I need a young priest and an old priest…

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Pretty sure I need an exorcist. Something has taken over my body and is making me do crazy things.

I am currently on day 30 of the Whole30. What the hell? 

I bought new tennis shoes and I am excited for my next day in the gym. Wait, what?

I ate some (like, very few some) sugar today (and pretty much everyday this week) and I have had a raging head ache since causing me to continue to try and kick the shit. Who are you?

Here is the kicker, I want to go to all (and there are a lot) of people whom I totally judged for having to modify everything in public because they were on some special food restriction for one reason or another and apologize because I am one of those people now…dammit.

Don’t get me wrong, I will still judge and ridicule, but it will be with a new found assertion because I can mock myself. “God, we are such tools” instead of “you are a tool”. See, much better.

This thing that has invaded my body has not caused any change in its physical appearance and that is not as big of a deal as I thought it would be (further proof that this alien force has messed with my psyche).

It has put on spandex-like materials and entered public areas with other humans like it is no big deal and proceeded to move my body in very unflattering ways (squatting, bending at waist and sticking head up while throwing arms behind my back, laying on my back and kicking my legs, even jogging on a movable strip of rubber?! wtf?!).

It has convinced me that it is okay to watch The Voice and then go to bed with little to no guilt.

The thing has even allowed me to eat a cookie and not feel like I need to go in the bathroom and whip my back with chains, but rather say “mmmm that was good, but I have a headache now and I don’t need anymore”. Those are not words I would say.

And the world hasn’t come crashing down just because my allergies are acting up and I am tired. Only once did I think I had a tumor in my sinuses. That is a flipping miracle,

And my gift to this thing for getting through the whole 30 days without giving up? A new pair of tennis shoes and overpriced workout pants. WHAAAA???? Not an entire cake? Not a whole box of Mike ‘n Ikes? Not even a Diet Coke? Nope. Things that will keep it going.

So now what?

I am going to keep going. I am going to embrace this alien thing inside of me and welcome it into the many personalities I have picked up on my journeys and encourage it to kick the shitty personalities that still remain out.  I am going to go to the gym tomorrow. I am going to make a new egg bake for my breakfast on the go. I am going to grab some more kale tomorrow for my green smoothies. I am going to eat some french fries if I want to (but only if I want to). I am not going to say I can’t have certain things (because I am not one of those people), but I am going to stay way from things that make me fell like less of a rock star.

I might fail. The thing inside of me may not want to fight all the time. I may want to throw in the towel. I may not “look” the way I feel.

And that is okay. This little slice of internet will be here for me to read and come back to.  I can always come back.

But hopefully I will stay.

Up next: How to feed your children shitty ass food while you eat clean and feel great without wondering why they are acting like assholes. (looking for a guest blogger, cause I have no idea)

Happy Birthday to Me!

Yesterday I turned 35 years old. Can I get a hells yea??!!

I have not been much of a birthday fan. I do not mind the getting older thing, it is the I am kind of an asshole thing I can do without.

As long as I can remember, my birthdays have always been filled with family, love, gifts and good food. We all make a point to make sure the birthday person feels love. And I feel it from them, it just never came through from me to me. I have always filled the day reflecting on my life and my relationships and inevitably feel like I royally messed up another year. When I feel that way, the last thing I want to do is be with people who love me unconditionally.

This year was different. This year was amazing. The birthday routine is the same, but I am actually enjoying it this year!

The difference? I am happy with my life and I am happy with myself.

Looking back, I have never had a reason not to be happy with myself.  It was just  my head and mental illness.

This year has been the year of focusing on getting that shit figured out. I by no means have it figured out, but I am in the midst of trying, and that feels damn good.

The reflection this year, surprisingly,  did not really  happen. I did not even notice until today. I do not feel the need for it. I am happy in this day at this time and no need to replay anything.

The family gathering is this weekend and I better get some good shit.

 

It’s all fun and games until…

someone gets an imaginary friend. It started out harmless, super weird, but harmless. Both 3-year-olds created an imaginary event, the concert. At said concert, they had a friend named Michael. Now, they each have a Michael, differentiated by the simple word “My”. Here is a few of the MANY things that the Michaels do:My Michael has a red shirt
  • My Michael can drive
  • My Michael likes cookies
  • My Michael read this book at the concert (yep, that event still takes place in the minds of my daughters)
  • My Michael lives in that house (pretty much any house they see)
  • HI MICHAEL!! (screamed at every plane that flies overhead. We live a mile from the airport. 750 planes a day…you get the point)
Now, their dear friend Michael has become a problem. When asked what Michael looks like, they usually say some older man they know or just “an old man.” Ok, fair enough. We once saw a Barney episode where an older man was trying to get to his concert and one of the characters was named Michael. Maybe thats it…
But my mind usually sees something more like this:
Now, Michael has started telling my kids that he does not need to listen to me and he doesn’t like me. So, Lou’s Michael told her that all the DVD’s need to be on the couch. When I asked her to tell Michael that her Mom says no, she started crying and freaking out.
In other words, I have two 3 year-olds that are pushing the boundaries of human nerves, but a creepy old man that keeps telling them to do so.
Awesome.

Book Pie and SSPFSAHMWIAAWRAFDSCCCMDNLTOPIWMAD

The girls pulled most of the books from the shelf and made a Book Pie. They said it was made by all the hungry children.


I sat on the couch and tried to get them to watch a cartoon, but “no, we want to play with books!” They are not my kids.

A friend of the family recently started a fabulouso blog called Daily Epidural. It is super Rad. They have been discussing the various types of moms, Working, Stay at Home and Work from home (or as Carrie calls it the “As if working isn’t crazy enough, and parenting isn’t crazy enough, let’s get super freaky and combine the two” mom). When I quit my Crotch-Smelling job (meaning the job that made me wear nylons) so I could stay home with my kids, I was blessed enough to obtain a part-time, contract job doing some media type research. As it turns out, this is also a crotch-smelling job, but not in capital letters, because no one if requiring me not to shower for days on end. And the part-time work is actually a break from my full-time plus work as a mom. So, I really shouldn’t blame it on that…
Back to the subject, I do quite a bit of blog research for clients and had one assignment to obtain Momblogs. Looking at them I saw SAHM, WAHM, WM and my favs, the DH/DS/DD fiasco. I immediately wanted to drop the kids off at daycare and go back to nylons. Not a fan of acronyms. But, I was sucked in. I now consider myself a SSPFSAHMWIAAWRAFDSCCCMDNLTOPIWMAD (Super Spectacular Pretty Funny Stay at Home Mom Who Is Also a Wife, Recovering Alcoholic, Friend, Daughter, Sister, Contractor, Crafter, Cook, Maid, Driver, Non-Licensed Therapist, Organizer, Playgym and Incubator with More Added Daily). But that seems a bit long, so I will just go by B.
I did not plan this. I knew I always wanted to stay home, but I had no idea how emotionally and physically difficult it would be. Non-stop life to its fullest. But a full life is a busy ass life! I am cleaning dishes constantly because I get to make food for myself and my family, I am always picking something up because we make messes while we play, I drive hours a day because we are loved and get to see people often. But, then there is the constant noise, constant mess, cheap clothes, lack of hygiene, inability to not pee when I cough, loneliness, depression, lack of adult speak and a hairdo that is beyond inappropriate.
I used to love going out. Could play video games at friends all night long or spend a whole night at a coffee shop making fun of other people. Now I pretty much have to force myself to get out with friends. I would much rather go to bed or walk around Target without kids. But I do it. At least I try. I am lucky enough to have helpful family everywhere that can watch the girls, so I can. But, I don’t wanna.
Knowing what I know now, I wish I looked at the blogs before I decided to stay at home. I would do the same thing, and I would probably be just as snarky about it, but at least I would have some tools in my arsenal for the lock-yourself-in-the-bathroom kinda days.
Thankfully places like Daily Epidural are there for us! Now I know I am not alone. Not like I am going to call anyone; going to take a nap instead.

Happy Valentines Day


Ruby: Where did my hat go?

Adriana: Maybe the kangaroo took it and flushed it down the toilet.
20 minutes of hilarious talk about flushing things down the toilet, including mom.
At school, the snow banks on the side of the street are so high, that the only way to get in and out of the MiniV is to use the street side. Because of the two lanes of parked cars and the snow, there is only room for one lane of cars to go past. Being 7 months preggo, with the uterus of a elephant (thanks girls), trying to manage two 3-year olds dressed for the arctic, two bags filled with extra undies, pants, shoes, snow-pants, art projects and then the two bags of valentine candy is like watching a Benny Hill skit. Scooting along dirty cars, trying to keep both sugar-high girls close to me, shoving them and their gear into the van, getting one buckled them smothering her with my belly while trying to get into the van to get the other buckled, first one kicks me in the gut, second one cries cause she is in the wrong seat, I knee the first in the leg, she cries, both want more sugar, get a foot cramp due to position, cars and other moms going past seeing only my large ass in the door and hearing two screaming kids. I finally wiggle my way out, pop a sucker in both girls mouths, crank up music, get tires stuck in the snow bank, drop my phone under my seat. Then, they start the toilet talk. By the time I am a block and a half away, still sweating, we are all laughing and covered in chocolate.
We have to laugh, cause we would cry our eyes out if we didn’t!
Turns out, it was the best car ride home ever.
Happy Valentines Day!
B

Jokes#2 plus some real life notes


Q. Why did the chicken cross the road?

A. To find his friends. then they went to his Grandmas house and there was a birthday party with cake. Can I have a cookie?
I am quite certain that I can do this. When in a rational state of mind, my life is pretty dope. I have a great hubby, amazing kids, a beautifully imperfect house, a minivan and a wonderful support system. But, in my normal state of mind, far from rationality, I am 97% sure this is way too much. Once I concede to my less then rational self, it takes an army from heaven to get me out of it. Or a day in bed with my cell phone, crying and screaming to my husband. It is, after all, his fault.
These situations were becoming pretty scarce. But now that I am getting closer to having our third child, They are happening more frequently. I have a tendency to wait-till-then, ie. once the baby is born, then I will deal with it. Not working so well. Just another reminder to life for today, be the best I can today, even if that is a bumbling mess. Accept my emotions and move through them. And tell my husband and kids how grateful I am to have them.