...Take My Breath Away

I'm an 80's baby and the movie Top Gun was probably one of my favorite movies. After watching it as an adult, I am not quite sure if my mother made an appropriate choice. Giggle. I also memorized every word to every Prince song at a very early age. I don't judge her though. She was 16 when she had me. She was a flower child, free spirited, and gracious woman with a raunchy sense of humor and the mouth of a sailor. I know everyday she looks down and laughs her ass off at me. Karma is a bitch.

Anyway, the song Take my Breath Away on Top Gun, was my shit!!! I would sit and sing that song and dream of the day when my man would come and "Take My Breath Away". Today, I would like to announce that I want my "breath" back. I did not know the SBF fella would come into my life with his good looks and killer smile, impregnate me, and leave me with a small army of "breath takers". Somehow, I have allowed this little family of mine to believe that my only job in life is to be there for them at all times. The sick twisted bipolar part of this agreement is that I want them to know that I am here at all times no matter what...just not if I am taking a shit, putting make up on, taking a  shower, watching an adult movie, napping, driving the car, talking to a friend, answering emails, surfing the web, reading a book, painting, or eating. During those few and far between times listed above, I would like the ability to do so in peace.

My bedroom is my favorite part of this house. It is the reason we bought this house. I envisioned long days of peace and solitude. Well the SBF has opened up his office in our master bedroom and brought a bookshelf, desk, and futon with him. The three Divas have started this new game called "I'm going to flip off the couch onto the futon and do a triple hand spring onto the ground until mom loses her shit." They have so many rooms created in this house just for their pleasure. Right now, a gigantic Barbie doll house is sitting in our bedroom. I guess the playroom was just not the place for it anymore. WTF don't they play in the other rooms. Instead, they all pile in our bed and watch TV, play games, read books, and just f___k with me. Miss B rubs my arm until I begin to hyperventilate. Then the fighting starts. There is not enough room in the bed for all of us. So the "Stop touching me. Get your feet off of me. I'm hot. Stop farting. Don't lick me." game begins. I patiently suggest they move over and be nice to each other and to please stop jumping because mommy is going to vomit, but they don't listen. After one hour, I go complete ape shit.

The shit that comes out of my mouth makes no sense either. All they can make out is "shit........licking......stop.......hell......why.......go..........where's your daddy........get out." They then have the nerve to turn around and look at me like I have lost my mind. I know whatever just came out of my mouth did not make any sense, but at that point I CAN'T BREATHE. I wish I had a panic button in my room that I could hit that would literally scare the hell out of them and cause them to go running for cover. Better yet (for you True Blood lovers), I wish I could rescind my invitation to my bedroom. They are always breathing my air. I swear I get so hot and sweaty because so many individuals are around me breathing on me all of the time. After my "episode", I sit and think about the damage I have probably caused to their beautiful souls. The guilt takes over and I get up and decide to go check on them. I step out of bed and DAMNIT to hell...I don't know which pain is worse a LEGGO or a Barbie doll shoe. I proceed to whisper profanities and go get the vacuum. The joy I have sucking up their toys that I beg them to put away brings me great delight. My middle one runs to our bedroom door and just stands there with a weird smile like "holy hell...mommy is crazy." Miss B decides to join her and as soon as I cut the vacuum off she says "Can we come back now?" My oldest may be the smartest one ,even though, she has walked into many of walls. She retreats and finds something else to do. It never fails that 45 minutes after my "episode" and I have cleaned our room, cut the TV off,  made the bed, and decided to jump in the shower...I open the bathroom doors and there they sit like f_____g puppies. They are wrestling, giggling, rolling around on the floor, and the TV is back on. I walk to my closet without making eye contact and sit there with the door closed.

Did this happen today? Yes. Did this happen yesterday? Yes. I have the leading role in the movie Groundhog Day. And guess who's birthday is in fact on Groundhog Day???????? Ding. Ding. Ding. Pick me. Pick me. Isn't that ironic? Don't you think? I have seriously contemplated putting on my snorkel mask when I am trying to hang out in our bedroom in hopes that I will be able to get some air. They would just think it's a game and beg me to go find their masks and I would end up sitting in a bed with three kids and crying with a damn snorkel mask.

I know the end of summer is approaching and school will start. I will get back some of my free time. Lately, when the SBF comes home, he asks "What did y'all do all day?" I quickly answer "I tried not to suffocate." I know he secretly thinks this is all my fault. They don't do this to him. So, I must be encouraging this kind of behavior. Maybe I am. At this point, I don't know what the hell is going on. I do know that when school starts and he comes home and asks me what did I do on the three days I don't "work"...I will remember these moments and instead of making up something like I cleaned or reorganized the closets. I will loudly respond "NOT SHIT!"

...Throwback Thursday

While doing research (stalking) on FB last night, I came across some app that would allow me to read old FB status posts. Frightening to say the least!! So, in honor of throwback Thursday...

Throwback Thursday
Status Updates

1. Aug. 2009..."Mommy!!! Jesus and Santa are gonna be so proud of me because I listened at school today."--the middle one
2. Oct. 2009...Farryn informed me that she is going to write about me in her "diarrhea".
3. July 2010...SBF: "Where's your mama?". Farryn: "She's out in the garage screwing." SBF: "WHAT? Where is she?". Farryn: "I told you she's out in the garage screwing." FYI: I was screwing a chair back together.
4. Oct. 2011...It warms my heart that Miss B refers to her father as "my Josh". It's a little disturbing when she says "Shit, my Josh" all the way to school.
5. Oct. 2011...Me: You think I'm your maid. SBF: You think I'm your sugar daddy.
6. Nov. 2011...4 strands of broken Christmas lights, 3 children crying, 2 broken snow globes and a mommy drinking Bailey's in her coffee.
7. Jan. 2012...While cooking supper, I found it most appropriate to raise my martini glass to the stay at home moms, the full time working moms, and the part time working moms. How about we stop focusing so much on those silly adjectives we put before our names and just start calling ourselves..FAMS (f____g awesome moms)!
8. Feb. 2012...Cooked a sausage and broccoli frittata with a side of roasted potatoes only to hear Miss B scream "it nassy. it choking me"
9. March 2012...Yes, I was the lady on the bike who was swerving and cursing and panting and almost wrecked twice. What husband suggests bike riding after his wife has had her own little happy hour.
10. March 2012...Driving through campus, I found myself wanting to roll down the window and yell "life is going to bite you in the ass" to all of the happy college students.
11. Sept. 2012...Just imagined kicking a homework folder out of one kid's hand. Instead, I will break a pencil in half while hiding in the closet. I think mommy is a little tired.
12. Oct. 2012...It's really sad when you walk past a child who has fallen asleep on the couch and you immediately think..."Shit, she's getting sick."
13. Oct. 2012...You can whisper in his ear, refuse to make eye contact with me, and try to walk past my bedroom with a broom all you want too. We still use monitors. I can hear you. I know you just broke a lamp.
14. Oct. 2012...Nothing says "good ole health loving marriage" more than screaming through the shower door to that sexy bald fella..."Eat dog shit".
15. Dec. 2012...'Twas the day before Christmas and all through the house, my kids are being little shits and I've flipped off my spouse. My kitchen is a wreck from flour and red dye, the Christmas CD is skipping and I want to cry. But what to my wondering eyes just appeared, a bottle of chilled champagne to let me know peace will soon be near.

After reading several posts, I felt like there was a pattern present.

My family has been bat shit crazy for quite some time now...at least we have remained consistent over the years.

....Wife Duties

I was loafing around on Pinterest the other day and came across a friend's pin. This is an article supposedly from an Econ book in the 1950s. I literally almost shit my pants from laughter and shock. I swear the mother smiling in the picture looks like she is baked and secretly telling her husband to go f____ himself. The children look like they are playing the game "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours." The photo itself screams dysfunction. The words typed below scream borderline human trafficking. I would pay money to bitch slap the author of this piece of work. Even if this article is fake, there is a hidden message that I feel has been passed down from generation to generation. The message being surrender yourself to becoming someone else's bitch for the rest of your life and love doing it because it is your job.

After I wiped the tears away from laughing and choking, I started to think about my home life. The three days I am with the Divas all day are pretty scary. The fighting, screaming, crying, and whining can be brutal to my mental health. How many times can you plead with them to sit down and stop it? Some days, I totally understand what may drive someone to try Meth. Don't judge me....I have a four year old whose only speed is "hard". She screams hard. She hits hard. She laughs hard. She scratches hard. She bites hard. She talks hard. She loves hard. She has no middle. She is either full throttle or sick. By the time the SBF comes home, I'm speaking softly alright. I am whispering that he can go to hell if he leaves me one more day with his children. As he tosses them around on a bed that I just made, I try not to scream as I watch my pillows get tossed on the floor. The sheet from my once perfectly made bed has become a parachute. The children are filthy and I grimace as their dirty ass feet prance around the bed as he sings with them. There is no food cooked because they have eaten shit all day. The dishes are dirty. The washing machine is rocking back and forth like a space ship because I am washing the 12 towels used to clean up spills that day. The only thing fresh on my body is the booger that Brooklyn wiped on my shirt. I stand there at the bedroom door and I just look at them. Every once in a while, I see the beauty in the moment. They love their daddy so, but most of the time I stand there toying with the definition of abandonment or how bad is a place with padded walls. I wait for my turn to be interesting for him alright. I inform him that his daughter must have a tape worm because she digs in her ass all the time. The other daughter walks into walls on a regular basis. And his third daughter refuses to embrace the importance of deodorant.

I am pretty sure this guide lead to a constant sense of failure and lack of fulfillment because it's unattainable. There are not enough brainwashing techniques out there to convince a mother/wife this is their destiny in life. So, I started thinking of a guide for the mother/wives of the 21 century.

1. Prepare yourself by having a cocktail at 4 pm & again at 5 pm. Drink the cocktails very fast. This will cause you to feel refreshed and gay. The stronger the cocktail, the easier it will be to pretend to listen to him talk about his day. He will sound like the Charlie Brown teacher and eventually mute.
2. Grab all of the toys, leggos, crayons, paper, clothes, dolls, cars, and shoes and toss them in the backyard. If he decides he would like to retire on the patio and relax, he will have the most beautiful display of chaos in the backyard.
3. You are not crazy no matter what they say or how they look at you when you start slinging pots in the kitchen. So, while cooking make sure to slam enough doors to scare the shit out of them. This will hopefully give you a couple minutes of silence.
4. When he walks in the door, punch him in the throat immediately. This will allow him to feel the choking sensation you were succumbed to all day because your children won't listen.
5. If he comes home late or suggests that he is going to meet the fellas after work, light a fire and line up all of his shit in the living room.
6. Be so interesting when he comes home that he will wonder if you drank more than just a bottle this time. Note: hide the bottles. The less he knows the better.
7. Wait outside with the children when it's time for him to come home. As soon as he pulls in the drive way, return to the house and deadbolt the door.
8. Hide the remote before he comes home. When he settles down to zone out to 5 recorded episodes of PTI, he will get the exercise he needs searching for the remote. Remember you need a healthy provider.
9. When he falls asleep before the children are bathed and the dishes are washed, pick up his phone and change his ringtone, text message alerts, and email alerts to every Disney Princess theme song. This will keep him alert and on his toes.
10. Know your place....you are the glue that holds all of the shit together. The good shit and the bad shit and for this you deserve the world.

I know many will read this and think "she wouldn't....". Well if I had to pick between the two guides, pretty sure the last one meshes with my domestic capabilities. 

...birthday party rehab

In five days, I prepared an American Girl slumber party for my middle child. For five days, I secretly felt like I had fallen off the wagon. I could feel the demon growing inside of me. She had been bound and chained for too long. She was free and she wanted to show her ASS. Luckily, medication would mute her sometimes and keep her from going out asking a friend to please come dressed as the American Girl Doll of the Year...Saige. Wtf....really??? What happened to our generation? I remember just having cake and ice cream at parties...no theme, no party food, no games really, and definitely no party favors. I vividly remember sitting and watching my friends open their gifts and hoping that I would be able to stay long enough to play with their shit. I am not quite sure when and why things changed. Cards are no longer written in blank invitations. They have beautiful fonts, pictures, instructions, and rhymes. I know all of this because I am a former Birthdayzilla. Never did I do it to show up other mothers. Something inside of me drove my imagination to act a damn fool and go way beyond what was necessary.

So this week, as I prepared for the party, there was a constant internal struggle on whether the shit was really necessary. Visions of the party popped into my head like I had partaken in a mushroom binge. I have a condition called "I like to make my shit". "Could I build a stage in five days?" "No, wait...what about a photo booth?". Could I make 6 doll sleeping bags in 5 days with no damn sewing machine? What about a table for the dolls they were asked to bring? Wouldn't it be cute to find small party food for them? By the third day, I had visited 4 different stores. The irritation grew and finally I said "get your shit together". I threw tons of parties in the past and never once enjoyed them. I was so exhausted and drained from gluing, building, baking, and painting. I was never really present at these parties either. I was a robot. I had expectations, plans, an agenda, and a schedule. I didn't get to hear the laughter. I didn't see the smiles. I was glued to a camera trying to take pictures. They were never fun for me because I was not THERE...the birthdayzilla was. So, I politely told the beast to get the hell on and I planned a party for my sweet Farryn.....

Despite what you may be thinking, the decorations took less than 3 hours. Paper plates and plastic table cloths can do wonders. As I put up the decorations, I ignored Miss B telling me that "this party better be good". I shocked the SBF by telling him the menu consisted of grilled hot dogs, chips, and Hawain Punch. Our local bakery, Emileighs, did a beautiful job on the cake. They did such a great job that Miss B decided to lick it when I was greeting one of the parents. I quickly fought back the urge to pop her with a rubber band and just smoothed the sides out. The games consisted of a photo booth and writing a wish on a piece of paper and attaching it to a balloon to release in the front yard. I bought 8 balloons. Funny how the balloons for the sexy bald fella and me popped before we got out the door. I guess you can call that f____g reality for you. Overall, Farryn was happy. She didn't see a mother tired, exhausted, stressed with clinched teeth. She saw a mother playing and having fun this time.

My only "muck up" consisted of eating 5 slices of the most delicious cake ever. Yes, I said 5!! I woke up early to get breakfast ready for the girls. I kept it simple cinnamon rolls and strawberries. I was feeling relaxed and sipped my coffee. As I opened the first can of dough, my stomach began to sound like waves crashing in the ocean. Shit!!! The next two hours I spent in the bathroom sweating and cursing the SBF who could not stop laughing at the state I was in. I found the energy to text the parents telling them to take their time because "we were having so much fun!" The SBF finished breakfast for me and got the girls up 30 minutes before pick up time. I cursed myself for a night of over indulgence. WTH was I thinking, but that cake spoke to my soul. I am a sugar whore.

One mother showed up right on time. I apologized for not being ready. Dehydrated and delusional, I confessed that I had diarrhea all morning in front of everyone. By that time, I literally didn't give a shit. She laughed thank goodness. The SBF stood in shock. I staggered back to bed and the doorbell rang again. I mustered up enough strength and answered the door. There stood two Jehovah's Witnesses. Damnit...really? What a coincidence one of the ladies is my "kroger friend". My "kroger friend" works at Kroger and felt we were close enough one time to tell me my haircut was ugly...BITCH! I admit I was getting ready to tell them that I couldn't talk because I had the shits. Of course, I am surrounded by my daughters and their friends. Right when I was going to say "not today"....Miss B holds out her hands and yells "They are just black girls. They are not your mothers." WTF did she just say???? Really???? I took the Watchtowers, gave them a weak smile, and slammed the door. In Miss B's defense, she knows the mothers of all of the girls. Unfortunately, the easiest way for her to explain how she knew for sure these strangers were not coming to pick up our friends was by describing them by race.

Overall, the party was great. One little girl felt very special on her day and that was enough for me. I didn't have to go out and spend a fortune. There was no big production. It was just right for her and where we are in our life right now. I will not be forced to enter rehab...in the words of Amy Winehouse (RIP)..."No! No! No!". For those mothers who are still in the stages of going all out, I applaud you and give you a "do you, boo!!" shout out. I think whether the party is simple or extravagant that we must remember it's a celebration. Celebrations are suppose to be fun and it's okay for the host to have fun too!!! Mom the f_____ on!!!

...MUCK UPS

So, what is a MUCK up??? It's when a mom f____s up. You do something that you regret. You are sure you have damaged your children for life. You have good intentions that backfire. It has happened to us all and if it hasn't it will. Please note that I am not sending out bad vibes to those mothers that have been so very lucky to have not experienced a muck up. I just know that without a doubt it will happen to the best of us because we are human. Just recently my friends and I shared some muck ups to help console another friend who was sure she had damaged her child for life. How comforting it was to realize that I was not alone in the cluster f___k of raising my children. I have had my shining moments where I bowed to the imaginary applause and patted myself on the back. I have also had those dark moments that made me hide in the bathroom while crying and looking in the mirror and asking myself..."What the f____k were you thinking?"

What are my muck ups? There are so many, but I want to share a few for those mothers out there that are tired and weary. The mothers that are hiding in closets in the dark. The mothers that are beating themselves up over the impossible task of trying to never muck up.

• Muck up 1: I watched my oldest stare out of our car window while drooling and telling me she could see little green men because I overdosed her by accident. I am pretty sure other drivers were wondering why I was running off the road and swerving due to panic. 
• Muck up 2: I woke up sleep deprived from breastfeeding when my less than one month old baby fell out of my lap and onto the floor. Her screaming woke me up. I spiraled into mass hysteria, sobbing, and wailing. That event really helped me jump right into post partum depression.
• Muck up 3: I locked my middle child in my car at my dad's house one night. Josh was quick enough to grab the bricks out of my hand before I smashed every window in my car and called 911. The neighbors stood by quietly and watched the fire department open my door. They seem disturbed by my pacing and banshee screaming. Funny how she slept through the entire event while I cried on the shoulder of a fireman.
•  Muck up 4: I caused a mad search at our local candy store. As I was taking orders for ice cream, I noticed my middle child was missing. I gave my youngest who was about 3 months old to a stranger, threw down my purse, and began running up and down the sidewalk screaming her name. My heart raced, tears were streaming down my face, and I could hear the owner of the candy store screaming my child's name while she ran up and down parking lots. I found my middle child locked in the car where I left her. I forgot to get her out. FYI: the SBF was with me also. I looked at my child through the car window while screaming forgive me and she returned a look like "wtf is wrong with you mom? you forgot me." I didn't want any ice cream after that. 
• Muck up 5: I forgot to lock the door one night. I don't think I need to say anything else except what a way to kill the mood. I will confess that the last time a child twisted the LOCKED door...the naked SBF ran across the bed and into the closet. Giggle
• Muck up 6: I took all the Divas on a short trip to a museum and lunch in another town. After Miss B had a shit fit on us in a really nice restaurant and proceeded to scream all the way home, everything went black and I yelled "Shut the f___  up!" My middle child stared out the window all the way home with the weirdest little smirk. Of course, they all informed the SBF of my really really really bad bad word. 
• Muck up 7: I attempted to have a phone conversation regarding a community service activity. I politely asked the young woman to hold on because Miss B was screaming in the background. I thought I put her on mute, but I didn't. So, she got to hear me tell Miss B to "Shut the hell up". Luckily, she laughed.
• Muck up 8: I was given a beautiful old antique door. I was in the process of trying to decide where to put it in my house. I quickly went out and bought a stud finder and secured it to the dam wall after it fell on top of Miss B and flattened her like a sandwich. 
• Muck up 9:  The first time my oldest got really sick and she ended up in the hospital with pneumonia. I was a new mom and did not know that a humidifier needed to be cleaned. I almost sliced my wrists when we brought her home and I decided to clean it and found mold spores growing inside.
• Muck up 10: I cried and begged our dentist to do an Xray on my middle child because she was 18 months old and had no teeth. I was convinced she had no teeth buds and was prepared to chew her food for her for the rest of her life. Of course the Xray, revealed teeth buds and I think she cut her first tooth two weeks later.

Luckily, the older I get the more inclined I am to share my muck ups with other people. I found my confessions bring much laughter to some and to others I sense a plot to contact DHS on me. I just give them a little wink and a "muck you" smile. It is what it is. All of my children are alive and loved immensely. It is because I love them so that I am bat shit crazy. So, some days I win and some days I lose. It's the nature of the beast.

Disclaimer: Let us not judge one another. We are doing our best. Before, I am attacked by the naughty word police. I do not curse my children on a regular basis. Matter of fact, we try our very best not to say naughty words in our house. I save those words for my friends and my blog.

...Eating my words

Aging and my last child have taught me to be very cautious with the words I say, the judgments I make, and the advice I give. In this stage of my life, I am the mother and friend who says "Do you boo!" because I have eaten so many of my words. Everything I said I wouldn't do...I have done. Every event I said I would not participate in...I have been front row center cheering with pom poms and shit. So, payback is a bitch in my life. Miss B is everything I said I would not tolerate. My home décor is slowly fading and being replaced by toys, books, dolls, and crayons. I have lost myself in motherhood. I don't know my favorite color anymore. I know my oldest likes purple, my middle child likes pink, and my youngest likes pink. I have no desire to learn or grow in my career. I bribe my children. I whisper sweet negotiations in their ears to avoid public meltdowns. I am everything I thought I would not be....giggle!

Karma, exhaustion, and mental anguish have taught me to keep my mouth SHUT. The "I would never...." statement has been erased from my vocabulary. I have also learned to thine own self be true and that lying takes too much energy and my version of "my life" is much better told by me. So, I strive to not "fake the funk". What you see is what you get and boy oh boy is it all kinds of crazy (note a consistent crazy). Anyway, I try to call myself out on my shit and TODAY IS THAT DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

What brought on this self evaluation/reflection today? A damn birthday party......

I confess that I was that mother. I would pick a theme for birthday parties and spend weeks making shit. I didn't do it for some Great Mom Award. I did it because I love crafts and I have some serious OCD tendencies. 

It took years of 3rd degree burns from my glue gun, fights with the SBF, not sleeping for days, crying over failed craft ideas, screwing up recipes, and a dysfunctional family to finally say the hell with it and let's just take a trip instead. Check out the evidence before I decided to stop the madness!!

Exhibit A

 Exhibit B

 Exhibit C

All I possess now is a strong dislike towards birthday parties. Confession: I hate them. I'm over them. I am burnt out. Many of these feelings are my own doing. I didn't have to make 20 pinwheels out of construction paper. No one asked me to soak stationary in tea and burn the edges, so that; the princess invitations looked authentic. I did all of this before the luxury of Pinterest...thank goodness. It was a fun madness that would consume me for weeks. Now, I don't judge those that go all out for birthday parties because I used to do it. I don't judge parents who show up with all of their kids at a birthday party because I have 3....sometimes they are package deal. I don't judge the parents that drop their kids off and leave because I do that also.

Well, the buying of a new car cancelled a birthday trip for my Farryn, my middle child, my "her heart is so giving that I will kill someone if they hurt her" child. She is truly golden, but she has some serious middle child issues. So, when she asked me last night if she would ever have a party again. Shit...the guilt emergency lights started going off!!! Holy hell, what have I done to her??? I must give this child a birthday party.

So guess who is having an American Girl Slumber Birthday Party in less than 5 days?? I could bitch slap myself. I vowed to never look at another American Girl Doll after my incident in Atlanta. So again...wth?? I am praying that this very small impromptu slumber party does not bring out the demons inside of me. I am praying that I will not visit Pinterest for ideas. I pray that I can indeed keep it simple. This will be a challenge. I feel like I have been through rehab and I am about to fall off the wagon....but wouldn't it look so cute to have a cake made like an American Girl shopping bag?? Maybe, I can make Farryn the "Doll of the Year"....wouldn't that be a cute poster???

Sugar Honey Iced Tea. What the hell is wrong with me? 

...meditations and medications

It's after midnight and Miss B had a bad dream. She is snuggled up next to me and my heart melted just a little. Forgotten is the afternoon of her screaming like a lunatic because she wanted her sisters to tell her who to pretend to be. I wanted to suggest..."How about you not be a little ass right now?" The days are starting to run together and just yesterday I realized school starts in one month. For a split second, I was weary of what was to come. I do believe that it is time for the Divas and I to not spend so much time together, but I am in no way ready for homework, projects, carpools, and shit. There has been no schedule this summer which I think has contributed to the psychosis in our house. For the last week, Miss B wakes up crying, whining, angry, and just plain pistified!! This is my third child, I should know how to handle this, how to comfort her, how to distract her, and how to not reinforce this behavior. So far, I just stand over her with 4 boxes of cereal screaming "You ate all the marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms!!! Pick something else."


This child is seriously still connected to me by an invisible umbilical cord. Confession, I am a night owl. I stay up late to do chores, crafts, blog, watch TV, and just sit in quiet. Lately, I have sacrificed sleep just to rise before the monsters wake up with their demands. I just want to drink my coffee in peace. Miss B has installed a f____g device in me that alerts her when I am up and moving around no matter how quiet I am. Instead of greeting me in the mornings with a kiss and a hug, she comes at me like I'm her bitch. She then attempts to crawl back inside of my womb. I quickly reach for my meds and pray that they will kick in before I shit myself in the kitchen. For about 2 hours, this child proceeds to throw shit, scream, demand Coca Cola for breakfast, strip down, and wrap her naked body around my leg while I am making her cereal.

This happens 96% of the time. Funny, how everyone else in the house sleeps through these manic episodes. By the time they get up, I am exhausted.. They wonder why I am walking around with red beams shooting out of my eyes. They wonder why I have snot all over my PJ's (Miss B likes to use my PJ's instead of tissue). My eye is twitching and you can sense that I am about to reenact a scene from Mommie Dearest. The SBF kisses my forehead and says "Rough morning?" I imagine jabbing him in the nose, but instead I smile and sip my coffee (Bailey's with a little coffee). It is obviously his damn genes that cause this behavior. I am way over blaming every behavior my child exhibits on me. Sometimes their "shit fits" having nothing to do with my parenting style. They are very selfish little people with their own minds and agendas. Miss B prefers to eat her boogers. I had nothing to do with that shit and refuse to take responsibility for it. I think so many people see children misbehaving and look at the mothers who are trying their best to keep their shit together and judge them...label them as failures in the "how to teach your kid not to strip down in Wal-Mart" section. We must take into
consideration that these little people have a mind of their own. I don't like boogers. So, I am sure as hell not gonna take the blame for Miss B eating them.  The little old ladies in the grocery store love to stop and tell me "You have got your hands full" (translation: Dear, do you realize one child has her dress over her head and the other one put her mouth on the the shopping cart handle?)

So, once again I have found myself reading

 Meditations for Mothers of Toddlers.

Shit is serious when I have pages bookmarked with sticky notes.

I would like to share a couple of topics and "jumping off statements" to take with you throughout the day:

1. BURNT OUT MOTHERS: I am a loving mother. But if I hope to be a constant source of love and affection, I must spend some part of each day giving to myself. (My translation: It is okay to tell your children you have diarrhea and you are going to stink. This will allow you time to play on your smartphone or read a book or stare off into space.)
2. APPLES AND ORANGES AND PINEAPPLES: I will trust in my own abilities as I mother three very different little individuals. (My translation: It is okay to be at peace with the thought that one of them may be a little "different" or "special. I will no longer question if this one is ours").
3. SLEEP DEPRIVATION: Sleep is essential to my well-being. If I can't get what I need during the night, I need to schedule time to rest during the day. (My translation: I will no longer try to hide the fact that I take naps during the day from the SBF. I will also not feel one slither of guilt for putting in a movie for the Divas, telling them to not wake me unless they are on fire, and taking at least an hour nap.)
4. SUMMERTIME: My family will have to adjust and readjust to new routines. If I remain flexible, I can keep us on track and enjoy the flow. (My translation:#B.D.K.M.V).

So, as the end of summer approaches and the chaos of back to school begins, take time to remember....

...Twerk Tank

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...vacation hangover

Today, I literally crawled into work. I am normally greeted by strange looks from my coworkers. I only work two days a week and I can sometimes be a human resources nightmare, so I am never shocked by their looks. BUT today, I knew I looked like shit. I was disoriented, sleepy, and angry.

I looked like I had been out all night. I secretly wished I could share some story of how I got shit faced and passed out and literally just rolled out of bed. It took me two days to unpack from our vacation and get some order back to our house. PLUS...we have no live TV, so it's very f_______g quiet right now in our house...too quiet and my SUV broke down. The Divas have decided to sit up under me for going on 48 hrs. They have 2 bedrooms, a playroom, and a living room. I find it very hard to share my bedroom with 3 girls and 9 American Girl Dolls. Get the hell out!!! My energy is drained and my ability to talk to people in a nice way has gone to shit.

Anyway, I sat at my desk wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I knew I was a little off because I forgot to get my Xanax refilled before the holiday/weekend, but this was some serious irritation.

As I sipped my coffee and aggressively tapped on my keyboard in efforts to respond to a massive amount of emails, I finally realized what was going on......VACATION HANGOVER!!!

Damnit to hell!!!! That's it...I then found the perfect definition of Vacation Hangover compliments of Urban Dictionary:

The pain of returning to the reality of your real life after experiencing a vacation you wish was your real life.

Sufferers of Vacation Hangover will often feel anger or resentment within the first week post vacation and question the decisions they have made leading them to where they are and the things they do on a daily basis.

They may find themselves daydreaming of a different life, lingering nuggets of joy from memories of where they were or what they were doing on vacation.

Sufferers might even try to invent imaginary ways to make the vacation life they were living a reality. Only to find themselves more miserable than they were before they even left on vacation to begin with.

An example of vacation hangover is when a mother and father of 3 small children go on vacation without the kids. They visit Tokyo! They sleep in, eat amazingly fresh sushi, attend a Japanese Punk Rock concert, take naps in the middle of the day, and eat their fabulous meals at odd times.

The parents return to their regular lives. The father is working 80 hours a week at a meaningless job he hates. The mother is mopping pee off the bathroom floor, breaking up sibling rivalry, and cleaning up a sloppy diaper while slathering rash cream on her baby's sore bottom. The baby screams in pain, someone else throws a toy at Wife's head, and another child is crying because the computer isn't playing the RIGHT kind of train movie.

Both parents really enjoyed their time in Tokyo and struggled returning cheerfully to their real life.

I was at peace when I realized I was not alone. Alright, I know what I have. Now, how the hell do I get rid of it???? I have come up with a list that I offer to you to help with vacation hangovers:

10 VACATION HANGOVER CURES: 

(shit I should have done instead of staring off into space about car and cable issues).

1. Do not go back to work on a Monday after a vacation. You will not get shit done anyway. So stay at home and nap. Enjoy your home. Find the beauty in it again.
2. Find a happy hour to visit after your first full work day. If you have been sipping Mimosas on the beach for 5 days straight, your body is going through shock. You need a drink!!
3. Unpack as soon as possible. The longer your luggage is out...the more it will remind you of the fun you had.
4. Change your sheets ASAP. You have been snoozing on more than likely a pretty comfy white bed. Clean sheets will calm the soul. It's a way of tricking your body into thinking it's in a hotel.
5. Post your vacation pictures as soon as possible. This will always accelerate the transition. You will notice little bolts of energy. If you wait too long, you will get f_______ depressed looking at them.
6. Stay away from anyone who seems like they are remotely happy about you being back from vacation. They didn't miss you. They want you back to suffer in REALITY.  Your senses will pick up on this and you will want to punch them in the face.
7. Ignore your inner voice that is asking "What do you want to do with your life?" This is not a voice of reason. This is a fictional what if Santa Claus was real voice.
8. Find something to laugh about. I swear I spend numerous hours a day searching Pinterest humor, Blunt cards, and Some ecards when I need a good laugh. Today: I watched numerous Kevin Hart videos and thought I would piss myself from laughing so hard.
9. Please find activities for your children. The busier they are...the more rest you get. No child wants to see mom go ape shit because she just heard someone say they were bored. 
10. PLAN ANOTHER TRIP ASAP 

If this does not help any, I recommend you make a batch of Mother's Cure. See post titled "Mother's Cure" for recipe.

...three wishes

While we were on vacation my oldest asked the SBF if he could have three wishes, what would they be. I am guessing that 3rd Pina Colada had him feeling a little not up to the challenge. So, he pushes her on to me. Really???? ME???? The one he swears has questionable morals sometimes. The one who sometimes drops the F bomb in front of her children. The one who has no recollection of certain bible stories. The one with a dirty mind. The one who roots for the underdog. The one who is a rebel and free spirit at heart. I smile and kindly ( in a very non-revealing way) shoot him the bird.

Most of parenting is tag team if you are blessed to have someone in your life to share the duty with and great are those that have to take on the whole damn job by themselves.  I have my good days and I have my days where if it were not for the SBF being so vigilant about teeth brushing that my children would have a year supply of Fixodent on back order. So, I didn't curse him too much when she approached me. Dammit...why did she have to wait until I was into a bottle of Prosecco? My heart starts to race because I see this as a teaching moment. What I tell her will define who I am. What I tell her will be her foundation of what it takes in life to make someone happy. What I tell her could totally f____ her up.

Take this moment to really think about what you would wish for. I quickly came up with good health for my children, happiness for my children, and for the world to be a better place. She seemed pleased with my answer. She then revealed that she would wish to have the power to be invisible for the times when she needed to get away from bad things, she would wish for food for everyone that needed food, and a million dollars. I smiled at her responses and gave her a big hug. Now, my body did cringe a little when she wanted to be invisible. Was I putting too much into this whole idea? I mean really...she wished for a million dollars. A million dollars would be great right about now, but would it really make me happy. Would it come with certain conditions? And the bad shit that happens in life sucks ass, but it builds character. It means you have been to battle and you have the war wounds to prove it. Could she grow as a person if she goes her entire life unscathed? And a million dollars won't help you out very much if you blow it away. But, she did say she wanted to end world hunger. Okay, that seems safe, reasonable, kind, and needed. Her ten year old heart is indeed still innocent and pure. Gosh, I played this game a ridiculous amount of times when I was younger. As an adult and parent, the game sucks ass. What the hell would I really wish for???

I would like to take this time to introduce you to my inner thoughts. Oh boy are you in for a treat!!! Okay, let's think about this wish thing. What would I ask for? Money---hell no, everyone knows money can't bring you happiness and peace of mind. Beauty---nope, you can be the prettiest thing in the world and be a bitch which in turn would make you ugly. Uhm....to live forever---no way!! I don't want to out live my family and friends. I don't want my children burdened by having to wheel their 200 year old senile mother around even though I feel they will need me in their life forever. Good health---yes, but not for just me. Who wants to be healthy and vibrant while the people closest to you are suffering? Ok...happiness and peace of mind---what if the happiness and peace of mind causes me to be oblivious to the happenings of the world? What if my happiness and peace of mind robbed my children of their own happiness and peace of mind? Ok...happiness and peace of mind for everyone around me. What if one of my daughters is completely happy and at peace with being a stripper? Shit...could I handle it? What if in pursuing their own happiness and peace of mind they become selfish and greedy? What if they are so self absorbed they don't marry or have children? I AM NOT saying that people who opt to not have children or marry are self absorbed. I am just saying what if mine are.  Exit inner thoughts.......

I am now having a slight panic attack over three damn wishes that I don't even have. What do I wish for? How the f_____ was this a fun game when I was younger? If I approach this surface-wise in a very superficial way...it's easy. At this moment, I would wish for more money, good times, and great health. But, I would not want to make certain sacrifices for these wishes. I would not want a different husband. I would not want a different family. I would not want to be different. Hell, I wouldn't even ask for a big toe. I'm doing just fine without one and I still think "mama still got it". With the money, I would buy a bigger home, bigger car, a maid, breast implants etc. I would travel and have good times with my family and friends. What if the traveling caused me to die in a plane crash? F____, never mind I am being superficial. I am being an adult kid. I'm too old to ask for a new Barbie, no homework, no school etc. So, what would I ask for as an adult with kid like troubles? Answer...hell if I know!!!!!!!

By this time, I think my fairy godmother is a bitch. I don't want three wishes. I just want to be left alone. I don't want the weight of the world on my shoulders. My children are heavy enough. I have to somehow create a world from my three wishes that would be good enough for my children and my children's children and their children's children etc. And what about the SBF and myself...we deserve a good life...right???

I then realize I do this shit everyday of my life. I am constantly pulling and pushing and readjusting and switching and checking my environment to make it suitable for my children. So, if I carry this weight everyday what would I wish for to make it easier?

Nothing....bullshit!! That's romanticizing it way too much. I have obviously had too much to drink. Right this second...I am blessed, medicated, happy, buzzed, content, at peace, safe,  and healthy. But none of it is guaranteed. It is subject to change at any minute. Confession: that is what I struggle with the most!! The unknown lurking in the corner ready to pull the rug out from under me. The rug has been pulled so many times that you think a girl would not be phased by the asshole, but I have had some tough falls and landings. I know this could open up a whole barrel of spiritual stuff, but I am not looking at it from that aspect. I am talking to a fairy godmother about three wishes not my God that I pray too.  And no, I am not trying to take God out of this. I am not advocating for no prayer or prayer in schools. See...how hard the shit is? I just need 3 wishes...nothing else.

The hell with it....MY THREE WISHES by Timeka Davis
1. I wish for happiness that would include a good heart, great health and peace of mind for everyone.
2. I wish for a cure for every ailment or disease out there from Cancer to Eczema.
3. I wish that I don't screw up my life or someone else's life in any attempts to grant the above two
    wishes.

The End. Hallelujah....I don't want to play anymore. Your turn.....

FYI: I asked the SBF.
SBF: "Oh that's easy! I would wish to end all evil."
Me: (F_____. He's so perfect. I totally forgot about evil. I can't stand him. Giggle)
Me: What about the other 2 wishes?
SBF: That would be enough.
Me: blank stare. What about suffering and sickness?
SBF: Well, people would have more compassion.
Me: What about starving children?
SBF: I don't know. Let me think about it.
ME: (Damn right. Shit is not so easy...is it?)

Tomorrow we can play "What would you do if you won the lotto/"

...home sweet hell

After traveling 55 mph for 2.5 hours because my vehicle decided to get stuck in 3rd gear, I could not help but to run to our kitchen door upon our arrival home. The SBF and I had gone from laughing uncontrollably to cursing each other out under our breath. It was bound to happen. You put a family of five in a car for 8 hrs and all of the ugliness starts to show. The real ugly. He wanted me to apologize for saying he was acting like Miss B. I wanted him to lick the crack of my ass. Funny how marriage can go from good to bad in a matter of seconds. Just Monday, we were sitting on the beach and laughing. Today, I contemplated staking him like a vampire on True Blood. Only because I love him so much am I able to feel comfortable with such violent thoughts.

Having all girls means that I am stuck on bathroom duty and it sucks ass royally. I don't know how many times I have had to threaten "If you touch something in this bathroom, you hands will rot off. So every time someone has to piss or shit, I am responsible for dragging them into sketchy bathrooms. The last stop was an emergency because Miss B announced she had "die-a-rhea". I run to a bathroom while holding her heavy ass and pleading "try to hold it for mommy" and praying "Dear God, please don't let her shit on me...not today....not on my twerk tank top". I knock on the door and a woman comes out immediately. Startled, I say thank you thinking she must sense the urgency. This bitch had the nerve to say "I don't know why you are thanking me. I am just using the bathroom." I was completely shocked. As I stood over Miss B listening to her once again give me a play by play of what she was dropping in the toilet, I was fighting back the tears. I wanted to go beat the hell out of this lady. I wanted to literally shake the shit out of her. I wanted a slap off contest with this cold heartless bitch that did not sense a mommy on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Did she know how many bathrooms I have had to carry a kid in? How many times I have had to say the hell with it and take my daughters into the men's restroom? In 20 seconds, I had cursed her entire family (past, present, and future). I admit I was searching for her evil ass when we left the bathroom. I wanted to take my "thank you" back. Luckily, I did not find her.

So, we arrive home. Immediately, the girls want to watch TV and we realize that will be the best entertainment to keep them busy while we unpacked. Holy hell.........you have got to be f______g kidding me? What is wrong with the television? After trying to break the remote and a couple of cable boxes, DIRECTV informed me that something happened to a box in my house that will not allow the satellite to send a signal. The lady then informed me that the first date they could get someone out would be July 15th. Now here is where I lost my shit a little. Life flashed before my eyes. 10 days with no TV...no way, no how, not today or any day. I don't let my children veg out in front of the television, but when I need to take a piss the TV helps. I tried to calmly explain that we


had just returned from a rainy vacation and that my sanity depended upon my children being able to watch TV. I ignored the awkward silence that followed. I then went on to tell her about my car trouble. Of course Miss B walks in and asks me "When will you fix the TV mommy?" at which time I yell "I'm trying to. I can't do everything. Mommy does not know magic." I hear more silence and then I hear "Ma'am, do you want to go ahead and schedule a visit for the 15th?". By now the tears are falling and I don't give a shit. I manage to get out a "yes" and asked that she put us on an emergency list in case someone should cancel. I hang up the phone and sit in the middle of the floor. The SBF was out grocery shopping and I'm in the floor crying over not having live TV. I'm crying because he's out grocery shopping and I'm in hell. How dare he? He should be here? Selfish SOB...giggle. Thankfully, the Davis Divas do have access to recorded shows and that's it. 

As I wipe my face and head to the other side of the house, my middle child, comes up to me with a card. My heart melts. Shit...she's so sweet and pure and innocent. Her mom, dad, and sisters are crazy as hell and she accepts us and still loves us. She is the most thoughtful one out of the group. She always says "please" and "thank you". She is known for giving random strangers compliments. Her soul is so pure. I hug the hell out of her and try my best to look like I have it together. She takes on so much and aims to please everyone. I can't let this be her burden to carry. She loves to get money in cards just like her mama and that makes me giggle. I hug her again and make a silent vow to kill anyone that ever hurts her.

The SBF arrives home with the groceries and tries to make light of the television situation. At this point, I am on a roll of I don't give a shit, damn all of y'all, kiss my ass, I quit, and even I want my mama!!! Yep, the gates of hell hath opened up. The sad part is I did the majority of this "bat shit crazy" behavior in hiding. I remember a couple of times when my mom fully lost her shit and some of those times did scar me for life. So, I summoned myself to the closet. I finally manage to get myself together and climb into my bed. Miss B crawls up and decides to ask me for the 100th time "When are you going to get another toe?"....REALLY!!! RIGHT NOW!!! THE SBF walks into the bedroom and she asks him "Are we brown or black?" Holy hell...is she trying to send me off into the abyss?? I start reciting scriptures in my head...the few I know by heart. I even tell myself "you is kind. you is smart. you is important." Nothing is working. The SBF decides to sit next to me and loudly crunch on his salad. Normally, I would be able to ignore the noise coming from his direction, but my senses are heightened. I giggle to myself at the thought of knocking the salad out of his hand. How many damn croutons did he put on his salad? When will the madness ends? He picks up a book from his nightstand and starts f_____g talking to me:

SBF: Ha!! Look at this.
ME: (dear God make him be silent)
SBF: Look what chapter I am on...Beatitude: Lucky are the unlucky.
ME: (dear God forgive me, but I can't do devotional time with him right now.)
SBF: This is not a coincidence.
ME: (why don't you replace that "L" with and "F"...OMG, what is wrong with me. I'm going to hell!)

I muster up enough strength to roll over and stare at the wall. I don't want him to see the red beams that are coming out of my eyes right now. The beams that want to set the book he is holding on fire. And I realize it's that time...."burn party". It is time for me to take my issues to the fire pit on our patio. Judge me if you want, but it is very therapeutic to burn some shit....giggle. Ask my friends, we have had a couple of "burn parties" that involved an ex's t-shirt. I laugh with excitement of what I will toss into the pit. Maybe the beach toys, maybe the atlas, maybe the DIRECTV remotes, maybe my owner's manual to my car...right now my options are endless.

..."deuces Destin"

We are packed up and heading home. And I think the damn rain is following us. I have not seen the sun since Tuesday. I think my mood is affected by the weather because I am trying to not have a shit fit in the car. 

Miss B and I just woke up from a 2 hr nap. We spent the first 10 mins of the ride home trying to convince the SBF that we could indeed feel the damn raindrops coming through the opened sunroof. He claimed he needed fresh air...uhm open your f____g window. Now, he has Nina Simone blasting and driving my SUV like he's at NASCAR. I love some Nina, but I don't think it's helping the depression I am feeling over my break up with Destin. 

Yep...lost another love in my life. Destin and I are on a "break". He's moody, turbulent, and selfish. I know it will take just a few days and he will make his way back into my heart. He was such a shitty companion this week....what happened to my laid back, go with the flow Destin? I just did not recognize him.

Miss B informed us that we did not go to Destin. Destin is the beach. She only saw the beach on Mon & Tues. I don't know where she thinks we have been all week, but definitely not Destin. Overall, the kids took it better than I did. I tried to hide my frustration. The beach is a sacred place. I have never seen it like this...so dark and unwelcoming. Hell, it made me question myself. Am I a troubled soul? Am I having an internal conflict...hell yes, always!  But what was it this time? I don't have much time or medication left to be too reflective. Josh is singing to the top of his lungs..."my name is Peaches" (f____g weirdo). 

I am sporting my "twerk" tank top. Miss B is talking about she just saw a goat (hallucinating just like her damn daddy???). The other two are unconscious. I look at my car full of unicorn pillow pets, puppy dog blankets, unbathed stinky children, and garbage and it reminds me of Destin. Shockingly beautiful most of the time, but has a nasty side. 

The SBF just said "I took the wrong turn." He let the atlas go and is using the GPS. Well the GPS is on, but our destination is not entered. Dumb ass just made a U turn in the road. Just like the ocean...this SUV full of crazy people may have some shitty ways, but they have my heart and soul. I'm drawn to their beauty and their darkness. 

And I am like the GPS....trying to lead these assholes the right way, but instead they don't listen. They take their own route and force me to come up with an alternative for them.....bastards. 

...son of a beach

Rain, rain...100% chance of rain...son of a beach. Day two of heavy rain at the beach is enough to make me accidentally take my meds twice again. I survived yesterday so I am thinking it won't hurt me. Being in a zombie like trance may keep me from streaking through the condo's courtyard. At least I know I am not in shock by the weather. As I was hiding out at the gazebo last night, I was comforted by the lady who came out on her patio and looked to the skies and said "unfuckingbelievable". Right on sister!! The sad part is I am a parent. I cannot just say the hell with it and drink myself into a stupor, sleep the day away, watch adult TV, or read a book. I am a mother and somewhere it is written when you become a mother and sign all your hopes and dreams away that you become superwoman.

Luckily, I amongst other parents. Four adults and 5 girls under the age of 10 can get a little tricky. There is an unspoken understanding that it's okay to use your "I'm going to lose my shit pass" and go hide in the bathroom (my place of choice), closet, or one of the bunk beds. For the last two days, I have struggled with my responsibilities. Will I rise to meet the challenge that awaits? Will I be the mother that comes up with alternative activities today or the one that sits in the corner zoned out? Or will I be the one who says "Your gymnastics skit really sucks ass." or "I don't want to watch you or anything about you. How about you watch the back of your eyelids?". So far, I am in the corner. I am trying my best to channel that positive thinking. So far all I can do is throw up my middle fingers to the rain, the clouds, the thunder, the lightning, and these kids that I love with all of my heart. At least the darkness has not plagued all of the other parents. They are my lifeline right now. They are dancing and shit,,, they Wobble and sing "we are, we are,  not your ordinary family...close as close can be". Bless their heart. I hate that damn song. Damn right we are not your ordinary family. Right now we are starring in a ratchet reality show and definitely close as close can be. Did this mother f____r just bring the twin mattress into the leaving room so these kids can jump from the back of the couch to the mattress?

Yesterday, we ventured out to the movies and shopping outlets with 9 people and 4 umbrellas. We arrived to find that every tourist in Destin had the same f___g idea. After standing in line for what seemed like eternity, we discovered that the next 3 shows of Despicable Me 2 were sold out. SHOCKER!! Honestly, I didn't want to see the damn movie anyway, but again thank goodness for the other parents. We bought tickets to the 5:30 pm showing. Great!! Three hours to kill and the savages are starving. After learning there are 45 minute waits at every damn restaurant, we decide to leave the area and return for the 5:30 pm movie. Loading 9 people into an SUV can be a task. I can't help but to think that the SBF did not mean to almost run over my foot with four toes. I choose to believe that he did not realize I wasn't in the car yet. He didn't realize the door was still open and could not feel the rain coming in. He was obviously so distracted. My first reaction was to stop the tire with my finger of course which left a nice tire burn on my finger. Luckily, the four letters words that I screamed caught his attention. 

Our restaurant of convenience and choice was....the WAFFLE HOUSE. I am in no way shitting on the Waffle House. I like the Waffle House. Luckily the Waffle House was empty. I guess everyone was eating at the local seafood restaurants. We have the place to ourselves. I have tapped out as a parent. My finger is burning and all I want to do is drink my coffee and say a mass of four letter words. I am not alone though. My friend's husband has gone mute. His silence is comforting. I wonder if he is on the verge of losing his shit. Sadly, I hope so. I hate to be alone. Giggle. The SBF decided to purchase 8 song selections on the jukebox. He was delusional at this point. I can only hope the video cameras in Waffle House post his dancing in public on YouTube. I do hope they look over my behavior at the table.  Don't judge me.

 

We made it back to the shopping center just in time for the girls to go shopping before the movie. We spent the majority of our time in Justice....just-the-f_____g place I want to be...in a children's store full of neon shit, zebra pillows, lip gloss, BFF necklaces, and other kids. I tap out again as a parent and leave. I venture into a t-shirt store that will personalize any clothing item they have. They have logos on the wall that you can pick from. I was at home. Tons of inappropriate shit covered the walls. I felt like a kid at a candy store. What ratchet shit could I get for myself and my friend? Something that says we are mamas that still got it. After picking my fave logo and having it put on a tank top, I was on cloud nine. Until, the lady told me that I owed her $63 bucks for two damn tank tops with shit on it. I know I have grown as a person because back in the day I would have told her to lick the crack of my ass and walked out. The tag on the tank top said $19.99. They failed to tell me the extra cost for putting words on it. After saying shit and damn about three times, I take out my wet money and toss it at the deceitful bitch. 

We finally arrived at the movies and I can't wait until the damn lights go off. 3D movies make me a little sick sometimes and just our luck the only seats available were the ones that were the second row from the front of the large ass screen. I found myself relating to the purple minions in the movie. Not

only did the rain and salt water have me sporting the exact same hair do, I felt like going around biting shit. I could only verbalize monster like screams when a kid would tell me they have to go piss or they wanted something to drink. Anytime they asked me to do something, I wanted to growl.

We returned home to one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. Double rainbows...I took full credit for this phenomena since I decided to do a spiritual dance in the parking lot of Waffle House in hopes that the rain would go away. I took it as a sign of peace in the valley.

The night ended with more dance offs. The more it rains...the closer we become one family all right. Two dysfunctional families have meshed into one big ass crazy family. Hell if you can't beat them, I guess join them. Meet my other alter ego...Twerking Tammy of the Temple. You can't see her mic or her frog cape, but she puts on a great performance. Shout out to the lady in the t-shirt store for making two mommies "twerk tank tops". I told the girls "twerk" meant "skipping". Pretty sure that will come back to bite me in the ass just like removing my privacy filter on my IG account and posting pics with hashtags milf and mamastillgotit on them. I have opened up my world to a diverse group of followers: porn stars, little boys, and perverts. NICE!!!! My instagram account resembles some shit from MySpace. Hell, when life hands you lemons or torrential rain pour....twerk somethin'. 

 

...beach take 3

2 families plus 5 girls under the age of 10 equals exhausted and delusional parents. Two tents, 100 sand toys, boogie boards, and a cooler equals parents refusing to leave the beach. 

Gone are the days of relaxing in chairs, drink in hand and book in your lap. Now, it's a constant "Where the hell are they?", "Yes, you are going to go piss in the ocean.", "If, you throw sand one more time, we are leaving Destin.", "Close your mouth and you will not taste the salt water", "Of course your eyes are on fire when you rub sand in your face.", "How did you get so much sand in the crack of your ass?" and "The ocean water is so much better than the pool!!" We bring them to the beach and they would rather swim at the pool. 

But we survived with no injuries or amber alerts. So all went well. Even avoided a trip to the ER after one of the parents had an allergic reaction and broke out in hives. He's allergic to shell fish, but has not consumed any. After calculating how much children's Benadryl he could consume, he is resting comfortably. Let's hope he wakes up. It has been recommended that he swim in a wet suit tomorrow. Giggle 

Rain is in the forecast....Xanax also. 

...number 3 and number 4

We are at the beach!! Luckily, I did not jump out of the car or snatch that damn atlas out of the SBF's hand. Notice he has gone from SOB back to SBF....gotta love the dysfunction in marriage sometimes. I literally asked myself several times yesterday who the hell did I marry? Christopher Columbus, aka SBF, finally put the damn atlas away and we rode in silence. I ignored the fact that he had turned the volume all the way up on the GPS.

 My oldest must have noticed how I was looking at her glorious can do no wrong daddy because she asked "Mommy, why are you looking at daddy like that?" I just gave her a f____ smile. When the SBF giggled to himself and explained that he thought he saw a tiger...a Bengal tiger at that, I did become concerned and suggested we get his dumb ass some food. 

We arrived at our destination despite the GPS bitch taking us to a dead end at which time the SBF was glad to announce "This is the reason I brought an atlas!!" We met up with our friends who have two young girls!! This family vacation includes 4 adults and 5 children under the age of 10. Can you hear my pill bottle rattle?

I must confess that it was quite touching to see the girls squeal with delight as they crashed into the waves. An afternoon at the beach seemed to make all of the whining and car sickness worth it. Sitting in the sand and watching them play made the stench of my oldest farts fade into the distance. 

I could have sat there for hours. Unfortunately sand got in Miss B's eyes and to avoid a melt down, I stood up and  rushed to her rescue. Pretty sure everyone was entertained with the sand turd that caused my bathing suit to droop in the back of my ass. 

The day ended with me driving frantically to a restroom because Miss B announced she had to do "number 3 and number 4". Walking through Wal-mart in my swimsuit and cover up while carrying a wet ass four year old was a perfect way to end the day. Glad I had a friend there to giggle and take my picture...

 

Confession: Yes, I decided to go into the liquor store on the way out for a bottle of Prosecco. Unfortunately, the champagne was sold inside Wal-Mart and I could not brave going back. Thanks to GPS...we found another liquor store. 

And look what we found....is this fate? Is it Wednesday? Giggle 

To be continued....