I’ll Go Down Kicking and Screaming

Posted on


As I sit here this morning during Easter weekend I am reminded of many southern traditions from my childhood and how they change over time. As I ponder many of these southern traditions I am reminded that a few needed to pass politely into history. There is still a few examples of bigotry and racial oppression, but for the most part most southerners today have shed these beliefs and traditions. For many they were never part of their belief systems or traditions in the first place. In my house the “N” word was of those words that was equal to or worse than the “F” word and if ya wanted an ass beating – say either. As this tradition quietly (or not so quietly) passes into history we all take a huge sigh of relief.

There are many of our traditions though that are slipping into history that I, for one, will go down kicking and screaming to defend before they go down quietly. I decided to make a list of these traditions and why I think they are worth fighting to keep. 


When my parasites (children for those nicer than me) were small and before they could understand adult concepts, I made them memorize and say little sayings to try to cement some things in their brains before those brains were too full of useless knowledge and commercial jingles to hear anything else.  One of these was “bad manners are worse than no money”  Manners in their simplistic form are designed to make people feel more comfortable. They are a set of rules that we all live by to show respect and caring for other people. Manners also show other people many important things about you. They show your upbringing, they show your level of respect for other people, they show your level of respect for societal rules and they show your respect for yourself. You can live in a shack, but if you know basic manners you can go anywhere with anyone and survive and thrive. I still hear my dad say to the kids every meal he eats with them “What’s important?” to which they reply “Manners Da” 


Southern society has always prided itself on raising gentlemen and ladies. Our society today has seemed to embrace the term “redneck” as a catch all for southern gentlemen, but when I grew up there was a definite difference in being a “redneck” and being a “Southern Gentlemen”. They are called by many names, but the one I miss seems to be “Good Ole Boy”. A “Good ole boy” embraced all of the best traits of being a southern gentlemen. How to spot a good ole boy is easy. He says “yes ma’am, no ma’am, yes sir and no sir”.  He hold doors for others and shows respect for his elders. He has a polite greetings for anyone he passes on the street and waves at people he doesn’t know. He always remains humble. This trait takes many a people in business off guard. He can be the smartest man on the planet and CEO of the largest company in the south, but if you ask him what he does for a living his answer will always be “I run a little company down in Atlanta” If the name happened to be Coke you would have to pull it out of him with pliers.

Now our ladies have rules too. Southern ladies fix food for anyone who has a surgery, a baby, or a death in the family. If you have a death in the family it can be an excuse to buy a new freezer to put the food. Southern ladies take pride in being humble and serving their community. Southern ladies take care of each other and know there is strength in each other. Please don’t think being humble means we don’t take care of ourselves or do not take pride in ourselves because that’s just a straight up myth. I never saw my grandmother have a grey hair, not do her make-up or not have her nails done in public until she was pushing 90. I still won’t go to the grocery store without mascara cause she would “roll over in her grave” I tell my husband all the time “I come from a looooong line of prideful southern women so it’s no my fault- just hush cause I’ll be ready soon” Steal Magnolia’s was the quintessential Southern woman movie. I miss the days of going to the beauty shop with my mama every week at a certain time. All the same women were there every week and listening to their conversations. I really wish I had known and had written some of the sayings down I would be rich. If they weren’t at the beauty shop they were at church. These women knew everything about each other. They made each other stronger just by being together. Southern ladies are made of stone so put them together and they become a wall who you can’t knock down with any weapon. 


This is one I am convinced that big ole boulders are going to come whizzing at my head, but I’m going here just the same so throw away. Like it or hate it this is a southern tradition that seems to be going by the wayside and it makes me sad. Easter coming around every year seems to remind me lovingly of this tradition.

When I was little I would get up every Easter morning and run to see what the Easter Bunny had placed in my basket. There was always candy and a toy. We would play for a little while and then the best part of Easter morning came. It was time to get ready for church. It was the best part because I finally got to wear my “Easter dress” This dress which I had looked at lovingly and had wanted to wear for weeks I could finally put on. There had many a fight with mama for weeks as I had begged to wear it and was told no. It was laid out on my bed with everything else that was new. It only happened once a year, but there it was laid out for me. I had new underwear, new socks, new shoes and that pretty new dress and sometimes even an Easter bonnet. That means hat for those of you confused. After I was dressed I would put it on and look in the mirror and twirl a few times. FYI- all southern girls like to twirl- it’s pre-programmed in our DNA. We twirl in a pretty new dress and it doesn’t matter if we’re 2 or 80. Easter was the day you wore your very best. When you got to church everyone looked so beautiful and handsome in their new spiffy cloths. Jesus had risen on that day and we were showing him the respect that gift deserved by wearing our very best. Maybe that lesson is why I have such a hard time with the dressing for church tradition going by the wayside.

Now I am as guilty as the next person of not holding up this tradition as it was handed down to me. When I was young if you were a girl you wore a dress to a church service. It didn’t matter if it was a 11 am on Sunday morning or 6 pm Sunday night. It didn’t even matter if it was a Wednesday night during revival. If there was preacher in the pulpit a dress was expected. (Southern revivals are a whole different blog) There was a whole section in my closet that could of just been labeled church dresses. There was the play cloths, the school cloths and the church cloths and if mama caught you confusing the three there was hell to pay. 

In general all methods of dressing has come down a few notches. Most men do not wear three piece suits to work and ties in most industries are no longer required. The pant suit has become the standard woman work place uniform including mine. I wear pants to church now some Sundays and there are still mornings while I put them on I am afraid my granny is gonna come haunt me. I still can’t bring myself to wear casual cloths to any church service. I still can’t even really allow the parasites to dress casual. All I hear is my grandmother in my head saying “If you have enough respect for the world to dress for them shouldn’t you have enough respect for God to do the same” That voice is loud and forceful and seems to come out of my mouth now to my own parasites as they get ready for church. There are not as many suits in their closets, but my mama and I still makes sure there are sports jackets, khaki’s, dress shoe’s for the boys and dresses that twirl for the girl.

This tradition was never about wearing khaki’s and a jacket or even a dress. This tradition was just always about wearing the best you had in respect for God. If the best you have in your closet is jeans and a sweatshirt then that is what you need to wear, but if you spend more time getting ready for the world during the week than you do for God on Sunday morning then think about where your actual priorities and respect are pointed.  


So as I sit here today missing a lot of the traditions of my youth and thinking about how they have changed I am realizing that most true southern traditions won’t really ever go away. They will just change with the times. How we teach the future generations to be good ole boys and southern ladies will be up to us. The actual traditions may change it’s the message that’s important. The message of manners, humility, service, strength and respect can resonate and be taught in many ways. That is one of the great things of being a parent you get to teach your own parasites the lessons you find important in the ways you believe work. These were usually handed down to you in traditions and you will pass them down to your own even if they change a little with the times. My parasites may not have a new outfit laid out for them in the morning, but the best in their closet will be laid out and pressed and as we make our way to church I am sure somewhere my grandmothers voice will come sneaking out of my mouth again explaining why. 












Well What Was It?

Posted on

This afternoon I actually for a change had all three of my parasites (again children for those sweeter than me) in the same room. Now that they are getting older it happens ever so less frequently. One is usually hiding in their room doing God knows what (he’s a teenage boy and there are days I’m afraid to ask- yes I know he can wash it as long and he wants). Another is in their room sleeping (teenage girls seem to need an inordinate amount of sleep or maybe she’s faking so I will go away- you know mom’s are annoying) and the youngest is outside blowing something up (making mama yell “What the HELL was that!!” seems to be a preteen boy skill). This afternoon however; they were all in the room. 

I decided it was time to talk (yes I know I was asking for trouble, but sometimes ya just gotta go for it) My first question was easy. “How was school?” The eldest said the standard teenage boy answer “fine”  The middle said “Just another standardized test day” and the baby- well the baby said “We had tests so it was yucky” Hey he’s a boy so it was more words than fine which made me happy.

My next question was “What did you learn today?”  The eldest said “teenage girls require too much money and attention” (I thought about probing that one, but as his mama this assessment might end up being easier for me so I let it go) The middle darling said “there seems to be a lot of girls confused about their sexuality in my school” (saving the rest of that conversation for a whole separate blog” The youngest parasite said “I love my new substitute teacher- she’s cool” (he’s a simple child)

Now since we were still talking an no one had run away I decided I would ask something a little more difficult.  My next question was “What impact on someones life did you make today?” 

This question actually took my normally quick witted and clever parasites off guard. Usually my quick witted little smart-ass’s make me regret asking questions of such magnitude because they say things that scare me. This made me even more scared. When the youngest thinks I can actually see the wheels turning in his brain and most of the time they make me cringe, because they turn waaaaay too much like mine. I did get a few smart-alack responses such as “My fart didn’t stink the bathroom up and run anyone out” but in general I just got confused looks. Maybe I should ask them these things more often, but hey I can’t get them in the same room that much.  

Finally one said “mama what do you mean?” my answer was cryptic “Did you smile at anyone who looked sad today? Did you help anyone who looked weak today? Did you say hi to anyone who looked lonely?” 

They started to look at me with those teenage eyes that say “wow you’re old and stupid and don’t even know it- do you mama?” 

I asked again- “well what was it?” and none could answer so I gave them a task for the rest of the week They are to watch and smile at anyone who looked sad even if they were rude to them and help anyone who looked weaker than them even if they didn’t ask and say hello to anyone who looked alone even if they rolled their eyes.

Now they are just teenagers so now they realize mama is trying to teach so they immediately tried to leave the room and I said “Not so fast my babies” Let me tell you a story. 

Here it is:

“I was a self absorbed teenager just like you!! Twenty years later I was somewhere and someone walked up to me and told me a story about one night I has been kind to her because she was upset and when I asked why and she didn’t want to tell me I never asked any further and just sat with her even though we weren’t close (I am sad to say I didn’t even remember the night) She told me she had come there intentionally to tell me thank you because she was raped that night and anytime after that she had thought people weren’t kind she thought of that night and that I had been kind to her” The night I found this out I cried myself to sleep because I didn’t remember. How could I forget something that was clearly that important to someone else’s life? 

I informed the parasites that sometimes now I wish I didn’t know that story because it is so much easier to be self absorbed. It is easier to live life thinking that anything you do doesn’t have an impact on anyone other than yourself. When you find out it really does it changes you. If I could help someone that much unintentionally who had I hurt unintentionally? I’m a believer in duality so if I helped someone I probably hurt someone that much too and that makes me sad!

So after my little lesson and six little rolled eyes I still gave them their assignment for the week. Tell me three people you helped and three people you hurt this week.  My prayer is they are like me and the REAL one’s they don’t remember either. 




They Can Be “Special” To Me

Posted on Updated on

Typically I sit around at night doing my best impression of a mother paying attention to the multiple conversations spouting out of her children. They stand around all shouting “MOM” at the same time and then start the rapid fire multi conversations. I guess they think I am the queen of the multi-task.  I’m good, but hell no one can listen to all that babble especially when it’s a three for one. I said impression because I have the mastered the art of pretending to listen to the millions of words that come pouring out of the parasites (children for those nicer than me) mouths. I have learned that I can get away with looking in their general direction periodically while actually listening to about every 20 words. As long as I smile and say yes or ok every 100 words they are fooled and I can continue to actually listen to the show I am watching or writing my blog. This skill has saved me millions of hours of mindless conversations about Lego’s and Barbie’s. I don’t mind buying Lego’s and Barbie’s, but I am too damn old to care what outfit she’s wearing, where she is going on her date with Ken, or which Lego spacecraft we are building today. I’m happy they are happy, but I would really rather talk about anything else up to an including bowel movements.

Now as they get older I am being forced to change the actual listening patterns to an extent and listen to the closer to 10 word range. This has gotten to be such a habit that now I can’t help it  I actually listen to every 10th word even when they aren’t talking to me. Tonight as I sat here staring at a blank screen trying to decide what to write two of them were sitting across the room talking to each other. My first thought was GLORY HALLELUJAH they aren’t talking to me. After a few minutes I heard one word come out of one and my ears perked up. A few seconds later I heard another and decided to listen a little closer.  They were having a conversation about school. One was saying “I know I’m only in advanced classes, but not in Horizon’s (the gifted program) so I guess I’m just normal. The other then said – yep I guess we are just normal. What was said didn’t bother me. It was how they said normal that bothered me.

When did NORMAL become a bad thing? 

My solutions was to go straight to the dictionary to look up some definitions of the word normal to try to decide what the problem seemed to be

Normal: conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural.

So normal, in it’s most basic form, means conforming to a standard. There are rules (or standards) in everything. Society has standards or rules that most of us are expected to live by in our daily life. So being normal really means agreeing and living by societal standards. Basically it means being a regular person. It means we don’t kill, we don’t steal, we respect authority, we try to hold down a job, we pay our bills, we pay our taxes, we raise our children. In general we do what is expected of us to live in our society.

  As I pondered this new phenomenon of the word normal being the new “terrible” thing to be I at first was confused. As I continued to mull it over a while I started to think about conversations I’ve had with other mothers over the years. You know those “super” moms who believe they are raising “phenoms” in multiple disciplines. These are the over achiever moms with the over achieving kids who are running between 3 sports with “extra” specific practices in each, then off to piano and voice lessons, then to the tutors to keep their grades up all for each kid. Those moms who then get home and give their kids specific time lines of their lives from the time their little feet hit the floor in the morning til their heads hit a pillow at bedtime. Inside my house has always just been a loosely scheduled mad house that would rival any good three ring circus. The clowns are always just running a muck.

Maybe it’s my fault my parasites are just “normal”. I may have squished their individuality like a bug. When they were young I established a pattern of normal. As we drove to a destination we would discuss their behavioral expectations at the event. As we sat in the car at the destination they were required to repeat them to me before they were allowed to get out of the car.

The grocery store visit was always my favorite:

Me: What does mommy expect?

Parasites in Unison: I have to stay with you, mind what you say, and not yell

Me: Perfect let’s go

They each learned their lesson the hard way what happens when you don’t follow the expectations.

One ran from me from one side of the store to the other and got a (What I call) a sweet little love tap on his cute little rear end

One decided to throw a temper tantrum to which I sweetly picked her up out of the buggy, sat her on the floor, looked at her lovingly and said “I’m sorry- mommy doesn’t talk to children who behave this way” and calmly walked away and continued shopping (It’s amazing how fast those little eyes dry up and they behavior changes when they realize you aren’t entertaining their behavior nor or you coming back)  Have you ever tried to go to the grocery store with three little ones? Trust me-being tarred and feathered would be more pleasant so there has to be some type of “normal”

My second favorite was family gatherings.  My hubby and I both come from large families so it happened almost as much as the grocery store.

Me: What are the rules?

Parasites in unison: We must be polite and mind our elders, use our best manners, we shouldn’t interrupt adults conversations, we should shake hands and introduce ourselves and and we should be careful around other peoples stuff

Me: Perfect – let’s go

I also had “God Forbid” behavioral expectations for school

1) Respect your teacher

2) Never “not mind”  As they’ve aged it’s changed to be never be disrespectful

3) If you get in trouble at school you get in trouble at home

4) Do your best work

I am a firm believer in organized sports and we play regularly, but I also have always tried to allow each one to have at least 6 months a year that every minute isn’t scheduled and doesn’t produce pressure. They play a lot outside. They play football, kickball, baseball and lots of other invented games in the front yard. They build forts and drive tractors with their granddaddy. They play a few video games and in general just be kids with no pressure to preform other than their standard school day. When it’s time to perform then perform, but when it’s time to play then play. I expect and want them to work hard and play hard cuz isn’t that normal? 

Many people today seem to want their kids to be “Super” and “Excel” in everything. I just want and strive for my kids to be normal. Maybe I squished their individuality, but have you ever gotten a compliment from another parent or adult that said “Wow- I am super impressed with your kids individuality and he is welcome here anytime”  I bet you haven’t, but you will get a compliment on manners and respect though. Those compliments seem to come regularly now and they make me beam with pride. You can keep your sports compliments, piano compliments, singing compliments, and grade compliments. Those are great, but the them being “normal” compliments are just fine by me. I’ll take “what a nice young man he is for holding the door open for me” any day.

I pray they become more normal everyday. The “Normal” prayer for my children goes something like this: I pray they stay well grounded, know their own strengths and weaknesses and value them, show respect and know their place in the world, have empathy for those with less, and in general become good humans and tax paying citizens! 

Normal shouldn’t be the new four letter word. I’m perfectly happy and pray they remain “normal” to everyone else.  They can be “special” to me.

Karma- Ain’t She A Bitch

Posted on Updated on

I try to never write when I’m really upset. I try to wait a few days so I can calm down and think of a funnier way to get to the point. I usually try to be funny yet pointed cause I find if I construct about ever few sentences for someone to laugh it’s not nearly as controversial. Most people (or maybe just me) seem to take criticism or constructive criticism much easier when given with a few laughs. You know that great song -everyone sing along- from Mary Poppins “A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, the medicine go down, the medicine go down”  We can say as a society that news channels, news papers, drama’s or even reality TV changes our society, but comedy is what makes many actually examine what they find funny and change their perspectives. It can never change a belief, but it does help in the examination.

I’ve only found one bitch that seems to have a more messed up sense of humor than mine and her name is Karma! She has always been one of my favorite comedians. She is the best I’ve ever seen at making people eat their words. She can serve up a whole big ole plate of humble pie better than any professional chef. I’m convinced she just sits around having a glass of wine with her wolf like ears perked up just waiting for some unsuspecting human to say something stupid so she can make them eat their feet. She is the epitome of “open mouth -insert foot”  My daddy only preached to me about one thing ever. It could be the only thing I really ever heard, but I’m going with preached. All he ever said was “Child listen to me closely- NEVER EVER  say my child will not cuz you made me eat every word. Just don’t do it and maybe they won’t.”

As I said my daddy preached this so many times in my life- I have NEVER EVER said it cuz that lady named Karma scares me. I’m not scared of many people or things. The very short list of things I’m scared of are:  my parents, my ancestors rolling over in their graves, the monkey bats from The Wizard of Oz, Freddie Kruger from Nightmare of Elm Street, Jaws, and Karma.  Every now and then my hubby will get brave during a children conversation and stick his chest out and say something like “My child will” and he wakes up 15 minutes later after the “thunk” of the flip flop hit him in the head.  I don’t throw things at the hubby (often), but you can bet a flip flop flies at his head before even half of the statement gets out of his mouth. I’m already “payin” for both of our raising the last thing I need is Karma to come bite me in the ass times two!!

The only other thing I’ve found that can change a person’s perspective faster than comedy is that sweetheart I call Karma. She just sits around waiting with that evil smirk on her face for you to say something stupid. Trust me- just pick someone that does something you don’t understand today. Condemn their behavior. Tall about it a lot to anyone who will listen (gossip about things you don’t know for those of you confused). I promise as soon as you do Karma will pick someone you love to punish for your arrogance. It may be your child, your sibling, your spouse, your parent, your cousin or your best friend, but trust me you will learn to accept and understand the behavior because she will pick and punish someone who you will love unconditionally to prove a point. That’s her sense of irony and you put it out there and you can’t tell me you never heard the term “Karma’s a bitch”? You just choose to take her on and lost!

There’s an old saying about people that live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones and in reality don’t we all live in glass houses. Are any of us perfect? Isn’t a glass house just a protective barrier we all build against the world so we can go to bed and say “Thank God that’s not us” Even if our houses aren’t broken, do any of our windows not have a few spots or cracks?  One of my favorite southern sayings has always been “Well bless their heart” which applies to those people out there testing my friend Karma-good luck with that!! For those of you who know better than to mess with bigger stuff than yourselves my second favorite saying is the “There for the grace of God, Go I! Trust me -when you have to go down the more difficult road it’s always less painful to travel without the taste of your boot leather in your mouth! 

If You Think I’m Crazy Now…..

Posted on Updated on

My house growing up was an estrogen metropolis. There were three women and my poor dad. The poor guy was so outnumbered I think his testosterone levels had to of been lowered once a month just for survival. He lived through thousands of naked Barbies and baby dolls that needed to be held. Through the teenage years we traveled on the roller coaster of girl hormones and my poor parents just hung on in the back seats for dear life. There was the yelling and temper tantrum throwing. There was the busting out crying for no good reason and the monthly melody of “Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, think I’ll go eat worms” followed by door slams. Such is the life with just girls.

You can imagine my surprise when I went for my first ultrasound and low and behold there was a little extra appendage. I was having a boy. I had no idea how to raise a boy. I hadn’t prepared for a boy. I had spent the first three months of my pregnancy looking at little pink dresses because we all know how well that assume thing works out. But here it was – a little HE was coming into my world. I immediately started to change plans. I changed the nursery idea from Nursery Rhymes to John Deere. I had John Deere before John Deere was cool. I had to order the material from their corporate and have the entire ensemble made, but it was the first so damn the torpedo’s and the cost. I started looking at little boy cloths and picking out the cutest ones with baseballs, footballs, and in general sports themes galore. By the time he came into the world everything was prepared, but me.

This little appendage came with lots of rules I didn’t know. They come in at the hospital and tell you they have to cut on it which is incredibly scary for a new mama. When you get them home you have to keep it really clean and sanitary. You learn that little appendage even as an infant can stand straight up. After you get pee in your eye once you learn real quick what that standing up means and that the diaper needs to be put on the front first.  Forget everything you ever learned about changing a diaper- trust me- the front goes down first! 

As they grow this appendage starts to take on a life of it’s on. When you go in to wake up your toddler- there it is – standing at attention, It still means the same thing, but it still takes you off guard at first. They also learn where it is and how to manipulate it themselves. I learned this lesson the hard way. As I was sitting on my bed one morning talking on the phone this cute little toddler boy creature I had made walks into my room.  He has somehow gone from feety pajama’s to butt ass naked in approximately a minute. He is standing there in all his glory. He is grinning bigger than a Cheshire Cat. His hands are on his hips and his chest is stuck out like he has conquered the world. He looks up at me and says “Look mama – made big pee-pee – and hung my pacey on it”  There it was- a pacifier hanging by the handle off his appendage. As I sat there stunned and not exactly knowing how to deal with this new experience I decided my best option was to call the hubby to find out if this was normal. I assumed it was when his answer was “That’s my boy” 

Now that boy is a teenager that extra appendage officially scares me to death!!

I seem to be a little odd in the things that scare me as a mama. Most people seem to be petrified of their daughters during these years and have the idea that boys are easy. I am the exact opposite. I hope they are brilliant and don’t do anything dumb, but since I know there are probably no Nobel Prize winners coming from my loins – I have been saying “please be smart and cover your soldier” since I was quickly laying that diaper down on top of it before it pee’d on me. Here’s always been my thinking:  If my teenage estrogen queen gets herself in trouble I have some say so and control. If God forbid something does happen I will be involved in the decisions and the future. If my teenage testosterone kings get someone else in trouble my boys nor I have any say so in the decision or future what so ever.

Now you may think this makes me a control freak and maybe it does, but it scares me more than the monkey bats from the Wizard of Oz. Oh- and at 45 I am still petrified of the monkey bats. When I have these horrifying thoughts I start to hear the monkey bats music and start to hyperventilate. I try to talk to them often about smart decisions and dumb decisions and how to protect themselves etc etc etc. Some days I feel like all I do is talk about teenage decisions until I’m blue in the face. I give them a situation and ask how they would handle. I give them an example and ask if it was a smart decision or not. I ask them for examples of things they’ve heard at school that were dumb decisions and how they would of handled them differently. I talk, threaten, and plead and hope they listen at least a little and then I pray pray pray and hope they and I survive the roller coaster of the teenage hormone years because I’m just holding on in the back seat and getting ready for the ride.  

I’m praying for the Nobel prize winners, but until then my newest threat for my testosterone kings is one of my favorites. Sometimes fear can be a powerful motivator and I need them motivated to over rule their hormones during those special moments!!!  “Boys ya know I’ve always said that orange isn’t in my color wheel, but the quickest way to see mama wearing an attractive orange jumper and to only visit me on Sundays is to it let some crazier women than me be raising my grand baby. Oh and FYI- If you think I’m crazy now – you won’t of seen nothin yet!” Since they already seem a little scared of me when I go crazy- let’s just let em think on that….



Should Of, Would Of, Could Of

Posted on Updated on

This afternoon the parasites (children for those of you nicer than me) all started to come rambling in from school.  First through the door is the youngest.  He comes in yells “Mom”, immediately throws his book bag in a corner and gives me the obligatory kiss on the cheek. I ask “how was school” and get the standard boy answer of “Fine”. About and hour later the next in the door is the oldest. He yells “Mom”, throws down the book bag and gives me the obligatory kiss on the cheek. I ask “how was school” and get the standard boy answer of “Fine”. About 45 minutes later the next in the door is the middle parasite.  The experience starts off the same. She walks in the door yelling “Mom” throws the book bag down and gives me a kiss on the cheek and then everything changes. She begins to talk. She proceeds to tell me absolutely everything that was said or done at school that day until my ears start to bleed or she is so exhausted she decides to take a nap.  Since she is a teenage girl thankfully usually the nap comes first, but I’m waiting on the ears to start bleeding any day.

This is a pretty standard afternoon in my house and has been for many years. Most of this ritual was started when they started kindergarten.  They came home and threw their book bags down.  I pointed at my cheek and they knew what was expected.  I never had to say “give mama a kiss”  they just leaned in and kissed my cheek. Somewhere over all of those years I stopped having to point. It just became part of the routine I now take almost for granted.

This started me thinking about other routines we do every day and how many of those we take for granted.  

1) No one leaves in the morning without a kiss on the cheek and a “Love you- have a good day”.  

This is why my mornings take forever!  One parasite leaves at 6:55. The hubby leaves at 7:30. The next parasite leaves at 7:35 and the next leaves at 8:20. I finally get to my life after all of this insanity.  There is a whole lot of niceties going on in my house before 8:30 in the morning. Some mornings I’m grumpy and they may not come out with the same sweetness as others.  Some mornings these sweet words are done in a tone that the devil would be proud of, but they are said just the same. If you think mine come out my mouth with a tone you should hear a 14 year old sleepy boy saying it at 7:30 am to his mama.  There are mornings I am pretty sure he has been possessed by a demon. I keep watching just to verify saying the word love doesn’t force his whole body into convulsions and his head to spin around.  So far so good, but hey- it could still happen. 

2) Whoever cooks dinner gets a Thank you from those who ate

We do not eat out a lot- actually almost never. Now I’m not saying we are one of those families that eat together at a table (like we should). We are a standard family that makes it’s plates and sits around the boob tube eating. We just have never eaten out a lot so I’m not sure when this one started or why.  Maybe it started with my father always telling my mother thank you for dinner. Maybe it started when I used to work crazy hours and my husband would cook dinner when needed and I felt guilty. Maybe it started because my husband was happy when I cooked. I’m not sure, but it seems to be part of our routine now.  With three parasites running in multiple directions we have learned that dinner at home some nights is a challenge. Whoever gets home first, decides to stay home from practice, or just gets up out of their chair first cooks. I seem to lose in the “get out of the chair first” battle so I do a lot of practices to balance out the load. What I appreciate about this routine is it doesn’t really matter who cooks. It doesn’t matter if it’s one of the parasites (happened once in almost 15 years), the hubby, or myself. If you eat- you must say thank you.  SHHHH- the best part is it’s so ingrained – I even get a thank you for take out – cuz that dialing the pizza place was exhausting!! 

3) No one goes to bed without a kiss and and “I love you and sweet dreams”

I used to love this time of day soooooo much!! When they were little you would feed them and they would say thank you.  Then they would get their baths, brush their teeth, get on the pajama’s, and get in the bed.  We would go in and tuck them in all snug as bugs in rugs, give them their kiss goodnight, tell them we loved them and have sweet dreams. There was usually about another 30 minutes of insanity while we tucked them in again and repeated the process a few times, but eventually they would be asleep and we would have about 2 whole hours of adult time before we fell over.  

As they age this sweet experience has all gone to SHIT!!  Now it works more like this. At 8 pm I start yelling at the youngest to get in the shower to which he “remembers” he has homework because “he forgot” at 4. At about 8:30 to 9 pm everyone is home or comes inside and we finally eat dinner and they say thank you (Yes I do know why I am getting as big as a house).  At 9:15 to 9:30 I start yelling at the youngest to go to bed (He’s 11 not 6 so just relax) About 15 minutes after I have accomplished the feat he begins to yell “MAMA” throughout the house so I go in for his kiss and sweet dreams. At 10 I start yelling at the two teenagers to get in the shower and bed. At 10:30 the middle child comes out in a towel, shakes her wet head in my face and giggles. At 11 I go into each of the teenagers rooms, yell at the top of my lungs “FOR GODS SAKE GO TO BED” give them their kiss and I love you/sweet dreams. I then walk to my bedroom and crawl in the bed defeated. Then something rehabilitating happens. The hubby reaches over, kisses me and says Sweet dreams/ I love you.

My favorite part of this ritual is when other children spend the night.  My rule does not change. If you spend the night in my home you get a goodnight kiss on the forehead and a sweet dreams.  My eldest is a social butterfly so their are nights when I give a bunch of 14 to 17 year old boys a kiss on the forehead goodnight. The reactions of ones who have never spent the night in my home are always priceless. As I lean in to kiss them on the forehead they lean back and their eyes start to get very large. Luckily there is usually one there who has experienced it a million times who says “don’t worry about it- it’s her rule- suck it up and take your good night kiss” 

Now I am looking around at my extremely messy house and thinking maybe I set my routines and priorities wrong. I should of added making the bed in the morning before saying have a good day. I seriously should of added one chore to the ritual after my kiss on the cheek in the afternoon. I should of adding doing the dishes after the thank you for dinner. I should of added a chore before bed.

I am a mama and we all can say I should of, would of, or could of all day!!  Hell I may even add a few, but I doubt it. We all should of done something differently. We all could of done something differently. At the end of the day though we didn’t. We each raise them with our own set of priorities and values. Love and respect seems to be my most important, but yours may be financial responsibility or individuality.  Just because my priorities are different than yours doesn’t mean mine are right and yours are wrong or vice-verse. They are just different. If we were smart we would learn from each other not judge each other. Unless they hurt someone outside of their family then who am I to judge? When did we decide as mothers that we have the right to judge each other? Was it social media or just the media telling us what we should think? When did we stop having the right to raise our children with what priorities are important to each of us? Isn’t being a mother a hard enough job without worrying about what our peers think?   

I am reminded of one of my favorite sayings of all time “Behind every good child is a mama telling herself she is doing it all wrong”. Isn’t this the truth? The best mama’s worry about the future of their kids.The best mama’s think they have horrible children. The best mama’s do worry about what you think. The best mama’s beat themselves up every day with the would of, could of, and should of’s.

I don’t care how good or bad of a mama you are -your children are going to give you enough ego bruises for a lifetime. The one’s they don’t give you – you will give yourself. The one’s you don’t give will be given to you by your peers. So the next time when you bend down to pick up that rock to throw at someone who does it differently than you- just remember there is probably one out there somewhere aimed at you and black eyes are hard to cover up.  







If It Walks Like a Duck and Acts Like a Duck……..

Posted on Updated on

Well it’s Saturday morning after a very long spring break. I get up, make the coffee and prepare for the three parasites to make their appearances sometime after about two pm. The teenagers can accomplish confusing their days and nights in just a standard weekend so a full week is a pattern that can only bet fixed with the 6:30 wake up on Monday morning. There will be yelling, crying, throwing things, and begging to which I will smile and say “I told ya so”.  I have warned and threatened all week and have been forced to suffer a million teenage sighs and eye rolls so the “I told ya so” I get to enjoy on Monday morning will be followed by an evil grin and laugh that will rival any Disney villain ever created. As they beg and plead I will be doing my best Cruella de Vil, Ursula, and Evil Queen impersonations. I haven’t decided yet if I I will mix them all together for the ultimate super villain or give each one of the parasites their own experience. I’m a evil mom so I’m leaning toward the ultimate super villain. 

Now them sleeping late has had some advantages for me. We live in a neighborhood where each of my parasites has their own groups of people their ages to hang out.  This causes them, over 90% of the time, to completely ignore the fact they have siblings and do their own thing. They basically act as if they are each only children. The only times they acknowledge each other is when they are forced to interact. This does cause an interesting phenomena which is they very rarely fight. 

This spring break we decided to stay home.  The problem with this is most of the neighbors decided to travel. This caused a week of my parasites to interact with each other. The first few days were peaceful because it seemed to be a new playmate for each, but by Wednesday the standard “GET OUT” “I HATE YOU” and “YOU’RE AND IDIOT” and then dreaded “MOM- HE HIT ME” started to be yelled throughout the house. At first I started to say “Do not talk to your sibling that way” and “Do not hit your sister” but after about 24 hours of the insanity I started to say “If any of you get really hurt and you started it- it’s your own fault and don’t come crying to me” 

When I grew up there were consequences to actions. If you hit your sister and she hit you back and it hurt I was told “Well you shouldn’t of hit her first”  I never got a spanking (ass beating for those of you not from the south) without the dreaded “I have decided you will receive three licks, but first please tell me why you are getting them” If I said anything other than the offense I had committed one lick was added. I learned after the first two times of saying “I don’t know” and getting licks added to just take personal responsibility and admit the offense I had committed. I knew what I had done, but taking personal responsibility was always much tougher than the licks that were coming. I knew I had done the deed and it was time to pay the piper, but admitting it was always the more cruel and unusual part of the punishment. I wanted to blame someone else, make excuses, and say it wasn’t my fault but that just wasn’t part of dad’s deal. Admit your misdeeds and accept your punishment was the only deal that was gonna get made in my house. 

This started me to think about personal responsibility, or lack thereof, in our society today. 

I watched a news program last night where a 14 almost 15 year girl had stolen liquor from her mother, gotten a little tipsy, texted a 16 or 17 year old boy to come get her to have sex, proceeded to sneak out of her mothers house, had sex with the boy, and then continued to have more to drink. This child was sitting on national television admitting to this behavior. She then proceeded to blame the boy, the school for being mean to her, and the police for not prosecuting the boy for rape.  I’m still confused about what rape when she initiated, but ok?  Luckily even two separate panels of DA”s and people said there was no rape so what even amazed me more was her mother sitting right there with her blaming everyone else for her daughters behavior. Society is trying to teach her personal responsibility, but mom absolutely not.  She was mad that people had called her a slut. All I could think was “well baby girl if it walks like a duck and it acts like a duck……” There was a little more to it and the boy did make a bad judgement call after everything else happened, but how exactly is none of that her fault?? How exactly does she deserve rally’s saying “Justice for Daisy”? Justice for what? She made terrible judgement calls – how is anyone else to blame? 

Now before everyone freaks out and starts throwing large boulders at my head again – let me just say – I have a daughter and the last time I checked I am a woman. I also consider myself lucky that I have the ability to raise children of each sex which allows me to see things from both sides of the issue and I believe we have gone way too far in telling our girls they do not have to take responsibility for their own bad behavior or decisions anymore. I am ALL for protecting women and DO NOT want to go back to the days of the thoughts of “she was asking for it”, but I also do not want my daughter to think that any time in life she ever regrets a decision she consciously made it obviously wasn’t her fault and she can just blame the boy. 

As a woman and a mother all of this confusing of the term rape by our society is extremely disturbing. The definition of rape is simple. Rape is an act of aggression. Rape requires a conscious decision on the males part to do something against the woman’s will. Against her will can be an act of violence or even an act where she cannot make a conscious decision. Rape is not- I regret the decision I had to have sex with them this morning because someone will be mad or oops I had a lapse in judgement and he should of somehow known that through osmosis or even I didn’t want anyone to know and they will call me names so I’ll just say he made me.  So that being said – if it was her conscious will to have sex then it wasn’t rape.  The only exception is children and adults and that’s a completely different issue.

What bothers me most about this girl and her mother is that by trying to play this game and saying a false allegation there are other girls who deserve justice that will never get it because they are too scared to come forward. They will see this program and see she was called names and the boy was not prosecuted and think they will not get justice either.  They won’t understand that he was not prosecuted because it wasn’t rape or that she was called names that she had earned all by herself fair and square. This girl didn’t get justice because there was no justice to give. I want the girls who deserve justice to come forward and I am afraid this mother and daughter have hurt that process not helped.

The reason this is so disturbing to me is because my goal is to raise my parasites to be good humans. How can I teach my daughter how to control her personal sexual responsibility and my boys to respect women sexually when the rules have gotten so completely out of whack? How do I say “sorry kid- you did the crime so you’ll do the time” when there are mothers on national television constantly blaming others for their children’s bad decisions or actions. How do I teach my boys how and when their behavior is inappropriate or appropriate when they could change on a whim the next morning? How do I explain to my daughter that her reputation is hers to control and right, wrong, or indifferent society will give you the one you earn when there are people on TV saying it’s not her fault? 

I guess all I can do in this crazy no fault society we live in today is to just keep raising mine to try to take personal responsibility for their actions and to understand that consequences are part of life whether anyone else does or not. You can bet I will not be on TV blaming it on anyone else. Every decision they make and every action they have will always have a consequence. Some will be good and some will be bad, but a consequence just the same.  I can only pray that the consequence of teaching them to take personal responsibility is their ultimate knowledge of right and wrong and if no one else does at least they will have each other even if it’s through the brotherly and sisterly punches of love. 










That’s What True Equality Means To Me!!

Posted on

When I set out on my adventure of blogging it was just for me.  I needed a place to ramble and get some of my stupid idea’s off my chest. After about a million years of marriage the hubby is tired of hearing them all the time and the parasites have reached the ages where I’m now the dumbest woman alive and very little I say is ever worth listening.  The most confusing part though is they enjoy reading them?? I had the thought that maybe I should go mute and write everything on my tablet and pass it around, but I am convinced they would just learn to hit delete then too.  Maybe there eyes will absorb more than their ears until their brains come back or they at least think mine did. If it is based on my experience- maybe when they’re 25. 

I’ve learned one of the great things about writing this blog is that I am not alone in my insanity. There are more people out there like me or at least people who enjoy roaming around in my brain and seeing the strange humor for 15 minutes a day.  When I started to write my mama and one of my friends (whose brain is usually in more of overdrive than mine) were my main points of inspiration.  I would talk to them on the phone for 15 minutes a day.  Every time I hung up I had a new blog. My mama finally said one day as I started to laugh- “Crap- You’re gonna use that aren’t you?  I should just quit talking now” (crap is the worst word she can muster-good southern church women only say shit if a bomb went off next to them and then it can be questionable)  

Now something very cool (or scary depending on how you want to look at it) is starting to happen. People have now started to send me in idea’s to write. I’ve always had great friends, but how cool is that? They read an interesting article that could be considered controversial and BAM- I get a “hey- you might wanna write on this topic.  I think you could make it entertaining.” One- I love they think I could make it entertaining and two- yeah I don’t have to think as hard today.  It also helps me keep my brain roaming around with a million idea’s for days to come. FYI- thanks for the sleep deprivation when my brain is still writing at 2 am too. 

One such article was sent to me by a friend the other day that my brain just requires me to spout my brand of nonsense.  

This article was from New York Daily News on March 30th. It is about the grief that Susan Patton, one of the first female Princeton graduates in 1977, received after writing a letter to the editor in The Daily Princetonian.  This article outraged many women rights advocates because she basically gave women the advice to find their husband on campus before they graduate. Being me and a little crazy I immediately had to go find this article and read it in it’s entirety. I have a daughter growing up and wanted to see if any of this was good advice. 

Now the premise of her letter to the editor does have some merit for those of us who actually live in reality land. Granted most people want to live in Politically Correct land where we all can be anything, have it all, and always have rainbows and sunshine coming out of our asses. She never tells women not to chase their professional dreams nor does she tell them not to pursue their goals. The premise of her letter is this:

1) We bombard young women with professional career advice while ignoring advice of a personal nature and the personal part of your life will be explicitly tied to their overall happiness.

2) As women age the amount of men who are their intellectual equals goes down and a woman can’t be happy with anyone who is not

3) They will never have this large of a Olympic sized pool of eligible bachelors again that are your intellectual equals to chose. Men as they age look for younger women so their pool gets larger and ours turn into kiddie pools. 

Before the bounder sized rocks start whizzing by my head- she does have some valid points, but there’s a few flaws in her logic.

1)  We do have a tendency today to bombard our daughters and young women with career and life advice that doesn’t include marriage and family.  If they choose- marriage and family will be a huge part of their overall happiness and should be addressed. We spent the 70’s and 80’s singing that commercial jingle “I can bring home the bacon, Fry it up in a pan, and never ever let you forget you’re a man”  I remember my generation grew up thinking that we could actually pull that crap off. When I say crap- I mean crap.  We wanted it all and we thought we could pull it off.  She went to work, came home and looked like a super model cooking dinner and obviously still had a happy husband- I could do that!! Then the reality set it- the jingle was WRONG!! Once you throw in kids to that equation it should have sounded like this “I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, change the diapers, drive to practice, do the homework, give baths, and never ever let you forget you’re a man” That is not a liberated woman- that’s a frazzled, overworked, sleep deprived, mess of a life!  Yes teaching our daughters about how to balance their professional and personal lives is important.  We should be teaching them they can have it all.  We should just change the definition of a liberated woman. A liberated woman is not one who can do it all- A truly liberated woman is one who doesn’t have to do it by themselves.

2) There is more to a marriage than just intellectual compatibility. I’m not saying it’s not important because I wouldn’t want to particularly live with someone who was dumb as mud, but some might.  Many people marry for many reasons and none aren’t valid. There are also many types of intelligence. In the South we separate them into “book smarts” and “common sense”  I have a cousin who is absolutely book smart brilliant, but has zero common sense.  He can put together a multi-million dollar deal, but forgets where he parks his car and reports it stolen. I can’t put together a multi-million dollar deal, but I can usually find my car.  Who is to say which form of intelligence is more valid or useful? As a matter of fact we are usually jealous of which ever we don’t have. If a successful marriage is about complimenting each other shouldn’t the extremely book smart person marry someone who has common sense. Wouldn’t it be wiser for the book smart partner to close his deals while the common sense partner finds the car?  If not wiser- definitely easier.  Humor is also a huge portion of long term compatibility. Raising your little parasites will be more challenging than anything you will ever do in your life unless you become President of the United States. That seems to be the only career path that ages people faster than raising children. If you can’t both learn to laugh together at the ridiculousness of what has become of your everyday life you will start to go mad. For several years those bouts of laughter you have together will be the more intimate than the quickies you have in the bathroom while the kids are watching cartoons. Pick the partner with traits that work for you and don’t be ashamed if it takes a few.

3) I understand what she’s saying about men wanting younger women, but I don’t think she’s giving near enough men near enough credit. She actually says in the article that men as they age are only looking for women who are pretty and we’ll settle for a little dumber than they are to accomplish the looks.  Now I have had more men friends than women friends most of my life and for the record- THAT’S JUST NOT TRUE!!  The only women who believe that are women who have very few men friends. Those are the scary women my friends used to date that only had female friends. Their idea’s on how men think are a convoluted mess of too many nights of wine sitting around with women complaining. There are no more superficial men that are only looking for that in a partner than there are superficial women only looking for money.  Guess what- those people usually end up together and get what they deserve. Would you really want that man anyway?  Let the superficial be superficial together.  Most men truly want just a few things in a partner. They want a partner who is confident and secure in themselves. They want a partner they can relate too. After a certain age men don’t even change their clothing style since they were in high school so they certainly don’t want to learn a whole new generation. They want a woman to need their strength even if it is something as simple as to take out the trash. They want to not think too much. The best wedding advice I was ever given was simple and clear and still rings true to 90% of the men I have met in my life. Men are simple creatures and if you want to keep them happy do three simple things . Be a kind mama in the kitchen, a funny sister on the couch and slut in the bedroom and don’t confuse the three.  If you can pull those few simple things off and weren’t hit by every branch of the ugly tree on the way down they don’t care if you’re 20 or 60 and will do their best to keep you happy too.  If they can’t appreciate and respect those skills- let em go find the gold digger.  You just keep on saying NEXT cause I promise eventually one will!

I applaud Susan Patton saying the absolutely non politically correct because I think her heart was in the right place. She wants women to bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan and never forget he’s a man. She wants them to have it all, but she’s a generation behind is why everyone went nuts. I want my daughter to have it ALL!  I want her to be liberated in the truest sense of the word.  I want her to do what makes her happy!  If she wants to have a career then be liberated enough to choose to stay single or to choose a partner who will assist her in life and respect her for her strengths and compliment her weaknesses. I want her to be liberated and confident in herself to know that partner will come along and her believe she’s a hell of a catch when he does and be liberated in her decision to raise a family if she chooses

Isn’t that what all women have been fighting for all these generations?  It’s not just equal pay, equal job opportunities, or even equal benefits.  True liberation means true equality to make our own decisions and be respected for them all. Now that I’m done bringing home the bacon- I’m gonna do what generations of women before me have done and go pull off my bra through my sleeves, put on comfy cloths, fry up the bacon, and remind my husband he never ever should let me forget I’m a woman.  That’s what true equality means to me!! 









Posted on Updated on

I am luckier than most and my job allows me to work from my home,  Being in sales I am usually running around the city in appointments and cussing traffic, but every now and then there is a day where I have no appointments and spend my day on conference calls and doing busy work. I wake up, get the kids off to school, drink a pot of coffee, turn on the computer, start work, and basically sit at my desk in front of my computer on the phone in pajama’s and bath robe until noon.  Needless to say on these days I am a beautiful bed head site.  My hair has been known to accomplish sticking straight out a good 6 inches all the way around my head. If you just saw me you would think I had been struck by lightening during the night.  I have red hair so if you add in the no make-up factor and pale skin I could pass for the scariest clown at the circus. I can make toddlers cry at 40 paces. 

Now as I work I usually have the TV on in the background for “the noise” factor.  I don’t know about you, but living with 4 other humans, 2 dogs, a bird, a lizard, and a container full of crickets has suddenly made me deathly afraid of things being too quiet.  If the house gets too quiet I start to hyperventilate and start to feel a panic attack coming. I am convinced the old saying “the quiet before the storm” wasn’t written about the weather.  It was written by a mother of boys who knew good and well if she had 5 minutes of peace it would be shortly interrupted by an explosion or a trip to the ER (or both). So I keep the TV on for the noise so I can relax.  

I very rarely pay much attention to the noise that is going on in the background. This is not really a hard feat- (have you seen daytime TV lately?) It’s a string of mindless talk shows where we talk about celebrities dresses, divorces, meditation and yoga techniques.  If they aren’t just sitting there talking they are cooking and talking. Basically daytime TV has turned into every party I’ve been to since my thirties. The women just stand around in the kitchen and chat and graze on snacks,  I don’t understand or really even remember when that change happened. Suddenly just one day we went from males and females all together in the living room hanging out and talking to the women in the kitchen and males on the deck. I think it’s just be hardwired into the human brain when we turn thirty or maybe by then we have just been married long enough we are craving company of our own kind.  I do have days when I think:  OH please for the love of God can I have an estrogen adult conversation. Oop- wandering again, back to topic. 

Now my favorite part about day time TV is absolutely none of the commercials are written for me.  I am not even close to any of their demographics. I am convinced the advertisers believe the ONLY people in America who ever even turn on a TV during the day consist in three categories:

1) New moms

2) Elderly

3) You have been in a horrible accident

Now I am thankful I do not fit any of these demographics.  I have NO need now for baby toys, wipes, or diapers nor do I ever want to again.  The only time I will ever buy these again (if they aren’t on a registry) is hopefully for my grandkids and based on the ages of my own parasites let’s hope and pray that’s after the AARP card comes in the mail. I don’t qualify yet for AARP even though my body feels a hundred every morning as my knees creak as I go down the stairs.  Maybe the qualifications should change from age to body noises. I could send them in a tape of my bones and I’m pretty sure they would gladly send me a card. I could use the discounts on hotel rooms. 

Now my personal favorite are the injury attorneys. These guys must spend 100% of their entire advertising budgets between the hours of 10 am and 4 pm.  They are approximately 1/3 of all commercials on during the day. They don’t spend much of that budget on the commercials, just on the time. The commercials are poorly put together.  They are all the same. The attorney tells you how he’s going to fight for you and get you more money. Then a few testimonials from people that got astronomical amounts of money (which are usually ugly enough that they could be real- they can’t possibly be professional actors) Then the attorney comes back with the disclaimer that he can’t guarantee you that much.  If you listen to their commercials you can sue for anything.
Today one in particular perked up my ears. They wanted me to sue if I had ever used talcum powder and got cancer because it is based on a new study. Of course it wasn’t that simple, but talcum powder? Hasn’t pretty much everyone here used powder at some point in their lives? How did this study accomplish getting a control group?  Did they start at births in 1968 and tell certain moms they couldn’t use powder on their babies butts and tell other moms to go to town with the powder?  Did they follow these children for the last 40 years and tell the adults in the control group –  I know you have jock itch, but sorry no powder for you?  Who even thought to file for grant money to study the link between cancer and powder?  Was it a guy who had a lot of issue’s and used a lot of powder and got cancer and thought “hmmm- I’m sure it wasn’t the fact I smoked 30 years that caused this- it must be the powder?” Heaven forbid it not be “just cuz” 
Whatever happened to “Just Cuz”?  Somethings in life just can’t be explained or sued away.  Who can explain why certain people can eat horrid food and never have high cholesterol while other people can eat just raw veggies and be off the chart?  Why do some people who exercise and are in great health fall over dead from a heart attack?  Who can explain why some people can smoke, or I guess now use powder, for 60 years and never develop cancer why other people do?  Who can explain why certain parents can raise 2 great kids and one complete cluster while raising them the same? 
Somethings really just have no correct answer nor can there be anyone or anything to blame- sometimes the answers really are “JUST CUZ” 




Don’t Get Stuck In The Mud

Posted on Updated on

Well here I am again sitting and staring at a blank screen trying to decide what to write. My mind is a jumble of random things going round and round in circles at light speeds. This is causing a convoluted string of aimless idea’s with no actual direction or purpose.

Soooo my idea for today’s blog is just to run with them and see where they go.  Sometimes it’s good and sometimes it’s scary, but that’s why there is a delete and draft button.

So here goes:

1) While trying to get a parasite out of the bed this morning I used the age old method of jumping up and down on their bed and singing at the top of my lungs (everyone sing along) “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine” to which the loving little darling yelled “MOM – You are the most annoying mom EVER!” to which I smirked and replied “Yep and it takes a special skill set!”  If they can say “mom” on average of 1 million times a day- jumping on their bed in the morning is definitely fair play.

2) I really want a Southern woman emoji- (for us old people emoji’s are the little smiley faces we use on the internet) There just isn’t a good one for me out there.  I see them that do a little bit of everything, but can someone tell me why there isn’t one with horns holding up a crooked halo?  Let’s face it – who other than a Southern woman can party with you on Saturday night and still get up and go to church on Sunday morning to make mommy happy.  It’s a skill set and we deserve a least a stupid emoji to symbolize our accomplishments.

3) Who decided it was a brilliant idea to put roundabouts in the South.  Come on now- we can barely do four way stops correctly and now you want us to learn roundabout etiquette? Is there even roundabout etiquette? If there is – how does it work?  If you look at the large roundabouts in the world such as Washington DC and London it doesn’t look like there is an etiquette.  It looks like everyone got drunk and decided to drive in circles.  HMMM- maybe we will be o.k with roundabouts.  We know how to drink and drive big ole trucks with big ole tires around in circles. I have the solution- just fill all the roundabouts with mud and we southerns will be just fine!

4) I tried to do a little math this morning and realized math can be scary. I hadn’t cleaned out my personal email box in a few days and decided it was getting out of hand and it was just that time.  Just like most people I get a lot of junk email.  If I ever need Viagra, fill the need to give my money away to scam artist is Africa, or look for a job in New York -I am ALL set.  Sometime I wonder how they even get my email.  It does’t really matter after you get burned once by a hacker you learn quick.  If I’m not expecting it and you want me to open an attachment on an email EVER – I would suggest you either call me or email me without one first.  So I tried to add up the amount of time I spent cleaning out my junk email a week and got some decent number and then multiplied it by 52 for a year and got a little bothered.  If I took that number and multiplied it by the amount of years I might be expected to live and it became a scary number.  I am going to spend an inordinate amount of time doing something very meaningless and then I realized I had spent 10 minutes doing a stupid math problem.  Darn it- I want that time back!!

Where there is your daily glimpse into the scary world of navigating my brain. It’s random and a little odd, but who wants to be normal? We are all made up of assorted differing thoughts running around in circles through our brains. Sometimes they work together and sometimes they just get in the way.  Imagine how boring the world would be though if we all thought in straight lines. Straight lines do not bend or deviate from a path. Straight lines have no imperfections.  Us humans have flaws and inadequacies that force us to giggle at the roundabouts of life. The trick is to not get stuck in mud.