My Crazy Life

I've been a bit disoriented lately...scattered, not yet in a routine, trying to adjust to the school schedule and lots of concentrated one-on-one time with my two-year old daughter, Claire.

And so true to form, I've had these, "Are you fucking kidding me?" moments that well, just need to be written down.

The first occurred in the toy room of a Hospice center.  My 15-year old cousin is dying of Leukemia which is painful and really hard to witness.  And so, on a recent visit, I decided to take the smaller kiddos into the fun toy room while I took a moment to breathe and pray.  While sitting in the rocker in the corner, I observed the following conversation...oh, here's the back story...Kate, my six-year old daughter is playing the doctor and Lilly, my four-year old niece is playing the mommy leaning over a table with a doll baby.

"See, the problem is that you have a fake baby...yes, that's right...your baby is actually a robot.  It's ribs are waaaaayyyy too big.  I'm not sure that there's much we can do," says Kate.

"Oh God...Oh no...help my baby!!!, " replies Lilly.

To which, I nearly peed myself in laughter.

The next morning, I went on a 13-mile training run in preparation for my next half marathon race.  Feeling good about the weather, my pace, and in general, my endurance, I came home with a smile on my face.  After stripping down to dive into the tub, I realized that I had some nasty chaffing on my inner thigh...i.e. bikini line and thought I was going to die.  You know what a rug burn feels like?  Pretend it's nearly on top of your vagina...yeah, it sucked.  Until my husband suggested that I use neosporin and a bandaid.  That's right.  I put a fucking bandaid on my 'how ya doin' and when it was time to strip it off, I screamed like a fucking banchee making the neighbors think that a woman was being murdered.  Fuck me...don't ever do that.

The following afternoon, I took Claire (2.5) to the park to build sand castles.  After successfully creating four decent sized castles complete with a moat and twig decorations, she alerted all of the moms in the vicinity that she had a good sized amount of sand in her vagina.  Yes, it was as awkward as you're imagining.

After gracelessly exiting the park, we high tailed it to Target for a few items.  Hanging out in the check out lane, I smelled a huge pile of shit and realized that it was eminating from my daughter.  I quickly grabbed her and ran to the family changing room only to discover that I had no wet wipes or diapers in my purse.  I had to use her dress to sop up an unGodly amount of poop and then carry her out of the store naked.  It was a banner motherhood moment.

And then finally this morning after drinking wine last night with my girlfriends and running hard with a bit of a hang over, I settled into the toilet to do my business....upon which my six-year old daughter Kate barged in to brush her teeth and promptly said, "Oh God, mama...what's wrong with you...you need to get that checked out."

Beautiful.

I write these things so that you can feel better about you're own life.  I've decided to give up on any pretense of a Martha Stewart inspired life.  At this point, I'm just trying to survive and doing so by living on love. 

Just Another Day at the Movies

Allow me to set the stage.

I woke up this morning with a sore throat that to be fair, I'd been babying for a few days prior.

Against my better judgement, I decided that it might be best if the kids and I lay low and try to do something that required minimal energy output.

Boom.  That's when I checked Facebook and discovered that our neighborhood theater was hosting a free family movie morning.  The price of admission was canned food items for a local not for profit and the ability to get there at least 30 minutes prior to the movie showing time.

"African Cats" was the flick.  Beautiful.  A little popcorn, little Starburst, big fat Dr. Pepper for mama and we're in business.

Until.  This horrid lady and her crazy daughter sat down beside me and she begins with, "Do you know if there's a special on concessions today?"  "Um, no...I've never done this before, " I retort as I visibly pump my littles full of popcorn, soda, candy and previews.  "Oh, well, you should have waited.  They have dollar pop and popcorn days on Tuesdays. You could have saved some money."

And then, "Did you know that the lions kill animals in this movie?  I see that you have little ones."

Da Fuck??  Get off my back, bee-yatch or I'll infect you with my throat bug. 

And then, "Mama, I pooped," out of my two-year old toddler.  Holy Hell...in a rush to get out of the house, I forgot to bring a diaper.  Shit balls.

Just then, like an angel from Heaven, one of my besties shows up with her girlie and I beg her to sit beside me and shield me from Library Know-it-All while I run to the concessions and the potty with my shitty smelling daughter.

"You're gonna have to tell me when you need to go potty," I say holding her ass over the far too big toilet bowl, "Because mama doesn't have any fresh under panties or diapers."  "Okay, mama," says Claire with a mischievous look that says your moments are numbered and I'm planning to shit Reeses Pieces all over your shorts.

And then the flick starts.  So far so good.  The killing is manageable.  No poop in my lap.  My two-year old is busying herself with candy.  I'm living the dream.

And then she gets up and starts bugging the people sitting in front of us and threatening her brother for his Sour Patch Kids with a scream as if to say, "Give me the candy, bitch or I'll blow up the place with my shrieking."  And I beg him...give her the freaking candy!!! He reluctantly relents.

Finally, she yells, "Bathroom...I've got to go potty."  And I jump up to go and discover that she only goes a dribble.  We do this dog and pony show another time and then finally, I say, screw this.  I'm waiting with you out in the lobby until this Savannah, Lion Pride shit is done.

Good Lord....she ran into the opening day showing of "Despicable Me," tried to rip the cardboard advertisement for the "Smurfs," and snuck under the bathroom stall door scaring yet another patron.

When it was finally over, I pulled them into the car and thought about screaming but just decided that I would laugh instead and then, I screamed for good measure.  My throat is more on fire...but at least no one died.

Just another day at the movies.