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Monthly Archives: February 2016
Okay, so I’m sitting here in the Spanx I bought today, and there’s just no way to make this look sexy. Spanx are supposed to squeeze everything into place, but all it’s really doing is pushing my muffin top up to my breasts and giving me heartburn. Or maybe the moonshine I’m drinking is giving me heartburn. I don’t know, I can’t think straight. I’m not even sure any oxygen is actually making it to my brain at this point.
I have three amazing kids that I wouldn’t trade for anything. Except maybe a chocolate bar and another jar of Bananas Foster moonshine. My tummy will never be the same. I can do crunches until my abs are on fire, it won’t matter. I mean, I don’t actually do crunches, but I’m saying…I could, and it wouldn’t matter. Listen, as I’ve said before in Dear Pinners Pinning on Pinterest, I can’t be the portal into this universe AND perfectly sculpted. That’s just too much pressure. I’ve got loose muscles and a little extra tummy skin, which my Spanx were supposed to take care of, but it’s an epic fail at this point.
So I don’t think these are going to work for me, because I can’t even tuck this shit down into the fabric, it all just keeps popping back out. I’m going to go take these off before I lose consciousness.
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Song: Fallin Down by Chris Brown
A huge thanks to my daughter for putting this clip together.
There are so many things I take for granted in life. Like my health, my safety, or the luxury of peeing alone. Seriously, I haven’t even closed the bathroom door in over twelve years. What for…they’re just going to find me anyway, I can’t hide.
It’s like my need to urinate has become the official “call to order” of our family meetings. Everyone piles into the occupied bathroom as I try to shield myself with the nearby shower curtain. I can’t work under this kind of pressure! Even the dog tries to squeeze in. His fur face just staring at me, unblinking. What does he think I could possibly have for him at that moment?
Oh, and don’t even get me started on the bubble bath situation. It’s inevitable, the moment I sink into the tub my daughter has to poop. It’s like she’s messing with me.
Anyway, I realized what a low I’ve hit in life today when I was tucked away in a dark corner of my room, behind a dresser, eating a Snickers bar while the little one was searching for me. He was frustrated that I wasn’t answering him, but I couldn’t give up my location. Not only would I have to share the Snickers bar, but probably he would want to know why I stole it from him in the first place.
So this week I set out to conquer another stupid fear, eating alone in public. Actually, I think this fear is made up of many fears…a fear of looking stupid, a fear of being judged, a fear of trying something different…
It’s not the “being alone” part that bothers me. I love being alone. It’s the being alone while people are watching. I have this delusional issue where I think everybody is always watching me, waiting for me to screw up and look dumb. It’s like paranoia meets narcissism. In reality, nobody really even knows I exist…I’m pretty much invisible, easily forgettable and…blendy. If that’s not a word, it should be.
Anyway, I decided to eat at Panera Bread, a soup shop in town. I pulled into the parking lot and all sorts of thoughts raced through my mind. Like, “What am I supposed to look at since nobody’s sitting across from me?” and “Who’s going to tell me if I have a huge crumb on my face?” and “Would it be inappropriate to yell at someone else’s kids, since mine weren’t around?” It’s a real crisis, you guys.
I walked in going for “mysterious” and “confident” which probably would’ve worked better if I hadn’t been staring at the ground all shifty-eyed. I’m pretty sure I looked like a hand-shy dog that just peed in the corner. It wasn’t too crowded, but my heart was palpitating as I approached the counter to order my food.
There were too many choices and I didn’t want to hold up the line so I blurted out the first thing my eyes landed on.
“Broccoli Cheese soup, please…the smallest size you have.” I didn’t want broccoli cheese soup.
“Will you be eating here or is this carry out?” She asked.
“Eating here. Alone. But I have…like…three friends, just so you know.” I don’t think she cared.
She gave me a tea cup and a vibrator, (not the good kind) and told me to find a seat and the food would arrive shortly. I took the cup and couldn’t find the hot tea. See, this is what happens when I don’t have someone telling me where to go and how to get there. I should NEVER be unsupervised. I spend five minutes looking for the ever elusive hot tea, which turned out to be on the other side of the soft drink counter. It was a stupid place for hot tea, but whatever.
I found a seat in a small two-person booth and settled in. My blood pressure immediately lowered, my heart rate slowed to normal and my breathing resumed its normal pattern.
I looked up and all eyes were on me. Okay, it was just one small child looking at me, but she was judging, I could tell.
A nice kid brought me the food I ordered and politely asked if there was anything else he could bring me.
“Oh,” I thought, “because I’m eating alone you think I need something? That I’m somehow lacking something?”
He stood there in awkward silence.
“Or maybe he’s just doing his job.”
“No, I’m good, thanks.” I finally answered.
He pretty much ran from my table, I’m thinking he sensed the crazy.
Anyway, I pulled out a brand new novel and ate in peace, enjoying the quiet space I had to just relax for a minute. And by “minute” I mean hour and a half.
Nobody looked at me, judged me, or gave the slightest crap what I was doing. In fact, it wasn’t scary at all. I have no idea why I didn’t try this sooner, all these years I’ve been missing out.
I’m calling this irrational fear officially “conquered” and moving it into the “possible addiction” category.
On to the next fear…
A few times now I’ve gotten complimented or referred to as though I somehow had my shit together, which is funny…because I’m bat-shit crazy.
Once an acquaintance of mine asked how I managed to keep the kids so well behaved and the house so clean and orderly. I took her to my room and showed her a hell-hole even the world’s most dedicated hoarder would be terrified of. Dirty clothes covered every inch of the floor. I had ten minutes from the time I knew she was coming to the time she would arrive, and in a frantic haste I threw a broken bar stool, some large, dirty pots and a fish tank overgrown with algae on the bed. You read that right…a fish tank. On my bed. As far as keeping the kids well behaved, I told her that up until the second she knocked on my door, the little one was trying to wipe a booger on the girl as she was trying to dunk him in the toilet.
Another time, my family spent the day on the beach with another family from my husband’s work. During part of a conversation, the wife referred to me as “laid back” and “calm.” I was flattered to be described that way, so later I was telling my husband about it. He laughed and laughed, then looked confused and said “It must’ve been because you were drinking on the beach all day.” This girl saw me sipping a margarita and smiling as my sundress danced around my ankles, my children giggling and hugging me while I dipped my toes in the lake. The sun set in a golden sky as waves crashed gently to the shore. She missed the episode earlier in the day, when the cooler was moldy and I was storming around the house screaming swear words in my “Satan voice” at the top of my lungs because I couldn’t find the stupid beach umbrella, while the kids beat the crap out of each other in the living room and the dog was scooting his butthole across the kitchen floor.
I get super proud when I realize I’m good at hiding my crazy. I’ve actually printed up a list of signs and symptoms of a nervous breakdown, because I spend the majority of my life on the edge of insanity and I want to be ready…just in case. Of course there are some calm times, when I think I might actually know what I’m doing. There are times when we’re gathered around the table during family game night, laughing and consumed with happiness, and as I look around at my family, peace fills every crack of my heart. Then the little guy will irritate his big sister, who will in turn slam his face down into a cupcake causing him to sneeze sprinkles for a week. Dad will start yelling about how the kids are going to drive him crazy, which makes me feel defensive so I start yelling about how if anyone gets to go crazy around here I go first. (My family is going to make one lucky team of therapists very rich someday.)
Seriously though, none of us really have our shit together. Some of us are just better at hiding it than others. We’re all struggling to make it through this life doing the least amount of damage to ourselves and the one’s we love. Embrace the insanity and enjoy the crazy. It’s what makes life so interesting.
A quick shout out to my fellow “insane sister,” who left the most amazing message in my inbox for me. Thank you for thinking I had my shit together, and thanks even more for letting me know I’m not alone in my insanity. I’m so glad you found my blog!