..."F**k it. It's spring break."

I grew up spending many of my spring breaks engrossed in the "MTV Spring Break" series. I would spend all day watching young people dance, party, and enjoy life to the fullest. Well, I would like to take this moment to thank MTV for giving me such a false sense of what would become "my reality". I envisioned graduating high school, going to college, and spending my spring break participating in debauchery at it's finest. BULLSHIT...In college, I was in the minority called "broke as shit". So, I
spent my spring breaks either working or sleeping. I felt somewhat cheated, but I saw light at the end
of the tunnel. I graduated college and moved on to graduate school. Well, I was even more broke. Dammit!!! I still held on to hope. I graduated, got married, and entered the workforce. Hallelujah!!! I had money and the SBF to party with. MEXICO...here we come. BULLSHIT...I didn't know that you had to have shit called "personal leave" that you had to accumulate. So, I patiently saved my "personal leave to rock out with my cock out"...only to use every damn hour I banked on the first Diva. F**K!!! What the hell happened and I was broke again. F**K you MTV. F**K you.

I have been very fortunate over the last years to have a very flexible work schedule. So, when spring break hits...I'm all like..."woohoo, hell yeah!!! let's par-tay!!" It always fails to occur to me that these three little bitches will be so selfish that they only want to do shit that makes them happy. This year, I was faced with spending spring break without the SBF. So, I decided to get the hell out of dodge with the three Divas in tow. If we were going to fight, argue, and cry, we were not going to do it at home. A different environment would do us all some good. I began frantically searching for a "family friendly" location that I could drive too. Chattanooga, TN would be our spring break poison. I booked a Victorian train car to stay in, researched the town, and typed out an itinerary of activities. We were out this bitch!!! In hindsight, I am thankful that a friend offered to tag along with her four year old son.

The day before we left, my OCD was in full force. I had stocked the cooler with grapes, orange slices, chocolate milk, Coke Zeros, water bottles, and mickey mouse shaped cheese slice. I spent hours packing ziploc bags of homemade chex mix and popcorn. I had a "treat" bag full of Dollar Tree shit as a reward for the obvious good behavior I expected. Each Diva had their clothes placed in labeled ziploc bags. I had gathered every DVD we owned. I HAD MY SHIT TOGETHER. I went to bed at 3 am. It was all good though...Girls Trip Spring Break 2014!!

I woke up 30 minutes before the time of departure. F**K!!! I stumbled through the house and managed to get everyone dressed and in the car by 8:30 am. Not bad...we were just an hour or so behind schedule. By the time I arrived to pick up my friend and her son, I was already regretting not having bathed in coffee. Needless to say...by the time we left our town , we were all like f**k the schedule. We ran errands, grabbed coffee, and embarked on our journey. A five hour drive somehow turned into an 8 or 9 hour drive. I didn't take into account the piss breaks and having to feed the kiddos. We found the cutest little pizza place in Alabama and watched the kiddos draw the most wonderful pictures with chalk. We smiled at them while we sipped our adult beverages and all seemed right with the world. I felt like a hipster. Never mind that we had gotten lost numerous times and we were using a GPS, the kids were laughing and everyone knows laughter is good for the soul. We finished our lunch in better spirits. We beckoned the children to get ready to leave and they stood up with chalk all over them from head to f**king toe. Holy hell....f**k chalk. It looked like they had literally rolled around in the shit. Despite our efforts to clean them, we gave up and told them to get their dirty asses in the car. So what if they look like shit when we arrived..."F**k it. It's spring break".

"Fuck it. It's spring break" became the mantra for the trip. You want to drink four cokes in the car..."F**k it. It's spring break." You don't want to eat dinner. You don't want to take a bath. You want to watch TV until midnight. You want to stop wearing socks. You want to eat 8 suckers in one sitting. You sharted and need to change your undies. Sure...go ahead..."F**k it. It's spring break." For three days, we went to bed after midnight and scrambled to breakfast rocking robes and sunglasses 30 minutes before closing. We toured the cute little city and let the children do basically whatever would keep them from calling our names. Did they have the times of their lives?? Hell yes. Were there dark times? Hell yes.

Good Times Take 1: They loved the room and the hotel. Staying in an actual train car was splendid to them. Downtown Chattanooga was beautiful, clean, and safe.

Darkness Take 1: The oldest Diva had a massive nosebleed as soon as we entered the first aquarium. FYI: I could give a shit about aquariums and museums, but this trip was not about my wants and desires. The nosebleed resulted in her vomiting up blood clots in the bathroom. I snarled at a couple of parents that had the nerve to stare at us like we were a circus act. Someone must have finally reported us because a sweet old lady came in to help. I assured her that it looked a lot worse than it was. I assured her that I myself had nosebleeds so bad that finally I had to have a vein cauterized. The bitch was not convinced and decided to sneak off for backup.

Darkness Take 2: I went into survival mode and shoved a tampon up the oldest Diva's nose. I felt quite proud of my ability to improvise until a f**king medic came in with a bag and blue gloves. She looked stunned and I glared back like "bitch don't judge me." She kindly removed the tampon and replaced it with gauze. At that point, I looked at myself and thought as usual....WTF was I doing with my life????? I was wearing a leather jacket, a backpack, and Sperry's. Perfect spring break attire.....FOR A MOTHER!!! I wiped the blood off of my jacket, fixed my hair, put my lipstick on, and told myself...no matter what..."MAMA, STILL GOT IT!"

Darkness Take 3: By the time we caught up with our crew, I was damn near delirious. I had dry heaved several times. I was hungry. I was tired. I kissed my oldest Diva on the forehead, gave her a big hug, and decided to replace her bloody t-shirt ASAP. I should not have entered the gift shop in the shape I was in. My guard was down. My nerves were bad. So, we bought t-shirts, coffee mugs, snow globes, butterfly house shoes, pink ass turtles, and plastic cups shaped as "soda bottles". When the guy told me the total, I politely whispered..."What the f**k?" The amount I spent in that gift shop was obscene. "F**k it. It's spring break." The rest of our trip was a blur. We went to an IMAX movie on Sharks and the middle Diva informed me she was not there to watch an educational movie and took her ass to sleep.

Darkness Take 4: We made it to a cave, took a tour, saw a big ass waterfall, and went to dinner. As we sat down for dinner and ordered our adult beverages, the cute waiter informed me that my trunk was open. Shit!! I stood up and closed it from inside of the restaurant while sipping my Kumquat Mojito. I ignored the complaints of the food being nasty. I lost my appetite after everyone had to go take a shit during dinner!! The waiter kindly approached us with the check and in unison he was asked by the mothers of this lively crew.."Can we get a to go cup?" He was shocked and I was all like "I'm serious!" Our pleas for him to sneak us cups fell upon deaf ears. He did offer me a to go box at which point I asked if he was prepared to look away as I poured my drink in it and slammed a straw through the top. We left empty handed.

Darkness Take 5: We returned to our little humble abode and as promised, the crew got dressed to go frolic in the heated indoor swimming pool. It was 10:30 pm. The pool closed at 11 pm, but I was told that as long as you were quite...you could swim. Wink. Wink. I watched them skip to the pool. Three out of four jumped in and the gates of heaven opened up. At 11:05, the maintenance man entered the area and told us to get out of the pool. I stated I was told by Joy at the front desk that we could swim no matter the time as long as we were quiet. His response: "Ma'am. I gotta treat this pool. Y'all gone have to come back." I had to drag three crying children out of the water, wrap towels around them, and look at their "you failed us" faces. Two security guards entered. The first guard informed me that the treatment in the water could eat them alive. The second guard informed me that the pool closed at 11 pm and it was already 11:10 pm. I responded "No shit sherlock" and guided the crushed souls out of the pool. By the time we arrived to our train car, I had kindly relayed a "don't give me shit about this pool. I'm sorry, but you can swim another time." They went to bed with broken hearts and I searched for a bottle.

Good Times Take 2: We scurried to breakfast on our last day and their was a wonderful buffet of all you can eat. Despite the chaos at times, there was a sense of sadness while eating breakfast. Miss B stated she did not want to leave. They were laughing and smiling and my heart felt full. Did we do everything on the itinerary? Hell no. It didn't matter to them. They were on spring break and they were happy.

Darkness Take 6: The ride home was a little stressful. Miss B had developed a notion of entitlement and whined and fussed the majority of the drive home. It was cold and windy as hell. I drove 85 mph most of the way because the "F**k it. It's spring break" mantra had morphed into "shut the f**k up. you whiny little bitch".  I didn't realize how stressed I was until I asked the drive thru lady at Hardee's to please take my plastic cup from my car and throw it away. She refused before I could really finish my sentence. I blacked out for a second and came to with me throwing the cup on the ground right in front of her and all of the innocent eyes in the car. Holy hell...mama littered.

Darkness Take 7: The Divas and I arrived home and I told them to GET OUT!!! For the first time ever, I left every thing in the car...snacks, cooler, and luggage. I wanted to distance myself away from the shit in that car.

Good Times Take 3: I watched them cuddle their turtles. I listened to Miss B beg to return. She even asked me if I would make a vacation book for this trip. The last one, I made was for our Cozumel trip and she was so proud to take it for her Share Day. I spent five hours creating a photo book with little sayings and poems.

Darkness Take 8: The bitches have barely looked at the book. Miss B stated she didn't want to take it to school anymore and she wants a toy from Wal-Mart.

Darkness Take 9: My father sent me a text two days after our arrival home informing me that my grandmother died


Good Times Take 4: I drove back to my hometown to meet with my family over the death of my grandmother. We put the "fun" in dysfunctional. There were tears, but there was also laughter. Funny, how death can bring a family together. Our family has experienced quite a few deaths over the years and from it we have developed a weird sense of humor to deal with the loss of a loved one. When a family member threatened to jump in the casket, we laughed and threatened to record it and throw dirt on her ass. When one relative described how another family member jumped on top of my grandmother and refused to believe she was dead because she was pulling her eyes open...I ached from laughing. One poor family member didn't even know she was dead. He walked in and sat down beside her thinking she was sleeping until a relative walked in screaming. We all have separate lives and issues in my family that prohibit us from getting together and getting along. But when we do find our ways back to each other, the antics that transpire are not only comical but therapeutic. We all have a common thread that is not just "blood"...it's the ability to accept that we all have yet to get our shit together and it's okay. We see it. We embrace it. We roll with it.


I spent the last two days of spring break in bed and un-showered. I zoned out on pinterest and took my sleeping pills early. My house is a wreck. There are American Girl dolls lined up across our fireplace. Someone is crying because their American Girl doll just got voted off the island. Five baskets of laundry are scattered through out the house. The Divas have eaten an insane amount of food and snacks. We can't figure out where the piss smell is coming from. I have informed them that I am no longer here to provide their every wants and desires in the world. So, I welcome the end of spring break even though it will bring back the routine of school, homework, dance class, music class, work, meetings, and now a funeral.

Do I feel cheated....HELL NO!!  I wouldn't change a thing.."It was the best of times, it was the worst of times". You cannot have the good without the bad. You cannot have the darkness without the light. Accepting my life with the simple notion of  "it is what it is" has allowed me to grow, to love, to laugh, and to be happy. Cheers to all of the parents in car pool line tomorrow. I will have my Bailey's in my coffee and shaking my pill bottle to "Happy" by Pharrell as I bid the Divas farewell!!!

...Sex, Race, Bullying and Breast Buds

What the f**k have I been doing over the last month?? Well, let's just say there have been some serious PBS specials going on in the afternoon at the Davis household and not the good ole message filled PBS specials. These Parables of Bull Shit (PBS) have involved profanity, name calling, crying, gasping for air and death threats. Yep, we have been keeping it classy.

Sex has become an ongoing topic in our house since the "talk" with the two oldest Divas. They love to ask me questions that cause me to choke at random moments when I am at peace with the world.

The oldest Diva: I read there is a woman with 20 children. Did she have sex 20 times? That's so gross.
Me in my head: Pretty sure she is having a lot of sex, but I can't say this. Maybe, I need to let her believe that every time a person has sex they will get pregnant and that sex is gross.
Me: Yes. She has had sex 20 times.
The oldest Diva: So, you and dad have had sex at least three times.
Me in my head: WTF is wrong with her??
Me: Yes at least three times. I don't keep count.
Me in my head: SHIT!!!! What did I just say to her?? What message am I sending? I think she does this shit on purpose just to see my startled response that I try to hide from her. 

She then proceeds to skip off like everything is just fine and dandy. I secretly want to get stoned, but I learned in college that getting high and going to the hospital is not good for me. So, I just stare off into space and wonder how I will make it through the years. Miss B knows my soul. She can sense when I am in turmoil about something because that little bitch walked right into the kitchen and said "Can I see a picture of your dead mother? What was her name again?". I just look at this beautiful

This should be a yoga pose called "Mamas trying to keep it classy"

child that I have been blessed to create for a couple of minutes with my mouth wide open. I literally want to do flips backwards out of the kitchen while screaming "Help me Jesus!" Instead,  I proceed to pour a glass of Prosecco and pull out a photo album full of pictures of my dead mother. Times like this make me jealous of the sexy bald fella. I try to tell myself that it's not a conspiracy against me. I try to believe they don't get together in a room and say "Let's see what we can ask mama to make her take an extra pill, curse, and drink champagne". I also tell myself that they don't ask the SBF because he's a dumb ass...giggle. He's offered his commentary on certain topics many times in the past, but made sure to inform me that he will never discuss "BJs" with his daughters. Well, shit who else is going to do it. I'm not. They have a mother who thinks "road head" is the ultimate trump card, but I shall never let them know. I mean a mama has too keep it classy. Doesn't she?

On to Race....I may only go to church twice a year on Sundays (but we do go almost every Wednesday...giggle). I may drop the f bomb occasionally. I may flip the bird to strangers and friends in front of my children. BUT...I have engraved one truth I know for sure on each one of their souls...the color of someone's skin says nothing about them. I am very fortunate to come from a very blended past and present. So blended that the girls do not blink an eye at interracial dating or marriage. The SBF and I both dated outside of our race. The Davis's have friends of all races. There is no tolerance for racism. So when a little shit tells my middle Diva "he doesn't like black people. he's a racist", all hell breaks loose. I bypass "mama bear" and go straight to the "clown from the movie "It" by Stephen King". I want to f**k someone up. I know the world is not perfect. I know children repeat what they learn at home. I know this. I also know that silence will not change the world nor mold a child. One can hate math. One can hate Chinese food. One can hate RHOA. One can hate working out. One can hate anything, but the color of a person's skin. I live in Mississippi and struggle with some of the racial issues that are still present. I went to a college that is still fighting an image supported by racism. Hating a race is deplorable and will not be tolerated. I want to tell so many racist "sons of f**kers" to hate CANCER because that shit can kill ya. We need cancer to go away permanently. I have talked with the Divas. I have let my guard down and threatened to beat the shit out of the little boy's parents. I have offered to teach him. I have encouraged the middle Diva to take her lunch box and slap the little shit across the face...not one time, but many times. I know others may disagree with this advice. But little children that have no fear of allowing themselves to hate will grow up to be adults who will act on their ignorance because they never had a life changing moment to teach them better. The life changing moment may show itself through education, communication, or maybe an "ass whooping". If it works, I think the little shit deserves to take one for the team. The world will be a better place because of it.

You would think two weeks of sex and race would end this Parable of Bull Shit special, but not for us. This special just got picked up for another season starting right off with "bullying". First of all, I had the shit beat out of me until I was old enough to get a boyfriend. We moved around a good bit when I was younger. So, I was the "new girl" quite often. Well, let me tell you...."bitches don't like new girls." I was small, so I didn't learn how to fight with my fists. But, I learned how to spew balls of Hell fire out my mouth. My dear mother helped me with the language and even offered up "family secrets" of the bully to share. I did go back and reiterate very shameful things and got my ass whooped again, but finally I would come up with something so foul they would walk away. Some may look at this as a "not so shining" point in my childhood. I look at it as survival. Have I carried the propensity to read a bitch from the rooter to the tooter into my adult life...yes I have. BUT, I don't bite unless provoked. I am not sure how to teach the Divas to find balance, but I want them to stand up for themselves and each other. I guess the SBF finally had enough because just last week he told my middle Diva to tell a little shit to "GO TO HELL." The middle Diva is a lover not a fighter. She is a saint not a sinner. She is truly the salt of the Earth and I am not sure how she managed to end up in

I created this lovely pic on my lunch break. Nice?

this household. She gasped and almost collapsed at what the SBF told her to repeat. He toned it down some by stating tell him "MY DADDY SAID TO GO TO HELL!!" I chimed in with "make sure you whisper it in his ear." She was dumbfounded. Poor child. The other two Divas were present. The oldest Diva laughed with excitement and muttered something like "you are so lucky that you get to curse." Miss B just took it all in and calmly added "I don't like him" which translated in my head to "I would f**k him up if I could." I go back and forth with which is worse...mean boys or mean girls. Mean girls can cause some major damage and then the bitches grow up to be mean mommies. Through all of this, I have learned I am the mother that will tell a kid to "stay the f**k away from my child or endure a lifetime of anal leakage". Before you judge me, we teach a shit load of kind words. Manners are mandatory. Shut up is a bad word. I am not striving for an A+ in parenting. That is ridiculous and unattainable and not necessary for them to be functional, loving people. I just need to get shit right most of the time.


And last but not least....breast buds. Lucky for me, I get to discuss breast buds on a daily basis because of the book I introduced my Divas to. They couldn't take just one discussion and walk away pleased with the knowledge. Through several discussions and photo comparisons, I decided it was time to purchase a bra. I embarked on the bra journey with all three Divas to JCPenney. I am surprised we were not asked to leave the property. Three little girls in a dressing room is not healthy. Miss B spent most of the entire timing pulling her breast buds because she wanted them to grow. The middle Diva was sulking because she wanted a "bra-ra" as Miss B kept calling it. When Miss B proceeded to grab another Diva's breast bud, I decided to leave. Screaming "stop touching her breast buds" in a small dressing room is not a good look for a "normal" family. It took hours to pick out the right one...not because of fit, but because they are putting decorations and shit on "bra-ras". What the hell??? Some of them even snapped in the front. We walked away with 2...gray and hot pink. The hot pink almost killed me, but our choices were slim. The ladies checking us out laughed because I was nauseous and rocking back and forth. But, I did it. I can check that shit off my list for now.


I have come to realize that raising these three beautiful souls is one of the hardest and most important jobs I have. The rules change daily. The discussions are getting crazier. Their need to understand how this world works is growing daily. I have a long time to screw shit up and scar them for life. So, I have learned one thing...pick your failures cautiously because it's a long road ahead of us. My kids go to school looking like shit some days. I forget to show up for some school parties. I may purchase $40 worth of bull shit at a General Store on a 15 hour field trip as a bribe to skip the last part of the itinerary....f**king Chuck E Cheese visit. I may lie about not being able to attend a field trip because I just don't want to fucking go. I don't consider those my low points. I just recently had to take my middle Diva with me to go see my psychiatrist. She had been sick the previous day and I couldn't find a sitter. So, I packed her up and I drove an hour to go see my shrink. As we walked in the waiting room, she looked around. Finally, she asked "What kind of doctor is this?". I paused for a moment. Finally, I said this is a doctor I get to go talk to about anything I want. She helps me calm down when I get stressed or worried. She really listens to me and gives me good advice. Sometimes, I get really nervous because of things that have happened to me. This doctor is like a best friend that you can tell your secrets too. She smiled and "that was that". I left her in the waiting room with my cellphone as entertainment and  talked to my shrink. Maybe, she will remember this as a moment where mommy told her it's okay to not have your shit together and talk to someone about it. Maybe, this will be a comical story that will resurface at Thanksgiving Dinners..."remember that time mama took me along to see her shrink". Both outcomes would be just splendid because that kind of shit builds character. I may not always get it right, but I keep it real.