Jan 262011
 

Is it the constant onslaught of winter weather that leaves me so tired at the end of every day?  Is it a case of the “Winter Blues?” I swear I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, I am in desperate need of some light therapy (and regular on the couch head therapy too, I know). Or perhaps it’s the constant battle, the war that is never won, just surviving the day as a parent?

Whatever it is, it’s not the greatest feeling.  It’s my belief that it’s a combination of things but whatever the reason(s), it’s taking a toll.  I woke up the other day and my very first thought that popped into my waking mind was “Holy shit! I have over 13 hours until the kid’s bedtime.”  That sucks!

So here’s some bad poetry to celebrate the daily battles and little victories of the modern mother.  It’s my version of therapy.

Little Victories

Now that the day is done

Count all the little victories won

No toys (or bones) were broken

Only a few (dozen) curse words spoken

Three meals made plus snacks and more

Then all their remnants scrubbed from the ceiling, walls & floor

Play things scattered all around

Your sanity lost,  now is found

Kids are bathed and tucked in bed

No noise is left now but the pounding in your head

So kick up your feet, relax while you can

Tomorrow is another day & the battle begins again!

So rest while (and where ever) you can, Mamas....tomorrow is a new day!

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Dec 092010
 

I am clearly disturbed, like really friggin’ disturbed, on some deep, subconscious level.  Perhaps you all already know this, and perhaps I already know this too, but in the event there was any doubt, let me remove it for you now.

I’ve been dreaming weirder than normal dreams of late, and as a student of psychology I am deeply concerned about what my subconscious might be trying to tell me.  Some people say dreams are a fascinating insight into unconscious thoughts and feelings, but the dream I had last night makes me want to call my insurance company for participating psychologists in my network.  I need immediate medical mental attention.

The air felt cold on my exposed skin, and as I laid face down on the lumpy old mattress, I had a hard time determining if the stagnant smell was from the room or the uncomfortable fabric beneath my face.  I lifted my head slightly to examine the room I was in which appeared to be more like a cave or a tunnel.  It was dark and empty, and although it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of me, I knew I was near water.  I heard heavy flowing water coming from all directions -over, under, all around me.  I heard drips and drops splashing in all sorts of unseen puddles, but I also heard a man humming an unfamiliar melody from right behind me.  As I attempted to push myself up with my arms to see who was with me, I became suddenly aware I was unable to move.  An immediate feeling of panic set in and I tried, without any success, to prop myself up again.  As I tried to free my arms I felt a rough hand against my face and an equally rough voice telling me to stay still.  The man tugged and pulled at fabric that I could now feel was wrapped snugly around my body from my neck all the way down to my ankles.  He continued to hum as he worked, presumably fastening the restraints around me.  Abruptly, the man pulled the fabric tightly and lifted me to a standing position.  I still couldn’t tell what was secured around me or who this man was that was evidently holding me captive.  He began forcing me to move forward and I found it nearly impossible to walk since my legs were stuck together.  I waddled as quick as I could, taking painful bare-footed baby steps across the unstable surface.  This man was large, and although I hadn’t yet seen him, I could feel how large he was as he poked and pushed me through the cold, wet tunnel.  The ground crunched and gave way beneath his powerful steps, and as we pushed further down the tunnel I began to feel cold water and debris rushing around and against my feet and ankles.  The massive unknown stranger continued to force me forward, and the further we moved the deeper and faster the water became.  Nearing the end of the tunnel, light began to penetrate and I could finally see that I was wrapped in a white knit afghan.   I immediately felt my face get hot and suddenly felt embarrassed wearing only the holey (not holy) white fabric.  Upon reaching the end of the tunnel it was clear that we were high off the ground, and the water continued past where we had stopped and turned into a frigid waterfall (Picture the movie “The Fugitive” just before Harrison Ford jumps away from the federal agent who was chasing him).  My mind seemed to freeze and my thoughts drifted to nothing as I looked out over the great abyss. Water continued to move and push against the back of my legs, and suddenly I felt myself spinning wildly. For a moment I thought I had gone over the edge, but when the world stopped moving, I found myself face to face with my very, very naked captor…

Dog the Bounty Hunter just stood there totally in the buff for a moment and stared at me. He made no gestures and spoke no words, only stared blankly in my direction. As I struggled to keep my footing he began to take a few steps backwards.  Next, without any warning, he ran in my direction and karate kicked me in the stomach. His one kick was more than enough to send me flying back over the falls.  As I fell to my apparent death, I looked up and saw him standing at the tunnel’s opening, still totally nude.  The last thought that crossed my mind as I was plummeting downwards was how I was not at all surprised that his carpet did not match the drapes.  Yes, that’s right, I wasn’t afraid of dying, wasn’t trying to determine why he was killing me, not how he had come to hold me captive, or even why Dog the Bounty Hunter had knit me into an afghan cocoon.  My last thought before waking was “there’s a big surprise, he’s not a natural blond.”

So there you have it. I’m crazy. I’ve got to be absolutely nuts.  First of all, I don’t watch (nor have I ever watched) the Dog the Bounty Hunter show on A&E.  Secondly, I think he is super gross and I have never thought about him naked, and to be perfectly honest, prefer not to even think about him clothed. But there he was, in all his glory, naked as the day he was born, humming,  knitting, and ultimately killing me in my dream last night.  So if any of you have any ideas about why I might have a dream like this, or what it might mean, keep it to yourselves.  As for me, no more wine and Hershey bars at bedtime…and maybe it’s what i get for suggesting pubic hair dye as a (terrible) holiday gift.

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Oct 232010
 

How many of you remember Extreme Makeover people edition? Right now,  Sunday nights ABC there is Extreme Makeover Home Edition where they build new homes for deserving families in just 7 days. I’d love for them to build me a home, but I’m not quite tragic enough. Anyway, another show ABC used to have was just Extreme Makeover where they would find really nice but extremely unattractive people and instead of helping them accept who they are, they would radically change their appearance and help them to conform to what society deems as beautiful. Awesome, right?

These people would get head to toe work done: hair implants, hair coloring, hair cuts, laser hair removal, chemical peels, any sort of implant anywhere implants are put, sucks and tucks all over, total dental work like veneers and zoom whitening, and new wardrobes. They also usually had personal trainers and chefs during all this and are sequestered from friends and family while they are undergoing this most extreme human makeover.

Well, I want to petition ABC to start a new extreme makeover show: Extreme Makeover, Mom Edition. Just imagine Mom’s! A show where they’d take you away  and blah, blah, blah. Blah, blah, blah.

I know. I didn’t need to hear anything else either…a show where they took me away. Period.

As long as it wasn’t to a place where I’d need to do laundry, dishes or dinner, I’d probably come home looking like a new person. Hell, I wouldn’t even need plastic surgery (although if anybody’s offering, I’m totally accepting Sponsors). Every week, ABC could pick one overtired and under-appreciated Mom or housewife. That Mom (or housewife) would be whisked away to a hotel where she would be left totally undisturbed for 48 hours. She could sleep, or eat or even (drum roll) read a book without any interruptions.

If she were me, she would sleep uninterrupted until her body had rested long enough and actually woke her up on its own. There would be no alarm clock, crying baby or small child asking for Apple Jacks. There would just be Mom and her silence. Upon receiving enough sleep she could order whatever food she wanted in and she would be able to eat it in bed or at a table, and she could eat her  food hot. She would not be forced to eat her meal cold, after anyone else was done eating, and while standing over the kitchen sink. When she had her fill of food, it of course would be removed and the dishes would be none of her concern. She could then read a book, watch adult television (not porn, well I guess if she could if she really wanted to, but I meant tv meant for adults and not Nick Jr., PBS Kids or Disney Channel), or again, if she were me, she could just sit and totally zone out, absorbing the silence.

After her first uninterrupted 48 hours,  Mom would get a haircut and color, manicure and pedicure, new outfit including shoes and a bag, along with some professional makeup. She would be treated to a dinner and night out with her best girlfriends who she never sees enough. The next day she would get a detox day at the spa including a massage, then another 48 hours of no interruptions. The last day she would get breakfast in bed, another new outfit, and she’d jump up and down like she won a billion dollars when Mathew McConaughey (did I forget to mention that he’s the host) tells her she’s going home with a chef, a maid, and a chauffeur services for a year.

So for the cost of a hotel room and food for one week, plus two new outfits, one spa day, and one day of salon services, ABC would have Moms all over the country watching, wishing, and totally hating the Mom of the week. Oh, and the chef, maid and chauffeur services for a year, but that part I’m willing to negotiate. Either way, it’s got to be cheaper than building a new state of the art home in 7 days (and the bonus paying off the mortgage or college tuition they typically offer on Home Edition).

I’m open to suggestions before I make my official pitch to ABC.  Am I missing anything?  I will, of course, for the sake of my fellow overtired and under-appreciated Moms, go first to make sure it is a worthwhile show.

Host of Extreme Makeover Mom Edition, Mathew McConaughey helping Moms get off...I mean take off every week.

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