has told me "No". No..we will not give you a new car. No..you can't file arbitration. No. No. No. Well, we have started this cute little way of communicating...When he says "No", I say "fuck". This goes on for quite sometime and I have to give him props for the amount of "fucks" that don't seem to bother him. He suggested I make Hertz put in a new battery. I suggested
he put a new transmission in my new car. He stated the "rules" and how he didn't make the "rules" and it was out of his control. I told him it would be out of my control if I piss in his office. Then I proceeded to share my own rules....

1) Don't let Nissan fuck me over anymore
2) Don't listen to shit "Sam I am" says anymore
3) Don't give 0 fucks about the ruckus I am causing in this dealership.

"Sam I am a fucking asshole" proceeds to tell me what he was not going to do. WRONG MOVE!! At that point, I informed him of all the things he was going to do.

1)He was going to kiss my ass.
2)He was going to go fuck himself.
3)He was going to give me a vehicle off this property or I would bust the windshields out of every car on this lot.

We have a stare down at this point. I have decided that he will fear me. I will pull his "bad ass" card. I'm not a regular bitch. I have had a 24 week 2 day old
baby, cancer, ectopic pregnacy, lightning strike, Spinal headaches, and the death of a mother. I have a will inside of me that does not believe in giving up or taking shit. I was also beat up half of my childhood from numerous bullies. So, I dare an asshole to bully me now. I fight ugly and I don't fight fair. I recall the nurse that tried to deny my surgery to remove my melanoma at a certain hospital. I calmly told her that I was going to take a knife and cut the toe off myself in the the lobby of the hospital that I wanted to have my surgery at. She approved the hospital and I bid her a warm farewell. "Sam I am an asshole" begins to shuffle his paperwork and stops making eye contact with me. Yes.. I screamed "Look at me God Damnit" like a mother scolding her child. I asked him what he would do if this happened to his daughter and he had the nerve to say he would be mad as hell. I respond "I hope this dealership burns in eternal hell fire!!" I know the last statement didn't make much sense, but again my ability to produce logical statements have expired.  All hopes of remaining civil have gone out the window and I just walked the hell out of his office. I do my usual pacing back and forth like a tiger in a cage at the zoo and to make it even crazier...I am having a full blown conversation with myself.  I again approach a random stranger and tell her "Don't buy shit from this dealership". I then go to Hertz and tell them if they know what's good for them..they would move their business out of this dealership. I also informed them that if "Sam I am an asshole" said one more word to me I was going to knock all of the gray hair off his wrinkly ass head. The Hertz dealer got a real giggle off of that one.

Minutes later, I find myself sitting Indian style at the entrance smoking a cigarette and leaving frantic 911 messages to the corporate lady that is handling my "case". "Emily this is Timeka Davis...the owner of the pathfinder. This is an emergency. Repeat...this is an emergency. Could you call me because I am currently refusing to leave the dealership because they won't give me a replacement for the broken car they rented to me because it costs more?" I left Miss Emily Peacock 3 voice mails and of course she never responded. The SBF was out of town and had no knowledge of what was transpiring. I didn't even let my good friends know what was occurring because the last time they made me leave to avoid an arrest. I was ready to go all "balls in" up in that bitch. I was free to say and do whatever and prepared to suffer whatever consequences. After, 30 minutes the Hertz guy stated he felt sorry for me and gave me the keys to the Tahoe. He stated he would accept any payment from Nissan. FINALLY...there is still hope in the world. I rushed into "Sam I am"s glass office that would be perfect for throwing bricks through and informed him that I was leaving in the Tahoe. He stated I would be responsible for the charges and I told him he would be responsible for somebody's medical bill if they even attempted to charge me. So, I left with a Tahoe. All day I waited for the cops to show up at my job. I didn't care. I was glad I at least looked cute for my mug shot.

Never have I wanted to choke someone so much. I contemplated shitting in the dealership floor and doing snow angels. I contemplated letting the air out of one tire of each car for everyday I have been without my vehicle. This is where I am in my life....doing shit angels. Never have I wanted to badly to cause bodily harm to individuals. Nothing serious...just punching them in throat or choking them.  Yesterday, I again warned a random stranger very loudly not to buy shit from this dealership. I have had to stop myself from writing on the back of each loaner that I have had. "Nissans ain't shit" seems so logical.

Any self control that I have diminishes when I step foot on that property. I pray so hard to not show my bat shit crazy side, but I hear "No" and I have an outer body experience. I have even shocked myself with my ability to sing in an opera voice..."Fuck y'all. I hate Nissan. Fuck y'all. I hate Nissan"! This was my first new car purchase and they robbed me of any delight or happiness I dreamed of experiencing while driving the Divas around town. Instead I have developed some sort of PTSD that causes me to scream obscenities at the dealership, TV commercials, and any one driving a Nissan Pathfinder. I feel like a homeless person...carrying around my shit all the time because I have no real car to keep my stuff in. Every day, I wake up and wonder if I will get yet another call that will require me to bring the loaner vehicle in to swap out. Fuckers!! I hate them and I know hate is so bad and so below me. So, I start the cycle of praying for patience, peace, and forgiveness and then my mind wanders and next thing I know I am praying for gasoline and bail money. I have even attempted to write several letters to Nissan. Each one starts out..."Words cannot describe" then BOOM!! I have actually typed out how many times they can kiss my ass, lick my ass, and if I had nuts they could lick those too. I even type words like "sons of fuckers" and "your mama can even kiss my ass" and if I had one wish it would be the ability to have lightning strike each one of the mother fuckers in the facility that refuse to work with me. I have experienced a lightning strike...shit hurts like hell. I know...so classy. I can't help it. I have a bad case of NISSANITY!!

During all of this, I can't help but be reminded of my last car ordeal. I was 23 weeks along with my first child and the interior car light refused to turn off. I went to the repair shop for a week because they could not seem to fix it. One week and 2 days later, I gave birth to a 1 lb 8 oz baby girl. Want to talk about putting things into perspective!! I never went back to have my car repaired. I didn't want a working interior light. I wanted my baby to live. So, I just ripped the fuse box out and tossed it in the back seat. I drove for five years without an interior light in my car. It was a reminder to me to keep shit in perspective. Things could always be worse. So, I am trying to hold on to this fact. I am trying to chain it to my soul. I have seen worse. This is just an object used to transport me back and forth. Then I walk by my garage and glance out at another strange car sitting in my garage and I am all.."fuck your mother". The arbitration process has begun for me to get a full refund. I was notified by another corporate person yesterday afternoon. I guess walking off the lot with the Tahoe was the straw. It's going to be a long process..2-4 weeks and Lord help them and keep them safe.

Last night, the SBF and I decided to not purchase a NISSAN. We will cut our ties and take our business elsewhere. I live for the day I can walk off that lot with a check in my hand and scream..."All you mother fuckers can eat my shit!!" I wonder how long this NISSANITY will last. Even knowing I am going to get my money back still does not bring much peace. I want to tell the world..."DON'T BUY A NISSAN!!". I want to start a NISSAN campaign. I want my story to be told and not via the local news station because I have slashed the tires of random Nissan vehicles. I want justice.

So, now we wait for the refund amount to be determined and I pray for their souls if they come back with a number that is not satisfactory. Nashville is only 4 or 5 hours from here. I would be glad to visit corporate face to face. I know they are using all of my recorded phone calls for training purposes. So, they might as well meet the woman in person who would like to shit fire bombs in one of their dealerships.

Speaking of shit...things are getting pretty serious if I didn't even mind the fact that Brooklyn needed to go take 2 shits while eating out for dinner last night. Due to her age, I have to step away from my meal and accompany here to the bathroom. Then listen to her commentary on how many "boo boos" she has left to push out while she grunts and moans and rubs her hand on the toilet seat. The occurrence did not phase me the least bit. I am the shit whisperer.........

...irrational, take 1

For the last week, I have had some of the craziest encounters with people. Encounters so damn ridiculous that I asked myself  "Is this real life?". I know that it's mainly just "life shit", but my tolerance level is low. My behavior has even caused the SBF to call me irrational and unreasonable.

My answer to him:  "Ya damn right I am irrational and unreasonable." I don't live in a rational world. I am surrounded by four idiots almost 24 hours a day that drive me bat shit crazy. Having to say out loud "Wipe your ass in the bathroom and not the kitchen", "Why would you lick that?", "Who the hell put a hole in the wall?", "What would make you think it's okay to paint the bottom of your foot with nail polish?", "No, I don't know where your boxers are because I don't wear boxers?", "I don't know if ants poop or pee?", and "Mommy is not Kindle Fire tech support." is not rational.

And on top of my "irrational" state of mind, I am currently driving a minivan. Yes, I recall stating that I wouldn't mind owning a minivan and calling it the "Twerk Tank", but the way I have come about driving this "shit trap" is irrational and unreasonable to say the least.

Twelve days ago, I took my brand new Nissan Pathfinder to get an oil change and determine if the service men could detect what I had been telling my husband for 2 weeks. I covet my vehicle. I wash her once a week and I love her. So, when she started shuddering and losing power I could feel this dread taking over. Of course, the all knowing SBF said it was the gas I was putting in the SUV....that shit sounds "irrational"!! Needless to say, I went ape shit at our local Nissan Dealership when they told me I needed a new torque converter. When the guy returned after test driving my car, he just looked at me and shook his head. Thirty minutes later, the service lady came out and said "Ma'am, your car is almost ready". My response: "The hell it is. Something is wrong with my car." She told me she would come talk to me. I stood there and tried to listen to this woman tell me that the car I purchased less than 60 days ago needed to be repaired and she was not sure when the part would come in.

After two minutes, I nicely interrupted her and said "bullshit. this is bullshit." She was shocked to say the least, but I couldn't stop it. I had gone to a dark place and I think I cupped my mouth and turned side to side and shouted "bullshit". The next thing I know the man who did our "paperwork" was trying to calm me down and saying  that I'm lucky the car is under warranty. Of course, the f bombs started dropping, customers started staring, and I told him that it wasn't luck, but me getting f___d. He asked how could he help me and I screamed..."giveeeeee meeeeee a neeeeeewwwww carrrrrrrr riigggghhhhht nowwwww." I guess he thought telling me that "there was no way that would happen" would make me be quiet. I screamed "I'm calling my husband" and walked out the door. I planted myself right in front of the dealership on the hot ass pavement with my legs crossed smoking a cigarette. A friend was getting her oil changed and she slowed down, rolled down her window, and said "Do you need some help? Do you need a ride? I heard what happened and that's not right." I thanked her and the tears started flowing. I called the SBF for back up and his ass was stranded at home with a dead battery. F____k. It took him almost an hour to get up there and I was advised by friends to not enter the facility. So, I sat outside in the hot ass sun on the hot ass pavement...chain smoking and crying.

The SBF arrives and I lead him in and just stand back and watch. My hero had come to save the day.  Wait....WTF is he smiling?? Are they laughing together? Is he shaking his head as if to say he understands the situation? I stood there with my mouth wide open and decide to intervene. To make a
long story short, I left hysterical and calling the SBF a p___y and yelling "get some balls". His answer to my demands, expectations, and behavior..."irrational". I felt like he had just bitch slapped me. Irrational would have been me driving through the glass windows at the Nissan dealership.

I had to return to the dealership to get a 5 day loaner. Confession: Yes, I told the woman that had just finished test driving a Nissan Pathfinder with her husband..."Don't do it. I bought one just like this less than 2 months ago and it's broken." Yes, I flung Miss B's car seat full of skittles around the dealership like I was throwing beads at a Mardis Gras parade. Yes, I spent days plotting my revenge. How many shit pies could I serve up in honor of one of my fave movies, The Help.

So, I am a maniac in a minivan currently. Irrational, unreasonable, and mad as hell. I have learned that people have preconceived notions about moms who drive minivans. Public service announcement: Just because I am driving a minivan does not mean that you can cut me off and not get flipped off. It also does not mean I will not run your ass over because you fail to use the crosswalk and no I will not let you over...bitch we are going to race!!! It's like this van says to people "go ahead...you have the right away. I won't hurt you. I am driving a minivan and must be a sweet little mom with nothing to do". I have contemplated forgetting to put this minivan in park when I drop it off at the front of the dealership.

This may seem irrational and crazy, but I don't give a shit. In acceptance there is peace, so f___k it...I am irrational. Most mothers have to be. It's what drives us to fight for our children, to push the doctors to do extra tests because we just know something is not right, to stay up to the wee hours of the night to do a science project so our child will be happy and proud. Being irrational allows us to do the drop offs and pick ups for tumbling, choir, chorus, soccer, homework, play dates, school parties, etc.  It makes us go that extra step. It makes us burn ourselves at both ends of the candle which I have done for the last two weeks in a world called "volunteering?' This phase of my life will soon come to an end and I will introduce

...Channel 0

If I could describe the physical and mental state of the Davis Household right now, I would suggest to turn to Channel 0. You see that black and white fuzzy screen with white noise. I think some refer to it as "tv snow"...that's us!!!! We visit this channel often...

We are almost 3 weeks into the school year and the excitement has worn off. The Divas have homework and extracurricular activities. Fixing their lunches in the morning has lost their "cuteness". Picking out their clothes at night makes me tired. The adrenaline we experience is always great the first 3 weeks and then the SBF and I wake up and we look like we have been on a drug binge involving "tv snow or tv blow". We our low on energy, contemplating vacations away from each other, and over the whole "school" business.

Back to school requires routine, organization, patience, and a shit load of sanity. The Divas are getting harder to wake up. The homework is getting heavier. The smiles and waves in the carpool drop off line in the morning have faded. Right now, I try not to throw my hands in the air when a parent kisses their
child twice in the carpool line. Immediately, my self talks escalate to "This bitch should have kissed her kid 8 cars back. I have two more f_____g drop offs. Goooooo!" Calling out spelling words has ended. I just enter all of their shit into spellingcity.com, let them go at it, and walk away. The lunches have gone from extravagant fresh fruit with cute little notes to bagged chips and a smilie face scribbled on a napkin. The emails and texts to volunteer are no longer greeted with a smile, but a "WTF, I'm not Jesus." The drop off at tumbling for an hour is no longer a hand in hand skip to the door, but a get out fast because I have to go pick up your sisters goodbye.

Maybe we are on the wrong channel because we put too much into it at the beginning. We go all balls out and then all of a sudden...I can't get out of bed on Sunday, our house is a wreck, there is a pungent odor that won't go away, and the kids are fighting. I lit so many candles in this house yesterday, you would think we were getting ready to "exorcise the demons". The SBF discovered his blood pressure is elevated. F____k!!! My psychiatrist put me on a sleeping pill the same day. WTH??? We both can't go down. Someone has to stay strong. It's a fight to "who will tap out first".

Yesterday afternoon, I thought our Channel 0 was going to jump on over to disconnected cable. The SBF locked his keys in his company car. We are very different in how we lose our shit. My shit fits come very often, so it's no surprise when I start dropping F bombs. The SBF maintains his cool most of the time, but when he "drops his basket"....the episode is terrifying and insanely comical at the same time. He is known for literally running away on foot from closing his finger in the door. He is known for opening the patio door and flinging a bag of chicken out into the kudzu. He is known for taking off on his bicycle. So, yesterday I witnessed his eyebrows move from a horizontal to vertical state. His legs began to shake at his desk and the vein in his forehead began to bulge. Miss B asked if he was sick and instead of me replying "sick in the head". I told her he was just frustrated and needed a timeout. I sat in the bed and tried to remind him that his blood pressure was already elevated, but it was too late. I tried not to giggle in anticipation of what would happen next. I also tried my best not to be selfish and say "Please keep your shit together because I have 3 PTA meetings this week." I sat for 20 minutes listening to him take deep breaths and angrily type on his computer. When the locksmith showed up, he just sat there. I finally convinced him that he must go outside to meet the guy. I was waiting to see his car blast out of the driveway backwards while burning rubber. I was waiting for the f___k screams to begin.

Instead, he returned with his eyebrows still "at attention" and began to get the Divas ready to go to the Lake as promised. I wanted to take each one of the Divas and explain that daddy is on a bad station and to please be gentle with him. They all calmly piled into his car as if to already know that daddy was having an episode. I watched them drive off and said a little prayer. Dear sweet baby Jesus, please let no one cut him off while driving, please let the Divas show their appreciation for a trip to the Lake, and please give me the motivation to clean this house and not waste my free time on FB or pinterest.

They later returned all in one piece. They seemed normal and happy. There were no looks like "daddy said f___k five times in the car". I cautiously approached him and gave his crazy ass a big hug. I even whispered how proud I was of him for keeping his shit together in his ear. He chuckled and confessed that he almost "took off walking", but didn't want to scare the Divas. Bless him for his will power.

Hopefully, by midweek will be back on a normal station...preferably an HD channel. The Divas set their alarm last night and it went off at 3 am. They woke up and got fully dressed. Confession: I slept through it all. I assume they woke up the SBF and he made them go back to bed. I woke up to Miss B fully dressed and shoes on and asleep next to me. I tried not to laugh when I looked at their bewildered faces when I got up. Their eyes were red and they were swaying from side to side.

Today, I plan on climbing the roof and shaking the hell out of the satellite for we must get it together

...get your freak on

As I crawled into bed at midnight after a day of homework, tumbling, volunteering, and cleaning, I looked over at the SBF. Our conversation went a little like this.....

Me: "Hey, do you want to have sex? Because if so, I need to go take a shower."
SBF: "If you're exhausted, we can just go to bed."
Me: "Well...if you are working from home tomorrow. We can "catch up" then.

Exhausted and happy, I cuddled up to him and he began to sing church songs.

SBF: "Amazing grace...How sweet the sound?"
Me: "WTF is wrong with you. Shut the f___k up! Why the hell are you singing church hymns?"
SBF: "I sing because I'm happy. I sing because I'm free. His eye is on the sparrow. That's the reason why I sing."
ME: "I swear I will punch you in the damn eye if you don't stop singing that shit."
SBF: "You are so going to hell for that." He continues to sing in my ear while he has me in a bear hug.
Me: "Jesus Christ, let me go. I'm going to get in the shower,"

Finally, my Xanax kicked in and I fell asleep. Glad to know I got a pass and a coupon to redeem the next day. I have been with this man for 16 years and I still think he is hot as shit. Our lives have changed so much over the last 16 years, but one thing has remain untouched..."great sex". Confession: I like having sex with my husband. It's free especially now that he has had a vasectomy. It's a stress relief. It doesn't require a babysitter. It's a form of communication when words just don't work anymore. I know for some this may be too much information, but I think it's an aspect of our lives as women that we don't talk about enough.

I love the shit out of the SBF, but I don't like him sometimes. Marriage is hard...any relationship is hard. People will change and grow. I look at him daily and ask myself "wtf was I thinking?" I have contemplated writing up divorce papers just for the months of October-February because I live with a cheap man that protests any holiday that Hallmark celebrates. I have wished to just "break up" for a couple of weeks. During those times when I think I may not be able to cohabitate safely with that man of mine, he will come out of the shower and I'll be damned if he stirs something in my soul that reels me back in. It is animalistic...a primal sensation that tells me I must mate with that man.

It has been that way since the first time I talked to him. There was no long courtship. There was no "whooing". I was an easy kill because I chose to be. Fast forward 16 years later and 3 kids, so much shit has changed in our lives. We have had one thing remain constant..."great sex". I protect it because I feel that is all we have left that has not been stripped from us. Age, jobs, children, finances, housework, homework, community service, and just f_______g life have given us a run for our money. But, we have one thing to fall back on when the shit hits the fan. I like to get laid and he does too. Plain and simple.

I have had many roll their eyes at me and almost gasp at the thought that I am having sex with my husband. My question: "Wth would I not????" I may not make the time to tell him I love him every day or give him a hug and a kiss when he walks out the door. I may not even make the time to communicate with his ass during the day, but when that bedroom door closes...dammit I am ready to "talk"!! Sometimes the best solution to an argument is to just f___k it out.

I am not in anyway trying to boast, but if I could give one piece of advice it would be "Ladies, get your freak on." I think society has screwed us with these images of "relations" entailing candles, soft music, massages, and pretty lingerie. BULLSHIT!! There can be a hell of a lot of romance in locking the bedroom door, stripping down and saying "we have 20 minutes before the kids wake up!" I grew up on soap operas and I thought that every sexual encounter with my husband should have "Tonight, I celebrate my love for you..." I would like to thank Days of our Lives for giving me an unrealistic view of what the bedroom action should be like. I am not afraid to admit that sometimes it goes a little something like this..."Hey, ya wanna do it?" Or better yet the idea that these encounters must take place in a beautiful bedroom with clean sheets and shit is again...BULLSHIT!! There is nothing wrong with finding an alternative location...closets, laundry room, car in the garage, and bathroom. There are no off limit locations. AND we do not have to have a full lingerie set up, flowing hair, freshly shaved legs, and full make up!!

I call him the SBF because to me he is. It keeps the fire burning inside. Confession: I still think he is hot shit. Now, that does not mean I don't think he's an asshole, dumb ass, son of a f____r, piece of shit, bastard, asshat, dream killer, and Debbie downer sometimes. He can be all of those things in one day, but somehow his confidence or presence or f_____g pheromones still speak to me when night falls. Let it be known that I call myself a "MILF" or "golden". Why?? Because if I don't think so, who in the hell else will??? What we must have is confidence that "We are the shit!!"....MAMA STILL GOT IT!!! The sexier we feel about ourselves the better sex will be for us. I promise. We are sitting on a pretty fine treasure...literally. We are golden in every sense. I know we are mothers. I know we are a wives. I know we have deadlines. I know we are tired. In honor of my favorite movie...Friday, "I know this ladies....but Imma get you laid tonight". Why? Because we freaking deserve it!!!! The world would be a better place if more of us would just get laid. Giggle

There is an unspoken intimacy in sex that can take place that can work miracles on a marriage. Tensions decrease. Requests to clean up are met. His dirty ass socks on the floor don't seem so bad. Arguments over how much you spent at Target sort of fade into the distance. Calories are worked off. For the most part, I get a glimpse of that fella I met in 1996. I get to see my best friend...not my husband, not the father of my children, but my buddy. I see the reason why all of this shit started in the first place. I see how I got here and why I am still here.

So, as a mother, wife, PTA mom, volunteer mom, and former Parent of the Year (giggle), I send you forth with permission to be a woman in the streets and a freak in the sheets.