Things I’ve Learned from NaBloPoMo with a Side of Optimism

April 1, 2013 by 29 Comments

March is in the books, pals. Today, the first day of April, means I am officially done with BlogHer’s NaBloPoMo challenge. It was fun, and I’m glad I gave it a whirl, but at times, it really hurt my brain.

MenZach

 

Here are a few of the things I’ve learned from participating:

  • Less is ultimately more.
  • Despite invading inboxes and clogging Facebook feeds for a full month, some of those closest to me continue to ignore the fact that I have a blog, have been published elsewhere on the web, and have even experienced a little monetary success with my writing. Kinda hurts my heart.
  • On the flip-side, I have AH-mazing readers and supporters who were by my side for the full 31-days. You read, you commented, you pimped out what you liked most, and for that, I thank you. You keep me writing.
  • I’ve yet to figure out the best time of day or day of the week to publish as to maximize exposure. This was one of my personal goals during NaBloPoMo and I failed. I’m over it.
  • A half a dozen people, some with whom I speak every day, others I haven’t seen in years, have contacted me to let me know they’ve started writing/blogging because they were inspired by my crazy. If that’s not reason enough to keep writing, I don’t know what is!
  • Link-ups and themed writings are great remedies for a brain fart.
  • My Oversharing series seems to be a hit! Weeeee! Speaking of which…

tune in tomorrow when Kerry from House TalkN stops by to Overshare. You may recognize Kerry’s funny from “her” best-selling book, I Just Want to Pee Alone, but tomorrow she will be dishing about the time she was naked. At the YMCA.




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A Letter to My 16-year-old Self

March 30, 2013 by 19 Comments

Dear 1996 Stephanie,

16-years-old, very exciting! You’ll be driving soon, just not as soon as you had hoped; it was super cool of your dad to pretend the DMV was closed so you don’t have to confess to failing your permit test. That dad, he’s not too shabby. I know he gets on your nerves with his loud voice and embarrassing comments, but listen to me: he is your biggest fan. Let him ramble on about “the time he was your age” because one day, you’ll start your stories the same way. Allow him to fake-vomit when he meets your boyfriends or sees your new pair of shoes. He’s worth it. Just wait until he breaks down and cries when he sees you in your wedding gown.

I’m getting ahead of myself. I just want to share a few nuggets of knowledge, being that I am an expert in all things Stephanie…

* You are not fat. You have a gymnast’s body which means you have more muscle tone than most dudes you go to high school with. Do not let them bring you down.

* Your nose doesn’t get smaller. You live.

* Stop allowing your friend to color your hair in her bathroom. It’s going to turn orange in about two months…

* When your mom suggests that you major in education in college, don’t major in Journalism just to prove her wrong. You’re meant to be a teacher; don’t fight it.

* That guy you just started dating? Despite what you believe, he will not father your children. Resist the urge to humiliate yourself begging him to come back after he breaks your heart.

* That guy you will date in college? Your brother is right: d-o-u-c-h-e.

* That one other guy you will meet on spring break, the one with the Boston accent? Ohhhh yeeaaaahhhhh.

* You won’t have to put up with the Spice Girls much longer. You’re welcome.

* I know they’re not that popular now, but you want all Apple products. Trust me on this one.

* Continue declining opportunities to babysit. You’re doing the right thing by working at the movie theater; you’ll change enough diapers some day.

* Drink more water now. Some day, you will have three sips and then pee yourself a little when you sneeze. No joke.

* Keep writing.

* Your family loves President Clinton, but keep an eye on his wife. She’s pretty impressive in her own right.

* Don’t be afraid to step outside of your comfort zone and do something crazy. Dance naked in the rain or something.

* CDs don’t really need to be alphabetized. Really.

* Your best friend now is still your best friend. Pretty cool, right?

* You will meet three other girls in college and against all odds, the four of you will live together in a small apartment and not kill one another. Those same girls will be in your wedding, visit your newborns in the hospital (I’m not telling you just how many newborns!), and be a part of your life for a really long time. At one point you will feel like you’re drifting apart, so you are gonna have to man up and talk to them about your feelings. I know this is difficult for you because you prefer to be angry, but grow up already.

* In your sophomore year of college, you will be faced with a choice: the responsible thing vs. one of the greatest nights of your life. Keep your dad’s words in mind: stop and smell the roses.

* Keep your eye on that math teacher/baseball coach who tutors your brother.

* Each time someone calls you a bitch, it means you have made the right decision or voiced a necessary opinion, usually in favor of the underdog. Eventually “bitch” will be replaced with “feminist,” and you will be proud of the woman you’ve become.

* Graduating high school  graduating college  beginning your career will seem to be the most difficult and exciting thing you’ve ever done. But one day, you will raise human beings and that, my friend, will trump all the rest.

* And finally, younger more vibrant version of me, if you can nap, do it. Sleep is a sweet, sweet commodity and you will miss it when it’s gone.

Carry on,

2013 Stephanie

 

************************

This is my first time (tee hee) linking up at Jenn’s place. If you love the idea of Theme Thursday, check her out HERE!

 

 




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My Mini-Me

March 29, 2013 by 16 Comments

The family says my daughter looks like my husband but acts like me. I don’t know why, but I feel like that’s not always a compliment. Not that my husband isn’t handsome, because he is, but she acts like me? Hmmm…Is that to say she’s headstrong, as a result defiant? Maybe it means she’s independent, thus stubborn?

Perhaps it means that my baby girl, who is on the brink of turning two, is willing to relinquish social norms in the face of adversity and grab the bull by the horns to get what she wants. She doesn’t balk at a challenge! She perseveres through the tough times, staying true to herself! My girl takes the impossible and makes it possible! She is an inspiration to all!

Ella_chocolate

 

Yes, that child of mine makes me proud.




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Update on Project Patience, My Lenten Appeal

March 27, 2013 by 25 Comments

I’ve been known to throw a thing or two when I’m angry.

There, I said it. 

I also use curse words to express said anger.

Whew, that feels better.

When a couple of loose sperm deemed me responsible for two small humans who’ve since renamed me “Mom,” I thought it best to try and curb my ‘tude lest they (the humans, not the sperm) begin emulating my anger management skills, or lack thereof.

I’m not saying I was destroying property or dropping eff bombs day in and day out, but I recognized my kids’ growling and grunting as a sign that there may have been a poop to be had, but also this: the way I react to life’s challenges is the way they will learn to react. Guess who makes weird guttural noises when she’s frustrated…

Unfortunately for everyone, my husband is the chiller of our dynamic duo, but he doesn’t get near the amount of face-time as I do with the kids. So, I generally blame myself when the boy yells DAMMIT or the girl fires a shoe across the room.

Mommy guilt blows.

I took it upon myself to self-medicate. No, not with the leftover Vicodin from my c-section; with patience. You can read about my Lenten Appeal here.

I gotta tell ya, pals, it’s been WORKING! Let me clarify: I still react with sarcasm and/or anger in certain situations, but I have become acutely aware of my physical and verbal reactions, and have worked really hard at maintaining a sense of calm in the face of a bossy three-year-old and his clingy counterpart. I’m pretty proud of myself, too, because this mental grind is no joke. It’s so much easier to just throw my hands up and yell FUCK IT (<—- I think that’s my first official eff bomb on my blog. You’re witnessing history. You’re welcome.), but to breathe in, and take a second to analyze the situation for what it is: a fleeting moment of irritation that, when gone, is forgotten as well. I kept telling myself:

My kids will be better for it.

My husband will be better for it.

My blood pressure will be better for it.

Now, I’m a passionate person by nature. That doesn’t mean I’m all sexified; it means I’m crazy. Ask the peoples on my block (I’m listening to “No Diggity” courtesy of Spotify, please excuse the colloquialism), my happiness is genuine, but so is my oh-no-you-di’int’ness.

Patience

 

Life is too short to be mean.

That’s why I’ve no room in my overflowing heart for intolerance or hatred or downright mean-spirited people. This includes, but is not limited to, my priest who pretty much lost all of my respect last week, those who stand in the way of another’s happiness or right to marry, blogholes, jerkoffs who can’t use a turn signal, and anyone who hurts a child. The spectrum is broad, people.

Interaction with the aforementioned may still elicit boiling blood and/or a blown proverbial top, but because of my conscious decision to harness the good and block the bad (thank you, Happy Gilmore), this Lent has been a success.

To all of you non-Catholics: Lent isn’t over until Easter Sunday, so there is more than enough time for me to break a window or get arrested.




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Project Optimism, Interrupted

March 25, 2013 by 21 Comments

We interrupt this regularly scheduled Optimism to bring you…

snow_brady

 

And…

Ella_snow

And if spring doesn’t spring, like, tomorrow, I will also bring you this…

Liquor_bottles




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Under Pressure!

March 19, 2013 by 33 Comments

In case you need some tunes while you’re reading this rant, here ya go:

Lately, I’ve been feeling that anxious heart racing in my chest kind of thing, and I didn’t know why. Kids have been good, healthy. Work is under control. I managed to wash my hair twice last week. So, what then?!

‘Tis this blogging business.

pressure

I love writing, don’t get me wrong, but good lawdy it can be demanding! There is so much pressure to

  • think up witty, relevant content
  • post every day
  • include/create relevant images so you can
  • pin to Pinterest
  • share on Google+ (what the eff Google reader?! Really screwin’ us…)
  • post on Facebook
  • tweet on Twitter
  • do whatever people do on Instagram

And if you’re a glutton for punishment, there is a whole different level of pressure to

  • stalk  contact companies and websites about getting some of your witty content published
  • write more, original witty content because the companies and websites don’t want the stuff you’ve previously published
  • throw something. You feel better now.
  • take it to the next level and move to a self-hosted blog
  • get out of the house and experience a bit more of life so you have fodder that doesn’t include changing diapers or stray chin hairs (I’m still working on this one…)

Don’t forget about your love of reading and the people whose writing you can’t live without; you want to be sure and

  • maintain the community of writers you’ve come to know and respect
  • read your favorites’ stuff
  • leave a heartfelt comment because you want to
  • not forget you have to work/feed the kids/empty the dishwasher before your husband comes home

So, yeah, blogging is BUSY.

Does anyone else have a dozen different blog-related accounts? Does anyone actually remember the passwords to said accounts? I had to make a spreadsheet, people–a SPREADSHEET–to keep all this stuff organized. Between working online and blogging online, my computer is dying a slow death. But once the PC kicks the bucket, I shall buy the beautiful Macbook my husband says is unnecessary.

What does he know? He wears socks with sandals.

And these, friends, are my random thoughts for the day.

Have I mentioned that this is the last NaBloPoMo I will be participating in?

Did you hear that?

Just my brain exploding. Carry on.

 




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A How-To Guide for Convincing Your Husband to Knock You Up. Again.

March 16, 2013 by 26 Comments

It’s no secret ’round these parts that my uterus is jonesing for a little company. Lately, new things have factored into the matter:

My 20-month old has learned to hold my iPhone without her chubby thumbs getting in the way, pausing whatever she’s watching on the screen. You heard it here first: she’ll be Valedictorian of her class.

My 3.5 year-old son is already an accomplished mathematician:

“Mom, you wiped my bum two times when I pooped after breakfast,  and then two more times when I pooped after school. That’s FOUR wipes!”

What was Einstein doing before he was four?

So, yeah, my babies are growing up.

*Sob*

And I think my husband is starting to feel the effects of his  biological clock (is there such a thing?). The other day he kept chasing after the kids, yelling, “I’m gonna scoop ya!” When I asked what the heck he was doing, he replied, “I have to hug them as much as I can now. These days won’t last forever.”

Awwww-ing because of the sweetness? Me, too.

That said, I think I have him right where I want him: he’s feeling a little sentimental, a little tired, and probably more than a little frisky since today is Saturday, as in Stephanie Shaves on Saturdays. Friends, I think it’s safe to say GAME ON.

Now if only I can convince the husband to pull the goalie.

Ride bareback.

Take Phil Collins’ album literally: No Jacket Required.

With some careful planning, I think I may be able to seduce him. And because I care, I’m sharing my infinite wisdom…

husbandknockup

1. Hide your granny panties for the duration.

2. Resist the urge to impress the children, and muffle your belches. (Side note: once knocked up, excessive gas is acceptable. Shatter the windows, friend.)

3. Stop providing play-by-play narration of your menstrual cycle. Even if you’re certain that your ovaries are going to fall out, keep it to yourself.

4. Cook more some at least once a week.

5. Rather than launch into what was awesome or crappy about your day, ask how HIS day was. Handing him a beer as you pretend to listen earns you bonus points.

6. Fancy up your attire by swapping between the Old Navy hoodie and the go-to-when-bloated-over-sized sweater. Variety is the spice blahblahblah.

7. Compliment him more: have you been lifting? Your pecs look incredible!

8. Send subliminal YouWantAnotherBaby messages by strategically placing the kids’ baby pictures in his line of vision: in his truck, next to the remote control, on the toilet.

9. Say YES more.

Can I golf today? 
    Of course!

Want to watch Taken for the sixteenth time?
    Heck yeah!

My mother thinks you should starch my shirts, don’t you agree?
    Abso-friggin-lutely.

10. Send him sexy e-mails at work to get him in the mood: my teeth are brushed, my upper lip waxed, and we’re all excited to see you tonight.

Follow these guidelines and you should be knocked up within the month.

 

 

 

 




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My Kid is Funnier Than Your Kid

March 15, 2013 by 16 Comments

I had a whole post ready about how I was going to beg my husband to impregnate me, but then my son went and said some of the funniest things and I just have to share! Plus, we’re a little pressed for time today; we’re traveling to a friend’s house for the ultimate play date: five kids, three adults, one ornery cat.

funnykid

When my daughter wakes up, still confined to her crib, she begins babbling to herself. She calls out all of the things she sees in her room: Sockies! Purple walls! Ella’s shoes!

Normally, she’ll call for my son who then goes in to greet her. This morning, he climbed in her bed and started quizzing her on her shapes. He contorted his little fingers into circles, squares, etc. Much to his dismay, his sister kept naming letters instead of shapes…

Boy: What shape is this?

Girl: E!

Boy: ELLA! E is NOT a shape!

Girl: O!

Boy: Okay, I’ll give you a shape that starts with the letter ‘O.’ This is an oval.

Girl: Oooooooooo

Me: Dude, how did YOU know oval started with the letter O?

Without missing a beat and looking at me like I’m a moron: I’m very smart. Didn’t you know?

 

After school yesterday…

Boy: So many girls in my class love Justin Beaver.

Me: Justin Beaver, huh? Yeah, a lot of girls love him.

Boy: I DON’T! I think beavers are ugly.

Me: Good. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?

I plan to remind him for his aversion to the Beaver right around his 16th birthday…

 

For more funnies from the kiddos, check out the Conversations with Toddlers page, and feel free to add your own!

Happy Friday, pals!




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Anne Hathaway is my Homey. But Not Really.

March 14, 2013 by 10 Comments

Good Thursday to you!

My girl Angela is back to explain her obsession with admiration for Anne Hathaway. Please note that I do not condone such behavior, as I find Ms. Hathaway pretentious and I want to flick her in the eyeball every time she giggles, but, hey, that’s just one girl’s opinion. Now back to the regularly scheduled Angela who does, in fact, appreciate Anne’s torpedo nipples…

anne

Steph has promised an entire post on my love of A.H., so here goes nothing.

As documented in my previous guest-spot (or rather, in response to the questions that followed), I have included “being friends with Anne Hathaway” on my Bucket List.

In truth, my honest intention would be to date Anne Hathaway, but she is married, I am married and she is straight. All totally surmountable technicalities, but I’m a busy woman. I’d settle for being her pen-pal, really.

friends

How did this happen? Not sure.

Part of it is undoubtedly due to the fact that I use TMZ.com as a primary news source. You may laugh, but you can impress your friends and neighbors with knowledge of random celebrity facts. I’m a hit at team trivia night and the lyrics to We Didn’t Start the Fire has bailed me out of many a historical sequencing jam. Also, if being a lawyer hits the skids, I could always do nails.

(Side bar: I stopped going to a nails place because the ladies there wouldn’t watch or talk about anything other than Basketball Wives. Aint’ nobody got time for that.).

 

 But I digress… so, here, in no particular order, are the reasons

I love Anne Hathaway:

1. She’s pretty. (Look, I said it was in no order…). Love her or hate her, she’s a looker. Admit it. Even the shit she does wrong (read: nipple-gate), is oh so right.

2. She seems smart. Do I know this for sure? No. Still, she did dump that one guy when she found out he was being federally indicted. Also, if you Google “Anne Hathaway Quotes,” you find this gem on brainyquote.com:

I have no aspirations of world domination
through the pop charts. None at all.

Anne Hathaway

Smart as a WHIP, she is.

3. She shot a film in Pittsburgh. I actually gazed from my office window for weeks (not constantly, but pretty close) trying to catch a glimpse of the Cat Woman Mobile (or whatever) zipping by. Pint-sized as she would have been from the 17th floor, it would have been great. No dice. Next time, Anne. Next time.

4. Her dad went to law school with one of my friends. This is, of course, apropos of nothing, but I’ve placed this tidbit in my arsenal of ice breakers for when I meet Anne in person.

5. I’ve already run out of reasons. I was going to go with nipple-gate as a reason. Or, perhaps, grace in dealing with nipple-gate. No? I guess it’s really just reason # 1. I’m a shallow sad little person with a near-meaningless life. The good news is, I can be on my own defense team if she catches wind of this post.

Anne_Nips

Sorry, Angela. Couldn’t help myself.




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I’m One Bad Mamma Jamma

March 13, 2013 by 13 Comments

Happy Wednesday, pals!

You’ll actually have to travel to get to my post today, but I promise it’s easy AND worth it. The mah-velous Meredith, whose writing is featured in I Just Want to Pee Alone (YAY Meredith!!!), is hosting a series called I’m a Mom of the Year and my post is up today. All you have to do is click HERE to read it!

BUT WAIT! Before you go, I wanted to invite you to be a part of MY new series: Oversharing: I Ain’t Scarrred. If you’ve been reading my crazy for a while, you know all about my penchant for oversharing. If you’re new here (WELCOME!), you can catch up and learn more than you ever cared to:

Skyping whilst on the toilet

My dad had crabs but not really

My toddler overshared for me

I said the “C” word at a school assembly

My kid crapped in some napkins

Because so many of you have expressed interest in being a part of the fun, so I present to you:

Oversharing_Invitation

The goal is laughter and the limits are few, so I hope you’ll consider joining the ranks of my crazy and submitting your story.

Caution: this series is Rated R mostly because it’s REALLY awesome, but it also contains some-may-find-offensive language and scenarios. I won’t edit you to death, but please know that I will not accept anything along the lines of racist, sexist, homophobic, etc. Bigotry ain’t cool, ya’ll.

So, whaddya say?! Wanna play with me? Okay, I realize how that sounds. Let’s move on…

If you’re game, send your Oversharing to whencrazymeetsexhaustion{at}gmail{dot}com and let’s get this ball rolling?

Do you love all of the sports imagery I just created for you? You’re welcome.




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