...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!"

...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

...just say yes

Public service announcement:

I am an advocate for prescription medications. Circumstances in my life have occurred that require the assistance of medication. Pristiq and Xanax have worked well in my life over the last two years. Am I ashamed? Hell no!!! Life can suck ass sometimes and breathing in and out just won't fix it. Lately, I have read articles where asshats are going in on moms who take medication. They are afraid there is a pill epidemic. How about there is an "I'm tired as shit" epidemic. By the time I finished the article, I was pissed. I wanted to send an email to the writer full of real naughty words along with an attached video of Miss B having a shit fit because she can't tie a bow around her doll's head. Or maybe they would like to see the three Divas have a cat fight over a blue damn marker. But I decided to be the better person and take my pill and ignore the nonsense. The nerve of some to judge us. Everyone has their own struggles and coping mechanisms. My coping mechanism is provided by the good ole folks of Pfizer.

Many say that present day mothers are using medication as a cop out and mothers back in the day didn't need medication...blah...blah...blah. Those bitches weren't happy. They were faking it. Holding strong to some f____g rule that motherhood was never hard and always rewarding. Putting on fake ass smiles like they had their shit together only to be rewarded by little Johnny smearing shit on the bathroom walls.

I think times are changing. More mothers realize that it's okay to just say yes. Yes, my kids make me want to punch myself in the face. Yes, I have contemplated slashing my husbands tires before a night out with the fellas. Yes, I have screamed back at the little shit screaming in the car because it wants ice cream for dinner. Yes, I have given my kids a box of cookies just so I could zone out on the couch. Yes, I have gone days without showering. Yes, I have watched my child spill an entire cup of juice and walked away like nothing happened. Yes, I take the long way home when I get to ride in the car by myself. And yes, I take medication to keep from going apeshit in the carpool line because the jackass in front of me cut me off. Yes, yes, yes!!!

I take medication so that I will come home from the grocery store and not follow the highway exit marked "Freedom". I take medication to keep me from verbally abusing the Best Buy Geek squad guy for his "judging look" when I sort of push Miss B.'s head off of me. He doesn't know my struggle. He doesn't know this bitch touches me with her nasty ass fingers all day. I take medication because the people that have my heart drive me crazy on a daily basis. I think some fear the use of medication will have them walking around like a zombie. I beg to differ. I am more present than ever before. There is a clarity that is offered to me when the food has burned, the kids are whining and the SBF is out of town. I am able to see through the smoke and tears and realize that the world has not come to an end and that this moment of hell shall pass. I am a much better mom....not a perfect mom because I am not Jesus. But, I am a better mom.

For those who can function without medication, I applaud you and give you a high five. My personality and expectations out of life will just not allow it. I never knew how much I liked silence until I had children. I never knew how much I liked objects to stay in their assigned places until I had children. I never knew how much I liked to be alone in my thoughts. Everyday it's a constant struggle to make what I like fit in my life with my Divas. What in the hell happened to my wants, needs, desires, and aspirations? I tried saying the hell with it and giving them all of me....shoving all of my needs into a little box. As time passed, my little box became a ticking time bomb. "Life shit" happened on top of just being a mother and Boom!!!!!!! I am in a strange doctor's office crying hysterically and repeating "I don't know why I am crying, but I can't stop and I'm sorry". I cried to the nurse. I cried to the receptionist. I cried in the waiting room to any stranger that would make eye contact with me. By the time, I saw the doctor I was a snotty f_____g mess. His first question "Are you okay?". My response, "I'm fine". Like a Stepford wife, I responded with my go to phrase. "I'm fine". What I should have said then was "I'm a fine piece of complete fuckery."

Well, my yellow brick road lead me to a psychiatrist. Why people are afraid to say they see a shrink is complete nonsense!! I get to visit someone who only wants to hear about me and my life and my issues and my struggles. Hallelujah!! I have an insane love for the three Divas and the SBF. Their souls are intoxicating and I am addicted to them. That addiction though causes me to lose myself. I can't make them my all and everything. It's not fair to them or to myself. I have let go of all the beliefs that I cannot have a world outside of them. I have let go of the idea that motherhood is always rewarding. I have to let go of the guilt I carry when I don't want to play f_____g barbie dolls, but instead I want to watch shitty reality TV.

So, there are circumstances in my life that I cannot change right now and until then I will gladly accept a prescription that will allow me to maintain. Hell, I drink coffee in the morning to give me a boost or kick to get my day going. So, I take a little pink pill to keep me from singing a song in the car while bussing the three Divas around called "Shut the f____up, Shut the f_____up. Please, oh please, shut the f_____k up." I don't have my shit together like I want, but I am at least keeping my shit together. The blocks are not all in a row perfectly alphabetized, but they are in a basket. Everyday I just try not to drop my basket.

So wherever your yellow brick road takes you on the journey of motherhood.......
just "Do you boo!"

...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. 

...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

....liar, liar...mama's on fire.

It was bound to happen. We all have our skeletons, our demons, our secrets. For 14 years off and on (so, I guess actually 9), I have been able to remain in the closet about a nasty little habit of mine that I picked up in college. 

I knew the lying about having to spray the garage every night with bug spray would get old. I knew the hiding in the woods would only take me so far. I knew the littering roof guy could only visit our house everyday before the Divas got suspicious. 

Last week, I was "spraying for bugs in the garage when Miss B opened the door and yelled out "mom are you smoking again?" Holy hell almighty. I think I crushed the cigarette butt in my hand and yelped no. Wtf??? How did she know???

A friend sent some pictures to my middle child for her birthday along with a present  and there stood my oldest holding a picture of me smoking. Shit!! I politely removed it quickly from her hand and walked away. I did not acknowledge the photo at all. I said nothing. Twice in one week!! Wtf???

Well, Ward 5 had pushed me to the edge by Sunday. The SBF was having a mood swing. Three Divas were bored. So, I ran outside for refuge. The SBF came outside to inform me that Miss B wanted to know why she couldn't just play outside while I smoked. F____!!!

Well, the SBF asked her how she knew I smoked and she blamed it on the middle Diva who then denied it. The SBF had decided months ago to stop covering for me. So, everyday was a risk. My closest friends know I smoke and maybe 5 family members. So I know this little confession is going to lead to some phone calls. 

Shit!!!!!! I threw my butt on the ground (no reason to hide it) because I was busted. I walked in the house to 3 little Divas scared and shocked. Muck me!! Muck me!!! I confessed and apologized for lying and doing something unhealthy. I told them I would quit. I have been able to quit cold turkey before...pregnancy/breastfeeding. So, I quit. I felt short of going before the Church and confessing all the sins I had committed after a Friday night football game as a teenager. 

The PBS after school special that was taking place in my house made me want to faint. The questions got harder. My heart broke into pieces. I knew better. I have always known better. A cancer survivor with a family history of various cancers including lung cancer makes me a candidate. They were supportive of their mom's fall from grace. They were forgiving and loving. The middle Diva even said she may try smoking as an adult. Wtf....maybe she was trying to make me feel better. "Try your best not to ever try it" is all the advice I could give at that moment. What had I done??? 

I am aware of the risks of smoking. I have dealt with the guilt for many years. I have seen the effects of smoking with family members. In a sick way, I have always been intrigued by it. It brought a sense of freedom and rebellion. Honestly, I like it, but I love those Divas and I need to do a better job at loving myself. It has been a habit that has brought such peace and comfort. A habit that took away the loneliness. A habit that allowed me to get away from the noise, the kids, and the constant movement. For a couple minutes, I was free and alone. 

So, I am on my second day and I have cheated a little. Last night, I drove the Divas sixty miles to Best Buy to get the middle Diva's Kindle Fire HD fixed. After driving in heavy rain, we arrive at the store. I walk in with all three kids beside me exhausted from working all day and I go find my geek. The geek plugged the damn thing up and it worked. He gave me a look like "take your meds lady". I whispered while staring at him "I should not have quit smoking today."  I was getting ready to call him something when the middle Diva loudly declared she was hungry...bitch!!!!

I calmly left with a now working Kindle Fire and three hungry whiny kids. While in the Wendy's drive thru, I started blaming the three Divas and the SBF for bothering the shit out of me to the point that I almost hide under my car in the garage to smoke a cigarette. These assholes were driving me insane with their constant needs, wants, wishes, desires, and expectations. I had played super woman for too long. F___ this shit!!

We arrived home to find the SBF smiling. I had written him off. He had gone out and bought a candle for my "bravery". All I could think of was..."kiss ass". I know...awful me and bless his heart. I kept myself busy doing community service stuff. Then a wave hit me.....

I approached the SBF and said I was going to kick his laptop out of his lap. Plain and simple....that is what I felt like doing at that moment. He nervously giggled from what I recall and the shit fit I had began. The conversation ended with the SBF asking if I wanted to watch True Blood and me saying I would rather put shit in between my hands and clap. I saw that little phrase on Pinterest and had been saving it. 

I am glad to report the SBF is still alive. Apologies have surfaced and washed the "shit" from last night away. I vow to stop for my family and myself. I know the mood swings and cravings will subside. I had chest pains while trying to figure out the oldest Diva's school schedule earlier, but the pains subsided. The days will get better. I know this. 

Disclaimer: please do not offer up any judgments or bad vibes or mean words...unless you are Jesus. He's the only one I am answering to right now. 

...Throwback Thursday

While doing research (stalking) on FB last night, I came across some app that would allow me to read old FB status posts. Frightening to say the least!! So, in honor of throwback Thursday...

Throwback Thursday
Status Updates

1. Aug. 2009..."Mommy!!! Jesus and Santa are gonna be so proud of me because I listened at school today."--the middle one
2. Oct. 2009...Farryn informed me that she is going to write about me in her "diarrhea".
3. July 2010...SBF: "Where's your mama?". Farryn: "She's out in the garage screwing." SBF: "WHAT? Where is she?". Farryn: "I told you she's out in the garage screwing." FYI: I was screwing a chair back together.
4. Oct. 2011...It warms my heart that Miss B refers to her father as "my Josh". It's a little disturbing when she says "Shit, my Josh" all the way to school.
5. Oct. 2011...Me: You think I'm your maid. SBF: You think I'm your sugar daddy.
6. Nov. 2011...4 strands of broken Christmas lights, 3 children crying, 2 broken snow globes and a mommy drinking Bailey's in her coffee.
7. Jan. 2012...While cooking supper, I found it most appropriate to raise my martini glass to the stay at home moms, the full time working moms, and the part time working moms. How about we stop focusing so much on those silly adjectives we put before our names and just start calling ourselves..FAMS (f____g awesome moms)!
8. Feb. 2012...Cooked a sausage and broccoli frittata with a side of roasted potatoes only to hear Miss B scream "it nassy. it choking me"
9. March 2012...Yes, I was the lady on the bike who was swerving and cursing and panting and almost wrecked twice. What husband suggests bike riding after his wife has had her own little happy hour.
10. March 2012...Driving through campus, I found myself wanting to roll down the window and yell "life is going to bite you in the ass" to all of the happy college students.
11. Sept. 2012...Just imagined kicking a homework folder out of one kid's hand. Instead, I will break a pencil in half while hiding in the closet. I think mommy is a little tired.
12. Oct. 2012...It's really sad when you walk past a child who has fallen asleep on the couch and you immediately think..."Shit, she's getting sick."
13. Oct. 2012...You can whisper in his ear, refuse to make eye contact with me, and try to walk past my bedroom with a broom all you want too. We still use monitors. I can hear you. I know you just broke a lamp.
14. Oct. 2012...Nothing says "good ole health loving marriage" more than screaming through the shower door to that sexy bald fella..."Eat dog shit".
15. Dec. 2012...'Twas the day before Christmas and all through the house, my kids are being little shits and I've flipped off my spouse. My kitchen is a wreck from flour and red dye, the Christmas CD is skipping and I want to cry. But what to my wondering eyes just appeared, a bottle of chilled champagne to let me know peace will soon be near.

After reading several posts, I felt like there was a pattern present.

My family has been bat shit crazy for quite some time now...at least we have remained consistent over the years.

....Wife Duties

I was loafing around on Pinterest the other day and came across a friend's pin. This is an article supposedly from an Econ book in the 1950s. I literally almost shit my pants from laughter and shock. I swear the mother smiling in the picture looks like she is baked and secretly telling her husband to go f____ himself. The children look like they are playing the game "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours." The photo itself screams dysfunction. The words typed below scream borderline human trafficking. I would pay money to bitch slap the author of this piece of work. Even if this article is fake, there is a hidden message that I feel has been passed down from generation to generation. The message being surrender yourself to becoming someone else's bitch for the rest of your life and love doing it because it is your job.

After I wiped the tears away from laughing and choking, I started to think about my home life. The three days I am with the Divas all day are pretty scary. The fighting, screaming, crying, and whining can be brutal to my mental health. How many times can you plead with them to sit down and stop it? Some days, I totally understand what may drive someone to try Meth. Don't judge me....I have a four year old whose only speed is "hard". She screams hard. She hits hard. She laughs hard. She scratches hard. She bites hard. She talks hard. She loves hard. She has no middle. She is either full throttle or sick. By the time the SBF comes home, I'm speaking softly alright. I am whispering that he can go to hell if he leaves me one more day with his children. As he tosses them around on a bed that I just made, I try not to scream as I watch my pillows get tossed on the floor. The sheet from my once perfectly made bed has become a parachute. The children are filthy and I grimace as their dirty ass feet prance around the bed as he sings with them. There is no food cooked because they have eaten shit all day. The dishes are dirty. The washing machine is rocking back and forth like a space ship because I am washing the 12 towels used to clean up spills that day. The only thing fresh on my body is the booger that Brooklyn wiped on my shirt. I stand there at the bedroom door and I just look at them. Every once in a while, I see the beauty in the moment. They love their daddy so, but most of the time I stand there toying with the definition of abandonment or how bad is a place with padded walls. I wait for my turn to be interesting for him alright. I inform him that his daughter must have a tape worm because she digs in her ass all the time. The other daughter walks into walls on a regular basis. And his third daughter refuses to embrace the importance of deodorant.

I am pretty sure this guide lead to a constant sense of failure and lack of fulfillment because it's unattainable. There are not enough brainwashing techniques out there to convince a mother/wife this is their destiny in life. So, I started thinking of a guide for the mother/wives of the 21 century.

1. Prepare yourself by having a cocktail at 4 pm & again at 5 pm. Drink the cocktails very fast. This will cause you to feel refreshed and gay. The stronger the cocktail, the easier it will be to pretend to listen to him talk about his day. He will sound like the Charlie Brown teacher and eventually mute.
2. Grab all of the toys, leggos, crayons, paper, clothes, dolls, cars, and shoes and toss them in the backyard. If he decides he would like to retire on the patio and relax, he will have the most beautiful display of chaos in the backyard.
3. You are not crazy no matter what they say or how they look at you when you start slinging pots in the kitchen. So, while cooking make sure to slam enough doors to scare the shit out of them. This will hopefully give you a couple minutes of silence.
4. When he walks in the door, punch him in the throat immediately. This will allow him to feel the choking sensation you were succumbed to all day because your children won't listen.
5. If he comes home late or suggests that he is going to meet the fellas after work, light a fire and line up all of his shit in the living room.
6. Be so interesting when he comes home that he will wonder if you drank more than just a bottle this time. Note: hide the bottles. The less he knows the better.
7. Wait outside with the children when it's time for him to come home. As soon as he pulls in the drive way, return to the house and deadbolt the door.
8. Hide the remote before he comes home. When he settles down to zone out to 5 recorded episodes of PTI, he will get the exercise he needs searching for the remote. Remember you need a healthy provider.
9. When he falls asleep before the children are bathed and the dishes are washed, pick up his phone and change his ringtone, text message alerts, and email alerts to every Disney Princess theme song. This will keep him alert and on his toes.
10. Know your place....you are the glue that holds all of the shit together. The good shit and the bad shit and for this you deserve the world.

I know many will read this and think "she wouldn't....". Well if I had to pick between the two guides, pretty sure the last one meshes with my domestic capabilities. 

...birthday party rehab

In five days, I prepared an American Girl slumber party for my middle child. For five days, I secretly felt like I had fallen off the wagon. I could feel the demon growing inside of me. She had been bound and chained for too long. She was free and she wanted to show her ASS. Luckily, medication would mute her sometimes and keep her from going out asking a friend to please come dressed as the American Girl Doll of the Year...Saige. Wtf....really??? What happened to our generation? I remember just having cake and ice cream at parties...no theme, no party food, no games really, and definitely no party favors. I vividly remember sitting and watching my friends open their gifts and hoping that I would be able to stay long enough to play with their shit. I am not quite sure when and why things changed. Cards are no longer written in blank invitations. They have beautiful fonts, pictures, instructions, and rhymes. I know all of this because I am a former Birthdayzilla. Never did I do it to show up other mothers. Something inside of me drove my imagination to act a damn fool and go way beyond what was necessary.

So this week, as I prepared for the party, there was a constant internal struggle on whether the shit was really necessary. Visions of the party popped into my head like I had partaken in a mushroom binge. I have a condition called "I like to make my shit". "Could I build a stage in five days?" "No, wait...what about a photo booth?". Could I make 6 doll sleeping bags in 5 days with no damn sewing machine? What about a table for the dolls they were asked to bring? Wouldn't it be cute to find small party food for them? By the third day, I had visited 4 different stores. The irritation grew and finally I said "get your shit together". I threw tons of parties in the past and never once enjoyed them. I was so exhausted and drained from gluing, building, baking, and painting. I was never really present at these parties either. I was a robot. I had expectations, plans, an agenda, and a schedule. I didn't get to hear the laughter. I didn't see the smiles. I was glued to a camera trying to take pictures. They were never fun for me because I was not THERE...the birthdayzilla was. So, I politely told the beast to get the hell on and I planned a party for my sweet Farryn.....

Despite what you may be thinking, the decorations took less than 3 hours. Paper plates and plastic table cloths can do wonders. As I put up the decorations, I ignored Miss B telling me that "this party better be good". I shocked the SBF by telling him the menu consisted of grilled hot dogs, chips, and Hawain Punch. Our local bakery, Emileighs, did a beautiful job on the cake. They did such a great job that Miss B decided to lick it when I was greeting one of the parents. I quickly fought back the urge to pop her with a rubber band and just smoothed the sides out. The games consisted of a photo booth and writing a wish on a piece of paper and attaching it to a balloon to release in the front yard. I bought 8 balloons. Funny how the balloons for the sexy bald fella and me popped before we got out the door. I guess you can call that f____g reality for you. Overall, Farryn was happy. She didn't see a mother tired, exhausted, stressed with clinched teeth. She saw a mother playing and having fun this time.

My only "muck up" consisted of eating 5 slices of the most delicious cake ever. Yes, I said 5!! I woke up early to get breakfast ready for the girls. I kept it simple cinnamon rolls and strawberries. I was feeling relaxed and sipped my coffee. As I opened the first can of dough, my stomach began to sound like waves crashing in the ocean. Shit!!! The next two hours I spent in the bathroom sweating and cursing the SBF who could not stop laughing at the state I was in. I found the energy to text the parents telling them to take their time because "we were having so much fun!" The SBF finished breakfast for me and got the girls up 30 minutes before pick up time. I cursed myself for a night of over indulgence. WTH was I thinking, but that cake spoke to my soul. I am a sugar whore.

One mother showed up right on time. I apologized for not being ready. Dehydrated and delusional, I confessed that I had diarrhea all morning in front of everyone. By that time, I literally didn't give a shit. She laughed thank goodness. The SBF stood in shock. I staggered back to bed and the doorbell rang again. I mustered up enough strength and answered the door. There stood two Jehovah's Witnesses. Damnit...really? What a coincidence one of the ladies is my "kroger friend". My "kroger friend" works at Kroger and felt we were close enough one time to tell me my haircut was ugly...BITCH! I admit I was getting ready to tell them that I couldn't talk because I had the shits. Of course, I am surrounded by my daughters and their friends. Right when I was going to say "not today"....Miss B holds out her hands and yells "They are just black girls. They are not your mothers." WTF did she just say???? Really???? I took the Watchtowers, gave them a weak smile, and slammed the door. In Miss B's defense, she knows the mothers of all of the girls. Unfortunately, the easiest way for her to explain how she knew for sure these strangers were not coming to pick up our friends was by describing them by race.

Overall, the party was great. One little girl felt very special on her day and that was enough for me. I didn't have to go out and spend a fortune. There was no big production. It was just right for her and where we are in our life right now. I will not be forced to enter rehab...in the words of Amy Winehouse (RIP)..."No! No! No!". For those mothers who are still in the stages of going all out, I applaud you and give you a "do you, boo!!" shout out. I think whether the party is simple or extravagant that we must remember it's a celebration. Celebrations are suppose to be fun and it's okay for the host to have fun too!!! Mom the f_____ on!!!

...MUCK UPS

So, what is a MUCK up??? It's when a mom f____s up. You do something that you regret. You are sure you have damaged your children for life. You have good intentions that backfire. It has happened to us all and if it hasn't it will. Please note that I am not sending out bad vibes to those mothers that have been so very lucky to have not experienced a muck up. I just know that without a doubt it will happen to the best of us because we are human. Just recently my friends and I shared some muck ups to help console another friend who was sure she had damaged her child for life. How comforting it was to realize that I was not alone in the cluster f___k of raising my children. I have had my shining moments where I bowed to the imaginary applause and patted myself on the back. I have also had those dark moments that made me hide in the bathroom while crying and looking in the mirror and asking myself..."What the f____k were you thinking?"

What are my muck ups? There are so many, but I want to share a few for those mothers out there that are tired and weary. The mothers that are hiding in closets in the dark. The mothers that are beating themselves up over the impossible task of trying to never muck up.

• Muck up 1: I watched my oldest stare out of our car window while drooling and telling me she could see little green men because I overdosed her by accident. I am pretty sure other drivers were wondering why I was running off the road and swerving due to panic. 
• Muck up 2: I woke up sleep deprived from breastfeeding when my less than one month old baby fell out of my lap and onto the floor. Her screaming woke me up. I spiraled into mass hysteria, sobbing, and wailing. That event really helped me jump right into post partum depression.
• Muck up 3: I locked my middle child in my car at my dad's house one night. Josh was quick enough to grab the bricks out of my hand before I smashed every window in my car and called 911. The neighbors stood by quietly and watched the fire department open my door. They seem disturbed by my pacing and banshee screaming. Funny how she slept through the entire event while I cried on the shoulder of a fireman.
•  Muck up 4: I caused a mad search at our local candy store. As I was taking orders for ice cream, I noticed my middle child was missing. I gave my youngest who was about 3 months old to a stranger, threw down my purse, and began running up and down the sidewalk screaming her name. My heart raced, tears were streaming down my face, and I could hear the owner of the candy store screaming my child's name while she ran up and down parking lots. I found my middle child locked in the car where I left her. I forgot to get her out. FYI: the SBF was with me also. I looked at my child through the car window while screaming forgive me and she returned a look like "wtf is wrong with you mom? you forgot me." I didn't want any ice cream after that. 
• Muck up 5: I forgot to lock the door one night. I don't think I need to say anything else except what a way to kill the mood. I will confess that the last time a child twisted the LOCKED door...the naked SBF ran across the bed and into the closet. Giggle
• Muck up 6: I took all the Divas on a short trip to a museum and lunch in another town. After Miss B had a shit fit on us in a really nice restaurant and proceeded to scream all the way home, everything went black and I yelled "Shut the f___  up!" My middle child stared out the window all the way home with the weirdest little smirk. Of course, they all informed the SBF of my really really really bad bad word. 
• Muck up 7: I attempted to have a phone conversation regarding a community service activity. I politely asked the young woman to hold on because Miss B was screaming in the background. I thought I put her on mute, but I didn't. So, she got to hear me tell Miss B to "Shut the hell up". Luckily, she laughed.
• Muck up 8: I was given a beautiful old antique door. I was in the process of trying to decide where to put it in my house. I quickly went out and bought a stud finder and secured it to the dam wall after it fell on top of Miss B and flattened her like a sandwich. 
• Muck up 9:  The first time my oldest got really sick and she ended up in the hospital with pneumonia. I was a new mom and did not know that a humidifier needed to be cleaned. I almost sliced my wrists when we brought her home and I decided to clean it and found mold spores growing inside.
• Muck up 10: I cried and begged our dentist to do an Xray on my middle child because she was 18 months old and had no teeth. I was convinced she had no teeth buds and was prepared to chew her food for her for the rest of her life. Of course the Xray, revealed teeth buds and I think she cut her first tooth two weeks later.

Luckily, the older I get the more inclined I am to share my muck ups with other people. I found my confessions bring much laughter to some and to others I sense a plot to contact DHS on me. I just give them a little wink and a "muck you" smile. It is what it is. All of my children are alive and loved immensely. It is because I love them so that I am bat shit crazy. So, some days I win and some days I lose. It's the nature of the beast.

Disclaimer: Let us not judge one another. We are doing our best. Before, I am attacked by the naughty word police. I do not curse my children on a regular basis. Matter of fact, we try our very best not to say naughty words in our house. I save those words for my friends and my blog.

...home sweet hell

After traveling 55 mph for 2.5 hours because my vehicle decided to get stuck in 3rd gear, I could not help but to run to our kitchen door upon our arrival home. The SBF and I had gone from laughing uncontrollably to cursing each other out under our breath. It was bound to happen. You put a family of five in a car for 8 hrs and all of the ugliness starts to show. The real ugly. He wanted me to apologize for saying he was acting like Miss B. I wanted him to lick the crack of my ass. Funny how marriage can go from good to bad in a matter of seconds. Just Monday, we were sitting on the beach and laughing. Today, I contemplated staking him like a vampire on True Blood. Only because I love him so much am I able to feel comfortable with such violent thoughts.

Having all girls means that I am stuck on bathroom duty and it sucks ass royally. I don't know how many times I have had to threaten "If you touch something in this bathroom, you hands will rot off. So every time someone has to piss or shit, I am responsible for dragging them into sketchy bathrooms. The last stop was an emergency because Miss B announced she had "die-a-rhea". I run to a bathroom while holding her heavy ass and pleading "try to hold it for mommy" and praying "Dear God, please don't let her shit on me...not today....not on my twerk tank top". I knock on the door and a woman comes out immediately. Startled, I say thank you thinking she must sense the urgency. This bitch had the nerve to say "I don't know why you are thanking me. I am just using the bathroom." I was completely shocked. As I stood over Miss B listening to her once again give me a play by play of what she was dropping in the toilet, I was fighting back the tears. I wanted to go beat the hell out of this lady. I wanted to literally shake the shit out of her. I wanted a slap off contest with this cold heartless bitch that did not sense a mommy on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Did she know how many bathrooms I have had to carry a kid in? How many times I have had to say the hell with it and take my daughters into the men's restroom? In 20 seconds, I had cursed her entire family (past, present, and future). I admit I was searching for her evil ass when we left the bathroom. I wanted to take my "thank you" back. Luckily, I did not find her.

So, we arrive home. Immediately, the girls want to watch TV and we realize that will be the best entertainment to keep them busy while we unpacked. Holy hell.........you have got to be f______g kidding me? What is wrong with the television? After trying to break the remote and a couple of cable boxes, DIRECTV informed me that something happened to a box in my house that will not allow the satellite to send a signal. The lady then informed me that the first date they could get someone out would be July 15th. Now here is where I lost my shit a little. Life flashed before my eyes. 10 days with no TV...no way, no how, not today or any day. I don't let my children veg out in front of the television, but when I need to take a piss the TV helps. I tried to calmly explain that we


had just returned from a rainy vacation and that my sanity depended upon my children being able to watch TV. I ignored the awkward silence that followed. I then went on to tell her about my car trouble. Of course Miss B walks in and asks me "When will you fix the TV mommy?" at which time I yell "I'm trying to. I can't do everything. Mommy does not know magic." I hear more silence and then I hear "Ma'am, do you want to go ahead and schedule a visit for the 15th?". By now the tears are falling and I don't give a shit. I manage to get out a "yes" and asked that she put us on an emergency list in case someone should cancel. I hang up the phone and sit in the middle of the floor. The SBF was out grocery shopping and I'm in the floor crying over not having live TV. I'm crying because he's out grocery shopping and I'm in hell. How dare he? He should be here? Selfish SOB...giggle. Thankfully, the Davis Divas do have access to recorded shows and that's it. 

As I wipe my face and head to the other side of the house, my middle child, comes up to me with a card. My heart melts. Shit...she's so sweet and pure and innocent. Her mom, dad, and sisters are crazy as hell and she accepts us and still loves us. She is the most thoughtful one out of the group. She always says "please" and "thank you". She is known for giving random strangers compliments. Her soul is so pure. I hug the hell out of her and try my best to look like I have it together. She takes on so much and aims to please everyone. I can't let this be her burden to carry. She loves to get money in cards just like her mama and that makes me giggle. I hug her again and make a silent vow to kill anyone that ever hurts her.

The SBF arrives home with the groceries and tries to make light of the television situation. At this point, I am on a roll of I don't give a shit, damn all of y'all, kiss my ass, I quit, and even I want my mama!!! Yep, the gates of hell hath opened up. The sad part is I did the majority of this "bat shit crazy" behavior in hiding. I remember a couple of times when my mom fully lost her shit and some of those times did scar me for life. So, I summoned myself to the closet. I finally manage to get myself together and climb into my bed. Miss B crawls up and decides to ask me for the 100th time "When are you going to get another toe?"....REALLY!!! RIGHT NOW!!! THE SBF walks into the bedroom and she asks him "Are we brown or black?" Holy hell...is she trying to send me off into the abyss?? I start reciting scriptures in my head...the few I know by heart. I even tell myself "you is kind. you is smart. you is important." Nothing is working. The SBF decides to sit next to me and loudly crunch on his salad. Normally, I would be able to ignore the noise coming from his direction, but my senses are heightened. I giggle to myself at the thought of knocking the salad out of his hand. How many damn croutons did he put on his salad? When will the madness ends? He picks up a book from his nightstand and starts f_____g talking to me:

SBF: Ha!! Look at this.
ME: (dear God make him be silent)
SBF: Look what chapter I am on...Beatitude: Lucky are the unlucky.
ME: (dear God forgive me, but I can't do devotional time with him right now.)
SBF: This is not a coincidence.
ME: (why don't you replace that "L" with and "F"...OMG, what is wrong with me. I'm going to hell!)

I muster up enough strength to roll over and stare at the wall. I don't want him to see the red beams that are coming out of my eyes right now. The beams that want to set the book he is holding on fire. And I realize it's that time...."burn party". It is time for me to take my issues to the fire pit on our patio. Judge me if you want, but it is very therapeutic to burn some shit....giggle. Ask my friends, we have had a couple of "burn parties" that involved an ex's t-shirt. I laugh with excitement of what I will toss into the pit. Maybe the beach toys, maybe the atlas, maybe the DIRECTV remotes, maybe my owner's manual to my car...right now my options are endless.

...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. 

...number 3 and number 4

We are at the beach!! Luckily, I did not jump out of the car or snatch that damn atlas out of the SBF's hand. Notice he has gone from SOB back to SBF....gotta love the dysfunction in marriage sometimes. I literally asked myself several times yesterday who the hell did I marry? Christopher Columbus, aka SBF, finally put the damn atlas away and we rode in silence. I ignored the fact that he had turned the volume all the way up on the GPS.

 My oldest must have noticed how I was looking at her glorious can do no wrong daddy because she asked "Mommy, why are you looking at daddy like that?" I just gave her a f____ smile. When the SBF giggled to himself and explained that he thought he saw a tiger...a Bengal tiger at that, I did become concerned and suggested we get his dumb ass some food. 

We arrived at our destination despite the GPS bitch taking us to a dead end at which time the SBF was glad to announce "This is the reason I brought an atlas!!" We met up with our friends who have two young girls!! This family vacation includes 4 adults and 5 children under the age of 10. Can you hear my pill bottle rattle?

I must confess that it was quite touching to see the girls squeal with delight as they crashed into the waves. An afternoon at the beach seemed to make all of the whining and car sickness worth it. Sitting in the sand and watching them play made the stench of my oldest farts fade into the distance. 

I could have sat there for hours. Unfortunately sand got in Miss B's eyes and to avoid a melt down, I stood up and  rushed to her rescue. Pretty sure everyone was entertained with the sand turd that caused my bathing suit to droop in the back of my ass. 

The day ended with me driving frantically to a restroom because Miss B announced she had to do "number 3 and number 4". Walking through Wal-mart in my swimsuit and cover up while carrying a wet ass four year old was a perfect way to end the day. Glad I had a friend there to giggle and take my picture...

 

Confession: Yes, I decided to go into the liquor store on the way out for a bottle of Prosecco. Unfortunately, the champagne was sold inside Wal-Mart and I could not brave going back. Thanks to GPS...we found another liquor store. 

And look what we found....is this fate? Is it Wednesday? Giggle 

To be continued....