...meditations and medications

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


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

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

So, once again I have found myself reading

 Meditations for Mothers of Toddlers.

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

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

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

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

...Twerk Tank

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...vacation hangover

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10 VACATION HANGOVER CURES: 

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

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

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

...three wishes

While we were on vacation my oldest asked the SBF if he could have three wishes, what would they be. I am guessing that 3rd Pina Colada had him feeling a little not up to the challenge. So, he pushes her on to me. Really???? ME???? The one he swears has questionable morals sometimes. The one who sometimes drops the F bomb in front of her children. The one who has no recollection of certain bible stories. The one with a dirty mind. The one who roots for the underdog. The one who is a rebel and free spirit at heart. I smile and kindly ( in a very non-revealing way) shoot him the bird.

Most of parenting is tag team if you are blessed to have someone in your life to share the duty with and great are those that have to take on the whole damn job by themselves.  I have my good days and I have my days where if it were not for the SBF being so vigilant about teeth brushing that my children would have a year supply of Fixodent on back order. So, I didn't curse him too much when she approached me. Dammit...why did she have to wait until I was into a bottle of Prosecco? My heart starts to race because I see this as a teaching moment. What I tell her will define who I am. What I tell her will be her foundation of what it takes in life to make someone happy. What I tell her could totally f____ her up.

Take this moment to really think about what you would wish for. I quickly came up with good health for my children, happiness for my children, and for the world to be a better place. She seemed pleased with my answer. She then revealed that she would wish to have the power to be invisible for the times when she needed to get away from bad things, she would wish for food for everyone that needed food, and a million dollars. I smiled at her responses and gave her a big hug. Now, my body did cringe a little when she wanted to be invisible. Was I putting too much into this whole idea? I mean really...she wished for a million dollars. A million dollars would be great right about now, but would it really make me happy. Would it come with certain conditions? And the bad shit that happens in life sucks ass, but it builds character. It means you have been to battle and you have the war wounds to prove it. Could she grow as a person if she goes her entire life unscathed? And a million dollars won't help you out very much if you blow it away. But, she did say she wanted to end world hunger. Okay, that seems safe, reasonable, kind, and needed. Her ten year old heart is indeed still innocent and pure. Gosh, I played this game a ridiculous amount of times when I was younger. As an adult and parent, the game sucks ass. What the hell would I really wish for???

I would like to take this time to introduce you to my inner thoughts. Oh boy are you in for a treat!!! Okay, let's think about this wish thing. What would I ask for? Money---hell no, everyone knows money can't bring you happiness and peace of mind. Beauty---nope, you can be the prettiest thing in the world and be a bitch which in turn would make you ugly. Uhm....to live forever---no way!! I don't want to out live my family and friends. I don't want my children burdened by having to wheel their 200 year old senile mother around even though I feel they will need me in their life forever. Good health---yes, but not for just me. Who wants to be healthy and vibrant while the people closest to you are suffering? Ok...happiness and peace of mind---what if the happiness and peace of mind causes me to be oblivious to the happenings of the world? What if my happiness and peace of mind robbed my children of their own happiness and peace of mind? Ok...happiness and peace of mind for everyone around me. What if one of my daughters is completely happy and at peace with being a stripper? Shit...could I handle it? What if in pursuing their own happiness and peace of mind they become selfish and greedy? What if they are so self absorbed they don't marry or have children? I AM NOT saying that people who opt to not have children or marry are self absorbed. I am just saying what if mine are.  Exit inner thoughts.......

I am now having a slight panic attack over three damn wishes that I don't even have. What do I wish for? How the f_____ was this a fun game when I was younger? If I approach this surface-wise in a very superficial way...it's easy. At this moment, I would wish for more money, good times, and great health. But, I would not want to make certain sacrifices for these wishes. I would not want a different husband. I would not want a different family. I would not want to be different. Hell, I wouldn't even ask for a big toe. I'm doing just fine without one and I still think "mama still got it". With the money, I would buy a bigger home, bigger car, a maid, breast implants etc. I would travel and have good times with my family and friends. What if the traveling caused me to die in a plane crash? F____, never mind I am being superficial. I am being an adult kid. I'm too old to ask for a new Barbie, no homework, no school etc. So, what would I ask for as an adult with kid like troubles? Answer...hell if I know!!!!!!!

By this time, I think my fairy godmother is a bitch. I don't want three wishes. I just want to be left alone. I don't want the weight of the world on my shoulders. My children are heavy enough. I have to somehow create a world from my three wishes that would be good enough for my children and my children's children and their children's children etc. And what about the SBF and myself...we deserve a good life...right???

I then realize I do this shit everyday of my life. I am constantly pulling and pushing and readjusting and switching and checking my environment to make it suitable for my children. So, if I carry this weight everyday what would I wish for to make it easier?

Nothing....bullshit!! That's romanticizing it way too much. I have obviously had too much to drink. Right this second...I am blessed, medicated, happy, buzzed, content, at peace, safe,  and healthy. But none of it is guaranteed. It is subject to change at any minute. Confession: that is what I struggle with the most!! The unknown lurking in the corner ready to pull the rug out from under me. The rug has been pulled so many times that you think a girl would not be phased by the asshole, but I have had some tough falls and landings. I know this could open up a whole barrel of spiritual stuff, but I am not looking at it from that aspect. I am talking to a fairy godmother about three wishes not my God that I pray too.  And no, I am not trying to take God out of this. I am not advocating for no prayer or prayer in schools. See...how hard the shit is? I just need 3 wishes...nothing else.

The hell with it....MY THREE WISHES by Timeka Davis
1. I wish for happiness that would include a good heart, great health and peace of mind for everyone.
2. I wish for a cure for every ailment or disease out there from Cancer to Eczema.
3. I wish that I don't screw up my life or someone else's life in any attempts to grant the above two
    wishes.

The End. Hallelujah....I don't want to play anymore. Your turn.....

FYI: I asked the SBF.
SBF: "Oh that's easy! I would wish to end all evil."
Me: (F_____. He's so perfect. I totally forgot about evil. I can't stand him. Giggle)
Me: What about the other 2 wishes?
SBF: That would be enough.
Me: blank stare. What about suffering and sickness?
SBF: Well, people would have more compassion.
Me: What about starving children?
SBF: I don't know. Let me think about it.
ME: (Damn right. Shit is not so easy...is it?)

Tomorrow we can play "What would you do if you won the lotto/"

...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.

..."deuces Destin"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...son of a beach

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

...beach take 3

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

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

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

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

...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....

...road trip take 2

We're 4 hrs into our trip...I think. I currently have lost my ability to add. After Miss B and I started feeling nauseous and passing sulfur bombs, I realized that maybe we all are car sick. My middle one and I usually get car sick. So, I made sure to treat her with meds before we got on the road. She's feeling great right now. Guess who else feels great...the SBF aka SOB. So I have come to the conclusion that we are all car sick because he is swerving trying to read an atlas, look at the GPS, and drive. 

At this point, I suggest he pull over to the gas station. I take all three of the girls to the bathroom while he goes off by himself. Funny...one thing I hate about road trips is the fact that he still gets to piss by himself. Bastard. 

Well, I make friends with the lady behind us while waiting in the bathroom line. Old lady: "them yours." Me: yes ma'am. Old lady: "all of them". Me: yes (I wish she would stop talking to me) ma'am. 

I get everybody to the bathroom and hands washed in record time. Yes!! Feeling good and walking to the car. Shit!!!!!!!!

I left my wallet in the bathroom. I race back and explain to a younger woman why I need to cut her in line...my wallet is in there with the old lady. And I begin to pray "Jesus, please let her be a really sweet old lady in real life. Please don't let her steal my credit cards and cash. Please let her be honest and return my wallet to me if she comes out with it in her hand. Dear lord, please let me show some restraint and not jump her ass for my wallet. Amen". 

I decide to get so close to the damn door that she is startled and jumps back when she opens the door. "I'm sorry. I left my wallet." I explain while I look and block her at the same time. Luckily it was there and I felt bad for thinking such things about a sweet lady. As we walk out together, she says "better be glad it was me in that bathroom". Me: yes (better be glad I didn't have to beat ur ass over my wallet. Holy hell. Wtf is wrong with me?Did I miss my meds this morning?) ma'am. Bye

I get back into the car and divide out Nutella and pretzels and demand they watch something on Netflix. I settle into shotgun aka "the bitch that does everything for everybody in the damn car" seat and pop in my earbuds....

Silence...wtf??? Yep. The water damage to my phone killed my external speaker and now I can't listen to my music with my earbuds. After 15 mins of shaking the phone and blowing into it like an old Nintendo cartridge, I give up. I look out the window and let a tear run down my face. I refuse to take the earbuds out. They were my only barrier from the chaos. As I contemplate jumping out the car, I start to feel sick again. 

I look over there and that SOB is at it again. Wtf is he doing? is he just reading the atlas for fun? Me: "I think I'm getting car sick. Please put the atlas away". SOB: "I need it." Me: "use the GPS". SOB: "I need both". Me: I'm going to vomit and then I'm going to snatch that atlas and throw it out the window. SOB: "well, then we won't get there". Me: **silence** and I look out the window. 

My oldest: When will we get there?

SOB: In three and a half hours

10 mins later 

My oldest: how much longer?

(You're as dumb as your daddy. I'm going to ask this asshole to pull over so that I can buy a 40)

 

I'm going to try to sleep with my earbuds in and no music playing...just to tune out Josh and his music selection, and his singing, and swerving, and the kids whining and "did he just turn the GPS all the way up???"

Son of a f____r!!!!!

To be continued

...road trip

We are on the road to the beach!! Yay and Jesus be my shield because being in the car with the 3 Divas and the sexy bald fella can take me to my dark place. 

We have been on the road 2 hours and the oldest child has farted (maybe even sharted) herself into a coma. But that's one less child that will whine and complain. The other two keep coming in and out of their drug induced naps asking for for food and if we are there yet. The SBF just informed me I was talking to him to loud while listening to music on my iPhone. So, I whispered I would just stop f___g talking to him. I am ignoring the fact that he's driving like a damn lunatic. I'm going to go to sleep. 

2.5/7 hours: He finally has agreed to stop because of course naps are short lived and they are starving. He pulls into McDonald's and decides it would be much easier for him to go in and get the food for everybody. (Wtf...what's wrong with drive thru). He jumps out the car and takes the keys with him. (Hello...it's 80 damn degrees and your family has decided to stay in the vehicle!!) I find my keys and crank up the car. The oldest has just blessed us again by expelling fumes from her body. (Wth did she eat? Is she rotting inside. Holy hell is she sick? The SBF returns with our food and coffee for himself. No beverages for everyone else in his family. He goes back and returns with 4 apple juice boxes. (I don't want any damn apple juice and why is there a straw missing from one of them? Isn't that a coincidence...my juice box is missing a straw). I know I may sound like a spoiled bitch, but an apple juice box??? I make sure to tell him thank you and distribute the food to the savages.

As we pull out of the gas station, guess what comes on the radio......

 

The edited version of course. II can't help but do a "cheers" up to the sunny sky to my mom with my apple juice box. She has my back. 

Instead of using our GPS, he has an atlas out. Really??? Do they even make those anymore? But wait...he can't use the GPS because the girls are playing with it. They have barely touched their kindle Fire HDs that are connected to a portable wifi device so they can watch Netflix. 

We are now stuck in traffic and he has chosen to play car checkers and literally jump from lane to lane attempting to get ahead and not lose any time. 

I glance out my window to eacape reality and I notice an AL new station vehicle beside us. Hope we don't end up on their local news. 

Breaking news: mommy loses her shit....

To be continued

....Beach Body Mama Still Got It

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

...Dear French 75

Dear French 75 (aka as French 57 according to my FB post or Heinz 57 according to my FB friends),

I am writing a letter to thank you for a wonderful evening, but it's over. After a long week of work and kids, I was hoping to unwind after a successful committee meeting. You were my poison of choice. Obviously, I was feeling classy and on top of life. Your citrusy taste was refreshing to my soul. The hint of gin reminded me of my college years. My last encounter with gin lead to me taking
my tights off during a football game and shouting "Gin will make you sin!" The champagne was my savior. As I sipped your sweet nectar, I could feel my mouth finally relaxing. No longer was I the mother walking around with her teeth clenched and her hands in tight balls. I was a woman. I was not a "light weight". I was feeling strong.

I thank you for making me believe it would be a great idea to mix you with a delicious but rather spicy plate of shrimp and grits. I was able to ignore the runny nose and sweating. I could feel no pain. I would like to thank you for convincing me to have another round. By this time, I was the least bit phased by the thunderstorm that caused the lights to go out in the restaurant. I was more concerned with a phone call home at which time I discovered that my husband had gone to Target with our children. HOW DARE HE DO THIS TO ME? I LOVE TARGET.

I would like to thank you for making me feel so great about life that I gave you a FB shout out at which time I discovered Kathy Lee Gifford was at the same location. Without thinking twice, I grabbed the first waiter I could find in the dark and asked "Where is she?" Luckily, she was gone. I was not at my best. Thank you for convincing me it would be a great idea to go get something out of my car during a monsoon and then return to the restaurant to finish chatting up with my friends. Never mind that I was soaking wet and weaving between tables in the dark.

Thanks for bringing out my alter ego "Lohan" short for Lindsey Lohan on the way home. My circle of friends were quite entertained with phone calls and texts because I am sure they have missed her. Lohan is often the life of the party and is notorious for surfacing at Snoop Dog concerts and football events. She does not mind puking all over the steps of a building in front of everyone nor does she mind passing out in her yard.

The SBF and kids came home to find Lohan soaking wet and passed out across our bed. A shining moment that will go down in the books. Thanks for the massive headache that woke me up at 6 am. Thanks for knocking off those last 5 lbs I wanted to lose before our vacation on Monday. I never knew my body could produce something that resembled that of Heinz 57 sauce. Thank you for allowing my husband to sleep through my screams "I am on fire!" He needed his rest.

Most of all thank you for allowing me to forget that I have responsibilities called CHILDREN. Children that could give two shits about a hangover. They have to eat. Children that don't care how much my head hurts. They want to give me a play by play about how they stayed up till midnight watching a scary movie because daddy said it was okay. Thanks for allowing my youngest to practice her "beauty shop" skills on my head. An idea I came up with, so I could sleep on the couch in the playroom. My hair had dried into an "old school Al Sharpton hair do". Now it's a shiny from a massive amount of leave in conditioner and grease that I allowed her to put in my hair just to sleep. I look like f------g James Brown.

Thank you for giving me the strength to venture out to Wal-Mart without a shower, without brushing my teeth, and sporting dirty clothes to get the damn beach toys and towels that I promised to buy the girls today. Dehydrated and delusional, I spent an obscene amount of money on noodles, pails, shovels, kites, glow sticks, glow necklaces, glow bracelets, goggles, sand molds, sand shakers and Fourth of July light up things. My disguise of choice...sunglasses and a hat fooled no one. I thoroughly enjoyed running into coworkers and friends. I appreciate them listening to me when I warmed them "don't come to close. I am hung over."

So, f--- you French 75!! It was good while it lasted, but I must move on. I just have no room for you in my life. Thanks for the one night stand and the unexpected bitch slap at the end. You may have won this slap off contest, but you hit like a bitch. That Mother's Cure has done far more damage and has been with me through the good times and the bad times for a couple of years now. She has my heart. I will never stray away...unless Prosecco comes to visit.

Sincerely,

My two middle fingers

...Mother's Cure

I looked at our calendar on the fridge last night and was floored with the date. Is it really almost July? Where has the summer gone? Holy hell the madness of back to school will be here before we know it. I was shocked by the anxiety that I felt. Am I anxious because I will miss them or is it homework? Is it the fact that the youngest is entering preK and the bitch barely knows her numbers? Is it the fact that everyone that resides in this house thinks that I am a walking Wikipedia?

With summer comes the welcoming of pool parties, porch parties, beach parties, splash parties, slip n slide parties, and any gathering that involves enjoying the weather, the sunsets, and the fireflies with family and friends. With it also comes hours spent at a hot ass park or pool while you watch your child do the same stupid ass flips over and over again. The profanity increases and exhaustion starts to eat away at all of your hopes, dreams, aspirations, and desires.

So, let's celebrate this last week in June with a cocktail!! Let's take our cups and fill them and toast to not running away just yet. Let's toast to the fact that our cups truly runneth over. What should our poison of choice be? Try one of my fave drinks to serve called Mother's Cure.

The recipe is listed below and I swear it will cure the shitty summer blues, the tired as hell blues, and the what the hell am I doing with my life blues. Let today be a mother's cure movement. It's time. I see us moms in the grocery stores, the department stores, gas stations, toy stores, book stores, and you name it. I see the illness eating away at our souls in all of us. You have to have the summer blues. It's very easy to diagnose being that I am currently a victim. The kids are winning and we must fight back.

Today, I will cure myself from the sheer rage I  felt when I was talking to the SBF this morning....

SBF: I really need to get on my lesson plans for the girls this summer. They will have all of July to
work on the assignments.

Bubble over my head: WTF did he just say? Lesson plan...HELL NAW!! He can kiss my ass. HE IS
NOT A TEACHER. HE HAS NO TEACHING EXPERIENCE. Jesus be my shield

ME: Really? I think the girls are fine. Miss B will eventually learn that the last letter of her name
does not start with the number 14. Also, the teaching methods have changed so much that we may
teach them the wrong method.

SBF: Well, it's not the method I am worried about. I'm going to focus on common core.

Bubble over my head: I have had less than five hours of sleep. I really don't give a shit if these kids
can read right about now. AND you travel mister. So, who the f______ is going to implement this
lesson plan/common core shit? NOT IT!!!!! Why does he say stupid shit in the morning? Is this real
life?

ME: Great idea. I'm going to go back to sleep for a couple of minutes. I suddenly have a headache. I
guess the sleep deprivation is catching up with me. (POSITIVE THINKING)

As I rolled over to stare off into the abyss, I said a little prayer...

Dear Lord, please let there be enough Tito's in the cabinet for my Mother's Cure. And watch over my children and husband today. Put your arm around my shoulder, your hand over my mouth, and your foot upon my foot...so that I will not kick the SBF in his throat this morning. AMEN 


So get cured now because the madness will not get better...it will just change in a couple of months. I command you to call up your frands, invite their kids if you have too, get some buckets and a water hose (no this will not lead to waterboarding), and put them outside to play. Don't bother with something fancy!! Just do it. Cheers!!!

 Mother’s Cure

•    12 oz frozen pink lemonade concentrate                              

•    1 lemonade container full of vodka

•    3-12 oz beers

•    2-12 oz sprites

 Stir together, chill and enjoy!



A comment from a friend's mother after having just one cup of Mother's Cure:

 "I don't know what's in Mother's Cure, but I been cured." 

 

Let me know what you think!!

 



 

A while back, Southern Living, did a write up on how people party for games in Oxford, MS. They came by our tent and took a picture and wrote down the recipe for Mother's Cure. Let's hope we see this recipe in Southern Living one day. 

Public Service Announcement: Please drink responsibly. Many of my friends both female and male have been found ass up and face down in the grass or finding themselves toying with how much fun streaking would be!!

 

.......B.D.K.M.V

I was having a pretty good day at work today. I got my paperwork turned in, tested some ears, returned emails....basically a productive day. To top that off, a young coworker had just finished complementing me on my outfit. So, my happy ass decided to take a short cut via nature trail through the woods to another building. I was feeling good...looking good...and dammit...

My ankle sort of gives out and I rip my damn shoe...in the middle of the woods. Shit! So, I hobbled back to my office and passed the coworker who was now looking at me like wth??

Never have I let having my big toe amputated stop me. I refuse to let it slow me down. I'm not ashamed. It is what it is. So....

Today was no different from any other day. Yep, I taped my shoe together. Technically, my foot is taped to my shoe. Giggle (it's okay to giggle). And as I walk to my car, I will hold my head high so the world may see that "Mama still got it" ...tape and all. Ha!!

Really, the sad part is I could give two shits what it looks like. I actually think it's hilarious to say the least and the best way to get a new pair of shoes out of the SBF. So, if you are having a bad day look at whatever is bringing you down and tell it.......

                         B.D.K.M.V

At least, that's what I chose to do today. This positive thinking may be working after all. 

....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!!