...Crazy mom seeking cheer

I cannot believe that Christmas will be here in two weeks. What the hell??????? Our household has been a complete blur since Thanksgiving. Confession: I broke my rule of no Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving and I think I have whipped up a shitload of craziness because of it. Thanksgiving break brought cold wet weather and to keep myself from running through the neighborhood naked, I decided it would be fun to go ahead and get started on Christmas. The whole family was experiencing a serious case of cabin fever. So, nothing like a tree and some lights to show us the end of the tunnel. The SBF brought down 12 boxes of Christmas mania from the attic and walked away. His job was finished. I began the task of Christmas cheer. Ten minutes into the madness, I realized our prelit tree was no longer prelit, but I was prepared. I had purchased tons of Christmas lights. There was Christmas music playing in the background and I knew this would be a moment of happiness...true bliss.

Within thirty minutes of this process, my house looked like a fraternity party gone bad. The Divas had stepped on and smashed several strands of lights. They were fighting over who could climb in the boxes and the SBF had decided to put on some "African spiritual music". We are a family with a vast variety of musical tastes, but I wanted damn Christmas music. I wanted the f---king cheer. The Divas loved it and decided to turn over boxes full of ornaments and beat the empty boxes like drums. I think I bit a hole in the side of my mouth, but I did not say a word. I continued to "fluff" out the tree. For one second, I became fearful that one of my ancestors would come out of the tree and choke the shit out of me. Why???? Why did my house sound like this...the screams, drums, and mumbling had me thinking we participating in some voodoo craft. As they pranced around and the SBF sang into a microphone, I went through my ornaments. Long gone are the days of fancy ornaments. All of my ornaments bounce. It took me three years and numerous broken glass ornaments to realize that I had to make the switch. I was finding some peace in meticuously placing every ornament in it's

designated spot until the SBF decided to scare the shit out of the Divas with his "moans" on the mic. So, they ran to me wanting to help. I told myself this would be a moment they would remember. So, I foolishly accepted their help. The fighting and crying that erupted caused me to black out a couple of times. I watched them push each other into our Christmas tree, fight over ornaments, bite, wrestle, and snatch Christmas shit for the next thirty minutes. I stepped back and allowed them to put six ornaments on one limb only to watch them all fall to the floor. I said nothing. The rage inside of me had left me speechless. The oldest Diva began to chase Miss B around the house with a stuffed Grinch which she's scared shitless of. The SBF was still singing and I contemplated walking out the door. Finally, I could not take anymore and I let lose a good old "F--K" followed by some shit that sounded like I was speaking in tongues. They all stood there frozen as if I had lost my mine. They had their "mommy said "f--k" while putting up the Christmas tree" look....blasphemy!!! The SBF cut the music off and escorted them to bath time. I flipped him off as he walked by. I decorated the whole damn house by myself and it currently looks like I had a Christmas seizure. Every corner of my house is decorated with Christmas cheer to the point that I want to vomit.

(check out the shard of ice coming out of his cheek)

Miss B begged me to put up outside lights this year. So, I did...hoping it would make her Christmas extra special. Currently, there are lights going half way up the only three trees in our front yard because I didn't have the courage to climb a ladder and go all the way to the top. I also have three wooden trees that are lit up by 100 watt flood lights. They shine so brightly onto the trees and into our house that there is no longer a need to turn one damn lamp on. Matter of fact, I think those sons of bitches are actually heating the house. There is an orange forty foot cord going through our front yard and at the end is what is sure to be a fire hazard. But there are candy canes, lights, and an inflatable snowman damnit!!!!!! The front door is nicely decorated. So, I am at peace with the debacle and I could give a shit what the neighbors think. The shocking part....the Divas could give two shits about those lights. They only think of them when they want to bring up something mommy is not doing right. A couple days of ago, Miss B came to me in her scolding voice "Mommy the snowman is not up?"  In my head, I said "f--k you" and then asked for forgiveness. I put on my green suede slippers on and marched through the wet frozen grass and proceeded to pry a frozen completely flat snowman off the ground. I screamed. I cursed. I yelled. That bitch ass snowman was going to inflate if it killed me. I snatched the wet cord and plugged it into the strip of hazard and prayed it would electrocute me...not kill me. I just wanted it to shock me to the point I would pass out in the wet grass for a while. It did inflate and there was a nice shard of ice sticking out the side of it. I felt it was symbolic of how I was feeling. I stomped my frostbitten ass across the yard, entered the house, and proceeded to scream to the SBF not to unplug one damn Christmas decoration... "EVER!!!!" and I called him a son of a bitch. Oh. Yes. I. Did.


To continue our Christmas cheer, I decided to purchase a gingerbread house. I went over a friend's house and fell in love with her nicely decorated gingerbread house. What a great idea for my Divas? I came home with the box and their faces lit up with joy. I cleaned off the kitchen table and vowed that I would be happy and joyful during the entire process. I told myself I would not get caught up in how they decorated the house. I wanted them to cherish the memory. First, the bitches began to plead with me to allow them to eat the damn candy for the house. Miss B could not understand why she couldn't bite into the roof. You would think I deprived them of sweets. I ignored the nonsense and the fighting over peppermints and began to squeeze out the white icing aka as white crack. Those bitches saw the icing and lost their mind. They begged to eat it and I started screaming "It's for the damn house". One of them suggested using glue and I almost went to a dark place. We put the damn house together and I ignored the fact that Miss B licked the icing off of one side. I ignored the fighting over gumdrops. I quietly watched them make a complete f--king mess. When it was finished, I decided to take a picture. I bullshit thee not....3 seconds after snapping a photo the damn house fell apart. They screamed and I just stood there. The SBF came running and had the nerve to rub my shoulder and comfort me. "You tried your best" he said. I politely whispered in his ear..."I could give two f--ks about that house. Y'all are driving me f--king crazy". The Divas tried to put it back together and were unsuccessful. I said nothing. I watched them eat the icing and candy. I even watched Miss B take at least 5 shots of green sugar crystals to the head. I left the shit of a mess on the kitchen table and climbed into bed. Miss B ran around for 3 straight hours in circles due to a sugar high and I watched TV.


Now on to our elf...Mr. Jingle Jangle. He is male and he likes to wear skirts. Don't judge him. I have developed a love hate relationship for this little shit. I hate to admit he is over Jesus in our house right now. Miss B will shit bricks if I tell her that I'm going to tell Jingle about how she screamed for five miles on the way to school because she didn't want to wear socks. Homework, extracurricular activities, and Christmas parties have taken over our life. So by the time I crawl to bed, I don't want to do anything nice to that Jingle. I seriously thought about cutting his damn arm off to traumatize Miss B. One night, he did not move because he was placed on the "No Fly" list due to the banshee like screaming that had occurred from all three Divas at supper time. My ability to create funny little situations have turned into some "Shining" shit. I giggled one night as I wrote a message from Jingle on our chalkboard in the kitchen. I wanted to write "redrum". Yep, that's where I am on the holiday cheer list. I hate the ELF ON THE SHELF!!!!! But for my children, I will still participate in the nonsense.




I am tapped out and still have two weeks to go. I am ready to remove all of the red and green shit in my house. I don't want to listen to Feliz Navidad on repeat every day. I want to drop kick Jingle's ass into the front yard by the inflatable snowman with the ice shard sticking out of him. I remember Christmas as a child and I would literally sit quietly for hours and stare at our Christmas tree. It was pure bliss or either my mother drugged me during the holidays with Benadryl and I was hallucinating.

After our Christmas Pageant at church tonight, I will have my cheer alright. It's going to come over me as I pop open my champagne and drink directly from the bottle. And I will sing loud and merrily "Cheers and to everyone....goodnight!"

...do overs

School has basically started back for the Davis Divas and there is peace in the valley. No more whining about being bored. No more of me sitting in a stinking ass bouncy place for 5 hours just to entertain them. No more constant contact with three little shits that have failed to realize that my life cannot revolve around them. The last few days of summer had become quite unhealthy. Brooklyn and I got in an argument over the use of the word "fucka". She told me she was only saying it to inform me that "fucka" was a bad word. Well, the little bitch likes to repeat herself 10 times.

Miss B entered the world of PreK today and I have said many prayers for her. Her spirit is untamed. Her PreK teacher taught the two oldest Divas and I have given her fair warning that she is of a different kind of blood. Her manners are slow to come and her negotiating skills are intense. During Open House, I watched the other parents showing their kids around with such joy. Their little ones ran around eager to take it all in. Miss B looked around, took her snack, and kept informing me she was ready to go. I pray her lack of enthusiasm was due to the fact that she had been up and down those halls with her sisters. I pray.....

I had her perfect dressed picked out and her favorite headband. Her monogrammed backpack was full of requested supplies. Damn!! I was doing good. The more kids you have. The more opportunities to muck up. It is humanly impossible to have all three happy at one time. So this morning as the middle one whined about not liking her hair and the oldest informed me that her brand new tennis shoes were too small, I gave zero fucks. Miss B was happy and that's all I could manage. I scrambled to get a picture of her holding her "first day of preschool sign" and only screamed twice to please look at the camera and smile. 

I sent them on with the SBF to be dropped off at their designated locations. I hate car pool lines and was running late. Miss B's PreK schedule is not a full day. So, she will catch a bus from her daycare to her elementary school in the mornings and will be dropped off at daycare after lunch. A community service project had me up till 2 am. So, I was functioning in a serious fog of sleep deprivation this morning. But, I knew the bus would pick her up at 8:30 am and planned to be there with my camera and my tears and my well wishes. 

At approximately 8:00 am, the SBF sent me a picture of my baby getting on the fucking school bus. Everything went black and I dropped my phone. "Fucka!!!" I was in route to the daycare!!!! I am pretty sure the passengers in their vehicles on the highway were concerned about the crazy lady screaming foul words and violently shaking her steering wheel. I didn't give a shit at that point. The tears started flowing. I started howling over a dropped Xanax that fell on my floorboard somewhere in my car (don't worry...I found the bitch). I had gone to a dark place. 

My reaction may be a little over the top for some. But I have never missed the first day of PreK bus ride.  I have been there. I am always there. I was there when she entered the world and she ripped my ass from one hole to the next (I know TMI). I was there when she projectile vomited yellow shit that I swore was bile the first week of her life. I was there when she was known around town as the "most bow legged, pigeon toed" baby ever. 

I know it sounds childish for me to think it doesn't count if I didn't see it, but it doesn't. I want a do over. I needed to be there to tell her to use her "nice" words and good manners. I needed to tell her that she could not demand somebody to come wipe her ass. I needed to to tell her to please call the teachers by their names and not "the white one" or "the black one". I needed that little shit to hug the life out of me, so that I could put life into her. I needed to mark her with my scent..."my crazy ass mama who will choke the shit out of anyone that dares to hurt her untamed soul" scent. 

I am thankful that the SBF sent me pictures. I have studied them like some shit off a CSI episode to see if there was a slither of fear in her eyes or sadness in her heart...for I will kill anyone that hurts her.