Halloween is approaching and it may very well be what I need to get me out of this damn funk. Confession: I love it and I am not sure why. The middle Diva asked if we were celebrating the birth of Satan and I just looked at her. What in the hell happened to the fucking fun in Halloween? Why must the devil be involved? Halloween is about candy and scaring the shit out of little kids. Sadly though, I wish I could say we had some rock out Halloween "adult party" to go to and have found the best costumes. One year, when there was just one Diva, the SBF and I attended the local bar in our college town and I was like a kid in a candy store. There was a guy walking around like Tom Cruise in a pink button up and tighty whities, a guy walking around with a shower curtain built around his body and the skanks....oh the skanks where magnificent. It was a freak show and I loved it.
I hinted to SBF that I may dress up like a Xanax pill this year and happily go door to door with my children. He has encouraged me not to. "What would people think?" he says. Maybe they will think that I am fucking happy and they should get some too. So instead, I will probably show up in my normal Halloween costume: The tired, angry mother of three walking down numerous sidewalks in the dark cursing under my breath and pissed that I forgot my flask of Bailey's for my coffee. I will see the local bars in a distance and spit at the college kids enjoying their life and shit. The Divas will be dressed as Cleopatra, a mummy, and a pink ass Bratz tiger. Guess who is the tiger....yep, Miss B. The costume is not one of my favorites and I find myself calling her "Richard Parker" from Life of Pi. Picking out costumes for the three Divas caused me to question the costume industry and if I had passed down some "slut genes" to these three girls. It took hours to convince them that the Bride zombie looked like a Meth Head, the Pop Star Diva looked like a stripper, and the Southern Belle looked like she was the "Head Madame" at a Brothel. What the hell is going on? I swear there was a picture of a five year old girl posing seductively as a cop with handcuffs in her hands. I know my past. I know my genes. I know there is a pretty good chance that I could end up with a tramp as a daughter. I am not putting that idea in the universe as a for sure, but I know there is a possibility. I will do my best to fight it and love the tramp unconditionally.
The girls love to ask me what I dressed up as for Halloween when I was a
child. In the fifth grade, I swear I went as a hooker. I wish my mother
was alive to confirm this, but I promise I was a hooker with a mole
drawn on my face. Giggle. She was a young, wonderful, free spirited
mother...don't judge her and I turned out fine.
My love for Halloween has caused me to fall off the wagon. I am in deep. Let the crafting madness and Halloween parties begin. Right now my kitchen table is a mass of newspapers and orange paint. Pinterest is my poison and I may OD this week. Miss B has a party this morning and once again I was up past midnight cutting ribbon and painting bags. I looked at the beautiful pile of shit everywhere and I was at peace. The SBF came through and stated that it must bring some peace to me because there is no way in hell he would do that shit. He seemed to have forgotten he had just finished spending over an hour cutting out jack-o-lantern faces for me.
In my defense, I have not gone fully ape shit crazy into the Pinterest dark hole. At 12:30 am, I said the hell with trying to tie cute bows through the holes of tags that I created for goodie bags. I grabbed a stapler and stapled tag, ribbon, and the whole damn bag. Ha!!
The NISSANITY I have suffered from has come to an end. Purchasing another car last week (NOT A NISSAN) was just the right medication to cure this evil disease. Mama is happy. My new lover is an Aucra MDX and I love it. As I pulled up to the Nissan dealership to remove my items, yes I was blasting rap music..."U.E.O.N.O" was my song of choice for my entrance. To some this may seem a little over the top, but I don't give a shit. I stepped out of my new vehicle and approached my former lover and my sandal broke. WTF really...my sandal broke. It was a sign, but not some sort of bad karma sign. It was the laws of the universe confirming that I was indeed dealing with "shit" and would continue to experience "shit" until I relinquished myself of all associations with this company. As the service lady cautiously approached me, I made sure to tell her that every time I step on this lot...my shit breaks..."look at my sandal".
She was not amused with the comment and again I didn't give a shit. I was there to get my personal items and cause no harm. She offered a box to put my things in and I felt like I had just gone to an ex lover's house to get my shit. "Hell no, I don't want a box. I will carry my items like a lady." I refused to be the wounded ex girlfriend picking up her items with tears running down her face. Been there...done that. I think I literally skipped back and forth as I went back and forth.
They bought the car back in full and I don't feel a need to be appreciative of their actions. They only did what was required by law and that's all they did. Never once did they attempt to go above and beyond. When I approached the Twerk Tank, I experienced flashbacks of what I thought would be a happy life for us. I would be lying if I did not say that a sadness did come over me. I very well know this is just a piece of metal...an item in my life used to get me from point A to point B. This sack of shit did a detour though and took me to hell and back. So, I had two choices: get my items and "keep it classy" or be me. Why hide the frustrations and pain I had felt over the last month? I did not do shit angels. I did not sing Ceelo's song "Fuck You". I decided to just be me...giggle.
I kept my car blasting my theme music the entire time as I switched back and forth with my items. Yes, I slammed car doors. Yes, I had a full on commentary out loud. Nobody wanted to make eye contact. Nobody wanted to acknowledge me really. They wanted me gone. I admit I wanted to leave something for them to remember me by. Tons of scenarios of the worst kinds of behavior that I could exhibit were going through my mind. I looked for "Sam I am" because I wanted to tell him that I didn't give a damn. His rules were for fools. Yet, I could not find his gray headed ass. So, I said farewell to the service men. Yes, I sang in my best opera voice as I stood like Rocky Balboa did when he won a fight..."This bitch has left the building. May God have mercy on your souls". The service lady interrupted me and told me I could not be in the service area for insurance purposes. I kindly replied.."Now, you want to follow rules. Fuck you." and I walked off with my broken sandal flopping still holding my arms in the air because I was "winning".
The SBF was frightened to hear of my behavior and reminded me that "God does not make cars. Man does." I know that and agree. God made man. And if anyone in that dealership or corporation had showed me any compassion and understanding, I am pretty sure my NISSANITY would have never
developed. I never asked for anything unreasonable, just a car that I could transport my Divas in. Our history will soon be a very distant memory. My new lover is taking care of me now and he's "the shit" if I may say so. I left the dealership with my new boy fraaand blowing my horn while waving my hand out the window and "woohooing" to the top of my lungs...
Best break up ever
But I end this chapter in my life with a song playing on repeat....
"Every move you make Every vow you break Every smile you fake Every claim you stake I'll be watching you....."
We are a dancing family. Friday nights no longer involve barhopping and clubbing. The three Divas make it very hard to do such, so we have learned that to bring the clubbing to us. I hope in the future when the Divas are "airing our dirty laundry" to their shrinks that they will remember that in the midst of all of the drama, the dirty house, the cries, and the screams....
Oh, I have gone and done it......I have lost my shit. The recent events and activities in my life that I like to think of colorful strips of paper have driven me to the breaking point. My strips are all scattered about like I went on a rampage with a leaf blower. Over the last few days, I have tried to narrow down the exact occurrence that has caused me to go into a dark place of giving 0 fucks. The best I can come up with is that my superwoman cape has wrapped around my damn throat and is currently choking the shit out of me as I type these words. I have always known that I am somewhat of a volunteer whore, but over the last month I have walked too many street corners. I also like to consider myself a warrior and this warrior has fought way too many battles. Seriously, I am not sure when I started swapping out happy hours for volunteer meetings, making school crafts instead of watching trashy TV, and scheduling play dates instead of girls night out. So, I am issuing a public service announcement: "SHE GONE"
I swear there are subliminal messages out there to mothers that say we must do it all, keep our shit together, and die trying. If you have not fallen victim to this phenomena, please do not judge the mother who has...send peace vibes her way. I think it will happen to all of us at one point in our lives. Either we are the bat shit crazy over the top mom or the mom feeling guilty for not being the bat shit crazy over the top mom. Both result in a mother hiding in a closet with her wine and her pills and whispering "Dear sweet baby Jesus please just let me make it to bed time." They both result in a mother feeling like shit at the end of the day and that my friends is just fucking nonsense. I read the funniest post the other week that made reference to "Namaste" and ever since I have wished I could purchase some "Namaste" water to baptize myself in...in hopes that I would resurface as a new, refreshed mother, wife, and friend. Hallelujah!!! Mama has risen...and yes I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell for the last statement.
The very thought of volunteering, doing homework, cleaning, decorating, working, parenting, and just fucking caring sends me into slight convulsions. I have never pretended to have my shit together, but I think me losing my shit is starting to surface. I am all about letting my crazy show, but it's on my terms. I'd like to think I have some control over it, but my freak flag is flying higher by the second. I swear I caught the middle Diva looking at me today with a "what the fuck is up with my mom" look as I kissed her goodbye. I can't blame her. I would be worried too if my mom was walking around with pieces of silicone bandages on her arms and nose. When I get busy, I get clumsy hence the two iron burns on my arm that resemble suspect cutting behavior. When I get stressed, I tweeze and squeeze hence the Gorbachev scar I am currently sporting on my nose. The SBF thought it was quite entertaining to come to me and ask if I needed to "talk so someone". Me: "What the hell are you talking about?". The SBF: "I think this is how it started with Michael Jackson. Pretty sure he got stressed with all the demands in his life and he started focusing on his body and developed...". Me: "Oh, go to hell." I am pretty sure rumors will start to surface that I am in some sort of abusive relationship or either I did in fact go to the Nissan dealership and get into a fist fight with the owner. I have found myself having to bite my lip when people ask "how's it going?" because there is a beast inside of me that wants to verbally vomit some of the most foulest shit ever. These people include not only friends, neighbors, acquaintances, but also random strangers or anyone that manages to make eye contact with me. Wanting to mouth to random bystanders "this shit sucks" has forced me to make some changes in my life.
The truth is simple...I am tired as FUCK!!! So tired that I don't have the energy to fight the SBF over the fact that he put three 100 watt light bulbs in the very small hallway leading to the girls' rooms. When the middle Diva came to me earlier with a look of horror saying that the light was too bright, I just blew her off and put her complaint in the "middle child nothing makes me happy" category....that was until I cut the damn light on and proceeded to scream "Jesus Christ". The SBF is quite frugal and known for cutting the air off during the day causing the house to be a nice 81 degrees when the Divas and I come home. The shit he has put in this light socket is sure to run the electricity bill up $200 and I am too tired to express any concern. I just pray no one suffers sunburn while walking down the hall that I now call the "highlighter to hell". I am also too tired to find the energy to participate in the
schools' local fundraiser. Yep, the former Parent of the Year and PTA treasurer and VP has not sold one damn raffle ticket and she has three children in three different schools. I think the cause is great, but I cannot stomach asking one more person in this community for money. The Divas remind me daily that I have not sold any tickets...never mind the SBF...he has no obligation in this process. In their minds "Daddies work and mommies do EVERYTHING else" which will be great shrink material for them. I just finished helping raise a nice amount of money for an organization that helps the children in the community. But, in reality they could give two shits. They want the free Disney pins and lanyards for selling their tickets. I am contemplating confessing to them tonight that mommy is not going to sell one damn ticket and take them to Dollar Tree to help the confession sting a little less to them. I have also let the SBF and the oldest Diva do a school project together. Holy hell...the world is coming to an end. I closed my eyes and said a little prayer when I saw the SBF trying to help decorate a poster on Alaska last night. Then, I was reminded of this wonderful woman I met on the beach a couple of weeks ago whose carefree personality was intoxicating. She told me the way she made it through homework and projects was by simply stating "I already earned my degree. You earn your own." I was totally dumbfounded and caught myself wanting to ask her..."is that allowed?"
So, I have realized one thing...the world will still go on without me. Other mothers are selling raffle tickets. The Divas have managed to pick out their own clothes. I even caught them putting little notes in each others lunch boxes which brought tears to my eyes. Just the other day I witnessed the oldest Diva taking the middle one to the side and telling her to slap a bully in the face...atta girl. Giggle. I tried to do it all and it sucked ass. Today, I declare that I will allow myself to give 0 fucks and let the pieces fall where they may. Funny, I never realized how much in control I thought I needed to be. So for right now... the calendar may just remain blank, homework and backpacks may go unchecked, meetings may be skipped, and emails may be ignored.
I do offer my condolences to those that will be affected by my behavior. If someone should ask, what the hell happened to me...just reply "SHE GONE". It's just humanly impossible to be everything for everyone. So, I'm going to let my freak flag fly high in the world of not giving a shit for a little while. Join me if you would like....I'm getting on the "Peace Train".
In light of recent "life events", I have had a lot of time for some self reflecting and I would like to start off by saying...KARMA is a bitch. I'm not sure what the hell I did in the past years, but I take
this time to ask for forgiveness...
To the ant, I stepped on when I was in the 4th grade, I am so fucking sorry dude. My bad.
To the lady who said she wanted Dr. Pepper when I was a waitress, and I mixed Diet Coke and Coke and never said a word..I apologize.
To the guy who was also elected Favorites in the 9th grade and picked me to pair up with him which caused me to go into hysteria, I am sorry for being a bitch.
To the man who said I cut him off and proceeded to try to make me wreck, I apologize for flipping you and your young son off and then for screaming "roll your fucking window up" repeatedly for almost a mile, I am sorry.
To the many jobs I quit on the spot or never came back from my lunch break, I am sorry.
To the lady at the Chinese restaurant that told me I could not put noodles in the to-go soup container and I did it anyway while yelling "you can't tell me what to do with this container", I am sorry.
To the guys I wrote papers for in college full of plagiarism and charged $10/page, I am sorry.
To the numerous vehicles I hit in parking lots and drove away and parked in another spot, I am sorry.
To the many mothers I looked at during my single years and judged them while their kids acted like complete asses, I apologize. You should be happy to know Miss B makes sure to publicly embarrass me every day.
To the guy that owned a local pizza place, I am sorry for getting upset because you never delivered my order and then calling back and ordering $50 worth of food and refusing to go to the door when you did deliver.
To the guy that I cheated on with the SBF, I apologize for not being able to resist that bald head and killer smile that caused my loins to scream..."get on that".
To the random thief that withdrew $30 bucks out of my bank account, I am sorry for tracking down your number and proceeding to call you and tell you that I would choke your children.
To the SBF, I apologize for going behind your back and getting a "secret credit card" that resulted in a stranger charging $467 dollar worth of apps causing me to have to confess my wrongdoing...I am sorry.
To the Divas that I love so, I apologize for throwing your toys and numerous paintings away at night.
To the random college boys, I apologize for vomiting on you while I was stumbling to my car.
To our dog that we dropped off at the Humane Society because it started shitting black tar and I didn't want it to mess up the new house we had just closed on...I am sorry.
To the movie goers that had to listen to a wine bottle roll down the aisle of the movie theater, I am sorry for sneaking it in and then pretending it was not mine.
I hope these apologies serve as a peace offering for you to move on to your next victim. I have learned my lesson....maybe the Nissan Corporation is due a visit from you. I am sorry, I didn't mean that....
