Letter from a Friend

May 22, 2013 by 72 Comments

Dear Stephanie,

I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately. Whatever happened to us?

Remember all the good times we had in college?! We were so tight! Sleep was fleeting, classes were tough, and the dating scene was intense, but we worked together and accomplished so much. We graduated with a degree and true love. And confidence.

And how about your wedding day?!  You didn’t see you the way I saw you; strong, capable, peaceful. You looked so beautiful in your gown. I don’t want to make this all about me, but I wish you had been prouder of our relationship that day.

I supported you through both of your pregnancies. I was strong for both deliveries. I was patient during both recoveries. It seems like the more I give, the less you appreciate it! You know I’ll never leave you, but if you don’t start making me a priority, I promise that you will regret it.

It’s like you don’t even care about me any more…

I can’t remember when we last spent quality time together. I know you’re busy, but I’ve always been there for you. Is it so wrong to want some reciprocity? I feel I’ve earned it and I know I damn well deserve it.

Oh, and I heard what your son said yesterday.

You didn’t think I caught it, did you? Muffled under his napkin at the dinner table.

Mom’s fat.

Yeah, I heard. I don’t blame him, though; I blame you. Little ears hang onto every word, and you’re constantly disrespecting me so how can I possibly blame the 3-year-old for repeating the words he hears every day?! You teach your kids to speak kind words to one another; what about to themselves?! Start setting an example now or you’re going to raise children who look for flaws instead of beauty. Ugly insides are far worse than a little junk in the trunk, don’t you agree?

If you’re that upset with the way you look, let’s start working out together again! DUH! Why not jump on the treadmill? Use that spinner for something other than hanging wet towels? The ball is in your court. I’ll be waiting, as usual.

Lay off the ice cream,

Your Body

 

BodyWroteALetter

 

Kim Bongiorno’s reaction to her daughter telling her, “Mama you have fat legs” is something I’ll carry with me forever. Note to self: love me more. 




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Oversharing: Put Your Knees Back By Your Ears

May 21, 2013 by 15 Comments

Today’s Oversharing is from Pursuit of Normal‘s Vicky. She’s waxing (tee hee) philosophical on a topic Kim discussed earlier this month; these crazy ladies are willing to put their hoohas on the line, er, table for the sake of swimsuit season and blog fodder, and for that, I commend them.

OversharingPresents Pursuit of Normal

There have been a few times in my life when I’ve heard the phrase, “Put your knees back by your ears.” I will say, however, that two of those times babies suddenly appeared.  Well, I wouldn’t say “suddenly.” There was a bit of work involved beyond using my forearms as hooks.  There might have some pushing and grunting on my part.  But within a few hours, there were babies.

So when I was once again lying flat on a bed and again heard “Put your knees back by your ears,” my first response was, “Um, I’m not going to leave here with a newborn am I?”  I was assured I would not.  “No, no babies. It just makes it easier for me to reach all your nooks and crannies.”  Oddly enough I found that less horrifying than the idea of a baby.

I’ll bet you’re wondering how I ended up counting the tiles on the ceiling while performing some yet to be named yoga pose, right? It all began with chicken dinos.  If I had a dime for every time I’ve said that phrase I’d be a rich woman. You too? I thought so.

My BFF and I were standing in my kitchen preparing lunch for the kids one afternoon when she turned to me while distributing grapes on each plate and asked, “Have you ever had a bikini wax?” I should tell you that I have a bit of a hair issue.  As my husband loses it from his head, it seems to somehow grow like wild flowers on my face, arms and places that really shouldn’t have hair.  But I had to answer honestly and tell her that I had yet to have that part of my body waxed.  Ironically, though I had recently heard on the radio that Americans spend more money on hair removal than any other country in the world! It think it’s safe to assume I am a large contributor to that statistic.

After hearing this info I did a bunch of research.  Translation: I Googled it. And lo and behold, it’s true. We Americans are a hairy lot and spend a lot of time and money mowing our body lawns. There is an extensive variety of hair removal options out there for us wooly mammoth types: waxing, sugaring, threading, laser, creams, plucking, and even a few that I think would have taken me to “other sites” that were not for my innocent eyes. That’s when I discovered the Brazilian wax.  Simply put, it’s a very thorough bikini wax.  And when I say “very thorough” I’m talking, “Hey look! I’m 11 years old again” kind of thorough.  You get the picture.  And if you don’t get the picture, go to YouTube.  I’m constantly amazed what people will put on the internet… says the girl writing about waxing her intimates.

Back to me and BFF in the kitchen, it was decided that we were going to do this. Why, you ask? I’d say it was a little bit of curiosity and a lotta bit of “this would be great for my blog.”  I’ll do anything for material.  I’m an intelligent woman, although you might be doubting that at this point, and I had to make sure I was prepped and ready. So I did my homework. Before: let the hair grow long, but not too long and do not exfoliate 24 hours prior to procedure.  No problem.  Let’s move on to aftercare: Take ibuprofen- makes sense.  Purchase numbing gel- uh, ok.  Wait 2-3 days for swelling to subside- WTW?! Swelling? Why would there be swelling? But the appointment was set, promises had been made and there was no going back.

So on waxing day I arrived at BFF’s house, where her husband proceeded to roll his eyes and say, “You two need your own reality show.” Which by the way is an idea that I have not completely tabled… And off we went to the spa for our first Brazilian wax and that was how I found myself flat on my back with my knees by my ears having my nooks and crannies explored by someone who was not a doctor.

Oh, and the other times I heard the phrase “put your knees back by your ears”… I’m not going to tell you about those.  I do have a little bit of decorum.

Vicky is a Southern California mom trying to grow up herself while raising 2 boys and a husband.  You can find her looking for confirmation that she’s “normal” on her blog The Pursuit of Normal, sharing her family’s random thoughts on Facebook and desperately trying to edit herself down to 140 characters or less on Twitter. 



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What I Learned at Bloggy Bootcamp

May 20, 2013 by 41 Comments

I like rearranging and reorganizing rooms and even drawers in my home. I’ll try different hair colors at each appointment with my stylist (I should be bald by 50), and my face is always in a book (or Google) trying to learn something new. If I had the chance to pick up and move tomorrow, I probably would. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the things in my life; it’s just that I’m insane. I’m not content just being, which has it’s advantages, but it certainly comes at a price. Mostly, my husband’s sanity.

I often wonder if I’ll ever be that elderly lady on her front porch rocking in a white, wooden chair, satisfied smile on her wrinkled face. Sigh.

Despite being drawn to a crazy state of flux, there have been two constants in my life that, regardless of struggles or circumstance, I have remained 1000% committed to: people and writing. That’s why blogging is so appealing to me; I’m writing when and how I want, and meeting some amazing people along the way. I’m as loyal as I can be to the blogs I love (I’ve been MIA lately–I’ll be back, I promise!), and I’ve been fortunate enough to have that loyalty reciprocated. I’m in awe over the influence and sense of community I’ve come to know through blogging, and that’s part of the reason I wanted to attend the SITS Girls Bloggy Bootcamp.

A brief side note: I was worried about the conference because I think I suck at networking. I can’t fake it, ya know? I felt anxious at the prospect of handing out my business cards. Hell, I felt anxious making the damn things! Like, who am I?! Who wants my card?!  

WhenCrazyMeetsExhaustion Business Card

It is cute, though!

My worries were soon squashed with travel pals like Christine & Janene and Amanda by my side, and the fact that Keurig and Mirrasou signed on as sponsors didn’t hurt. Free coffee and wine?! Thank you kindly.

I chatted with the other ladies. Listened to a few presentations. Learned some new things. And then Tiffany Romero commanded the room and my heart by sharing something my husband has been trying to tell me for a few months now: Calm the hell down already. Okay, so Tiffany didn’t say it exactly like that, but her point? Sometimes we have to close the laptop and focus on life.

Don’t get me wrong, my family isn’t neglected, but if you’ve been blogging for any length of time, you understand how quickly it can consume you. And if you’re really into it, it can become a full-time job. And if you already have a full-time job (parenting certainly falls into this category), then you’re pulling out your hair to keep up. And only showering every other day.

Another brief side note: I sat next to a retired army officer on the flight home and he told me a story about how when he was stationed in Germany, his wife bought a laptop so they could keep in touch. When he came home, they continued their relationship via technology; he had to email her from another room to communicate with her. Raise your hand if that sounds eerily familiar…P.S. God obviously put this man next to me for a reason.

The conference offered tips and take-aways, and featured ridiculously awesome speakers like Robin O’Bryant. <— I’m adding ya’ll to my western Pennsylvania dialect because of her. I was surrounded by talented, lovely women (and one adorable baby I couldn’t take my eyes off of #LonelyUterus), and invaluable opportunities and information.  There was also free coffee and wine. Have I mentioned that? Of all the lessons to be learned and content to process, Tiffany and the retired army officer’s message was what I circled and highlighted and drew stars around in my notes.

If I didn’t have the people in my life, I wouldn’t have a blog at all. 

Some of the ladies were making plans to attend their next conference, and others left with a clearer vision of their end goals. I was not among them. All I wanted to do was get home into my man’s arms and wipe my kids’ noses and squeeze in a nap because good LAWD I’m not 21 any more. Bloggy Bootcamp was an invaluable experience for me because it gave me something that I was lacking but desperately needed: perspective.

I have no friggin’ clue what I want from this blog. I’ve no idea where it will take me, if anywhere. I don’t know what my purpose or my “niche” is. But today, I’m ignoring the ginormous list of unread posts on my Bloglovin’ feed (sorry, pals), and focusing on my living and breathing constant. If I do end up in a rocking chair on a porch somewhere, I’ll want someone beside me.

Special shout-out to Meredith for sharing her funny on Friday while I traveled. I appreciate you, friend!

 




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Terrorized by Neon

May 17, 2013 by 19 Comments

Happy Friday, pals! I’m out of the office today, so one of my favorite bloggers (and people) offered to cover for me. She’s here all weekend answering phones and making you laugh; it’s the lovely Meredith from The Mom of the Year! She’s also in the hilarstical (new word, Merriam-Webster?) momthology I Just Want to Pee Alone. I’ve obviously left you in good hands.

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I have a confession.  I am scared, very scared of neon.  This isn’t something I say lightly.  At first, I didn’t even realize it was happening.  I had innocently placed one of my obsessively regular orders to Carters, the mecca of young children’s clothing.  The package arrived and I tore it open in the gleeful anticipation.  What 24 mo. treasures had Carter’s delivered for my daughter?  I ripped open the plastic bags with bated breathe, then promptly screamed in pain as the glaring hues permanently seared my eyeballs.  What had happened?  I ordered pink and received blinding horror.  WHAT IS UP WITH THE NEON??

It would have been easy to assume that my fav clothing company had sold me out, or at least placed some color-blind chiquita in charge of design for the season, but then I started to see neon creeping up in other places at an alarming rate.  We went for dinner; the pretween at the next table was rocking a fluorescent orange mini-skirt.  I went to Target to quickly grab a new jacket; nothing but neon denim.  Had the 80s officially made their re-debut and no one had told me??  Darn, I knew I was screwing myself by being too lazy to read my latest Star magazines…

The good news: this phase will likely pass before my children are old enough to select their own clothing.  The bad news:  Holy-heck-Almighty, pass me my sunglasses!

M_neon

Until this phase passes, it is probably best that I avoid Gap like the plague.  (My budget agrees with this.)  Many people have fear of lovely, normal things, like spiders, or snakes or impending doom.  I fear neon.  Don’t get me wrong, I love me a good Wilson Phillips tune as much as the next gal, but the side pony-tails and their complimentary neon t-shirts are going to have to step aside because my retinas are limited, and let’s be honest–the hot colors are just hideously ugly.

Your adorable matching prints and/or pastels?  OBSOLETE.  It is time to go hideous or go home.  If you can’t drink the Kool-Aid and rock your squint-worthy hues, join me hovering in fear in the corner.  I have extra sunglasses–and the really good dark ones you can totally put over your regular glasses.  We will hide out together and ride out the trend.  Here’s to 2013 in all it’s 1980s glory.

Meredith blogs at The Mom of the Year, dedicatedly earning her title one epic parenting fail at a time.  When her kids aren’t busy pummeling each other with legos or requiring their 16th sippy cup refill of the day, she tries to offer quick, relatable laughs for fellow parents of the world and all their empathizers.  She remains entirely terrified by crafts, promises to never share any useful household tips, and is fully committed to a less serious look at the world of parenting.  Social media is beyond her comprehension, but she makes a pass at Twitter and Facebook.




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I Got People. And Free Stuff.

May 16, 2013 by 19 Comments

Remember how I was super annoying begging for votes so I would win the Scary Mommy contest? Well, it paid off because, friends, WE WON! Jill Smokler is officially coming to the Steel City (Pittsburgh, duh) on Saturday, June 29th. She’s holding a public meet and greet/book signing at The Sheraton in Station Square from 4-6pm and if I were any more excited I would be a bunny in heat. If you’re local or willing to travel for Scary Mommy, please join us!

Because it’s physically impossible for me to hug each and every one of you in thanks for your support and votes, I’m just going to give you stuff.

I have a dear friend who created an awesome app for kids called Picnic in the Park. You may have noticed his button under “Sponsor Love” in the left sidebar here on my blog. Click it. Learn about the app. Notice that the app was created by an educator. The app is perfect for iPhone and iPad fun for preschoolers through 8-year-olds. Now fall in love with the app. Go on. So, you want that app? Okay, it’s yours.

PicnicInThePark_giveaway

 

All you have to do is leave a comment on this post and my pal, the app creator, will choose FIVE of you to win the free game! And it’s a really cool game; no violence, no confusing instructions or requirements that force your child to ask you 224234 questions whilst playing, and the best part? You’ll get the WHOLE game. It’s not like one of those downloads that gives you the first few levels and then your kid is coaxed into buying more dragons. Or whatever. This is legit. If you don’t have a kiddo, you can still enter and just gift your winnings to your nephew, your granddaughter, your neighbor’s cousin’s husband’s kid. So, yeah, leave a comment below and you’re automatically entered. Winners will be announced one week from today.

Speaking of sponsors, the second listed in the side bar is a woman I’ve come to know through blogging,  Ms. Leah Vidal (you may know her as Little Miss Wordy), who has recently published a book called Red Circle Days. You’ll be hearing more about her and her book in a couple of weeks, but I wanted to give her a proper shout-out for being an awesome sponsor and a ridiculously talented writer. She also home schools her kids!! RIGHT?!

I’ll continue my girl crush on Leah later. For now, I have to pack my bags because I’m off to the SITS Girls Bloggy Bootcamp tomorrow! My pals Christine and Janene from More Than Mommies and Amanda of Questionable Choices in Parenting and I are headed to Charlotte to learn some things, drink some things, and share beds. It’s like college all over again!!

And I’ve got a fantabulous guest blogger all lined up to regale you with tales of neon gone wrong tomorrow.

Scary Mommy.

My pal the app creator.

Leah the Lovely.

Christine, Janene, and Amanda–oh, my!

Guest blogger.

See what I mean? I got people. I got good people.




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Because Grace.

May 15, 2013 by 44 Comments

Being tied down and sawed in half like a magician’s assistant made holding my newborn impossible. The nurse hoisted him up to my face and our noses touched ever so slightly. Our first kiss, an Eskimo kiss. Weeks, months went by and I never thought about that “kiss,” never replicated it. One afternoon as my handsome guy was learning to crawl, he scrambled over to where I was sitting on the living room floor, pulled himself up, and found my nose with his.

Because kismet. 

MeandB

My husband was throwing a batting practice to his baseball team before a big game. I was on a different field watching another game when I felt it. Just it. I turned around fully expecting someone to be looking for me, and there he was. A player’s father had come to tell me about the accident. Long months of surgeries, eye-drops, precautions, and prayers; my husband’s eye is fully healed and he is still coaching.

Because connection.

Lying in the hospital bed, in and out of consciousness thanks to the Percocet, I struggled to sit upright, to keep my chin from crashing onto my chest. A figure emerged from the shadows of the hallway; was she a vision or really standing in front of me? With her caramel complexion came a wave of calm. Mop, clean linens, and garbage bags piled in her hands, she smiled. She didn’t ask me to label the pain with a number; she spoke kind, comforting words.  I slept better that night than I ever have, but despite my best efforts, never found her to thank her.

Because divine intervention.

A misunderstanding. Misplaced anger. Dreams deferred. A 10-hour car ride to stand by his side, fighting back tears while hats were held to hearts and music swelled around us. Frigid temperatures. Falling rain.

Because family.

 

Nightmares can yield happiness.

Plans gone awry become our foundation.

The unexpected gives us exactly what we need without us ever realizing we need it.

 

Because grace.




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Oversharing: But I’m Bleeding

May 14, 2013 by 28 Comments

Did you wake up this morning hoping a new pal would Overshare and make you laugh and maybe wince a little? Excellent! We aim to please over here at WhenCrazyMeetsExhaustion, so feast your eyes upon your new friend Jill (aka Ms. PC). She wasn’t always the sophisticated, well-mannered, air-brushed lady you know her as today. In her teenage years, she went through a period of… oversharing. Lucky for us, she’s back to her old ways. At least for today…

OversharingPresents_BackHomeBlog

After spending my childhood being embarrassed by everything imaginable, one day I discovered that everyone is embarrassed constantly. I found this extremely liberating and just ran with it.
In high school I was a “late bloomer,” as parents like to say. God, is there any phrase more mortifying? But it’s accurate, I guess. I didn’t start puberty until I was almost 16. When I finally got my period, it was like an angry volcano that had been buried under the surface for too many years.
Perfect. So now I had a love of oversharing plus something to overshare. I passed my free time regaling my friends with embarrassing tales of feminine protection gone awry. And they loved it. But I still shouldn’t have assumed that everyone would appreciate my openness.
One day in Participatory Government (stupid class), the teacher made me move seats because I was talking too much (shocker). As soon as I moved seats, I asked her if I could go to the bathroom. She stared me down, trying to figure out if… this was some kind of trick, I guess? She was kind of dumb. Anyway, she said no.
That’s when I blurted out “But, I’m bleeding!“
The whole, entire class gasped in unison. I mean, God people, that dramatic, really?
She informed me that the correct thing to say was that I was having feminine lady issue problem times or something. I wanted to argue with her those phrases were just euphemisms and I shouldn’t be made ashamed of my bodily functions but, at this point, time was a factor.
So I just said “Ok, can I go?” And she continued to lecture me. “Ok, can I go?” I repeated. And finally my freedom was granted.
I’d like to think I learned my lesson after that but I have vague memories of traumatizing my now best friend Rachel the first week of college by talking about tampons or something.
I’ve gotten better since then though, definitely. I mean, except for this story. And most everything else on my blog.
Jill is a comedy writer in New York who never got over her adolescent obsession with sitcoms. In fact, she’s currently in production on her first independent web pilot (about which she alternately complains and gushes). <— (Editor’s note: she should totally cast me. Thanks.) Her blog is supposedly about her adventures in living with her new husband and divorced dad, but really about whatever comes into her head.
Blogging every weekday at backhomeblog.com.
If you’re feelin’ the itch to Overshare, submit your story to WhenCrazyMeetsExhaustion [at] gmail [dot] com.



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Don’t Be a Judgy Wudgy

May 13, 2013 by 57 Comments

I read an article this morning that really got under my skin. You can read the irritating piece HERE or just let me sum it up for you:

Well-educated mother-of-three, Michele Weldon, has deemed a sense of humor about parenting detrimental to rearing children. In fact, she suspects that “cool moms” like Jill Smokler (Scary Mommy) and Nicole Knepper (Moms Who Drink and Swear) are likely to raise children who get in trouble for things like underage drinking. She also says that American moms have it so good that we shouldn’t complain. To prove it, she compared us to moms in the Democratic Republic of the Congo who are brutally raped and who have their clitorises cut off.

Right.

JudgyWudgy

So here are my thoughts for Michele, in no particular order:

1. I’d like to take you out for a drink. You need to relax.

2. Because Jill, Nicole, and Reese Witherspoon don’t embody the kind of “motherhood in the Courtney Love/Britney Spears brand of alcohol-soaked anything goes” of which you write, I can’t help but wonder if you picked on three popular ladies for the sake of your SEO.

3. None of us are perfect; some of us just aren’t afraid to admit it.

4. There is a stark contrast between complaining about motherhood and being realistic about it. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows and anyone who claims otherwise is either lying or comatose.

5. If it takes a village to raise a child, it must take an assistant professor of journalism at The Medill School of Northwestern University to dictate how.

6. Parents from all over the world submit their deepest, darkest fears and admissions anonymously to the Scary Mommy Confessional. The blanket of anonymity allows us to share more freely, but I wonder if it would be as necessary if other parents like you weren’t constantly passing judgement on the rest of us.

7. My husband and I are both teachers and we often lament over the steady decline of our students’ work ethics and lack  of empathy. While I think you have a valid point that today’s parents need to step up their game, the ones who are articulating their experiences in writing aren’t necessarily the ones who deserve the bulls-eye on their backs. If we’re looking for a solution (and we are, aren’t we? I mean, we’re not just pointing fingers and brushing our shoulders off, right?), let’s start with the poverty levels and educational systems.

8. A friend of mine once asked what I’ll do when my kids discover the blog posts where I’ve discussed things like their failed potty training endeavors or how every Friday, like clockwork, my son would morph into demon spawn and make me want to take the bridge. I’ll tell you what I told my friend: I’ll have an honest conversation with my kids about how I was feeling at the time I wrote those things, explain that writing is cathartic, and then I’ll push a piece of paper and pen their way and say have at it.

9. There is an underlying current in your article that insinuates we who laugh at our mistakes do not love our children as much as you love yours, and that we don’t appreciate being a parent as much as you do. At first, that pissed me off. Now I just feel sorry for you because you must not be enjoying parenthood as much as I am.

10. You believe that “Kids deserve better from mothers. Mothers deserve better for themselves.” So what do Mothers deserve from other Mothers? We are behind the likes of Finland and Spain because those countries have a solid support system for mothers by other mothers. You are simply perpetuating the snarky Mom Competition that we need to move away from before we can progress as women or as a country.

I can’t speak for everyone, but I know I’m trying my best with my kids. I love them with all my heart, and I would do anything for them. Sometimes I stop what I’m doing and just stare at them because I can’t believe they were once in my belly or that I am blessed enough to raise them. It’s incredible. It’s indescribable.

Other days, I stop what I’m doing and just stare at them because I can’t friggin’ believe my daughter tried to bite her brother’s toes. Again. Or that my son bashed dents the size of my pores into the wall with his toy hammer. Those are the days where I take to my blog and use my sense of humor to deal with the chaos in my home. And if that puts me in your category of  ”dismissive approach to motherhood” so be it. I’d rather hang out with Jill and Nicole anyway.

 




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Don’t Worry Kids, That’s Just My Gallbladder Exploding. And a Giveaway

May 9, 2013 by 23 Comments

Before I traded in my day job for two rug rats and a computer, I used to function as a public member of society; as in, I wore pants to work. One day at my pants-are-required job, my gallbladder almost exploded. Shall we stroll down memory lane?

[Read more...]




Filed Under: Parenting, Sponsored

Masturbation and Rap Music

May 9, 2013 by 6 Comments

Well, hello there!

I’ve written a how-to manual for one of today’s topics, masturbation or rap music. You have to get clicky to figure out which!

To read the masturbation piece, click HERE

To read the rap music piece, click HERE

My daughter turns two today, so if you need me, I’ll be curled up in the fetal position in the corner of my living room. I’ve yet to decide if it’s because I’m sad my baby is no longer a baby or if it’s because I’m frightened of her. It’s probably the latter, but don’t tell her I told you–she’ll throw her shoe at the back of my head while I’m driving again.

Happy Thursday, pals!

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Will you help me win a contest?! Click HERE, “like” Scary Mommy’s Facebook page, click The Book Tour, and cast a vote for the adorable blonde kid on the potty with the iPad! We can vote once a day (from our phones AND computers!) until noon on May 12th. THANK YOU!!!!




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