"Clean up at Register 4"

It is always something.

I am really convinced that I have a sign on my head which reads “Crazy Spoken Here” because if there is a strange situation to be had it always happens around me. And yes, I realize this is an incredibly narcissistic way of thinking but I don’t fucking care, it’s true.

Since today is Sunday and the Hubby is off from work I was able to leave the house, alone. And after this crazy week of Spring Break with all the kids home, I was in desperate need of some time by myself.

I headed out to our local Walmart Family Market with the intention of buying Colic Drops for the baby and wine for me. They really should have both items on the same damn shelf but that’s a post for another day. Of course they didn’t have the Colic Drops because my Walmart Family Market sucks so I grabbed wine and coffee and made my way to the register.

For the first time ever in Walmart history I had the chatty Cathy clerk… this lady was just talking, talking, talking. Now, I’m all for some normal pleasantries with strangers (especially because that is the only contact I usually have with adults all day) but this woman was really going for the gold star in random conversations. As she bags my wine and then proceeds to put it in my cart (when do people at Walmart ever do that?) the plastic bag proceeds to break and the wine bottle tumbles to the ground with a huge crash… wine and glass are now everywhere and I’m just standing there with a look of shock on my face. Then the voice comes over the store PA, “Clean up at Register 4” and I’m left as Cathy runs off to get me another bottle (when do people at Walmart do that?) and deal with the pissed off cleaning guy who has to mop up my broken liter of wine.

Hubby always tells me that the most random shit always happens to me and I’m starting to think he’s right.

No, I know he’s right, he’s absolutely 100% right.

At least I got my wine.

t is always something.

 

I am really convinced that I have a sign on my head which reads “Crazy Spoken Here” because if there is a strange situation to be had it always happens around me. And yes, I realize this is an incredibly narcissistic way of thinking but I don’t fucking care, it’s true.

 

Since today is Sunday and the Hubby is off from work I was able to leave the house, alone. And after this crazy week of Spring Break with all the kids home, I was in desperate need of some time by myself.

 

I headed out to our local Walmart Family Market with the intention of buying Colic Drops for the baby and wine for me. They really should have both items on the same damn shelf but that’s a post for another day. Of course they didn’t have the Colic Drops because my Walmart Family Market sucks so I grabbed wine and coffee and made my way to the register.

 

For the first time ever in Walmart history I had the chatty Cathy clerk… this lady was just talking, talking, talking. Now, I’m all for some normal pleasantries with strangers (especially because that is the only contact I usually have with adults all day) but this woman was really going for the gold star in random conversations. As she bags my wine and then proceeds to put it in my cart (when do people at Walmart ever do that?) the plastic bag proceeds to break and the wine bottle tumbles to the ground with a huge crash… wine and glass are now everywhere and I’m just standing there with a look of shock on my face. Then the voice comes over the store PA, “Clean up at Register 4” and I’m left as Cathy runs off to get me another bottle (when do people at Walmart do that?) and deal with the pissed off cleaning guy who has to mop up my broken liter of wine.

 

Hubby always tells me that the most random shit always happens to me and I’m starting to think he’s right.

 

No, I know he’s right, he’s absolutely 100% right.

 

At least I got my wine.

 

 

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You’re Doing It Wrong

The baby is napping and the older kids have been whisked off to Grandma’s for a sleepover…

Time to write? Don’t mind if I do.

Let me just preface this post with a small disclaimer:
I am a human. I make mistakes in the millions and I say the stupid shit that most people know not to say. I fuck up and then I suck it up because I consider myself a good person who attempts to do the right thing. I usually laugh off a lot of shit because laughing makes me feel way better then crying. I started this blog because sharing it makes me feel really good. If ever it doesn’t, I’ll stop.

So, I’m a really lucky bitch. I have a large extended family who resides in the same town as I. My grandmother is 91 and not only still drives but lives 20 minutes away. The hubby and I have siblings we are close to and parents we adore. We have some really great friends and the boys want for nothing. I sometimes wonder how I got so lucky while I spent the majority of my life feeling like I didn’t deserve it.

Isn’t that crazy? And when I stop to think about it I’m just amazed. Where does this feeling come from?

After the birth of my first child I was a straight up shit show. I felt this need to be everything to everybody all the time, and for what? All of that behavior made me feel worse and less then I had already felt. Over and over my inner voice kept saying the one phrase that scared the shit outta me, that I dreaded everyone already was saying…. It was on loop.

“You’re doing it wrong!” “You’re doing it wrong!”

And come to find out no one was saying that.
No one,
but me.

And of course now here I am one month after the birth of my third child and I still hear HER saying that. That nagging inner bitch who wants to spoil my party still tries to creep in every once in awhile with her self hating, demeaning, diva bullshit. But this time she’s drowned out by the laughter of my boys while they admire their new baby brother, or a story about the funny thing that happened to Hubby at work, or song lyrics, or a recipe or just the sound of my baby snoring.
BecauseĀ  I told that self conscious voice to fuck off a long time ago. And she’s not coming back. Not if I have anything to say about it.
So, I might not be doing it RIGHT all the time….
But I am DEFINITELY, not doing it wrong.

The Crying Game

10:35PM.
The 3 year old is screaming bloody f**king murder because we put him down for bed without books (he deserved it, WE DO NOT NEGOTIATE WITH TERRORISTS). The 1 month old is so gassy and upset unless he is being held upright, and we finally told the 8 year old to do whatever he has to do…

This is The Crying Game.

My house after 8 PM isn’t for everybody… shit, it’s barely for me. But, it works. Well, it usually works.

Now it’s Spring Break. Spring Break isn’t really Spring up in this bitch (we live in FL) and as far as I’m concerned my kids always seem to be on some kind of school break… So this is a farce. But our nights are always later then most… Dinner is at 7 and bedtime is at 9… I know, it sounds absurd, and it is pretty much absurd but it works, well it used to work, before we had the baby.

People always told me the “middle child” stories and I really thought they were full of shit.. I mean, we all choose our own destiny, right? But I’m slowly watching my middle child become a straight up nightmare. And as I said before, “we don’t negotiate with terrorists”. (I can say it in a small voice now because he’s finally asleep). I am open to advice because I obviously need some. And although I think I know everything the 3 year old has a fantastic concept to the fact that I suck… I am fully f**king clueless to his needs.Please share your secrets. I’m ready for anything credible….

Pregnancy Bliss

The birth of a new baby is a joyous event. It’s life changing and awe inspiring and you feel blessed to be a part of it. And when it’s you, it’s you, who holds the main role of the vessel for the new life, it’s all those things and more.

The honor that I felt as an expectant Mom is so hard to explain. Knowing that I would have 9 months to be the closest to someone, the closest you can ever be…. blew my mind. And pregnancy hormones have always been great to me. Being pregnant for me was a time of complete bliss and reward. I felt like I had a better sense of myself. A better sense of my place with others. Every pregnancy I had was the fastest 9 months I’ve ever experienced and I was totally at peace with myself while pregnant (which NEVER happens to me in my real life). If I could figure out a way to bottle up my pregnancy hormones and use them forever, I would, believe me.

And now he’s here. And he is spectacular! Just like I knew he would be from the moment I found out I was pregnant. Just like his 2 brothers were before him. I’m blessed and excited and freaked out and trying to balance all the good with the crazy, because being a Mother to 3 sons is where we separate the men from the boys. But it’s also where the husband and I said…. “This is it. This is our family.” And we decided to have no more children (and that is a good thing) but with that comes no more pregnancies. No more of that ethereal gift that made me feel so wonderful.

To counter that, I’m having another baby…..

Metaphorically,

I’m giving birth to a blog.

Just call me, The Outnumbered Mother.