Thursday, June 21, 2012


So I know I said I'd write about rock stars, and eventually I'll get back there, but I just had to share one more teeny thing with you- the babiest Baby C started a mother's day out program today.  Two days a week, from 9:30-2:30, from now until August 2, he will be in the loving hands of a Christian preschool.  Stop laughing and no I didn't tell them his nickname is Demon.  It's bound to come up in conversation sooner or later, I'm certain.

When I enrolled him, Frank and I made a bet about how long it would take for me to receive a 'chocolate ding dong' related phone call. (I give it a week.)  We were sort of joking, but sort of not because...well, you know why.  All week I've been preparing my babiest "Corbin!  We must not say 'chocolate ding dong' at school.  You can't discuss your balls or butt.  No singing Rack City. Keep your fingers out of your nose.  And for God's sake, no Power Rangering- there are no Nighlok's at school!" 

But naturally, I forgot something.  And he reminded me this morning as I was unbuckling him from his car seat.  He leaned in and whispered softly in my ear "Teabagging."  I know I looked appropriately embarrassed because he smiled and repeated it louder and louder as we walked across the parking lot.  "Teabagging!  TEABAGGING!"  We walked him into school and up the stairs to his classroom while I held my breath.  Of course, now that I had a minute to think about it, all the things I forgot to tell him not to say were heavily on my mind.  I left him in his classroom and told his teachers "I'm sorry for anything he says.  In advance."  Then as I remembered the things my littles told me about their parents when I was teaching preschool "And don't believe anything he tells you about me.  We think he may be a pathological liar."

I left the building, frustrated with myself for forgetting to tell him not to say teabagging.  As I walked across the parking lot, I hit myself on the forehead with the palm of my hand repeatedly, mumbling "Teabagging.  Teabagging.  Teabagging.  I fucking forgot teabagging."  I believe we're going to be the most popular family on campus.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

OK!  This is the last- the very last- post that isn't about rock stars, I pinky promise.  But tonight I just couldn't say no...and, as you already know, saying no isn't my forte.

I have a very dear friend who confessed (many months ago) that she woke up in the middle of the night feeling suicidal.  The pressures and responsibilities of being a wife and mom were just too much to comprehend.  Granted, this feeling of helplessness was blessedly brief for her, but it left me wondering how many women feel this pressure, this...despair.  And even more, how many women admit this to anyone, especially other women.

After my friend brought this to my attention, she and I started looking around and you know what we found?  We found that there were countless- and I mean that literally, countless- stories of women from all walks of life, all races, all religions who were going through the exact same shit that we were- that we all are.

Something you should know about women, if you don't already:  we can be brutal.  Especially to each other.  We're critical and judgemental. We're harsh and unforgiving.  At least, we are when we're the point that we're adults, we should have all evolved beyond that, right?  Not so fast, Skippy- some of us don't ever get there.

I'm lucky beyond all belief to have a core group of the finest, most beautiful, most genuinely supportive women friends on the planet.  We're tough, but fair.  We may not talk every day, but when we do, we're unfailingly supportive and loving.  We'll also occasionally cuff each other on the ears if need be (and God help you if you try to cuff us on the ears without a written invitation) but mostly, we have each other's backs.  We got this shit, y'all- in spades- and we have no time for bullshit...except for each other's bullshit. We're girl's girls.  We're badass.  And we make no apologies for how much we love each other. 

Some of my finest friends are also related to me and have known me since birth. Some, I met yesterday.  Doesn't matter.  When you get it, you get it.  And we totally do.

Being a wife and a mom is amazing.  Amazingly fantastic.  Sometimes amazingly awful.  Amazingly hard.  Amazingly incomprehensible.  Amazingly exhausting.  I think the key to surviving and not giving in when the middle of the night desperation calls, is the connection you have- to your friends. To your roots.  To your support.  To your girls who have walked before you and those who will walk behind you.  Talk about it.  Reach out.  We're right there beside you. And we're totally ready to hold you up.