...vacation hangover

Today, I literally crawled into work. I am normally greeted by strange looks from my coworkers. I only work two days a week and I can sometimes be a human resources nightmare, so I am never shocked by their looks. BUT today, I knew I looked like shit. I was disoriented, sleepy, and angry.

I looked like I had been out all night. I secretly wished I could share some story of how I got shit faced and passed out and literally just rolled out of bed. It took me two days to unpack from our vacation and get some order back to our house. PLUS...we have no live TV, so it's very f_______g quiet right now in our house...too quiet and my SUV broke down. The Divas have decided to sit up under me for going on 48 hrs. They have 2 bedrooms, a playroom, and a living room. I find it very hard to share my bedroom with 3 girls and 9 American Girl Dolls. Get the hell out!!! My energy is drained and my ability to talk to people in a nice way has gone to shit.

Anyway, I sat at my desk wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I knew I was a little off because I forgot to get my Xanax refilled before the holiday/weekend, but this was some serious irritation.

As I sipped my coffee and aggressively tapped on my keyboard in efforts to respond to a massive amount of emails, I finally realized what was going on......VACATION HANGOVER!!!

Damnit to hell!!!! That's it...I then found the perfect definition of Vacation Hangover compliments of Urban Dictionary:

The pain of returning to the reality of your real life after experiencing a vacation you wish was your real life.

Sufferers of Vacation Hangover will often feel anger or resentment within the first week post vacation and question the decisions they have made leading them to where they are and the things they do on a daily basis.

They may find themselves daydreaming of a different life, lingering nuggets of joy from memories of where they were or what they were doing on vacation.

Sufferers might even try to invent imaginary ways to make the vacation life they were living a reality. Only to find themselves more miserable than they were before they even left on vacation to begin with.

An example of vacation hangover is when a mother and father of 3 small children go on vacation without the kids. They visit Tokyo! They sleep in, eat amazingly fresh sushi, attend a Japanese Punk Rock concert, take naps in the middle of the day, and eat their fabulous meals at odd times.

The parents return to their regular lives. The father is working 80 hours a week at a meaningless job he hates. The mother is mopping pee off the bathroom floor, breaking up sibling rivalry, and cleaning up a sloppy diaper while slathering rash cream on her baby's sore bottom. The baby screams in pain, someone else throws a toy at Wife's head, and another child is crying because the computer isn't playing the RIGHT kind of train movie.

Both parents really enjoyed their time in Tokyo and struggled returning cheerfully to their real life.

I was at peace when I realized I was not alone. Alright, I know what I have. Now, how the hell do I get rid of it???? I have come up with a list that I offer to you to help with vacation hangovers:

10 VACATION HANGOVER CURES: 

(shit I should have done instead of staring off into space about car and cable issues).

1. Do not go back to work on a Monday after a vacation. You will not get shit done anyway. So stay at home and nap. Enjoy your home. Find the beauty in it again.
2. Find a happy hour to visit after your first full work day. If you have been sipping Mimosas on the beach for 5 days straight, your body is going through shock. You need a drink!!
3. Unpack as soon as possible. The longer your luggage is out...the more it will remind you of the fun you had.
4. Change your sheets ASAP. You have been snoozing on more than likely a pretty comfy white bed. Clean sheets will calm the soul. It's a way of tricking your body into thinking it's in a hotel.
5. Post your vacation pictures as soon as possible. This will always accelerate the transition. You will notice little bolts of energy. If you wait too long, you will get f_______ depressed looking at them.
6. Stay away from anyone who seems like they are remotely happy about you being back from vacation. They didn't miss you. They want you back to suffer in REALITY.  Your senses will pick up on this and you will want to punch them in the face.
7. Ignore your inner voice that is asking "What do you want to do with your life?" This is not a voice of reason. This is a fictional what if Santa Claus was real voice.
8. Find something to laugh about. I swear I spend numerous hours a day searching Pinterest humor, Blunt cards, and Some ecards when I need a good laugh. Today: I watched numerous Kevin Hart videos and thought I would piss myself from laughing so hard.
9. Please find activities for your children. The busier they are...the more rest you get. No child wants to see mom go ape shit because she just heard someone say they were bored. 
10. PLAN ANOTHER TRIP ASAP 

If this does not help any, I recommend you make a batch of Mother's Cure. See post titled "Mother's Cure" for recipe.

..."deuces Destin"

We are packed up and heading home. And I think the damn rain is following us. I have not seen the sun since Tuesday. I think my mood is affected by the weather because I am trying to not have a shit fit in the car. 

Miss B and I just woke up from a 2 hr nap. We spent the first 10 mins of the ride home trying to convince the SBF that we could indeed feel the damn raindrops coming through the opened sunroof. He claimed he needed fresh air...uhm open your f____g window. Now, he has Nina Simone blasting and driving my SUV like he's at NASCAR. I love some Nina, but I don't think it's helping the depression I am feeling over my break up with Destin. 

Yep...lost another love in my life. Destin and I are on a "break". He's moody, turbulent, and selfish. I know it will take just a few days and he will make his way back into my heart. He was such a shitty companion this week....what happened to my laid back, go with the flow Destin? I just did not recognize him.

Miss B informed us that we did not go to Destin. Destin is the beach. She only saw the beach on Mon & Tues. I don't know where she thinks we have been all week, but definitely not Destin. Overall, the kids took it better than I did. I tried to hide my frustration. The beach is a sacred place. I have never seen it like this...so dark and unwelcoming. Hell, it made me question myself. Am I a troubled soul? Am I having an internal conflict...hell yes, always!  But what was it this time? I don't have much time or medication left to be too reflective. Josh is singing to the top of his lungs..."my name is Peaches" (f____g weirdo). 

I am sporting my "twerk" tank top. Miss B is talking about she just saw a goat (hallucinating just like her damn daddy???). The other two are unconscious. I look at my car full of unicorn pillow pets, puppy dog blankets, unbathed stinky children, and garbage and it reminds me of Destin. Shockingly beautiful most of the time, but has a nasty side. 

The SBF just said "I took the wrong turn." He let the atlas go and is using the GPS. Well the GPS is on, but our destination is not entered. Dumb ass just made a U turn in the road. Just like the ocean...this SUV full of crazy people may have some shitty ways, but they have my heart and soul. I'm drawn to their beauty and their darkness. 

And I am like the GPS....trying to lead these assholes the right way, but instead they don't listen. They take their own route and force me to come up with an alternative for them.....bastards. 

...son of a beach

Rain, rain...100% chance of rain...son of a beach. Day two of heavy rain at the beach is enough to make me accidentally take my meds twice again. I survived yesterday so I am thinking it won't hurt me. Being in a zombie like trance may keep me from streaking through the condo's courtyard. At least I know I am not in shock by the weather. As I was hiding out at the gazebo last night, I was comforted by the lady who came out on her patio and looked to the skies and said "unfuckingbelievable". Right on sister!! The sad part is I am a parent. I cannot just say the hell with it and drink myself into a stupor, sleep the day away, watch adult TV, or read a book. I am a mother and somewhere it is written when you become a mother and sign all your hopes and dreams away that you become superwoman.

Luckily, I amongst other parents. Four adults and 5 girls under the age of 10 can get a little tricky. There is an unspoken understanding that it's okay to use your "I'm going to lose my shit pass" and go hide in the bathroom (my place of choice), closet, or one of the bunk beds. For the last two days, I have struggled with my responsibilities. Will I rise to meet the challenge that awaits? Will I be the mother that comes up with alternative activities today or the one that sits in the corner zoned out? Or will I be the one who says "Your gymnastics skit really sucks ass." or "I don't want to watch you or anything about you. How about you watch the back of your eyelids?". So far, I am in the corner. I am trying my best to channel that positive thinking. So far all I can do is throw up my middle fingers to the rain, the clouds, the thunder, the lightning, and these kids that I love with all of my heart. At least the darkness has not plagued all of the other parents. They are my lifeline right now. They are dancing and shit,,, they Wobble and sing "we are, we are,  not your ordinary family...close as close can be". Bless their heart. I hate that damn song. Damn right we are not your ordinary family. Right now we are starring in a ratchet reality show and definitely close as close can be. Did this mother f____r just bring the twin mattress into the leaving room so these kids can jump from the back of the couch to the mattress?

Yesterday, we ventured out to the movies and shopping outlets with 9 people and 4 umbrellas. We arrived to find that every tourist in Destin had the same f___g idea. After standing in line for what seemed like eternity, we discovered that the next 3 shows of Despicable Me 2 were sold out. SHOCKER!! Honestly, I didn't want to see the damn movie anyway, but again thank goodness for the other parents. We bought tickets to the 5:30 pm showing. Great!! Three hours to kill and the savages are starving. After learning there are 45 minute waits at every damn restaurant, we decide to leave the area and return for the 5:30 pm movie. Loading 9 people into an SUV can be a task. I can't help but to think that the SBF did not mean to almost run over my foot with four toes. I choose to believe that he did not realize I wasn't in the car yet. He didn't realize the door was still open and could not feel the rain coming in. He was obviously so distracted. My first reaction was to stop the tire with my finger of course which left a nice tire burn on my finger. Luckily, the four letters words that I screamed caught his attention. 

Our restaurant of convenience and choice was....the WAFFLE HOUSE. I am in no way shitting on the Waffle House. I like the Waffle House. Luckily the Waffle House was empty. I guess everyone was eating at the local seafood restaurants. We have the place to ourselves. I have tapped out as a parent. My finger is burning and all I want to do is drink my coffee and say a mass of four letter words. I am not alone though. My friend's husband has gone mute. His silence is comforting. I wonder if he is on the verge of losing his shit. Sadly, I hope so. I hate to be alone. Giggle. The SBF decided to purchase 8 song selections on the jukebox. He was delusional at this point. I can only hope the video cameras in Waffle House post his dancing in public on YouTube. I do hope they look over my behavior at the table.  Don't judge me.

 

We made it back to the shopping center just in time for the girls to go shopping before the movie. We spent the majority of our time in Justice....just-the-f_____g place I want to be...in a children's store full of neon shit, zebra pillows, lip gloss, BFF necklaces, and other kids. I tap out again as a parent and leave. I venture into a t-shirt store that will personalize any clothing item they have. They have logos on the wall that you can pick from. I was at home. Tons of inappropriate shit covered the walls. I felt like a kid at a candy store. What ratchet shit could I get for myself and my friend? Something that says we are mamas that still got it. After picking my fave logo and having it put on a tank top, I was on cloud nine. Until, the lady told me that I owed her $63 bucks for two damn tank tops with shit on it. I know I have grown as a person because back in the day I would have told her to lick the crack of my ass and walked out. The tag on the tank top said $19.99. They failed to tell me the extra cost for putting words on it. After saying shit and damn about three times, I take out my wet money and toss it at the deceitful bitch. 

We finally arrived at the movies and I can't wait until the damn lights go off. 3D movies make me a little sick sometimes and just our luck the only seats available were the ones that were the second row from the front of the large ass screen. I found myself relating to the purple minions in the movie. Not

only did the rain and salt water have me sporting the exact same hair do, I felt like going around biting shit. I could only verbalize monster like screams when a kid would tell me they have to go piss or they wanted something to drink. Anytime they asked me to do something, I wanted to growl.

We returned home to one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. Double rainbows...I took full credit for this phenomena since I decided to do a spiritual dance in the parking lot of Waffle House in hopes that the rain would go away. I took it as a sign of peace in the valley.

The night ended with more dance offs. The more it rains...the closer we become one family all right. Two dysfunctional families have meshed into one big ass crazy family. Hell if you can't beat them, I guess join them. Meet my other alter ego...Twerking Tammy of the Temple. You can't see her mic or her frog cape, but she puts on a great performance. Shout out to the lady in the t-shirt store for making two mommies "twerk tank tops". I told the girls "twerk" meant "skipping". Pretty sure that will come back to bite me in the ass just like removing my privacy filter on my IG account and posting pics with hashtags milf and mamastillgotit on them. I have opened up my world to a diverse group of followers: porn stars, little boys, and perverts. NICE!!!! My instagram account resembles some shit from MySpace. Hell, when life hands you lemons or torrential rain pour....twerk somethin'. 

 

...beach take 3

2 families plus 5 girls under the age of 10 equals exhausted and delusional parents. Two tents, 100 sand toys, boogie boards, and a cooler equals parents refusing to leave the beach. 

Gone are the days of relaxing in chairs, drink in hand and book in your lap. Now, it's a constant "Where the hell are they?", "Yes, you are going to go piss in the ocean.", "If, you throw sand one more time, we are leaving Destin.", "Close your mouth and you will not taste the salt water", "Of course your eyes are on fire when you rub sand in your face.", "How did you get so much sand in the crack of your ass?" and "The ocean water is so much better than the pool!!" We bring them to the beach and they would rather swim at the pool. 

But we survived with no injuries or amber alerts. So all went well. Even avoided a trip to the ER after one of the parents had an allergic reaction and broke out in hives. He's allergic to shell fish, but has not consumed any. After calculating how much children's Benadryl he could consume, he is resting comfortably. Let's hope he wakes up. It has been recommended that he swim in a wet suit tomorrow. Giggle 

Rain is in the forecast....Xanax also. 

....Beach Body Mama Still Got It

I know we are all guilty of this. Please click on the picture!!

Getting ready for a vacation to Destin tomorrow, I began the process of pulling out my bikinis, tankinis, one pieces and cover ups. I could not help but to think about an article a close friend shared about the messages mothers send to their daughters. Basically, the article discussed a daughter who was raised by a mother with body image issues. In the daughter's eyes, she thought her mother to be the definition of beauty. Unfortunately, the mother did not agree. The mom found herself to be fat. Her mother's insecurities were fed to the daughter and absorbed. Shit, I thought. We can really mess these broads up for LIFE!!! Seriously though, my mind wandered..."Did I hug them enough today? Did I tell them I loved them? Did I tell them they were beautiful? I swear I will punch the first SOB that tells them differently square in the throat? I watch my girls frolic around in their swimsuits all day without a care in the world. How can I protect that spirit?

So many ideas and concerns surfaced about what am I saying to my children about their body when I speak of my body. I have discussed with many moms about how they wished they had just lost those last 15 lbs before the summer. I am guilty. Hell, just the other day I contemplated going on a thirty mile bike ride to "tone up" for my upcoming vacation. I have been squatting and I am pleased with the results so far. Anyway...back to swimwear. For years, I rocked tankini's and one pieces. Please note that I see nothing wrong with them. I just felt like I did not have the body for a bikini. I am comfortable with saying I don't have a Pamela Anderson body. It would be physically impossible being that she has 10 toes and all...giggle. But when did thin become so sexy? Marilyn Monroe was the epitome of sexiness and she was not a size 0.

Well,it took some great friends to tell me "Bitch, rock a two piece because you look hot". So, I went out in search for a couple of bikini's. I grabbed them and ran nervously to the dressing room at which time I am sure I entertained other customers while trying them on with my commentary.."wtf...look at my ass? Is that my ass? Damn breastfeeding! Holy hell, what am I doing with my life?" Then the picture taking started with my iphone. I sent images of myself to my Bikini Support Group...luckily not the ones with me bent over while looking at the cellulite dimples on the back of my ass. Their responses warmed my heart. This group is not the type to sugar coat shit. They were all "Bitch, we told you!" and I loved them even more at that point. All this time, I was thinking "mama still got it" with a disclosure on the end. I bought the damn things and asked the sales girl if I could return them if I should go home and my husband burst into laughter. She gave me a blank stare and said yes.

On the way home, I thought I was going to vomit. Was I stepping out of my comfort zone?  Was I ready to show the world my "lovely lady lumps"? Was I trying to be someone I am not? I ran into the house with what felt like an illegal substance. I put one on and walked my ass into our front yard while the SBF was cutting the grass. Let's just say this was the first time ever that he did not mind me bothering him while he was doing yard work. His "Damnnnnnn" response was comforting. As, I came back into the house feeling a little better about  my decision. I ran into the three divas and they squealed. "Mama, you look awesome! Mama you are hot!" Instead of saying "Are you sure?" I responded..."Thanks, I really like them too."

Okay, I was lying to them. I didn't feel it just yet. I retreated back to my safe house and examined myself thoroughly. We can be our harshest critics. I have come to terms with the breastfeeding boobs, dimpled thighs, my lymph node removal scar in my groin area, my nine toes, and my kangaroo pouch. They are my war wounds and who the hell does not want to be seen as a warrior.

So, I wore them on a girls trip and even posted pics  on FB. And guess what.....I started to like the damn things and realized all of this time I was hiding my imperfections because I did not look like those Victoria Secret models or post baby celebrities with trainers. I had secretly drank the kool aid and didn't even know it. My body has imperfections, but "MAMA STILL GOT IT". I was hiding behind one pieces and cover ups because I didn't look like the bikini models. Shit!!! Those bikini models can go to hell. They have not lived my life despite the fact that they may have children, they may have breastfed, and may even be my age.

Last night as I began to fill up my bikini bag for a trip to the beach, I felt a little discomfort creep up. Do I really want to go to the beach with a two piece and three children? There's going to be a lot of bending over. So, I tried on a recently purchased bikini and followed in the footsteps of "Miss B". I wore that damn thing all night long while folding clothes, loading the dishwasher, and cleaning our house. The Divas followed me around showering me with wonderful statements of how beautiful I looked. This time, I responded differently. I told them..."Thanks, I know!! I really love some bikini's". And to be a little melodramatic I swear I could hear "Born free....as free as the wind blows....." playing in the background.

Hopefully, this will start the foundation of my girls feeling comfortable with the bodies they have. I was comfortable in the bikini. I just was not comfortable with not looking like the images in the magazines.

Never do I want these Divas to not love their forever changing bodies. I will be their biggest fan and their biggest cheerleader because I am their mom. I will also be my biggest fan and my biggest cheerleader. If I am willing to do it for them, I can do it for myself.

 

So ladies...the summer is going by fast. Life is going by fast. Don't waste your time hiding your body because it does not add up to the expectations of society. My advice: "Do you boo! Cause if you like it. I love it" You rock whatever the hell you want whether it's a bikini, tankini, or one piece because you love your body. So, let's show our girls pride, confidence, and self love.

Say it with me and say it like you mean it...."MAMA STILL GOT IT"