...slowing down

This is my fourth day into the "time change". Not only did the clocks "fall" back an hour on Saturday night, but my capacity to behave in a sensible manner decided to "fall" back into an abyss. Yep, it's happened again. I am on the bat shit crazy bus, but this time I'm driving. Halloween turned into a season and I didn't know it!!! You no longer trick or treat one night for 3 hours. It's a week long event now. It's a fucking season...like Christmas season. WTF???? Halloween was the last holiday that the Divas and the SBF had not ruined for me. The SBF doesn't celebrate shit that's on a calendar. So, I'm the Holiday Cheerleader. I allowed the Divas to pick their costumes, I painted costumes, I bought bits of pieces and shit and made them happy. By the third day of dressing three Divas in full costume, I
decided I hated Halloween. I did not come as the cute little witch with the "witch and fabulous" apron at Miss B's Halloween party. I came as something better..something real. I came as the tired, unshowered mother with store bought fruit already cut up and in the container it was packaged in. I did not tap into my pinterest loving creative side. I tapped into the "keeping it real" side. And you know what...the world did not come to an end. The kids had fun and that's all that mattered. I even shared with everyone that I had not showered that day.

As I walked into the house this afternoon and the Divas were fighting, I caught myself wanting to go look in the mirror and cry. You know...one of those hard cries where snot runs into your mouth and you don't bother to wipe it. This kind of cry is only good for me if I can look at myself in the mirror...weird shit...I know. The behavior is so disturbing, but comical at the same time. I almost feel like I'm not the one crying when I look at myself in the mirror. It's like I'm acting. FYI: I'm a damn good actor when I'm crying. Unfortunately, I took a xanie and I can't cry when I take xanies. I have tried to cry only to sit and wait and wait. My medication renders me "cryless". Ha!!  So, there will be no Oscar handed out tonight over my stellar performance of sobbing into a mirror. Instead, I have chosen to blog. Blogging has proven to be more healing than my meds.

What has brought on this sense of hysteria.....just plain ole life shit. Nothing really special and thank goodness nothing really bad. I have seen really bad before and that shit is no joke. Maybe it started with Miss B.'s obsession with midgets. For at least an hour everyday, I have to answer questions about midgets. She is horrified of them and I don't know why. I can't seem to find out where she  learned this term. All I know is that she has a never ending list of questions for me:

• Where do they live?
• What do they eat?
• How do they pay for their stuff if there is not a stool around?
• What kind of cars do they drive?                                           
• If they grow their hair long, will it touch their butt?
• Do they have regular size babies?
• Do they have special powers since you they are special?

Let me put it in conversation for you.

•  Me: "They don't have special powers. They are just like you and me." Miss B: "I just saw a midget house" Me: "No you didn't." Miss B; "Yes, I did. It was little"
• Miss B: "I just saw a dog or a midget." Me: "You saw a dog." Miss B: "It could have been a midget because it was short and brown."

I want the world to know that I am not trying to offend anyone by using the term "midget". I have struggled over the appropriate term for what is turning into an every day topic. Should we use "dwarfism" or "little people" in our house? I feel like I'm failing Miss B. Why can't she just get it like she gets the fact that her cousins are all colors of the rainbow? So, I have been carrying that monkey on my back. I am doing an injustice. We teach the Divas that all people are created equal and are special. I am walking around with this guilt of not being socially correct and not taking the time to research this problem in our house. Why don't I have the time for something so important in her life......

Homework, car rider line, after school activities, work, church, friends, family, the Divas etc. My oldest Diva got in the car and informed me she learned how to "tongue" which caused me to black out. After asking her to repeat the word 10 times, she informed me that "tongue" was a band term. My middle Diva asked me what begins with "F" and ends in "uck"..........."firetruck". Before running off and laughing, she informed me that she knew I was going to say the "F" word. My language has not been the best lately. "WHAT SHIT WHAT" has become the go to phrase that I ask Miss B during her numerous temper tantrums. I have even resorted to pretending to check their homework. I stay in the car during their extracurricular activities. Asshat has become my favorite word during car rider line. Seriously, I have tried to shake my steering wheel off in car rider line because "Susie" can't get "Jimmy" out the car fast enough. "Susie" does not prep her child 2 miles before and have him unbuckled and almost out the door at the drop off location. No, that does not make sense in Susie's world. Susie is going to wait until the last minute and hold up the whole damn line of parents trying to get somewhere. Susie is going to hand Jimmy his backpack, lunchbox and instrument case...one at a time. Then kiss him goodbye and watch him walk in. The other day I sat behind a "Susie" that just sat in her car. No child ever got out. I swear...I never saw a child exit the vehicle. She just stopped her car in line for 2 minutes. Two minutes in car rider line is an eternity. When, she drove off and I realized that no child got out. I wanted to run engage in a high speed car chase.  Here's another one...the "Susies" that think you are cutting line and won't let you in. They literally try to rear end each other just to keep one car from getting ahead of them. They even have the nerve to tell you to go to the back of the line at which time I have to mouth "fuck you. let me in."....then Susie's face turns red and I flip her off and my ears turn red and then I promise to hunt Susie down and challenge her to a street fight. I spend at least 4 hours a day waiting to transport children back and forth. I try my best to remain considerate of others, but I swear there is a generation of parents out there that don't give a shit about anyone but themselves. It's the weirdest shit ever. What happened to sharing, kindness, and fucking manners and shit? Have we become a world so self absorbed into making our life comfortable and the lives of our children that we ride around oblivious to others?

AND....What's up with all of the competition to one up each other. Public service announcement: the types of parties I throw, the items I make, the ways I decorate my house, the clothes I wear, the things I volunteer for...don't have shit to do with Susie. I'm not competing with Susie because in my world...I am always winning. Hell, I won a long time ago...right around the time I stopped giving a shit about what other people had or how they were living their life. I can say this...I am one of the best type of friends to have because I am so busy with my life that I don't have the need to judge your

life. People tell me shit all of the time and I totally forget about it...it passes through me. I hear it in that instance and offer assistance, but I don't have room to judge or analyze it. When some of my friends approach me with information and say "Don't tell anybody". I always tell them "Don't worry. I won't remember it tomorrow." I am not offering up this information to boast. I am offering this information up as a coping mechanism to the basic bitches or "Susie's". I see them multiplying each day and I am afraid. They are afraid people are cutting them in car rider line. They make snide remarks if you don't have your children in certain clothes. They jump at the opportunity to tell you that their child outscored your child. They love to tell you how you are not doing shit right. They look at the ring on your finger as soon as they meet you to decide where you fit in the socioeconomic scale. Guess what Susie....my ring does not say shit about my marriage.

Speaking of marriage....that shit is hard. There are good days and really shitty days and then good days and then some pretty fucked up days. Shout out to everyone that is married, that wants to be married, and that has tried marriage. I love the SBF. Do I wish we could break up sometimes...hell yes? Just last night I was at a public event surrounded by people and the SBF called and hung up in my face twice. I had to pretend I was still talking to him both times it happened because people were around. As I rushed home, I thought about the things I would do to get him back. Confession: One time, I threw his pencils away in the garbage can outside because he screamed at me for no reason. When he asked me if I had touched them, I pretended like I was appalled at the accusation. "Is this where we are in our marriage now? You are accusing me of taking time to steal your pencils? Pencils? Really, our marriage has come to pencils?" The joy I felt over the act was wonderful and crazy at the same time, but so is love and marriage. So, I took the two hang ups in the face and "charged them to the game".

Right now I feel like I am at crossroad with humanity and insanity. I really fucking care about people. I really want the world to be a better fucking place for everyone. I love the shit out of the Divas and the SBF. I love giving back to the community. Those three things define me. They are the hard, but they make me feel alive. If I was meeting with my shrink and she asked what was wrong, I would say "the usual". The Divas are "life suckers". the SBF is a "dream killer", and I am a "volunteer whore". She would ask me "What can you give up or change to make it better?" and I would say "nothing". We always have an awkward silence that follows and I promise to try to slow down and do more for myself and say "no". 

I had one hour of free time today....one fucking hour and I used that hour to catch up on volunteer stuff. I rushed into Office Depot and literally ran up and down the aisle grabbing items. I made my way to the check out counter to find my buddy waiting on me. Yep...I have a love/hate relationship with the little old man who works the check out counter at Office Depot. When I saw him, I took a deep breath and released a long "shiiiiiitttttttt" under my breath. I know this old man very well. He is painfully slow and very thorough. Today, he was wearing a Christmas hat. I prayed for the patience needed to get through yet another transaction with my old buddy. It never fails that he knows I am in a hurry and he could give zero shits about my sense of urgency. He slowly scans every item at least 5 times and even talks to some of my items. Today, he paused for a second because he had a phone call. He said "Hold on just a second. This may be my wife calling." I stood there and tried not to burn him with the lasers in my eyes. He was oblivious. Then something came over me.....Holy Hell, I was slowing down. I was breathing. I was still. Something happened as I watched his hands shake while holding the phone. I was present. I spend so much of my day holding my breath and rushing to the next destination that I don't consider "slowing down" an option. Hell at this point I would have to put "slowing down" on the calendar and there's no fucking room. Well, the old man finally hung up the phone and finished scanning my items. I was completely calm and enjoying the moment. This old man makes me slow down every time I get in his check out line. He could care less if I am in a hurry. He normally makes an off colored remark like "you got a lotta them suckers running around"...suckers being the Divas. Well today, he helped me find the time to slow down on a day that I needed it the most.

He even insulted me at the end....It was raining horribly outside and I asked for a plastic bag. My old buddy: "You want a bag because of the rain. Well, here's a big bag for a big head. HeeHee." I burst into laughter and teared up. Laughter heals my soul. I crave it daily and I it was given to me in the form of a little old man with a Christmas hat on.

This blog was typed by a mommy to tired to edit
Excuse any errors