...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!

...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

...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

...Take My Breath Away

I'm an 80's baby and the movie Top Gun was probably one of my favorite movies. After watching it as an adult, I am not quite sure if my mother made an appropriate choice. Giggle. I also memorized every word to every Prince song at a very early age. I don't judge her though. She was 16 when she had me. She was a flower child, free spirited, and gracious woman with a raunchy sense of humor and the mouth of a sailor. I know everyday she looks down and laughs her ass off at me. Karma is a bitch.

Anyway, the song Take my Breath Away on Top Gun, was my shit!!! I would sit and sing that song and dream of the day when my man would come and "Take My Breath Away". Today, I would like to announce that I want my "breath" back. I did not know the SBF fella would come into my life with his good looks and killer smile, impregnate me, and leave me with a small army of "breath takers". Somehow, I have allowed this little family of mine to believe that my only job in life is to be there for them at all times. The sick twisted bipolar part of this agreement is that I want them to know that I am here at all times no matter what...just not if I am taking a shit, putting make up on, taking a  shower, watching an adult movie, napping, driving the car, talking to a friend, answering emails, surfing the web, reading a book, painting, or eating. During those few and far between times listed above, I would like the ability to do so in peace.

My bedroom is my favorite part of this house. It is the reason we bought this house. I envisioned long days of peace and solitude. Well the SBF has opened up his office in our master bedroom and brought a bookshelf, desk, and futon with him. The three Divas have started this new game called "I'm going to flip off the couch onto the futon and do a triple hand spring onto the ground until mom loses her shit." They have so many rooms created in this house just for their pleasure. Right now, a gigantic Barbie doll house is sitting in our bedroom. I guess the playroom was just not the place for it anymore. WTF don't they play in the other rooms. Instead, they all pile in our bed and watch TV, play games, read books, and just f___k with me. Miss B rubs my arm until I begin to hyperventilate. Then the fighting starts. There is not enough room in the bed for all of us. So the "Stop touching me. Get your feet off of me. I'm hot. Stop farting. Don't lick me." game begins. I patiently suggest they move over and be nice to each other and to please stop jumping because mommy is going to vomit, but they don't listen. After one hour, I go complete ape shit.

The shit that comes out of my mouth makes no sense either. All they can make out is "shit........licking......stop.......hell......why.......go..........where's your daddy........get out." They then have the nerve to turn around and look at me like I have lost my mind. I know whatever just came out of my mouth did not make any sense, but at that point I CAN'T BREATHE. I wish I had a panic button in my room that I could hit that would literally scare the hell out of them and cause them to go running for cover. Better yet (for you True Blood lovers), I wish I could rescind my invitation to my bedroom. They are always breathing my air. I swear I get so hot and sweaty because so many individuals are around me breathing on me all of the time. After my "episode", I sit and think about the damage I have probably caused to their beautiful souls. The guilt takes over and I get up and decide to go check on them. I step out of bed and DAMNIT to hell...I don't know which pain is worse a LEGGO or a Barbie doll shoe. I proceed to whisper profanities and go get the vacuum. The joy I have sucking up their toys that I beg them to put away brings me great delight. My middle one runs to our bedroom door and just stands there with a weird smile like "holy hell...mommy is crazy." Miss B decides to join her and as soon as I cut the vacuum off she says "Can we come back now?" My oldest may be the smartest one ,even though, she has walked into many of walls. She retreats and finds something else to do. It never fails that 45 minutes after my "episode" and I have cleaned our room, cut the TV off,  made the bed, and decided to jump in the shower...I open the bathroom doors and there they sit like f_____g puppies. They are wrestling, giggling, rolling around on the floor, and the TV is back on. I walk to my closet without making eye contact and sit there with the door closed.

Did this happen today? Yes. Did this happen yesterday? Yes. I have the leading role in the movie Groundhog Day. And guess who's birthday is in fact on Groundhog Day???????? Ding. Ding. Ding. Pick me. Pick me. Isn't that ironic? Don't you think? I have seriously contemplated putting on my snorkel mask when I am trying to hang out in our bedroom in hopes that I will be able to get some air. They would just think it's a game and beg me to go find their masks and I would end up sitting in a bed with three kids and crying with a damn snorkel mask.

I know the end of summer is approaching and school will start. I will get back some of my free time. Lately, when the SBF comes home, he asks "What did y'all do all day?" I quickly answer "I tried not to suffocate." I know he secretly thinks this is all my fault. They don't do this to him. So, I must be encouraging this kind of behavior. Maybe I am. At this point, I don't know what the hell is going on. I do know that when school starts and he comes home and asks me what did I do on the three days I don't "work"...I will remember these moments and instead of making up something like I cleaned or reorganized the closets. I will loudly respond "NOT SHIT!"

...meditations and medications

It's after midnight and Miss B had a bad dream. She is snuggled up next to me and my heart melted just a little. Forgotten is the afternoon of her screaming like a lunatic because she wanted her sisters to tell her who to pretend to be. I wanted to suggest..."How about you not be a little ass right now?" The days are starting to run together and just yesterday I realized school starts in one month. For a split second, I was weary of what was to come. I do believe that it is time for the Divas and I to not spend so much time together, but I am in no way ready for homework, projects, carpools, and shit. There has been no schedule this summer which I think has contributed to the psychosis in our house. For the last week, Miss B wakes up crying, whining, angry, and just plain pistified!! This is my third child, I should know how to handle this, how to comfort her, how to distract her, and how to not reinforce this behavior. So far, I just stand over her with 4 boxes of cereal screaming "You ate all the marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms!!! Pick something else."


This child is seriously still connected to me by an invisible umbilical cord. Confession, I am a night owl. I stay up late to do chores, crafts, blog, watch TV, and just sit in quiet. Lately, I have sacrificed sleep just to rise before the monsters wake up with their demands. I just want to drink my coffee in peace. Miss B has installed a f____g device in me that alerts her when I am up and moving around no matter how quiet I am. Instead of greeting me in the mornings with a kiss and a hug, she comes at me like I'm her bitch. She then attempts to crawl back inside of my womb. I quickly reach for my meds and pray that they will kick in before I shit myself in the kitchen. For about 2 hours, this child proceeds to throw shit, scream, demand Coca Cola for breakfast, strip down, and wrap her naked body around my leg while I am making her cereal.

This happens 96% of the time. Funny, how everyone else in the house sleeps through these manic episodes. By the time they get up, I am exhausted.. They wonder why I am walking around with red beams shooting out of my eyes. They wonder why I have snot all over my PJ's (Miss B likes to use my PJ's instead of tissue). My eye is twitching and you can sense that I am about to reenact a scene from Mommie Dearest. The SBF kisses my forehead and says "Rough morning?" I imagine jabbing him in the nose, but instead I smile and sip my coffee (Bailey's with a little coffee). It is obviously his damn genes that cause this behavior. I am way over blaming every behavior my child exhibits on me. Sometimes their "shit fits" having nothing to do with my parenting style. They are very selfish little people with their own minds and agendas. Miss B prefers to eat her boogers. I had nothing to do with that shit and refuse to take responsibility for it. I think so many people see children misbehaving and look at the mothers who are trying their best to keep their shit together and judge them...label them as failures in the "how to teach your kid not to strip down in Wal-Mart" section. We must take into
consideration that these little people have a mind of their own. I don't like boogers. So, I am sure as hell not gonna take the blame for Miss B eating them.  The little old ladies in the grocery store love to stop and tell me "You have got your hands full" (translation: Dear, do you realize one child has her dress over her head and the other one put her mouth on the the shopping cart handle?)

So, once again I have found myself reading

 Meditations for Mothers of Toddlers.

Shit is serious when I have pages bookmarked with sticky notes.

I would like to share a couple of topics and "jumping off statements" to take with you throughout the day:

1. BURNT OUT MOTHERS: I am a loving mother. But if I hope to be a constant source of love and affection, I must spend some part of each day giving to myself. (My translation: It is okay to tell your children you have diarrhea and you are going to stink. This will allow you time to play on your smartphone or read a book or stare off into space.)
2. APPLES AND ORANGES AND PINEAPPLES: I will trust in my own abilities as I mother three very different little individuals. (My translation: It is okay to be at peace with the thought that one of them may be a little "different" or "special. I will no longer question if this one is ours").
3. SLEEP DEPRIVATION: Sleep is essential to my well-being. If I can't get what I need during the night, I need to schedule time to rest during the day. (My translation: I will no longer try to hide the fact that I take naps during the day from the SBF. I will also not feel one slither of guilt for putting in a movie for the Divas, telling them to not wake me unless they are on fire, and taking at least an hour nap.)
4. SUMMERTIME: My family will have to adjust and readjust to new routines. If I remain flexible, I can keep us on track and enjoy the flow. (My translation:#B.D.K.M.V).

So, as the end of summer approaches and the chaos of back to school begins, take time to remember....