...I love my Louis Vuitton

Every mother, every woman, shit.... every person in the world deserves a moment. A moment of sheer fucking delirious delight. A moment of insane happiness. A moment of unfiltered, uncensored, and selfish joy.

I had that moment just a few days ago and let me tell you....shit is addictive. I attended our local Junior Auxiliary Bash on Friday night with the SBF. We happened upon free tickets for my service on another board. So, I felt it was a sign to re-enter the world of Junior Auxiliary....at least as a bystander this time. I quit Junior Auxiliary last December. I was not a quitter at that point in my life. I was an "all balls in" kinda of girl. Well, I was in charge of the silent auction for the 2013 JA Ball. Real talk...I lost my shit and quit. I put all of my time, effort, energy, and eggs into one basket and dropped that basket. The auction was successful. We raised money for the children in the community, but I never bounced back. So, I quit and the heavens opened up. 

The light at the end of the tunnel warmed my face and I said good bye to my friends and an organization that I hold dear to my heart. If I can't give someone my best, I don't give them any of me. This is not always good. This has lead to outrageous fucking birthday parties for the Divas, sprinkling powder on the floor for Easter Bunny footprints, doing bizarre Elf on the Shelf shit, etc. I am currently working on finding my area of "grey".

Anyway, I entered the JA bash this past Friday with the SBF on my shoulder. And there he was....I blushed. I knew he would be there. I wanted him. I came for him. I tried to not make eye contact. I could hear the song "Take My Breath Away" coming from the speakers. I felt weak....a chocolate beauty was right before my eyes and it wasn't the SBF. It was a Louis Vuitton bag being raffled off for $10 tickets. A $1650 bag bought in the flagship store in Paris was right before my eyes.  I approached the table with the SBF. All, I could manage to say to him is "give me all of your cash." That asshat quickly replied "I only brought $20 bucks". I could have slapped the dog shit out of the dream killer I married. A lady had purchased $100 worth of tickets and all I could manage to do was $20. I could have stabbed him. I snatched the $20, bought my 2 tickets, and decided I would visit the ATM to get more cash after I ditched the SBF at the bar. 

Well, the wine went in and my cares went out. I got to visit with dear friends, enjoy good food, and dance a little. All was well in the world. Until, I noticed it was time for them to draw for the Louis. I almost had a panic attack watching the slips of paper being tossed around. I downed my wine to help ease my anxiety. I couldn't take it. I literally wanted to shit myself. I know it's wrong to pray for material items. But damnit...I prayed. 

The next thing I know...I heard the MC say" oh my gosh. I can't believe it...Timeka Davis". 

http://youtu.be/ABwNzW9qQxg

Black out. Black the fuck out. Screaming. Running. Tossed my wristlet and cell phone. For 45 minutes, I jumped and screamed...not even a cute scream. It was like a roar of a wounded bear. I couldn't stop it. It was my Price is Right moment. I jumped. I jumped up and down in a maxi dress with no spanx. So, I'm pretty sure my ass was literally "clapping" with the audience. I hugged strangers. 

I have never been able to not contain myself. Let me rephrase. I was not shit faced wasted and unable to control myself. I was sober for the most part. I did whatever my body would allow. I won a LV bag and for one second I felt like Beyoncé. Then, I said a "bitch please" and I felt like just "Timeka Davis". Not Timeka the mommy, the wife, the volunteer, the audiologist, the PTO president.....just me. 

Side note: the SBF was making his way down the stairs when they called my name. He assumed my name was being announced because I was getting kicked out. He heard "Timeka Davis" and thought "I can't take this bitch no where. She's always acting up". 

I screamed all the way home. I swear I screamed out while sleeping that night. I couldn't wait to show the Divas. I was so happy. I woke up the next morning and the sun was coming in and I heard in my head the song lyrics..."It's a new dawn, it's a new day and I'm feeling...."

The Divas walked into the door and I told them to sit down. Mommy has something to show them. They looked at the bad and said "neat". Miss B started opening the box and messing with the shopping bag. This bitch was searching for her "happy". I informed them I had nothing to offer them as a gift. This was just for me.

I asked them to take a picture of my prize. It took about 20 takes and finally I was like screw it. Miss B was hungry. I could have kicked her ass off the bed for a second.  All of the Divas were like "oh, cool. I'm hungry". For one second, I wanted to shout out.."But, I have a "Louie" dammit." 

I love my "Louie". I look over at him and squeal. I try my best to not get caught up in the material world. I try not to get lost in the "name brand" obsession. But, there are a few things that mommy likes...Frye Boots, Louis Vuitton Bags, Tom Ford sunglasses, Free People, Tory Burch flats, and Nars cosmetics. These items speak to me. They are my little pick me ups. They don't increase my self worth. They don't put me in a certain social or financial category. It's just shit that I like. The items speak to me. They don't tell me that I'm a better person or that I'm beautiful. I can feel drop dead fucking gorgeous in a Target dress. They are accents to me.

Let it be known that I could never afford to buy a LV bag, but I am damn sure exited about winning one. The purse costs more than what we spent on my engagement ring in 2001. Ha!! I like some

nice things. I don't need a lot of nice things. I'm a weird mix of things. I am the owner of a LV bag that costs more than my wedding band and engagement ring. And I covet my ring and band. They are a part of me. They represent who we were and still are today. I would never upgrade my rings. I am currently in my office at work aka as a previous closet with 10,000 gnats flying around. They are flying all around "my Louie". Ha!! That's some keeping it real shit. 

I still have to sit an hour in car rider line. I still have to go home and help with homework. The carpets in our bedrooms are for sure health code violations.  My walls and house are still full of items I have painted, repaired, repainted, bought at Goodwill, etc. Miss B is still gonna place her hand that smells like "ass" on my shoulder to whisper in my ear that she's afraid of midgets. For the last couple of days, the carpet doesn't seem so dirty, and Miss B's hand doesn't smell that bad. Maybe, it's because I keep my "Louie" in sight to remind me that I got to experience just being "me" for a moment. 

Confession: sometimes I think just hearing my name called was right up there with winning the purse! It's weird and crazy. But I have replayed winning and how it felt over and over again. If I could bottle that feeling up, I would walk around spraying the shit outta people. It felt good.  It was complete euphoria. The day I won my purse. I found out the two oldest Divas won an art contest at their local dentist's office. I was so happy for them. They worked so hard. They deserved to be recognized. I even accepted their winning as a win for me. I felt maybe those were the ways I would receive my pats on the backs and my high fives. I was ready to accept being their cheerleader. Their sideline mommy. My days of "winning just for me" were over. I was winning every day through them. 

Then I won a Louis just for me......

And my world changed a little and I let go of those BB feelings. Giggle 

Bruh...this purse is nice as hell. For real, for real.

...Back from Sabbatical

Yes! I am still among the living. I have missed blogging. I have missed being able to share the ins and outs of my everyday life. So, what the hell happened....."Well, it goes a little bit something like this..." (cue some rap music). I went on a sabbatical. I would love to lie to you and I say I spent the summer walking the streets of a little town in Italy...painting, tasting wine, and shit. I spent the summer with the Divas. I spent every waking second with the Divas. We took two family vacations to the beach. Destin and I got back together and I found a new lover...Hilton Head. It's something about the beach that just makes shit better. I don't know if it was the fact that I started drinking Mimosas at 10 am everyday or what, but watching the Divas frolic in the sand made life better. I even found time to read a book!!!! Holy hell...The Valley of the Dolls. I was living the life......

Then, I realized that around mid July that our vacations were over and I had nothing to do with these broads for the next month. So, the madness of play dates, sleep overs, parties, and pool time began. Four hour days at any restaurant that had an indoor playground became a norm. Instead of looking to Pinterest to find ways to entertain my sweet dear life suckers, I let them run free. They went to bed after midnight and woke up everyday around lunch time. They watched hours of television. One morning, the SBF woke me up to inform me that our oldest Diva was still up watching "Dr. Who"at 6 am. My response: "Wtf do you expect? She has 95 episodes recorded. And for the love of God don't ever wake me this early again." Oh, the SBF......the sexy bald fella became the son of a bitch father that would come home and give me "judging looks" every afternoon. Most days we were all still in our pjs and the house resembled a frat party minus the drugs and alcohol. I surrendered. I let them win. I didn't have the fight in me. They consumed every part of my day and because of that I LOST MY VOICE!!! I lost the ability to form sentences. The ability to think appropriate, normal thoughts. At my best, I could only concoct a slew of curse words and gestures. I wanted out of this bitch. I even found out there was a Monastery about 20 miles from where we live and I swear I wanted to check myself in. I started pulling out my old self help books for guidance only to be interrupted by Miss B screaming that once again her "asshole was itching" to which I would scream back "it's because you don't wipe it."  Let me tell you, it is unnatural to invest every part of yourself into your children. It is not healthy. We are meant to raise them...not be them. I headed into a downward spiral of anger and resentment and guilt.

Oh, guilt is a bitch!!! I know I am blessed. I know so many women who have lost a child or would give everything to have just one child. And when I am at my lowest, I cry hard for those mothers and myself. It never fails, the tears finally stop and Miss B finds me in the closet trying to hide my breakdown and I look at her as she stands there rocking side to side. She smiles at me...that damn smile that gets me every fucking time. She draws me back in. I have always believed she was my "saving grace". She came at a time when my priorities were all screwed up and my marriage was not at it's best. She brought me back home. So, I look at her with tears still in my eyes and I smile. She rewards me with a play by play of a movie she's watching where a mommy and daddy are laying on top of each other kissing......Shit!!!!!!!!!!

Well, the light at the end of the tunnel has surfaced. My "permanent resting bitch" face is starting to fade. What changed...my meds, a vacay to a remote island, a nanny, or a housekeeper???? Nope!

Back to School Bitches!!!! I know some moms groan at the idea of routine and homework, but at this stage in our life...WE NEED ROUTINE! WE NEED TO GET THE HELL AWAY FROM EACH OTHER FOR AT LEAST 6 HOURS A DAY! They have been in school for three weeks so far and I have come to the realization that I think my ass went through a minor state of depression. Seriously! I go to a shrink. I love my shrink. I should know the signs by now. Over the summer, I had to cancel two appointments because I did not want to take all 3 Divas with me. My middle Diva tagged along for one visit and walked away fine. I couldn't risk it. So, I got into a fucking funk. The end.

I have an appointment scheduled next month along with a list of shit that we need to discuss and I can't fucking wait. To have someone just sit and listen to you talk about your problems and never once mention what they are going through is unbelievable. Someone to confess all of your shit to and not judge you...amazing!! We live in a world of texts, emails, Facebook, Twitter, group chats, etc. I love social media. I love being able to "like" pics, casually comment on something, and even get into a full on Facebook fight which results in me threatening to bend over and shit lava on the face of the person that made such a ridiculous comment. But, I realized the other day that I go days without "really talking to someone...verbally...like out loud" that is an adult. I crave conversation and contact that is not in typed words all of the time. I crave deep conversations full of laughter and soul shattering shit. Lately, I imagine these wonderful morning conversations with my mother. If she were still here, I imagine her calling right when I am dropping the last Diva off and we talk for an hour. I imagine her asking me "How are you doing?". I know that may sound simple to some of you, but I'm not talking about the casual "How are you?" I am referring to the "How are you?" that is checking up on my soul...my mental state...my well being. The experience is so foreign to me that when I do have a friend ask me "How are you?" I don't know what the fuck to tell them. In my mind, I find myself saying "Shit, how am I? I am okay...right? Oh shit, is something wrong?" Ha!!!

The only way I can find peace with this longing or void is through the three little girls that I am raising. I am blessed to have the Divas. I often imagine phone calls where their kids are screaming like fucking morons and the Divas are silently crying because "Bobby" keeps pulling at his penis and "Sarah" said "eat shit" during church. I will listen proudly as they tell me that "Tommy" scored 100 on his spelling test and their husband just got promoted. And after all of that...I will ask them "But, how are you doing?" Sounds all sweet and sappy and "circle of life" kind of shit....right? PAUSE...For the last week, the excitement of school has worn off. The Divas wake up in shitty moods and move at a snail's pace which requires me to scream and threaten the most awful things. As, I rush them to three different schools and they whine about the clothes I bought them,  the sun is in their eyes, and whatever else they can imagine to complain about....I imagine a completely different conversation with these selfish bitches.

I imagine them calling me and I don't pick up because I am enjoying a glass of wine after strolling the streets of a little town in Italy. Giggle. So stay tuned folks!!! I have found the yellow brick road. I am slowly but surely putting myself back together. I am finding my voice again.

And warning (in the low voice they use on "those" commercials) this post or future posts may not be suitable for "Basic Bitches" aka BB's.

• BB's that rat other mommies out for cutting line in carpool.
• BB's that judge mommies for dropping their kids off at bible study and leaving to go have a drink. 
• BB's that think PTA mommies don't work.
• BB's that judge mommies for sticking their feet out the window during an hour wait in carpool line.
• BB's that compete with each other.
• BB's that tell mommies who ride around in ridiculous masks with their children that they have too much time on their hands.
• BB's who think private school is the only way.
• BB's that judge mommies and their children who have complete fucking breakdowns in public.
• BB's that ask mommies who have rushed to get to a girl's night out..."what do you have on?"
• BB's that judge mommies for letting their kids stick their heads out the sunroof while at a standstill in a parking lot during carpool. 
• BB's that judge mommies for confessing that they lost their child one time and caused a mad search only to realize they never got the child out of the car. 
• And last but not least, the BB's who will find my use of the word "bitch" highly offensive because I have three daughters...yada, yada, yada and these BB's will judge me for it...because "judging" is always better than saying "bitch". Giggle 

Namaste, Bitches!