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Next Life, NO Kids: December 2012

December 23, 2012

7 Reasons I Hate Everyone In December - Holiday Driving 101

Driving makes me bat shit crazy during the holiday rush. Blasting "It's the most wonderful time of the year" on repeat, while battling any kind of traffic during this time is 100% necessary to avoid the temptation to open my car door and fall out. It is vital that I make it a comedy show, and also helpful to have someone else, (preferably over eighteen due to explicit language), with me at all times.

The preschooler can often be heard from the backseat spouting "Ah you kiddin' me?" which mocks the G-rated version. 

It gets ugly...real ugly.

So I'm doing my part! I've decided to jot down a couple of suggestions for my fellow drivers this holiday season; in case anyone cares (I know you don't, but just humor me).

1. Contrary to popular belief, use of your blinker is not optional; it's expected. I am not a mind reader and have no idea you're trying to merge into my lane if you don't give me a heads up. In addition, I find it utterly ridiculous for you to get angry and/or yell at me as if I'm intentionally cock blocking you from the lane because...

a. I can't hear you; your window is up 'cuz it's fucking cold outside.
b. Acting like a raving lunatic, with or without flipping me the bird, 
is probably not going to motivate me to be nice to you. 

2. If by some Christmas miracle, someone does use their blinker in the lane next to you, don't speed up so they can't merge into your lane. Getting wherever you are going 20 seconds before they do isn't worth it. Besides, it makes you look like a dick and it's almost Christmas. Jesus is watching you, and I'm pretty sure he's friends with Santa. Dicks don't get presents.

3. I know it's super confusing, but YIELD actually means proceed with caution. It's not an invitation to play some terrifying version of "chicken" on the highway. 

Tip: My car is traveling at least 65mph. Yours isn't. Nuff said.

4. Texting, drinking alcohol and/or shooting heroin while driving is never a good idea. If you need to do any of these things, I'm not judging. I'm just asking that you please do us all a huge favor by not driving. If you need to go somewhere, ask someone to come and get you (preferably someone completely sober). Don't drive if you are in any way compromised. It's not safe.

5.  If you're confused about whether it is okay to take a catnap while you're behind the wheel of a car, it's not. When you nod off (or out), you will lose control of your vehicle and kill someone. Please don't kill someone. It's Christmas.

6. Earbuds are not for use while driving. That's what your radio is for. Yup, I know, another wicked confusing car trick. That box in the middle of your dashboard plays music. You can even control the volume so you can blast it and hear me honking my horn before you side swipe me on the highway. Might I suggest, "It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year," on repeat?

7. It is actually NEVER okay to take a right turn from the left hand lane or a left from the right...EVER. This is driving 101 for Dummies, and there is no way to attempt this beyond stupid move and not look like a complete asshole. Stop it.

In conclusion, please don't be a dick, fall asleep, or kill people while you are driving. Thanks in advance.

Oh, and happy fucking holidays.

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December 20, 2012

Google Calendar Thinks I'm A Loser

Dear Google Calendar,

I resent your constant emails reminding me that I have nothing "scheduled" today. What the hell? If you're trying to make me feel bad, it might be working. I may not have penciled anything in to your silly time slots, but I'll have you know that my day is very full.

Maybe I'm just so busy I don't have time for you. Did you think of that? No, of course you didn't because you're too busy judging me. 

How dare you. 

What the hell are you doing today that is so incredible? Sending emails to people reminding them their schedules are open? That's the dumbest job ever. Maybe you should send yourself an email Subject: Don't be a douche.

Get over yourself, Google Calendar. You're not all that. 
People only associate with you because they correlate a schedule with actually being productive and successful. They're totally using you, and you don't even see it. 

I don't need your approval or your acceptance, okay? 

Lay off. 

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December 17, 2012

If this can happen, what cannot?

The news kept asking me if I could imagine what it was like for these parents to run to the fire station and scour the property for their child. I cannot. No one should ever have to even imagine something so devastating, never mind experience it. Just the thought makes my throat close.

If this can happen, what cannot?
Our realm of possibility extended.
We tuck our children into their beds grateful,
For those that cannot; those that would give their own lives in place of one more moment,
One more second with their babies, that a stranger took away.
No sense can be made of this because there never was,
Such a day of loss.
If this can happen, what cannot?

My thoughts, love, and prayers go with these families that lost a child, a parent, innocence, a sense of any and all security, and sanity. There are no words. I have sent every single one of my angels to Newtown, CT., and I hope you will too.

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December 14, 2012

"To the Parents of..." MY ASS

I received a letter from my daughter's high school last week that read like something of a plea for support in getting her to school on time. Honestly, if my only goal in this post was to write something funny, I'd be done. What do you think, I'm like holding her back from leaving until she finishes her Pop Tart? WOW.

Dear "Faculty Of,"

How dare you. Really? Is it support from me that you need? That's classic. Here's an idea, why don't you get your asses to my house at 6am and watch me try to wake her up. Then perhaps you can stand with me by her door for an hour poking and prodding her like a heifer to get the hell out of bed. YOU can hold my list of reasons why she should already be in the shower, or in the car while I sit back and "support" you. Then on Tuesday, you can follow us to court where we can discuss the stubborn child CHINS I filed a year ago, just to get her to school, that was dropped last week because of some new law. After that,  YOU can sit through the ten meetings a month with providers and family therapists while my daughter just sits there, or leaves after screaming her head off. YOU can take the countless phone calls from mentors, probation officers, social workers, etc. when she doesn't show up for appointments. YOU can spend the ridiculous time that you don't have trying to figure out why you can't get her to behave, or be respectful, or motivated. Don't worry, I'll be there supporting you and each meeting should only take about an hour. These should leave you with almost no time to take responsibility for the other children in the house or the house for that matter, so be prepared.

Gosh, after all of that, I sure hope you feel supported by me.

Quick question; how does informing me that if she doesn't change her behavior, consequences will result serve anyone? Here's a thought...


Instead of sending me a threatening letter stating that if she doesn't get to school on time she won't be permitted to play basketball etc., perhaps you should address the letter directly to her. This would be more effective because she is the only one who has control over her actions these days.

This is one of the reasons these kids can't take responsibility for anything. She's going to be 17 years old in two months and you still insist on asking me to suffer consequences of her actions or lack there of. Well, guess what? I reject your suggestion that I am at fault and I have a suggestion for you. Spend less time writing letters "To the Parents of", and spend more time supporting us in teaching our kids that their future is in their hands. Mommy and Daddy will be stepping back now.

My job is to arm my daughter with the tools she'll need to make it on her own. I beg of you to support me in this task. Sending me letters requesting change in her behavior supports the opposite. I will not be attending meetings with the guidance counselor at the college she chooses (God willing) and her professors will not be calling me to let me know she's late or absent from class.

She needs to get her shit together and she needs our help and support to do so. She only has a little over a year until her 18th birthday. I have made it clear that if she is not enrolled as a full-time college student or working full-time, she will find her belongings on our front lawn with a birthday card. Unless you plan to take her in and "support" her, I suggest you stop sending me letters.

Yours Truly,

"Parent of"

Whether you love what you just read or hated everything about it, let's connect and talk about it! I'm always open to honest feedback. Come be social to me!

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December 12, 2012

6 Things You Should NEVER Say to a Pregnant Woman

was in line at the bank the other day, and this dude standing in front of me turned around and did the whole face - belly - face thing. He was just standing there staring blankly back at me. I thought he might be confused so I said, "There's a baby in there" to break the awkward tension, and he stuttered something back at me like, "Yeah, I thought so." 

SERIOUSLY? Stop it. Am I some sort of enigma because I'm carrying a baby? It's like 2012 and fucking 10-year-olds are doing it. Why is this so uncomfortable for people? And why, sweet Baby Jesus, tell me why - when people are clearly uncomfortable, do they choose to speak

Just shut up already! If you don't have anything smart, funny, or interesting to say, please don't pour your verbal diarrhea all over me. 

I'm serious, People. It's a situation. I've been the target of a ridiculous shitstorm lately, and even strangers on the street are spewing all sorts of nonsense in my direction. 

Here are a few of my personal favorites.

#1 "WOW. You've gotten A LOT bigger since I last saw you!" 

I've been making it a point to respond to this horrible statement with, "Oh my God! You too!"

#2 "Are you sure there is only one in there?" 

If you ever say this to a pregnant woman and she punches you in the throat or murders you, you totally deserve it... because you suck.

#3 "Holy shit, you're huge!" 

I'm not even going to justify this one with a comment. Just, NO.

#4 "Any day now, huh?" 

No, Captain Shit-for-Brains, I actually have two more months to go. Thanks for playing. This was thrown at me in the parking lot of Target by a man I had never seen before in my life. If he's lucky, I'll never see him again.

#5 "You don't even look pregnant from the back!"

Errrr.... WHAT?? 
Why are you talking? You sound ridiculous. 

#6 "I would not have even known you were pregnant if I hadn't looked down."

Yes, actual people - in real life, have said this - out loud - to my face. What in the actual fuck?!? How am I even supposed to respond to that?

Do these people know they're using their outside voices? I literally can't even.

I could go on all day (you know I could), but I hope I've made my point. Pregnancy is NOT an invitation for you to speak to me in the line at my bank. It is also not okay to say whatever horrible thing you think might be endearing to total strangers...anywhere. 

So, if someone in your life is pregnant, and you have said any of the above horribly insensitive things to her, shame on you. 

Call her immediately and offer to stop by with an ice cream sundae or cheeseburger, and promise to never say dumb things to her ever again. You tell her she's beautiful, amazing, wicked smart, and uber funny. 

If all else fails, just shut up.

Thanks, in advance.

Whether you love what you just read or hated everything about it, let's connect and talk about it! I'm always open to honest feedback. Come be social with me!

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December 10, 2012

I hope you get Shingles...on your face.

At this point in my summer pregnancy, I am tired, and sore. I can't see my feet, and I have cankles, I'm hot and irritable, my bladder hurts, I'm pissing myself every 20 minutes. The LAST thing I need from you is commentary...REALLY. 

You might be asking yourself if I got Shamu comment today while exiting the outdoor pool at the YMCA. Amazingly enough, the answer is yes. Picture a guy sitting with his toddler, pretending to wash his hair with pool water. The little boy says something about shampoo, and as I walk by the man says, "More like Shamu." 

I am doing my best to pretend that wasn't directed at me, but secretly it's going to bother me forever. 

Dear Pool Dad, 
I hope you get Shingles on your face. P.S. If I wasn't so fat and fucking tired, I woulda come at you like a fucking spider monkey. Also, I hope your kid grows fungus.

Hours later, I decide to head out while my overly energetic two year old was taking a nap. I hit up Walmart to get the last of the things on my 'pack for the hospital' list. The top five winning comments? Please keep in mind that these are stated with jaws dropped and eyes popped out staring at my belly...

"Woah, any second huh?" Fuck you, get Shingles on your face.

"Jesus, you ready to go?" Fuck you, get Shingles on your face.

"Your baby is going to be huge" You're huge, get Shingles on your face.

"Are you driving? That's dangerous. I wouldn't be driving." This was said by an 80-something year old woman who probably drove herself to the store. THAT'S dangerous. Shingles might kill her at this stage, so I'll give her a pass.

"OH... MY... GOD..." He's my God, too, Asshole. Get Shingles on your face.

Why is this happening to me? I know I have one of those faces people want to tell everything to, but COME ON! 

Let us not forget the Golden Rule, People... If you have nothing nice to say, shut the fuck up.

I did have one woman start talking to me in the tooth brush isle that might have been an angel. She smiled huge at me and asked me when the baby was due, then if I knew what I was having, then commented that she was appauled by the way some woman was just staring at me. She had her little seven year old girl with her that after our conversation said she "love[s] the tooth brush isle because there is always someone to talk to." 

Obviously, this woman and her daughter were sent to me from Jesus at the very moment I was wondering how much damage an electric tooth brush could cause if you just jammed it in someone's neck. She was so calming and wonderful and I made sure to thank her for it. Ladies, if you are pregnant and you run into this woman, make sure you thank her too. Let her know it means a lot that she stopped to leave you with KIND words and ENCOURAGEMENT. 

I want to head down to City Hall and petition for pregnant womens' rights. If I were a disfigured, transgendered, overweight woman in a wheelchair, commenting on my "condition" would be considered like a hate crime or something.  Why is it okay because I'm pregnant? It's not. 

Shame on people who say mean things and pretend it's endearing. 

I hope you all get Shingles on your face.

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December 05, 2012

I need a village, STAT.

Leaving the house on the days I have both boys, without Nick, is somewhat of a Christmas miracle. With all of the planning that goes into just stepping out the door, I often wonder if it's worth it. It's ridiculous how many things have to be in order before we even get to the car.

The car is another story for another day.

Packing to go just about anywhere is like preparing for a natural disaster. Do I have enough diapers for both boys? Wipes? Water? Fruit snacks? Changes of clothes? Do I have a cup for Nicholas Jr. to drink out of? Does it have the spill proof little doodad in it or do I have to yet again fish around in the garbage disposal?

I have to nurse Jordan before we leave, to decrease the chances of having to do so in public. I don't know why in 2013 I feel eyes glaring when I whip out my Udder Cover, but I do. This should be the least of everyone's worries because at least I'm using the cover. I used to be modest, but I no longer have the time or patience. Consider yourself lucky if you have never seen my nipples.

While I nurse, I beg Nicholas Jr. to find his shoes and attempt to redirect him every three seconds when he sees something shiny and loses focus. Once the shoes are located, we have the verbal jacket battle because that is my next request. Since logic is an unnecessary tool in conversations with everyone in my house except Nick, things often get interesting. I come up with all sorts of good reasons why he should wear the stupid thing and he throws toys and remote controls, and whatever else is handy.

Finally, we're all packed up, the diaper bag, which is a big yellow duffle bag, is overflowing to the point where I can't zipper it, I'm sweating, and both kids are screaming. We haven't even made it towards the door and I'm physically and emotionally exhausted. Nicholas Jr. doesn't want to wear a jacket and Jordan is pissed that no one has been looking at him for 10 seconds.

By the time we're all bundled up and ready to go, I'm wishing for a bolt of lightening to strike me dead, but we're ready. Now, to find the keys. Mommy Brain is a very serious illness that DOES exist no matter what anyone may say. I would literally leave my head everywhere if it were not attached. The keys seem to never be where I remember leaving them and between the sweating, screaming etc., the film score might sound something like a slasher movie right before someone gets stabbed repeatedly. Eek Eeek Eeeek.

I find them, we're walking...I have the two bags, the baby seat in hand, and we're almost to the door... and then... there comes an awful sound from Jordan's diaper.  He is notorious for pooping all the way through his clothing approximately six or seven minutes after being placed in the car seat. I've started putting him in the thing long before we have to leave for this reason because I cannot get a handle on the timing.

The stress of leaving my house is enough to cause pattern baldness. The African proverb, "It takes a village" might apply here and I may look into finding one and moving there if it will lower my stress level.

I think this might be why people with gaggles of kids have so much time for sex. They must never get out.



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December 02, 2012

I'll shower when I'm dead.

Mom stays in the picture

It might be my ridiculous lack of hormonal balance, but I teared up a few times reading the above. Like when she states that our sons and daughters need to see how cute and young we were. That's really true and although I do not feel like either of those descriptions apply to me these days, I remember "the sunscreen song" and know that someday I'll look back and see it.

I appreciate the idea that other women feel just as frumpy as I do right now and that I am not the only one ducking photos. I feel like I've gone underground a bit since Jordan was born and don't even want to leave the house in fear I will see someone that I haven't since I was pregnant, never mind document the journey.

My husband and I went to Foxwoods two days ago and I could have been seen sporting two french braids on the top of my head flowing into a ragged ponytail. I prayed that I would not see anyone I know. The hair style alone was decent enough, two days previously when I did it. Pampering and fluffing my look these days has definitely taken a back seat to all sorts of other things. It's not like I'm making a conscious choice not to shower or peel off my sweatpants, I just don't have time.

If it came down to taking a nice hot shower long enough to shave my legs or watching another episode of Yo Gabba Gabba, my decision would be obvious, but how often is that the choice? No, the choice is usually shower or watch Nicholas Jr. sing that Maroon 5 song and play the drums with perfect beat and time. Do I want to take a long hot shower or make Jordan laugh another five times with the same noise or action? These moments win out, no contest, every time.

As mothers we're no stranger to the saying "I'll sleep when I'm dead." Like when single friends ask me how I manage a teenager, toddler, and infant, my own business, and a house while still managing to tie my own shoes on a limited amount of rest, that's the answer. The truth is, I have no idea, I just do.

Maybe showering should be added to that list of things to do when I'm dead. Sleep is essential to life, but showering isn't. So, perhaps I'll get myself into more of the pictures I wouldn't trade a shower for taking....if that makes sense. Perhaps I'll look back at those pictures some day and be proud of the small sacrifices I made for the happy faces sitting next to me.

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