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Recent crappy events and circumstances in my life along with my impeding birthday have made me think. I hate when I have to think serious thoughts. I like to think about fluffy, silly stuff. It’s more fun. Unfortunately, being an adult fucks that all up. All. The. Time. Anyway, I was thinking what I would say to seventeen year old me. Here’s what I came up with.
Dear {A},
I know you are like so totally into this new guy you’re dating, but don’t worry, he sticks around for a long time. Take a minute to hear me out. I am you in 14 years. You’ll want to hear this.
This guy that you’re dating right now has fast become your whole world, and that’s great. He’s a good guy. Remember to maintain your friendships. They matter. Especially after high school. Giving up on your friendships to spend all your free time with {D} is not a great idea. In fact, it’s pretty terrible. Someday you’ll really need a friend to vent to and laugh with and you won’t have one…not even one. Go out with your friends. {D} will understand. A quick side note about {D}. You two have an awesome future together. Happy marriage, kids, house, dog. The works. Guess what else, the sex gets even better. I know, mind blown. It does. Let go of your insecurities, stop worrying about everything and just enjoy it. Trust me, it’s only up hill from here! Getting older is not all bad!
Speaking of spending time. Stop fighting with dad. He’s a stubborn ass who is struggling with demons that you can’t possibly understand. You don’t have much longer with him. Don’t spend the last couple years you have arguing. He’s going to miss your wedding, your children…everything. Hug him, love him, support him. Get him to a doctor. Most of all, stop fighting with him. He’s watching his only daughter let go of his hand and start a new life. It’s difficult, and you won’t understand that until it’s too late. Also, mom is not so dumb. You may think she just wants to see you suffer, but she doesn’t. She constantly worries. She knows stuff. You’ll figure it out one day. She is the rock of your family. Stop thinking she doesn’t understand you and start listening. She is going to end up being your best friend and your favorite confidant. I swear. You know those two annoying asshole brothers you have. They are going to be these amazing men who will help you out at the drop of a hat. Don’t dismiss them so quickly. They will still annoy the crap out of you, but no two people will love you more and there will be 5 little kids between the two of them that you will be gaga over. I promise, it gets better.
Dude, slow down. I know you hate the word dude, but you say it a lot now. It’s annoying. Stop being in such a hurry. You have the rest of your life to be a grown up and pay bills. Be a young kid. Stop always looking toward the next step. You’re not enjoying the now when you are constantly looking at the future. The grown up stuff will happen, and it’s not always fun and games. Life is hard. You struggle. Enjoy what you have. Bigger and newer is not always better. Remember, it will be a very long time before it’s just the two of you in a one bedroom apartment again…if it ever even happens again. Love life in the now.
Finish college. Dad wasn’t just blowing smoke when he said that. FINISH COLLEGE. It matters. At least in your life it matters. If you don’t want to teach don’t, that wasn’t your dream and that’s not what you want. Find something for you and do it. For the love of god finish college. Get a good job, there’s something to be said about that security. You have great kids so don’t skip that, I’m telling you to do both. Take care of your family and finish college.
Don’t destroy your credit. Put the credit cards away and don’t use them. Shopping will not fill the void that was left when Dad passed away. Do not try. {D} just wants you to feel better and he doesn’t know what else to do, he can’t fix this for you. It will destroy your credit and force you to start from square one when you are 29. Go to a therapist, figure out your shit. Don’t charge the cards up.
Keep laughing. You laugh a lot, that doesn’t change. Don’t ever let it change. Life is fantastic. It’s hard and it’s painful and it’s incredibly scary. You are so lucky, your life is beautiful. Laugh until you cry, enjoy every moment. You’re about to go through some hard shit. Nobody should have to be 19 and burying a parent. Every daughter should have her daddy to walk her down the aisle. You will triumph. It’s going to be hard. You will consider many options to make the pain go away, but in the end you win. You survive.
You have four kids, a husband who adores you, a beautiful house and hopefully the opportunity to start doing the work you want to do in the near future. For now, please be a teenager. Stop wishing for adulthood and freedom. It isn’t what you think it’s going to be.
Love, {A}
P.S. Your hair is still awful. You gain a lot of weight and get some serious curves that {D} loves. You drive a minivan, but a really nice one. You’re still terrified of the same crap. You have a phone that can do things that your computer at home can’t do right now. AND that ex boyfriend that’s spreading all those rumors about you is balding, like big time.
It’s a gorgeous spring day here in Minnesota, FINALLY! One of our family’s favorite things to do in this kind of weather is go for a walk together. This has been a nightly tradition for us for many years! It’s one that I cherish and make sure and continue even when the hubby is working. The walks aren’t always perfect and chaos free, but they are a fun time that I get to hold hands with my hubby and chat while the kids get to burn off some energy.
We have been doing this for a very long time. The oldest kids will ride their bikes or big wheels up ahead of us and we pull the youngest in the wagon. The kids who are in front of us have a strict rule of stopping and waiting at each intersection for us. They are not to cross the road until we are up there with them. This gives us the opportunity to watch them a bit better and to make sure it’s safe to cross. We have had many adventurous walks in the last 5 years or so.
I should tell you, my kids only recently came around to enjoying water. They don’t like to swim, they never enjoyed sprinklers and they hated being out in the rain. One day we went for a walk and we were on a longer part of the walk with a curve, so for a few minutes I couldn’t see the kids. All of the sudden we heard the three kids screaming! I mean full on, blood curdling screams. Obviously, I took off running to see what the problem was. Turns out the sprinklers at the house on the corner were on. This house was also at an intersection. My brilliant (I say that with sarcasm and love) children decided that instead of stopping before the sprinklers they were going to go through them and stop at the intersection. The problem was that the sprinklers kept rotating and were spraying them. Obedient as they are (never) they wouldn’t go across the street and they were so panicked they didn’t think to go back to the dry part of the sidewalk. So, I have three kids screaming and crying, soaking wet while I’m running down the road thinking one of their skulls were smashed open. As soon as I could see what was going on, the poor woman who lived in the house came out and kinked the hose for the kids. She was so worried that I was upset with her. I was laughing so hysterically at this point that I couldn’t breathe. My kids were soaked, their bikes were dripping wet, they were all crying and I couldn’t stop laughing. I mean doubled over hysteria. Imagine the craziness of this. It wasn’t a cold day by any means and my kids were acting like someone had sprayed acid on their skin.
I think I laughed the entire rest of the way home that day. These days the kids look for sprinklers to bike through, and every time they do I think of that crazy day a few years ago when the water burned their skin!
I am more than a mom. I am a person. A woman. A thirty something woman. I got married and had children at young age. I had just turned 21 when I got married and had my first child a year later with the next three coming in the next five years. It’s easy to lose myself in the “mommy” identity. I spend my days being mommy. 99% of my life I am called “mom” “mommy” “momma”. That doesn’t leave much time to be called “A”.
In a little over a week I will turn 31. I spent my twenties having and taking care of babies. This, of course, was my decision. I was lost in a sea of mommy. I was lost among the decisions, the magazines telling me what to do, the forums and the bloggers. I stopped being “A” and I was only mommy. My job was to raise my kids, my purpose was to raise my kids. I started to feel like the walls were closing in, like I needed to run away. It was at this point that I got a part time job in a field that I loved! I was thrilled. For 10 hours a week I got to be “A” again. Nobody knew that I had kids. All they knew was that I was damn good at my job.
I’m noticing the other moms around me more and more won’t do anything that doesn’t involve their kids. Every update on Facebook is about how much they love their lives and love their children and that’s all well and good, but what about yourself? What about that person who had all these goals and dreams. What about that part of you that’s not a mom?
Listen, you guys, I love my kids so much. I do. They are fantastic, but being a mom is hard as hell. It’s an all the time job that takes every part of you. I know, believe me. I have four kids who are five years apart from oldest to youngest. How can you be the best mom if you aren’t taking care of yourself? For the love of all that is holy, go out! GO OUT. I know, that’s easier said than done. I don’t have a baby-sitter either. Find one. Even if it’s once in a blue moon. Take a shower. Your kids will survive. I have never not showered. I had two kids 15 months apart and I showered. I know, it’s hard. I also know, for me, that is my only 10 minutes alone most days. You know what else you need to do? Have sex with your man. Go on a date. Eat dinner just the two of you after the kids go to bed. Talk. Laugh together. Make out. I’m not kidding. Eventually, those kids of yours are going to be grown and gone and hopefully your man, their daddy will still be there. You have to work on your marriage as much as you work at being a parent or what are you going to do when it’s just the two of you again? Will you still be in love?
Utilize their daddy, if you can. Hey, he made these kids too. I don’t have a bit of guilt taking a couple of hours on the weekend to go to something for myself. Why should I ? My full-time job is taking care of these kids so he can go to his full-time job. We both work hard. Take time for yourself as he should take time for himself.
Finally. Stop lying. If your life with your kids is perfect, congratulations you win parenting. If it’s not, you are not alone. Talk to people. Talk to anyone. There are a million silly parenting pages like mine out there. That’s how I have been getting through. I found a few of them and started to feel better. It’s therapy to talk to people like me, or like my fellow bloggers. It’s ok to not like every part of parenting. It’s ok to separate from your kids. I have these friends who won’t leave for a weekend because they can’ t bear to leave their kids that long. Seriously, those kids are probably sick of you! It’s ok to leave!
You are more than just a mom.
One of my many guilty pleasures is watching The Young and The Restless. I love it. I love the goofiness of the drama, the beautiful people, the sex and the money. That got me thinking, if my life were a soap opera how would things change?
Well first of all, I would be thin and beautiful. Everyone would be. I would have designer clothes and always, always be wearing heels. My hair would always be perfect. When I wake up next to the hubby in the morning, my make-up would be on and not smeared across my face. There wouldn’t be a big drool spot on my pillow and a dried up spit line on my cheek. Eye crusties? No, of course not. Obviously, I would wake up to breakfast in bed from my ever romantic husband and then we would make out because there is no such thing as morning breath in Soaps. There’s also no such thing as bladders so full in the morning that you’re positive you’re going to pee in the bed. Nope. Only beauty in soap opera land!
I would be rich. I would be unexplainably, ridonkulousy rich. One of my personal, stupid wishes in life is to someday say “Money is no object”, in soap opera land I would be able to say that! What? My brother needs some really expensive, experimental treatment in another country to fix his terminal illness that’s going to kill him in a week? Money is no object, go brother go. I would also be able to just buy my favorite stores. In soap opera land you don’t need experience to own a business. Shit no. You’re rich, duh. Buy a bar, hire people to run it, get richer. Sell bar, buy a magazine, hire people to run it, get richer. See how that works? You also go to “galas”. Have you ever been to a fancy gala? Me neither. See, if you’re rich in soap opera land that’s what you do. You should bring a gun though, because shit always goes down at the galas. I’m serious, you guys.
My kids would only be around when they’re being cute. Otherwise those little shits will be “with the nanny” or “at a friends” or “sleeping”. Then, eventually I would send those bastards to boarding school. When they come home they’ll be 15 years older and I won’t have aged a bit. Soap operas don’t have time for kids. The people are busy having sex and getting married. That brings me to my next point.
I would be on like my 17th marriage by now, and have slept with most of the people in town. In soap opera land you don’t get married for “love” pshhh. You get married for money and to steal companies and shit. If you do get married for love it is vital that you marry that same person again 5 or 6 times. So I would be married to my hubby for like the 4th time by now. We’d be divorcing soon because he did something stupid, but don’t worry we would get remarried.
I would have a shocking past. You guys would learn that I had a baby that I gave up for adoption years ago and now that baby is older and has a revenge agenda, but really just wants to bond with me. Turns out that baby is my son’s girlfriend…*cue dramatic music*. It doesn’t matter though because I’m rich and I pay her to get over it and we become best friends forever. Until she sleeps with my current hubby. Slut.
I would have been falsely accused of murder and in prison at least once. Then a fancy pants lawyer will come to town and save the day. I will divorce hubby to marry fancy pants lawyer only to find him in the arms of my son. That’s right, my son. Then I’ll marry my hubby again.
You guys, this is serious shit. I want to live in a soap opera.
I’m kind of a pansy. A lot of shit scares me. I thought I would compile a list for you guys (because I know you all give a rat’s ass) and give you the honest reasons, instead of the reasons I tell other people. Promise you’ll still like me. PROMISE.
- Ticks. Do I really need a fucking reason for this one? They suck your blood. I’ll say it again. They SUCK your BLOOD. Not only that, but they can be on you for days without you knowing. DAYS. Last summer there was one on my daughter’s head and I literally gagged. I had to have my neighbor get it off of her. Another time I found one on my thigh. On my thigh. I was going pee, minding my own business and there that little fucker was, enjoying a free meal. I screamed and cried and ran out into the living room in my underwear. My kids saw. Embarrassing, but warranted. Fuck ticks.
- Birds. They fly. They have an agenda and their agenda is to kill you. Why else would they fly at your head? When my son was 2 we were innocently watching these crows in our backyard and one of the big ones saw us and dive bombed our screen on our window. Right at our faces. It was terrifying. You know what are the worst type of birds? Sea Gulls. I hate them. They have no fear, and they want to eat whatever you have. Birds are scary shit you guys. They are.
- Zombies. It sounds dumb and this is a recent fear. I watched part of one episode of the Walking Dead and I had nightmares. It was so bad that when my husband was leaving for work he came out of our bathroom with his hood on in the dark and I thought he was a zombie and I almost crapped myself. Who knew zombies were so scary to me.
- Pitch black dark. Whenever it’s so dark that I can’t see my hand in front of me it must mean that there is some sort of a killer monster lurking. My husband has always taken advantage of this fear. He will turn the lights off and just stand there. You guys, it sounds like nothing, but it’s horrible. It scares the holy shit out of me. Even though I know it’s him. Bastard.
- Tornados. Duh. This is self-explanatory, I think. They could blow me away. That’s it.
- Bats. See the bird explanation above and add in the dark explanation and you have my fear of bats. Dive bombing, squeaky fucks.
- Boats. Yes, boats. SHUT UP. I don’t want to drown, you guys. Boats go fast, on water. They can tip. They are scary. Most people who drive boats are crazy fuckers. So, about a year ago I had to face my fear and ride in a boat because everyone else was. You know what my uncle did? He drove like a lunatic because he figured out that I am scared of boats. There are no spotlights people, no lanes. These sonsabitches just drive where ever the hell they want and 90% of them are drunk as shit. God. It’s scary.
- Small spaces. The walls move when you’re in a small space. Don’t try to tell me that’s my imagination. They do. Elevators I can handle as long as there aren’t a bunch of people in them. You put me in a tiny room, with a low ceiling that’s full of people and I will trample all those mother fuckers just to get my ass out of there so I can breathe again. Old ladies, babies, it doesn’t matter. I’m getting out of there.
- Dolls. All dolls. They come alive at night. They do. Since I was a kid I couldn’t watch that Chucky movie. That red-headed psycho scares the shit out of me. My asshole brothers had a Chucky doll and they would hide that damn thing all over the place, including under my covers of my bed. No wonder I’m traumatized. Have you ever been near a porcelain doll collection….if you have I don’t need to explain. If you haven’t, well here you go. They have eyes, dead eyes. They stand there with their pale skin and they stare at you. They STARE at you. What about the dolls in an antique store? Wanna know why they’re there? They killed someone and their owners gave them away because they’re EVIL. I was attacked by a paper doll once. Everyone laughs at this story, but it’s true. That is a story for a different time and a different blog, but trust me, it’s good. Dolls. Are. Scary.
- Toes. More specifically, toes touching me. Toes are gross. It’s bad enough to look at them, but when people’s toes start touching me, that’s when shit gets real. I will not hesitate to break a bitches foot if they touch me with it. That includes my children. They all know it too. God damned toes.
So, mad props to you if you still like me. I am weird. I know.
You’re going to sit here and tell me that doll isn’t fucking evil.. BULL SHIT.
My daughters are beautiful. Every mom says that, I know. My daughters are funny, fiery, stubborn, kind, frustrating and absolutely gorgeous. They are gorgeous in different ways and at their young ages I already see them competing with each other and others. Being a year and a half apart, that’s not really surprising I suppose. It makes me incredibly sad and scared.
I have always made it a point to not complain about my body or my looks in front of my children. My mom never did that. She was always content and I thought she was beautiful. I don’t talk about how fat I am, or the things I don’t like about my body, but I am, unfortunately, not the only influence on their lives. Beautiful women like, Katy Perry, Pink, Taylor Swift, Selena Gomez and all the beautiful faces plastered everywhere, are also influences on their lives on a daily basis. Like it or not. I cannot shelter them from everything. All I can do is teach them confidence, and let them know that they are gorgeous. Inside and out.
I was profoundly affected the other day by something that my 7yo told me. She came to me out of the blue and said “Sometimes I think my face isn’t pretty”. I was taken aback and saddened. Obviously my first instinct was to tell her how gorgeous she is. What good would that do if she didn’t believe it? So I asked her “why would you think that?” She said, “I just look in the mirror and I don’t think I look pretty like everyone else”. It’s heartbreaking. I showed her a picture of herself that I had posted on Facebook and had her read all the comments that everyone had written about her. Things like, “wow, she’s so beautiful” “So grown up and gorgeous” “so cute” . I asked her if all those people could possibly be wrong. She had a smile from ear to ear. “I guess not” she said. I told her she should see herself the same way, not just because of her beautiful face but because of the kind of person she is. Someone who will drop everything to help us put groceries away. Someone who will take her little brother by the hand and go play cars with him, someone who will hug me if she senses I am stressed out. That is beauty. That is my 7yo.
Today I watched the Dove video I posted on my Facebook page. I saw myself. I saw all the things that I hate about me. My nose is weird, my chin is fat, my neck looks way too long, I have bags under my eyes, my forehead is huge, I always have pimples, my stomach is fat, my hips are huge. The list could go on and on. It made me cry. It made me scared for my daughters. These grown woman didn’t love themselves. I immediately knew I needed to show this video to my girls. 6 and 7 years old.
I sat them down and explained the premise of the video. I told them to watch and listen. Listen to how the women describe themselves, protruding chin, big jaw, lots of freckles, fat face, big forehead. Then listen to how the other people describe the women they met, things like thin chin, cute nose, nice eyes, I could see her cheekbones. The difference in the way these women describe themselves compared to the way others saw them was astonishing. My daughters were affected. My seven year old cried. She got it. Praise the lord, she got it. She saw the differences in the sketches, she understood. She understood.
We ended our chat with some advice that I wish I would heed. When you look in the mirror, really look. See yourself the way other people see you, the way I see you. You both have an inner glow, you are gorgeous. You are gorgeous because of your faces, sure, but you are gorgeous because of who you are. You are gorgeous because of your smiles, your laugh, your sparkly eyes. You are gorgeous because of the fire within you, because of the determination and because of the people you will become and the change that you will promote in this world. Never, ever, ever let anyone tell you any different. Never let anyone trample on your self worth. People are mean. Some people will tell you that you aren’t all these things I have listed. In that case you hold your head up high and understand that maybe they don’t have that confidence. Maybe nobody has taught them to love themselves, that is a problem within them, not you. Their opinions do not change you. Do remember how that made you feel and put extra effort into making sure that you never make anyone ever feel that way. EVER.
When you look in the mirror, see you through mine and your dad’s eyes. See you as being worth everything. See you as mattering. See you as beautiful. Inside and out. See you as the one and only you that there ever will be. You matter. You’re beautiful.
How good of a driver are you? No really, think about it. I am a good driver, with zero patience. I guess that’s makes me not really a good driver. Whatever, you can think whatever the hell you want, I know that I’m fantastic. So, I came up with a few things that YOU can do to make ME happier. Since that’s really what this is all about…making me happy. No? Then you’re doing it wrong, and by it, I mean everything. I’m losing my point here. Here are some tips for proper driving. Pink fuzzy slippers style.
#1. The speed limit is meant to be broken. To a point. If the speed limit is 55mph I expect that you go AT LEAST 60mph. It’s an unwritten rule that I just wrote. Everyone knows that. If you are doing less than that and I can’t pass you I reserve to ride your ass like my dog rides my cat (see my fb page for explanation). That brings me to my second tip.
#2. If I am going above the speed limit I expect you to stay off my ass. I know that’s hard because I have a nice ass (according to my hubby), but don’t tailgate me. Not much gets my road rage a ragin like a tailgating son of a bitch.
#3. When the light turns green you should be going. Green means go mother fucker! Hit that accelerator and move your ass. Life is too short for me to wait behind you because your finger is in your nose up to your damn knuckle.
#4. Use your fuckin signal! It’s not complicated, it doesn’t take any time out of your day to alert the other drivers that you are turning and that’s why you’re slowing us all down. Or that you’re turning and I could have gone but instead I waited for your stupid ass to drive by all for nothing because you were turning and you’re too self-important to push a lever up or down.
#5. Don’t wave me on at a four way stop if you were there first. It’s not my turn you twankhole (See FB for definition) it’s your turn and you are successfully fucking everything up! You are not being polite you are being a giant douche canoe.
#6. Do not pull out in front of me. If you must pull out in front of me then you better stomp on that gas like your life depends on it. Slowing me down because you couldn’t wait the extra 5 seconds it took me to go by is a pretty assholey thing to do.
#7. There’s a fast lane and a slow lane. Pull your head out of your ass and figure out which one you belong in. Whichever it is just get the fuck out of my way.
#8. Don’t do that gesture at me like I did something wrong, when you were clearly at fault. You know the one where you throw your arms up and shake your head. I automatically wish terrible things on you when you do that.
#9. Along those same lines, if you do screw up and you know it, don’t laugh at me. I turn into a homicidal maniac when that shit happens. It’s so funny that you’re a piece of shit who can’t drive. Hi-fucking-larious.
#10. Last, but not least, do not back into me at an intersection. You read that right. When I was 17 I drove a beater that didn’t have a horn. This entitled bitch decided to back up while we were stopped at a red light. I had no horn and there was nothing I could do to get her to stop. This dumb ass backed right into my car. When I got out to talk to her she proceeded to tell me that my old car was made for that. My car was made for idiots to back into apparently. God, even just thinking about it right now gets my blood boiling.
So, there you have it. Tips straight from the fuzzy pink slippers. Drive safe.
You know those days where you question every decision you ever made, including becoming a parent? Those kind of days where every crappy thing that can happen does? Ok, not really EVERY possible thing, but it really feels like it! That happened to my husband and me at the end of December 2006. One of my most nightmarish parenting days I can think of. Behold, my nightmare for your entertainment.
A little backstory, we go to Iowa every year around Christmas time to celebrate with my family. This is of huge importance to me, I do not miss this trip. My family is large. I know everyone says that, but in my case it’s true. My mom has 11 siblings, so there are 12 of them including her. Nine girls and three boys. Most of them are married and have kids. That leads to 30 cousins, most with kids now. Back in 2006 there were only a few of us with kids. We used to have this gigantic Christmas celebration in my Grandma’s house, which isn’t big. It’s a blast, a chaotic, wild blast.
Back to December 2006. I was seven months pregnant with our third child. Our son was 2 1/2 and our daughter was 15 months old. The drive down went fairly well considering the ages of the kids and the time it takes to get there, about five hours. Thank you portable DVD player for baby-sitting my kids We got to Iowa and everything went really well, until the Christmas party!
I love my aunts, really I do. I know they mean well. The table at my Grandma’s is covered in desserts after dinner. Every single thing you can think of. If you want to gain 50 pounds in a short couple of hours, this is the place for you! For someone who was seven months pregnant, it was like hitting the lottery. The downside? The 2 1/2 year old and the 15 month old. They were in heaven. Everyone was loading them up with treats. In particular the fudge with cherry on the bottom. Our son was popping those things like they were jelly beans. Meanwhile, our daughter is eating cookies like there’s no tomorrow. Where was I you ask, who the hell knows. Talking and ignoring my kids probably. It’s easier to blame my aunts, so just don’t worry about it.
The time came to head back to the hotel that we were staying at. The kids were wired. I’m talking jumping on the beds, bouncing off the wall, juiced up on sugar. I had never seen my son that way. He was nuts. Our daughter was just sitting on the bed, crying. For no reason…just crying. It was insanity at it’s finest. Four of us, including two toddlers trapped in a hotel room with no sign of sleep in our future.
Then comes the face. You know the face, the I’m about to projectile vomit all over this joint so take cover, face. The jumping on the bed stopped and I yelled “He’s gonna puke” it was too late. All over that hotel bed. Cherry fudge puke. So much puke that I would have sworn his stomach was in that pile somewhere. Panic. Massive amounts of panic. We grabbed our daughter to get her off the bed and smelled the most ungodly smell ever. The puke? Oh no, not so much. Our dainty little daughter’s ass had exploded. From her toes to her shoulders she was covered in shit. Not just shit. I’ve been eating sugar and crap all day, kind of shit. The kind of shit that burns your nose and makes you consider suicide. At this point we have one kid screaming because he puked and one kid screaming because she shit….everywhere.
That hotel room smelled like death. Worse than death. It smelled like someone had died and rotted away in the room and then another person came in and shit all over the entire room and the rotted out corpse. We had a pile of sheets covered in puke and a pile of towels covered in shit. The only logical thing at that point seemed to be to head for home. This was at 10:00pm.
We started the five hour drive home after apologizing profusely to the guy working at the hotel counter for the disaster that we left that room. He probably should have charged us extra. It’s dark, we’re both exhausted and we have two kids with tummy troubles in the backseat. As if that weren’t enough, there was supposed to be a snow storm rolling in the next morning so it was foggy as hell. Pea soup fog. We managed to make it home after a solid six hours of driving.
That winter continued on with a month long battle with a stomach bug, countless ear infections and a last trimester of pregnancy that was borderline torture. I sometimes wonder how any of us survive the madness of parenting. It’s this amazingly incredible journey that can make you feel like you’re losing your mind while at the same time make you melt into a sappy mess. We now have four kids and while there have been many adventures in the last almost nine years that we have been parents, this was one that hasn’t been topped yet!
I fucking hate Wal-Mart. Hate it. With the fiery passion of 1000 suns. Why do I shop there you ask? It’s the most inexpensive option in our area. Unless I become some kind of an extreme coupon nut job. I don’t have time for that shit and I definitely don’t need 400 tubes of deodorant!
The first reason and biggest reason I hate that fucking place is because every single time we go there it ends up being at least $50. We can go there just for milk and end up leaving there with a cart full of shit. I swear the Gods of Walmart pay attention and if you only need a couple things they infiltrate your brain and make you think you need more.
The second reason I hate Walmart is because I used to work there. That’s right, I’m admitting it. I worked there from the time I was 17 until I was 24. It was my first job. I went into that job an innocent teenager who loved to chat up new people and came out a crabby twenty-something completely jaded by all the things I saw. People are assholes. I spent seven years being treated like a second class citizen because of my job. I was a cashier and I worked my ass off. That company sucked out my soul and made me the angry fucker I am today. Thanks Walmart.
The next reason is the people. That damn store is full of mouth breathing inbreds who stink. It’s a combination of body odor, rotten meat, cheap perfume and dirt. It never fails that I get behind some fat, old woman leaning on the cart taking her sweet ass time shopping as soon as I go around her there’s some dumb ass on one of those carts backing up and crashing into everything. There’s also always those people who think the aisle I need is the meeting place for their redneck convention. Yes, because Wal-Mart is definitely the place to get together and chill out with your friends. I know guys, there’s nothing to do, let’s go to walmart. It’s the same with the teenagers. What in the world makes teenagers think that this is the place to hang out. They always think they’re so hilarious too. Yes, because you’re the first moron to ride a cart as fast as you can through the parking lot. Congratulations on inventing that gem of a trick. Oh, and the parking lot. Idiots trying to maneuver through one way aisles. No need for descriptions there.
Fuck you Walmart. I’ll see you when I go grocery shopping tomorrow. I’ll be sure to check my brain at the door.
I fucking hate Wal-Mart.
Pink Fuzzy Slippers & My Hubby's Pants 