sometimes motherhood blows


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Well, what do we have here?  It looks like a tasty easter egg treat all tucked away in the grass, doesn’t it?

Right.

This here is the top of a blow pop sucker nestled in a fuzzy little fluff of carpeting.  Yeah, it’s green apple.  Isn’t green apple the best flavor of blow pop?  And yeah, my carpeting is green.  It is unfortunate and something I’ve been planning on replacing for the past 5 years that we’ve lived in this house.

For those of you that may still be wondering just what in tarnation is happening, let me fill you in on my morning.

It began much like any other day off:  my eyes blinked awake when they were ready.  It was later than a typical day since I had a bout of insomnia the evening prior and was awake until after 4:30.  My intentions for the day were to prepare the kids’ area for a few girls that are sleeping over this weekend.  I wouldn’t want these 10 year old girls thinking that we live in a dirty house and are unorganized.  No.  After fetching a morning coffee, I began the always daunting task of cleaning their toy/play area.

I gathered up 4 bags of plastic toys and dumb shit that they don’t play with anymore or that is broken….and also toys that I think are annoying.  It’s true, I’m a mother that secretly gets rid of toys.  Let’s be honest…they never even know.  I loaded them up in the car ready to be donated to Goodwill.  I managed to make it out of there with only one bag of trash as opposed to the usual 4.  Despite arming their room with 2 garbage cans, papers, beads, wrappers and goldfish crackers always ended up on the floor and all over the place.  Savages.

I made it through the session without flipping into a maniacal cleaning madwoman.  I get angry when I clean.  I do.  I curse and bitch.  I ask questions to my invisible family like ‘Did you know we own a garbage can? Have I not given you the tools to pick up after yourself? Are you fucking kidding me??’

I made it all the way through today.  I did!  It was impressive!  My finest hour!  Until I moved the couch to vacuum and saw this green eyed beast staring at me.  Oh, what’s this?  Oh…huh…oh, it’s stuck to the carpeting….Oh man…Fucking A!!!  What the fuck?!?  A Fucking blow pop?

It sent me over the edge.

It was so lodged in there…pressed in further by the couch leg.

I had to slice it out with a razorblade.  It felt good.  Maybe now we can get new carpeting?

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They hid the mofo candy!!


What. The. Fuck.

In an effort to distract me from my addiction to crack sugar, my husband has enlisted the children to hide their Halloween candy from me!

What. The. FUCK?  I was really looking forward to a little Baby Ruth wrapped in a Milky Way…with a vanilla flavored Tootsie Roll chaser.  God damn I love those vanilla Tootsie Rolls.  Why can’t they just sell those in a package by themselves.  No one wants the lemon ones.  No one (except for me…when it gets to the last of the candy and there’s nothing good left…then I want the lemon ones).

Hide the candy?  From their mom?

Could it be because I helped myself to all the Almond Joys and all of the Butterfingers yesterday?  Or maybe because I started in on the Smarties, M&M’s and Sweet-Tarts?  Perhaps it was the sugar induced fit of rage that followed?  I tore through the house like a tazmanian devil…a swirling tornado of milk chocolate aroma, candy wrappers and Skittle dust.  Maybe the last straw was waking up next to a bitchy, irrational, sour patch woman with a killer sugar hangover?

‘Throw away all the candy and all the junk food in the house!  I hate everything!!  I can’t control myself!!  Save yourselves!!’

I’m completely irrational and I plead with him to just try and help me out.  I talk all this game about eating healthy and detoxing from junk food because it makes me crazy (just a little but maniacal).  I ask for all this support and help in trying to keep it out of the house.  Out of sight, out of mind.  Just help me out, man!  Get this shit out of here.  Once that first grape Skittle touches my eager little taste buds…it’s over.  It’s over.  Game over.  Shut it down.

I guess he didn’t like it.  I guess it wasn’t sexy Halloween kitten enough.  I suppose I asked for it.  I suppose I have a little bit of a problem.  But am I a little bit irritated that he made a special phone call specifically to ask them to hide it before I got home…and that I can’t even have one little piece??  Because it’s hidden from me??

I’ll sniff it out.  Give me 8 minutes.

Simplify


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Ahh simplicity.  Why is it so daunting?  Why is there always clutter??

I just want all my material possessions to disappear.  I feel like I carry them around with me all day long, like I can feel their weight on my shoulders.

Why now?  Why do I care?  Why does it matter??

It’s always mattered…but much like other things in my life, I’ve neglected to honor that it matters to me.  I’ve been the one to put aside my needs and to just fucking ‘deal with it.’

The trouble with physical clutter is that it leads to mental clutter and chaos.  It leads to having blinders on to all your surroundings and floating through your space as if you don’t even belong there. 

I feel like a stranger in my home.  I feel like I haven’t been able to truly live how I want to and like to because I’m working around trying to not be that way. 

Well, here it is.  I’m a fucking minimalist.  I fucking love organization.  I’m a little obsessive about it.  I’m a fucking control freak.  I want to rid myself of all this extra baggage.

I find it unnecessary.  I admit, there was a time when I thought I needed more and more things, special things, things that were sentimental.  I realize…sentimental has made me mental. 

Please, come and take away my things!

Still hate the dentist…


So I’m here with my tiny little 5 year old baby at the mother fucking dentist. 

Those of you who know how this brain works, know that my blood pressure sky rockets when I drive past this place, let alone being inside an office watching this awful process happen on my tiniest little precious lovely #2. 

I want to bash their faces in.  I want to pull the sharp silver daggers out of their hands and drive them into their eyeballs.  I want to smash the stupid, calming, lava lamp into the awful flower paintings on the wall. 

I can’t look. My eyes well up a little. 

But just like that, it’s over…and she’s fine…and I can breathe again.  My cold, clammy hands can allow blood back in.  Thankfully I didn’t have to flip over tables and break windows.

Tortured


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I was reminded today, of this red notebook filled with my own poetry.  Poetry that I wrote between the ages of 15 and 18…probably on my bedroom floor, listening to Pearl Jam really quietly.  I was probably writing them by the glow of my maroon lava lamp or by candlelight.  It was probably between the hours of 11 pm and 2 am.

I knew it was tucked away in a storage bin in my basement with other samples of writing that I’ve saved over the years.  I had to get it out.  I had to read it.  I thought that I would find some diamonds in the rough.

I gotta tell ya, I found a lot of rough in the rough.  Seriously, talk about teen angst.  I had a lot of anger to express about something… I actually made a lot of it rhyme.  It was all pretty bad…and actually really depressing.

Here’s a gem for you:

Never…by the brain of kate circa 1997

Any love so bold and true, could never compare to the love I had for you…

Any hate as strong as steel, could never compare to the hate that I now feel.

Wow. Intense!  How about a funny one??

salsa…by the brain of kate circa 1999

My mom makes the best salsa-

-she can’t dance.

Nerd alert


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Nerds. Who doesn’t love Nerds? Those little sweet and sour sugar boogers.

I love that they still sell nerds in the little box with 2 flavors. I also love that you slide the little cardboard top to open each side and shake out the little nibbles like a candy rattle.

We’ve all made the mistake of accidentally keeping the cherry side open when trying to shake watermelon into our mouths…thus shaking cherry Nerds all over our faces! Don’t tell me you haven’t. Or sometimes the box just doesn’t slide back closed like it’s designed to. But I appreciate that Mr. Wonka has held true to certain design genius.

No one wants to waste Nerds.

I remember as a kid, going to Dairy Queen, and getting Nerd Blizzards. Yeah. They don’t make those anymore. They were amazing. I can guarantee my vile dentist remembers them too…and that he writes letters to Dairy Queen, begging to bring them back.

‘The Oreo Blizzard just doesn’t pack the cavity inducing whollop that Nerds do. Please, for the livelihood of my family, I beg you, please bring back the Nerds Blizzard!’ Asshole.

Fractious


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Fractious.  Easily angered. Unruly.  This is how our mornings go.  The lovelies become fractious beasts.

It’s nice on days that it’s not my turn to take them off to school because I lay in my cozy warm blanketed bed…and I listen to all the fractious conversations. 

Turn off the tv and get your shoes on.

No, you can’t have cheese puffs for breakfast.

Why did you wait until the last minute to start your homework?

Please stop gnawing on my arm.

Why are you being so fucking fractious right now?