...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!"

...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

...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. 

...Eating my words

Aging and my last child have taught me to be very cautious with the words I say, the judgments I make, and the advice I give. In this stage of my life, I am the mother and friend who says "Do you boo!" because I have eaten so many of my words. Everything I said I wouldn't do...I have done. Every event I said I would not participate in...I have been front row center cheering with pom poms and shit. So, payback is a bitch in my life. Miss B is everything I said I would not tolerate. My home décor is slowly fading and being replaced by toys, books, dolls, and crayons. I have lost myself in motherhood. I don't know my favorite color anymore. I know my oldest likes purple, my middle child likes pink, and my youngest likes pink. I have no desire to learn or grow in my career. I bribe my children. I whisper sweet negotiations in their ears to avoid public meltdowns. I am everything I thought I would not be....giggle!

Karma, exhaustion, and mental anguish have taught me to keep my mouth SHUT. The "I would never...." statement has been erased from my vocabulary. I have also learned to thine own self be true and that lying takes too much energy and my version of "my life" is much better told by me. So, I strive to not "fake the funk". What you see is what you get and boy oh boy is it all kinds of crazy (note a consistent crazy). Anyway, I try to call myself out on my shit and TODAY IS THAT DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

What brought on this self evaluation/reflection today? A damn birthday party......

I confess that I was that mother. I would pick a theme for birthday parties and spend weeks making shit. I didn't do it for some Great Mom Award. I did it because I love crafts and I have some serious OCD tendencies. 

It took years of 3rd degree burns from my glue gun, fights with the SBF, not sleeping for days, crying over failed craft ideas, screwing up recipes, and a dysfunctional family to finally say the hell with it and let's just take a trip instead. Check out the evidence before I decided to stop the madness!!

Exhibit A

 Exhibit B

 Exhibit C

All I possess now is a strong dislike towards birthday parties. Confession: I hate them. I'm over them. I am burnt out. Many of these feelings are my own doing. I didn't have to make 20 pinwheels out of construction paper. No one asked me to soak stationary in tea and burn the edges, so that; the princess invitations looked authentic. I did all of this before the luxury of Pinterest...thank goodness. It was a fun madness that would consume me for weeks. Now, I don't judge those that go all out for birthday parties because I used to do it. I don't judge parents who show up with all of their kids at a birthday party because I have 3....sometimes they are package deal. I don't judge the parents that drop their kids off and leave because I do that also.

Well, the buying of a new car cancelled a birthday trip for my Farryn, my middle child, my "her heart is so giving that I will kill someone if they hurt her" child. She is truly golden, but she has some serious middle child issues. So, when she asked me last night if she would ever have a party again. Shit...the guilt emergency lights started going off!!! Holy hell, what have I done to her??? I must give this child a birthday party.

So guess who is having an American Girl Slumber Birthday Party in less than 5 days?? I could bitch slap myself. I vowed to never look at another American Girl Doll after my incident in Atlanta. So again...wth?? I am praying that this very small impromptu slumber party does not bring out the demons inside of me. I am praying that I will not visit Pinterest for ideas. I pray that I can indeed keep it simple. This will be a challenge. I feel like I have been through rehab and I am about to fall off the wagon....but wouldn't it look so cute to have a cake made like an American Girl shopping bag?? Maybe, I can make Farryn the "Doll of the Year"....wouldn't that be a cute poster???

Sugar Honey Iced Tea. What the hell is wrong with me? 

...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.

....positive thinking

As a mother, I am sometimes frightened by the thoughts that run through my head. I am pretty sure if the bubble over my head was visible to the world, I would be in deep shit. Lately though, I feel like my children and husband can read my mind. They know what I am really thinking and it scares me. So, I have decided to try to channel positive thoughts. I found an old email about how you know you need to pray at work and realized that some of the examples were very similar to what I face everyday as a parent. My examples are listed below.....

Number 1
TRY THINKING: I think you should maybe call a plumber.
INSTEAD OF: You don't know what the f___ you're doing.

Number 2
TRY THINKING: She's just going through the terrible 2, 3, and 4s.
INSTEAD OF: She's a f___ing bitch.

Number 3
TRY THINKING: Perhaps I can fold all 12 loads of clothes by myself.
INSTEAD OF: And when the f___ do you expect me to do this?

Number 4
TRY THINKING: I'm certain there are no monsters under your bed.
INSTEAD OF: No f___ing way possible.

Number 5
TRY THINKING: Really? Well, accidents happen.
INSTEAD OF: You've got to be shitting me. You did not just spill a jug of f____ing milk on the floor!

Number 6
TRY THINKING: Perhaps you should tell your father...
INSTEAD OF: Tell someone who gives a shit.

Number 7
TRY THINKING: I don't know where you left your keys, dear.
INSTEAD OF: It's not my f___ing problem..

Number 8
TRY THINKING: That's interesting after a recap of a Max & Ruby episode by Miss B.
INSTEAD OF: What the f___? Max is an asshole.

Number 9
TRY THINKING: I'm not sure if mommy can fix this toy broken into 26 pieces, but I will try.
INSTEAD OF: This shit won't work.

Number 10
TRY THINKING: Yes, I'll try to make the birthday party on such short notice.
INSTEAD OF: Why the f___ didn't you tell me sooner?

Number 11
TRY THINKING: He's had a hard day at work and needs time to decompress.
INSTEAD OF: He's got his head up his ass.

Number 12
TRY THINKING: The guy who just cut me off in traffic with my children in the car must have an emergency.
INSTEAD OF: Eat shit and die.

Number 13
TRY THINKING: So you didn't like the meal mommy cooked? Was it to spicy? I'm sorry it was "kinda sorta nasty".
INSTEAD OF: Kiss my ass.

Number 14
TRY THINKING: I'm exhausted. Wonder if he will mind doing bath time tonight?
INSTEAD OF: F__ it, I'm going to bed.

Number 15
TRY THINKING: I don't think he understands how much it bothers me that he leaves his shoes all over the place.
INSTEAD OF: He can shove those shoes up his ass.

Number 16
TRY THINKING: I think it's time for her nap.
INSTEAD OF: I wish she would go the f___ to sleep and shut the f___ up.

Number 17
TRY THINKING: Maybe, I should try to spend less money.
INSTEAD OF: Who the f___ died and made him boss?

Number 18
TRY THINKING: He's somewhat insensitive at times.
INSTEAD OF: It's his mother's fault that he acts this way.

Number 19
TRY THINKING: Maybe it's time for mommy to go to time out.
INSTEAD OF: As soon as the sun sets, I'm going to pack my shit and leave.

Number 20
TRY THINKING: Gosh, I was really enjoying the five minutes I get to watch TV, but of course you can turn it on PTI.
INSTEAD OF: Bitch don't kill my vibe

If you are caught in a world of negative thinking, maybe these suggestions will help you channel positive thoughts. Because I am positive I will shank one of these individuals in my house if I don't.

Namaste Mother F_____s!!

...first day of summer

Cheers to the first day of summer. So far our summer has been a blur filled with pool parties, play dates, hair shaving, period talks, and Miss B experiencing sundowning every afternoon.

 I will first address the hair shaving. My oldest and sweetest and most judgmental child, Reagan, was twirling around with her arms in the air the other day and I noticed hair under her arms. Holy hell. This can't be so. She is only 10. I am a very hairy person and I have flashbacks of my childhood full of little shits tormenting me because I had a unibrow that fanned out on the ends. Yep, I was an Eddie Monster look a like. It didn't help that my arms and legs resembled that of Teen Wolf. I remember one boy telling me in the 7th grade that you could French braid the hair on my legs. I would come home crying. My mother would comfort me by telling me a dark family secret that she knew about his family and I would go to school and repeat it word for word. So, I have a "thing" about eyebrows, hairy arm pits, hairy legs...basically hair in general. I don't have any hair on my body...see how the teen years can mess you up. I am trying not to pass this hair phobia on to my daughters, but honestly they have my genes. My middle child, Farryn, has developed the "fan eyebrows". The same damn ones I had in most of my school pictures. They look like the penguin from Happy Feet.
I confess I have trimmed her eyebrows before after I have watched her try to slick them down with tons of spit. Don't judge me.

I inform the SBF about the hair under Reagan's arms and we look together without trying to scar her for life and decide it's time to shave. I am interrupted by the other two fighting and go check on them. When I return to the bathroom, I find Josh holding a pair of his hair clippers and Reagan looking at me like "oh, shit." I swear I moved like something off of the Matrix and yanked the clippers out of his hand while screaming "What the hell are you doing to her?"  Needless to say, her armpits get appropriately shaved by her mother and I am pretty sure we scarred her for life.

The period talk...times have changed. Girls are getting their periods earlier. We have noticed that Reagan can be moody sometimes and decided it's time to talk to her and her sister Farryn. Yes, we wanted to kill two birds with one stone. The two oldest are close and don't hide much from each other. So, we figured it was best to tell them both. We kept it short and simple. I pray everyday to give me at least three more years before I have to deal with this. Miss B already knows about periods because she is literally up my ass 24/7. I recall having to take her into a public bathroom with me and I know everyone was entertained by hearing her yell..."You be-leeving? You stick it up your butt?" This may be TMI for some, but it's the damn truth. I wanted to push her through the stall door, but I remember my mom telling me how I used to go through the store yelling "Did you get some Koin-tex?" Karma's a bitch.

There are no schedules in our house right now. There are no nap times. So every day from 5:30-7:30 pm this lovely child of mine loses her freaking mine until the sun goes down. Her eyes start to glaze over and the fear I experience is something I will consult my psychiatrist about. Nothing can make this child happy at this point. She has gone to her dark place and those around her will suffer her wrath. She used to stand and scratch the walls while maintaining full eye contact with me. I would sit on the couch and look right back at her thinking to myself this bitch is "loco".

But, she is much more sophisticated now. She's four. She prefers stripping butt ass naked because the clothes she has worn all day just don't work for her anymore. After the third wardrobe change, she moves on to phantom pains. Her legs hurt. The mosquito bite that she has had for three days is killing her. She feels like something is growing out of her arm. As I watch her fling her body up against walls and off couches, I begin googling syndromes. This is my third child. You would think I would know what to do to comfort this monster, but she is so different from my other children. She plays hard, loves fiercely, and is stubborn as hell. Her two older sisters eventually go off to their rooms snickering because her screams have turned into growls. They no longer want to watch her sit in the kitchen floor with tears and snot pouring down her face while she spins in freaking circle. I have tried comforting her. I have tried holding her. Lately, I have had low points where I am screaming back "What do you want from me?" or "Why don't you take a nap". She screams back like some shit off the exorcist "Don't scream at me mommy!" By 7:30 pm, I am sick with exhaustion. I am stuck on a damn couch in the playroom watching her throw shit around and out of nowhere the heavens open up. She looks over at me and I think "Bitch, I am going to have you tested for real this time" And you know what she does......she comes over with her snotty ass clothes and climbs up in my lap and says "Mommy, I love you too much." Aweee...right?? Well, "aweee" my ass at that point. But, I love her too much as well and I hold her tight and all is forgiven. I sit there holding her amidst scattered Leggos, naked dolls, broken crayons and scattered flash cards and I ask myself..."How did I become her bitch?" In reality, I am everybody's "bitch" in this house including the SBF. Oh well, I take a sip of Prosecco and hope that maybe in acceptance there is peace.

I work just two days a week and I have never been so thankful that I do. I admit that on my work days I run out the door like a fugitive. For at least 8 hours, two days a week, I can get the hell out of dodge. Sadly, I sit at my desk the first 30 minutes like I have come off a cocaine binge. I am free of their demands and senseless conversations. Their needs and desires can be met by someone else and I  am okay with that. I confess that some days I take the longest route home possible or I go to a local bar just to sit. The days I do come straight home I find myself digging into my purse like a junkie for that green bottle of happy pills. Yes, I take Xanax. I have a prescription and I have read all of the bad press about mommies and pills. All, I can say to those that care to judge...I could give two shits what you think of me. If you can maintain without the use of medication, yeah for you! You get mad props and a cookie. For those of us that can't, yeah and we get a cookie too. The last time I watched a news special on moms and meds, I was hoping I could call into the show and let them listen to the banshee in the background. But, I knew the entire interview would be full of "bleeps" and screams. Instead, I flip off the news reporter and send my girl Karma after him.

So, cheers to the first day of summer. May your glasses stay full and your prescriptions refilled!!!