Going Off the Deep End, Like Everybody

I’m trying to teach my son that happiness and pleasure can be found in simple, every day things as long as you have the right attitude and you intentionally build your life around the things that make you happy.

My husband and I talked about this recently. We are not Go Away For the Weekend people, partly because we both work weekends but also because if we’re not working, we just want to be home. We like our house and our local restaurants and stores, our neighborhood playgrounds and our area attractions. We found a place to live that we’re happy to be in, jobs we like to do, and a regular schedule that we can easily live with and/or adjust when necessary.

I’m sorry, Loverboy, but we disagree. We do not work for the weekends. Also, what… is that song about, really? It’s kind of all over the place. While also being awesome. And now it’s in my head and I’m not mad about it.

 

This is how I feel about writing as a hobby as well. If I can just have a regular schedule where time is put aside just for writing or editing or promoting or whatever, I can be happy with whatever I do (or do not) accomplish.

The sad happens when writing gets backburnered to holidays and family drama and work disasters and that’s where I’m at now. I have had no time to write. I don’t 100% remember what was going on in the story so I’m finding it hard to continue without re-reading first. And my primary mode of processing my ish and decompressing is TRAGICALLY ABSENT FROM MY LIFE!

Seriously, ya’ll, what do you do when you can’t write but you desperately want to? Is it Netflix? Buzzfeed? Daydreaming? Keep in mind that reading is out for me as well because quiet moments alone are nonexistent in my world.

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$.99 Book Sale Up In Here

Summer fades but teen love is eternal… ish: LIKE TWO OPPOSITE THINGS.

Post-apocalyptic chick-lit about a found family struggling to survive:
THE HOMECOMING EFFECT.

Institutionalized ghost therapy causes widespread workplace stress:
LAY HER GHOSTS TO REST.

Eda Novels 99c this week

Did you get an Amazon gift card for the holidays? Are you starting your 2019 Reading Challenge? Do you love me and want to support me in my hobby noveling?

GREAT! Buy a book or three on sale this week for $.99.

Visit the links above or my Amazon author page. Happy reading, friends!

Too Far Away to Camp

It’s so cute how I make little To Do notes to myself that say things like, “Finish writing that story” because… I’m not gonna finish writing that story. I’m going to open the document, stare at it, play some Twitter #amwriting hashtag games and then take 16 Buzzfeed quizzes.

This is why every other month should be NaNoWriMo. It’s the only way I get anything done.

No Respect for Funk

My son this morning: Mom, I think I’m done with my cereal. Can I get down?

My brain: Get down, get down. Get down, GET DOWN! Get down on it! Get down ON IT!

My mouth, in teacher tone: You know… in the 1970s when Mommy was born and Gram and Gramp were young adults, “Get down” meant to bust a funky dance move.

My son: That’s not true.

Me: Oh, but it is. I have proof. *plays Kool & the Gang, Get Down On It super loud while dancing around the kitchen*

My son: Can I go now?

Me: HOW YOU GONNA DO IT IF YOU REALLY DON’T WANT TO DANCE? BY STANDING ON THE WALL?

Baby Girl: *claps and laughs*

My son: Mooooooom! I just want to get off my chair and go do something else. Can I just goooooo? Pleeeeeeeease?

Me: *nods, dances, points at him as he walks away* GET YOUR BACK UP OFF THE WALL, DANCE!

My son: Staaaaahhhhppp!

Me: Baby, someday you will appreciate all of the wonderful things I try to teach you.

 

Kid Magic isn’t Minimal

I would really like to read and then possible live The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up but I’m so damn busy cleaning up after my children that I don’t actually have time to read it.

apartment architecture chair chairsThis is not my dining room.

 

My toddler has entered the second cat phase of her existence: getting into boxes. Naturally, she has to empty the boxes first. So every toy bucket, every laundry basket, every blanket bin, every storage ottoman has been DUMPED all over the floor so my kid can get in it.

You want to know what doesn’t bring ME joy? All the shit my kids love. All their plastic toy pieces and ugly stuffies and page after page of green scribbles. I hate it and I want to throw it all away.

But I don’t. Because they love it and throwing away the shit little people love is like telling them that their interests and passions don’t matter.

So it’s probably a good thing that I don’t have time for magic tidying right now. Maybe when they’re teenagers. Then they can keep all their crap in their own rooms.

 

 

Mommy’s Little Helper Ain’t You

So I’m on the floor of Trader Joe’s this morning, my cart full of groceries and my preschooler, my arms full of screaming writhing toddler in full-on tantrum mode, when some old lady comes over and touches my son’s face.

Listen, I know there’s some new trend of “helping” struggling moms in public by trying to distract them or… de-escalate or something? And admittedly, it’s a much better trend than the ole bitch about how crappy a parent she is loudly enough for her to hear you one of yesteryear. We’re working toward compassion as a society and I think that is wonderful.

However…

Woman, I had it under control. My son is at that age of obliviousness where he continues to monologue about whatever he’s thinking about even as the apocalypse hits so he was fine. He was talking about The Grinch and didn’t need a stranger touching him to make him feel better. In fact, he was like, “Mom, why did that stranger touch my face? I didn’t like it.” So thanks for making me apologize to my son for not protecting him from unwanted touching. That’s my first of all.

But after that, she tried to get in my face–actually, between my face and my daughter’s–to tell me how beautiful my daughter’s eyes are. And you know what? Yeah, yeah they are. They’re even prettier when she’s not clamping them shut and screaming with the full force of her mysterious banshee powers. But that’s not really what’s important right now, is it? (Also, she’s more than pretty eyes, bitch. She’s smart, strong, fearless and amazing and she doesn’t give a damn about your shallow compliments).

Mind you, I wasn’t also crying on the floor. I wasn’t screaming, I wasn’t losing my cool. I was very calmly balancing an angry python who could strike out and bite me with her venomous fangs at any moment. I was whispering in her ear and kissing her face and trying to soothe her, actually. I was asking her to tell me what she needs (because she can so she should), asking her if she was hungry, if she wanted hugs, if she needed naps. Eventually–you know, after I swatted away all of the “helpful” people distracting me from taking care of my children–she said Yes she wanted an apple. So I gave her an apple, sat her in the front of the cart, and she sat there calmly and ate for the rest of the shopping trip. Homeboy at the register gave me the apple for free too so I win at life all around today.

Ya’ll, I got it under control. For real. If I didn’t for some reason (because sometimes I really don’t), I’d leave the store, buckle my children into their car seats to keep them safe, and drive somewhere uncrowded to do some crying until I could get my own self under control. Then I’d take care of whatever was making my kids upset. And everything goes back to being ok again.

As for the “helpful” people in public, I mean… consider your motives AND the actual situation before you decide to insert yourself into someone else’s circumstances. Maybe ASK if they need help first and respect them if they say no.

And DON’T TOUCH OTHER PEOPLE’S BABIES without their permission! Like, I shouldn’t even have to mention that. Do you want me touching your baby? Do you want me, a total stranger, to touch your face when you’re upset? Do you want me to get in your face while you’re struggling with your life problems?

That woman is out there somewhere congratulating herself on a job well done while I’m over like, This Bitch.

adult age elderly enjoyment

“So I said, ‘what beautiful eyes you have’ and she said, “The better to see where to aim my fury at your oppressive patriarchal values, gender traitor!'”

I’ve got enough to do without being a martyr to someone else’s hero complex. Please take that misplaced altruism over to someone who really needs it.

All the Robins Need to GO

Teen Titans Go! has an episode called Thanksgetting and I think it is the best representation of how I feel about holidays:

  1. To hell with tradition
  2. Eat what you want
  3. Wear costumes for fun
  4. Give/get presents
  5. Love your people

Other than what holidays are ACTUALLY about, isn’t that just the best way ever to celebrate? Just… have fun, eat good food, give someone you care about something they’ll care about and try not to be an asshole.

I really thought, as an adult, I’d be able to choose how I spend my holidays but somehow I have married into a family of Robins and my family were always Robins and my husband is so afraid of disappointing all the Robins that I’m just like… I’m like…

Image result for Thanksgetting

I am SO the bored.

 

When I’d rather be like…

Image result for Thanksgetting

Boom! Pow! Look, I’m a kitty now!

You know?

Anyway, here. Have an article about how to self-care during the holidays if everyone sucks and you hate it. So… good luck or whatever. I’ll just be over here in my Pink Power Ranger union suit trying to convince everyone that the Teen Titans are the sane ones in an insane world.

It’s NaNoYoBusiness

Yes, today is the last day of NaNo and yes, I should be focused on that but instead, I’m thinking about How To Walk, as taught by a college professor of mine.

You must walk with your chest or hips leading. You must hold your chin up, keep your back straight. You must keep your eyes up and make eye contact with the people you pass. This is what confidence looks like and you MUST project confidence.

Ok, but… must I? Must strangers know that I am CONFIDENT or can I just BE confident and not care what strangers think? Must I make eye contact or can I just ignore most of the people I pass because what the hell do I care what they’re doing? Must I keep my eyes up because I’m nearsighted and I do not wear my glasses so, for real, I need to look down a lot so I don’t trip.

Must I project confidence? Because I’d rather project LEAVE ME ALONE, I’M NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

This train of thought brought to you by The Extroverts Ain’t Always Right, Just Loud Awareness Campaign.

Now let’s go quietly be confident that I’m going to win Nanowrimo 2018 because that’s for me, ya’ll. I write for me.

NaNo Freaking Problem, Ya’ll

blue and red superman print tank top shirt

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I’m not counting my chickens or anything but there’s two days left of NaNoWriMo and my wordcount is 48,385.

So. You know. I’m feeling a little…. INVINCIBLE!

You can’t stop me, life! You can’t slow ME down, priorities! You can’t– oh wait, both kids pooped and it’s almost dinner time and I have to bring the boy to karate in an hour? Right. So… I’m occasionally vincible. That’s ok.