...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.





 

...just say yes

Public service announcement:

I am an advocate for prescription medications. Circumstances in my life have occurred that require the assistance of medication. Pristiq and Xanax have worked well in my life over the last two years. Am I ashamed? Hell no!!! Life can suck ass sometimes and breathing in and out just won't fix it. Lately, I have read articles where asshats are going in on moms who take medication. They are afraid there is a pill epidemic. How about there is an "I'm tired as shit" epidemic. By the time I finished the article, I was pissed. I wanted to send an email to the writer full of real naughty words along with an attached video of Miss B having a shit fit because she can't tie a bow around her doll's head. Or maybe they would like to see the three Divas have a cat fight over a blue damn marker. But I decided to be the better person and take my pill and ignore the nonsense. The nerve of some to judge us. Everyone has their own struggles and coping mechanisms. My coping mechanism is provided by the good ole folks of Pfizer.

Many say that present day mothers are using medication as a cop out and mothers back in the day didn't need medication...blah...blah...blah. Those bitches weren't happy. They were faking it. Holding strong to some f____g rule that motherhood was never hard and always rewarding. Putting on fake ass smiles like they had their shit together only to be rewarded by little Johnny smearing shit on the bathroom walls.

I think times are changing. More mothers realize that it's okay to just say yes. Yes, my kids make me want to punch myself in the face. Yes, I have contemplated slashing my husbands tires before a night out with the fellas. Yes, I have screamed back at the little shit screaming in the car because it wants ice cream for dinner. Yes, I have given my kids a box of cookies just so I could zone out on the couch. Yes, I have gone days without showering. Yes, I have watched my child spill an entire cup of juice and walked away like nothing happened. Yes, I take the long way home when I get to ride in the car by myself. And yes, I take medication to keep from going apeshit in the carpool line because the jackass in front of me cut me off. Yes, yes, yes!!!

I take medication so that I will come home from the grocery store and not follow the highway exit marked "Freedom". I take medication to keep me from verbally abusing the Best Buy Geek squad guy for his "judging look" when I sort of push Miss B.'s head off of me. He doesn't know my struggle. He doesn't know this bitch touches me with her nasty ass fingers all day. I take medication because the people that have my heart drive me crazy on a daily basis. I think some fear the use of medication will have them walking around like a zombie. I beg to differ. I am more present than ever before. There is a clarity that is offered to me when the food has burned, the kids are whining and the SBF is out of town. I am able to see through the smoke and tears and realize that the world has not come to an end and that this moment of hell shall pass. I am a much better mom....not a perfect mom because I am not Jesus. But, I am a better mom.

For those who can function without medication, I applaud you and give you a high five. My personality and expectations out of life will just not allow it. I never knew how much I liked silence until I had children. I never knew how much I liked objects to stay in their assigned places until I had children. I never knew how much I liked to be alone in my thoughts. Everyday it's a constant struggle to make what I like fit in my life with my Divas. What in the hell happened to my wants, needs, desires, and aspirations? I tried saying the hell with it and giving them all of me....shoving all of my needs into a little box. As time passed, my little box became a ticking time bomb. "Life shit" happened on top of just being a mother and Boom!!!!!!! I am in a strange doctor's office crying hysterically and repeating "I don't know why I am crying, but I can't stop and I'm sorry". I cried to the nurse. I cried to the receptionist. I cried in the waiting room to any stranger that would make eye contact with me. By the time, I saw the doctor I was a snotty f_____g mess. His first question "Are you okay?". My response, "I'm fine". Like a Stepford wife, I responded with my go to phrase. "I'm fine". What I should have said then was "I'm a fine piece of complete fuckery."

Well, my yellow brick road lead me to a psychiatrist. Why people are afraid to say they see a shrink is complete nonsense!! I get to visit someone who only wants to hear about me and my life and my issues and my struggles. Hallelujah!! I have an insane love for the three Divas and the SBF. Their souls are intoxicating and I am addicted to them. That addiction though causes me to lose myself. I can't make them my all and everything. It's not fair to them or to myself. I have let go of all the beliefs that I cannot have a world outside of them. I have let go of the idea that motherhood is always rewarding. I have to let go of the guilt I carry when I don't want to play f_____g barbie dolls, but instead I want to watch shitty reality TV.

So, there are circumstances in my life that I cannot change right now and until then I will gladly accept a prescription that will allow me to maintain. Hell, I drink coffee in the morning to give me a boost or kick to get my day going. So, I take a little pink pill to keep me from singing a song in the car while bussing the three Divas around called "Shut the f____up, Shut the f_____up. Please, oh please, shut the f_____k up." I don't have my shit together like I want, but I am at least keeping my shit together. The blocks are not all in a row perfectly alphabetized, but they are in a basket. Everyday I just try not to drop my basket.

So wherever your yellow brick road takes you on the journey of motherhood.......
just "Do you boo!"

...do overs

School has basically started back for the Davis Divas and there is peace in the valley. No more whining about being bored. No more of me sitting in a stinking ass bouncy place for 5 hours just to entertain them. No more constant contact with three little shits that have failed to realize that my life cannot revolve around them. The last few days of summer had become quite unhealthy. Brooklyn and I got in an argument over the use of the word "fucka". She told me she was only saying it to inform me that "fucka" was a bad word. Well, the little bitch likes to repeat herself 10 times.

Miss B entered the world of PreK today and I have said many prayers for her. Her spirit is untamed. Her PreK teacher taught the two oldest Divas and I have given her fair warning that she is of a different kind of blood. Her manners are slow to come and her negotiating skills are intense. During Open House, I watched the other parents showing their kids around with such joy. Their little ones ran around eager to take it all in. Miss B looked around, took her snack, and kept informing me she was ready to go. I pray her lack of enthusiasm was due to the fact that she had been up and down those halls with her sisters. I pray.....

I had her perfect dressed picked out and her favorite headband. Her monogrammed backpack was full of requested supplies. Damn!! I was doing good. The more kids you have. The more opportunities to muck up. It is humanly impossible to have all three happy at one time. So this morning as the middle one whined about not liking her hair and the oldest informed me that her brand new tennis shoes were too small, I gave zero fucks. Miss B was happy and that's all I could manage. I scrambled to get a picture of her holding her "first day of preschool sign" and only screamed twice to please look at the camera and smile. 

I sent them on with the SBF to be dropped off at their designated locations. I hate car pool lines and was running late. Miss B's PreK schedule is not a full day. So, she will catch a bus from her daycare to her elementary school in the mornings and will be dropped off at daycare after lunch. A community service project had me up till 2 am. So, I was functioning in a serious fog of sleep deprivation this morning. But, I knew the bus would pick her up at 8:30 am and planned to be there with my camera and my tears and my well wishes. 

At approximately 8:00 am, the SBF sent me a picture of my baby getting on the fucking school bus. Everything went black and I dropped my phone. "Fucka!!!" I was in route to the daycare!!!! I am pretty sure the passengers in their vehicles on the highway were concerned about the crazy lady screaming foul words and violently shaking her steering wheel. I didn't give a shit at that point. The tears started flowing. I started howling over a dropped Xanax that fell on my floorboard somewhere in my car (don't worry...I found the bitch). I had gone to a dark place. 

My reaction may be a little over the top for some. But I have never missed the first day of PreK bus ride.  I have been there. I am always there. I was there when she entered the world and she ripped my ass from one hole to the next (I know TMI). I was there when she projectile vomited yellow shit that I swore was bile the first week of her life. I was there when she was known around town as the "most bow legged, pigeon toed" baby ever. 

I know it sounds childish for me to think it doesn't count if I didn't see it, but it doesn't. I want a do over. I needed to be there to tell her to use her "nice" words and good manners. I needed to tell her that she could not demand somebody to come wipe her ass. I needed to to tell her to please call the teachers by their names and not "the white one" or "the black one". I needed that little shit to hug the life out of me, so that I could put life into her. I needed to mark her with my scent..."my crazy ass mama who will choke the shit out of anyone that dares to hurt her untamed soul" scent. 

I am thankful that the SBF sent me pictures. I have studied them like some shit off a CSI episode to see if there was a slither of fear in her eyes or sadness in her heart...for I will kill anyone that hurts her. 

...Farewell to summer break

Dear Summer Break,

Farewell, you did exactly what I expected. You burned my ass from the rooter to the tooter. Thank you for the numerous rainy days that caused me to contemplate marriage and motherhood. Thank you for the undiagnosed agoraphobia that developed in my children. I have never seen children so afraid of the thought of having to go outside. Thank you also for fooling me into creating a list to help the Divas celebrate your arrival. Having a bucket list was just what I needed to further my sense of failure. We completed 89% of the "_uckett" list to celebrate you. Miss B during her numerous shit fits erased most of the activities with her snotty ass fingers. Those activities that were left were angrily removed as a form of punishment for the excessive whining, crying, fighting, and not listening. Imagine a screaming mother bent over erasing parts of the cute list written in chalk with her bare hands and saying "no farmer's market this week!"

Thank you for making it so hot outside that I looked the other way most of the times when Miss B would run butt ass naked through the yard. You allowed me to further nurture her free spirit. Thank you for making me realize that I need to work at least two days a week because being with my children 24 hrs a day/7 days a week is not healthy for anyone in this house. Thank you for the days I spent at the pool whispering to the Divas to not make it so evident when they piss in the pool. The vomiting because of swallowed water, the numerous wet beach towels, and the f_____g goggles that never fit just right were always icing on the cake. The numerous trips that you afforded us to take where much needed. The relationship I established with nasty ass public restrooms on these road trips helped me grow as a mother. Unfortunately, my oldest Diva still freaks her ass out when the toilet flushes. My middle child came close to shitting herself many times because some restrooms were just "too nasty" for her. Miss B became a walking host for all of the shit Lysol spray kills. Watching Miss B rub her hands against bathroom floors full of wet toilet paper caused me to develop acid reflux.

Thank you for those pretty days where I sat in the yard watching the Divas fight over who could use the pink chalk when others enjoyed the balconies of my favorite local bars. The days where I watched them turn flips for hours were just what I needed to make my day feel productive. Thank you for the much needed quality time that I experienced with my MIL who kept the Divas two days a week all summer. It was so nice coming home to find grocery lists made for me, finding Red Solo cups in the dishwasher, and getting the much needed reports of suspicious behavior about our neighbors. We have never been so close. Thank you for the new car that I indeed covet. Having DVD players in my car cut back on most of the whining and tantrums. It has been pure heaven listening to the Divas yell at each other about certain movie scenes because they can't hear their voices. Thank you also for stopping me from littering in efforts to keep my car free from their shit. I was happy to realize that I still have some morals.

Thank you for the moments when I told Miss B I was going to slap her until she saw stars because she refused to listen to me. I appreciate the Google research I have conducted called "What to Expect When Your Child Won't Cut The Cord". Thank you for all of the moms that I ran into who greeted me with the same "WTF is going on in my life" look. Your looks made me realize I was not alone in the insane asylum I chose for myself. Thank you for Teen Beach Movie that I allowed Miss B to watch just to get almost 2 hours of damn peace and quiet. She watched the movie so much that she can now recite every line of that shitty movie verbatim. She even mastered the dance moves. Does she know her ABC's.....no. But maybe we have sparked an interest that may lead to an acting career...once she learns that her last name does not start with the letter "14".

As you can see, you brought out the best in me. We have had a good run and I bid you farewell and best wishes. I have forgiven you for your promises of warm days, beautiful picnics, sunny beach days, picking flowers, chirping birds, mimosas, and laughing happy children. Your transgressions have been removed. Everything has a season. I must now move on to Back to School. I think he is ready to settle down and offer me a little more routine and stability in my life. All of your shit like the beach toys, bubbles, sprinklers, deflated balls etc are in a box on the curb. Pick them up at your earliest convenience.


Muck you,

Mommy of 3 Davis Divas

....liar, liar...mama's on fire.

It was bound to happen. We all have our skeletons, our demons, our secrets. For 14 years off and on (so, I guess actually 9), I have been able to remain in the closet about a nasty little habit of mine that I picked up in college. 

I knew the lying about having to spray the garage every night with bug spray would get old. I knew the hiding in the woods would only take me so far. I knew the littering roof guy could only visit our house everyday before the Divas got suspicious. 

Last week, I was "spraying for bugs in the garage when Miss B opened the door and yelled out "mom are you smoking again?" Holy hell almighty. I think I crushed the cigarette butt in my hand and yelped no. Wtf??? How did she know???

A friend sent some pictures to my middle child for her birthday along with a present  and there stood my oldest holding a picture of me smoking. Shit!! I politely removed it quickly from her hand and walked away. I did not acknowledge the photo at all. I said nothing. Twice in one week!! Wtf???

Well, Ward 5 had pushed me to the edge by Sunday. The SBF was having a mood swing. Three Divas were bored. So, I ran outside for refuge. The SBF came outside to inform me that Miss B wanted to know why she couldn't just play outside while I smoked. F____!!!

Well, the SBF asked her how she knew I smoked and she blamed it on the middle Diva who then denied it. The SBF had decided months ago to stop covering for me. So, everyday was a risk. My closest friends know I smoke and maybe 5 family members. So I know this little confession is going to lead to some phone calls. 

Shit!!!!!! I threw my butt on the ground (no reason to hide it) because I was busted. I walked in the house to 3 little Divas scared and shocked. Muck me!! Muck me!!! I confessed and apologized for lying and doing something unhealthy. I told them I would quit. I have been able to quit cold turkey before...pregnancy/breastfeeding. So, I quit. I felt short of going before the Church and confessing all the sins I had committed after a Friday night football game as a teenager. 

The PBS after school special that was taking place in my house made me want to faint. The questions got harder. My heart broke into pieces. I knew better. I have always known better. A cancer survivor with a family history of various cancers including lung cancer makes me a candidate. They were supportive of their mom's fall from grace. They were forgiving and loving. The middle Diva even said she may try smoking as an adult. Wtf....maybe she was trying to make me feel better. "Try your best not to ever try it" is all the advice I could give at that moment. What had I done??? 

I am aware of the risks of smoking. I have dealt with the guilt for many years. I have seen the effects of smoking with family members. In a sick way, I have always been intrigued by it. It brought a sense of freedom and rebellion. Honestly, I like it, but I love those Divas and I need to do a better job at loving myself. It has been a habit that has brought such peace and comfort. A habit that took away the loneliness. A habit that allowed me to get away from the noise, the kids, and the constant movement. For a couple minutes, I was free and alone. 

So, I am on my second day and I have cheated a little. Last night, I drove the Divas sixty miles to Best Buy to get the middle Diva's Kindle Fire HD fixed. After driving in heavy rain, we arrive at the store. I walk in with all three kids beside me exhausted from working all day and I go find my geek. The geek plugged the damn thing up and it worked. He gave me a look like "take your meds lady". I whispered while staring at him "I should not have quit smoking today."  I was getting ready to call him something when the middle Diva loudly declared she was hungry...bitch!!!!

I calmly left with a now working Kindle Fire and three hungry whiny kids. While in the Wendy's drive thru, I started blaming the three Divas and the SBF for bothering the shit out of me to the point that I almost hide under my car in the garage to smoke a cigarette. These assholes were driving me insane with their constant needs, wants, wishes, desires, and expectations. I had played super woman for too long. F___ this shit!!

We arrived home to find the SBF smiling. I had written him off. He had gone out and bought a candle for my "bravery". All I could think of was..."kiss ass". I know...awful me and bless his heart. I kept myself busy doing community service stuff. Then a wave hit me.....

I approached the SBF and said I was going to kick his laptop out of his lap. Plain and simple....that is what I felt like doing at that moment. He nervously giggled from what I recall and the shit fit I had began. The conversation ended with the SBF asking if I wanted to watch True Blood and me saying I would rather put shit in between my hands and clap. I saw that little phrase on Pinterest and had been saving it. 

I am glad to report the SBF is still alive. Apologies have surfaced and washed the "shit" from last night away. I vow to stop for my family and myself. I know the mood swings and cravings will subside. I had chest pains while trying to figure out the oldest Diva's school schedule earlier, but the pains subsided. The days will get better. I know this. 

Disclaimer: please do not offer up any judgments or bad vibes or mean words...unless you are Jesus. He's the only one I am answering to right now. 

...my three Divas + my two nephews = Ward 5

For the next couple of days, the Davis household will have some extra testosterone in our house. My sweet nephews ages 12 & 7 have come to visit. The girls had anticipated their arrival much like Christmas Day. I couldn't help but get excited too. All day I imagined them playing and laughing and my heart was full.

Well, the excitement lasted about two hours and quickly I noticed some pecking order shit beginning. The only thing I can compare their behavior to is when a new inmate arrives in prison. I imagine immediately there is a tone set on who is the leader and who is the bitch. Miss B was determined to hold her ground as the leader or "Head Bitch in Charge". What happened to the sweet cousins that were hugging each other just 2 hours ago? I watched them jump, run, scream, fight, push, pull, and yell. Then I realized that a group of cousins getting together is quite different than a group of friends. This shit was on a whole other level.

I could not believe that I had forgotten my cousin encounters. I loved them, but didn't quite know why. I was always more excited to see them than any of my other friends. Normally, the visits were not often. We were all scattered across the country. The fun would last a couple of hours and then the tone would change. Gang mentality would surface...my family against your family and the ass whoopings would begin. The "be nice because your friends came to visit" was not the rule. The rule was "you are family. play together the best you can. if shit goes down deal with it by any means necessary".

To say the least, I was still shocked to see this behavior surface between my daughters and their cousins. Boys vs girls turned into young vs old then big vs small. I have never whispered "what the f___k so many times in my life. I considered myself superior in the "having tons of kids over when the SBF is out of town" category. Bullshit.....

Basically, both parties lost their f____g minds and were equally responsible for the chaos and "fuckery" that developed last night. I did not know I would have to make sure my oldest understood why she could not have a crush on her oldest cousin. Really....thanks sweetheart for perpetuating the incest label of the South. Did I mention my nephews are biracial? One looks just like his mother and the other one looks just like my brother. Miss B came to me frustrated over not being able to play with a toy and loudly announced that "the white one" hit her. My mouth hit the floor. Shit...familial relations and now race relations. Why couldn't they just go play? Playing turned into fighting. Shit got broken. Tears started falling. Screaming heightened. Tattling of the worst kind developed. Was this some sort of gang initiation? Each of the five inmates suffered a "war wound". For one brief second their was laughter, my youngest nephew was delirious and decided to let my youngest two dress him up as a girl. Well, this sent his brother into hysteria. I stood there frozen. What the hell do I do? I thought it was funny, but my brother is going to kill me. Quickly, I told them the story of how my brother fell down the stairs in our house because he was wearing my mother's red heels. Pretty sure he will love to know I shared that story.

My last effort to mingle with Ward 5 was to offer a movie and a big ass bowl of popcorn mixed with M&Ms. Holy hell...the inmates pounced that bowl, popcorn went everywhere, M&Ms were crushed into my carpet and hardwood floor and you know what I did next......

Not shit. I tapped out. They won. I put them on lock down meaning they could stay up and watch TV, but could not leave the living room for any reason and could not attempt to open any door that would lead to "the outside". I crawled into my bed and went to sleep. Eventually, the yelling stopped or my Xanax kicked in. I stripped myself of the "Great Aunt" award. Somebody else could have that shit. I'm too old for the title. My middle one woke me up at 5 am and told me some of them had not gone to sleep yet. WTF??????? I screamed "go to sleep now". I crawled out of bed at 8 am to find unconscious children on the floor and on the couches. The scene resembled a frat party from my college years, but no alcohol or roofies were involved. 

As I type this post, four of the Ward 5 inmates are up. It's almost 1 pm and I have not been able to get all of them up, fed and dressed. Four of the inmates have decided to come together and blow horns to wake up the one still sleeping. I wonder who will be the last one standing today. I personally could give a rat's ass. As long as Ward 5 does not end up in the ER, I am okay. Luckily the makers of Pfizer and some good friends have made me realize that "you got to know when to hold them, know when to fold them, know when to walk away, know when to run...."