Posts Tagged With: humor

(not) punching people at Costco

Ran to Costco yesterday.
Big mistake.

Everyone and their third cousin was up in that joint.
Nobody knew how to drive a buggy. Nobody knew how to load their items on the belt.
Bunch of freaking lollygaggers!

And I’m on the phone with Thing 1 having an absolute fit about it!
She is howling with laughter about how she learned to drive from me (fuming and cussing without really being mad) because that’s how I was rolling through the big ol’ warehouse store.
In the checkout line, the woman in front of me parked her buggy at a 45 degree angle instead of moving it straight up. That was the last straw for me.
I whispered into the phone, “The chick in line in front of me. I’m going to punch her right in the back of her head. Hard.”
Thing 1 laughed and said, “One day someone will hear you and you’ll get in a real fight. I’ll have to come to come see you at the hospital where you’ll be handcuffed.”
We laughed and laughed.
Though that would be just my luck…

I said goodbye to her before I checked out. (I may be a bitch, but I’m not rude. I think it’s so disrespectful to cashiers to be on the phone while they’re helping you.)
I did call Thing 1 back to report the ridiculous way the cashier backed my box. Eggs underneath peanut butter? Really, bitch?
Thing 1 had quite a laugh at me!

Of course I wasn’t quite finished with my spitting rant, so I called Sundance. If there’s anyone to join you in a crazy, spun-up rant, it’s Sundance. And that was just what I needed!
I’m all screeching and shouting and cussing and she’s feeding me with a spoon. At one point only dogs could hear us.
And then it stopped.
And I said, “This is my anxiety manifesting itself.”
And just like that (finger snap) I was calm.

This is something for me to pay serious attention to.
And I mean Serious Attention.

My anxiety is heightened right now. My stress levels are elevated.
I know this. I’m working to manage this. But sometimes it manifests in shopping rage. And in reality, nobody was harmed. I didn’t punch that woman. I avoided handcuffed hospital visits and possible jail time.
Managing my anxiety is an active process.
I’ve got good help.
I’m learning to let go. I can’t control everything, however much I long to. I’m working at not taking things so seriously. I’m working at making sure my expectations are realistic.
So…sometimes I want to punch strangers in the back of their heads. And sometimes I want to stab people with my ice pick. (It’s metaphorical, I swear! I never carry one in my bag or anything…I’m not remotely shifty…)
But wanting to punch or stab is not actually doing either.
So it’s cool.
Maybe.
Just gotta keep paying attention. Knowing I feel stressed or anxious is good, knowing why is better. Knowing how to manage those feelings is best.
Right now I’m at better…gives me something to strive for.
For the moment, that’s good enough for me.

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Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , | 1 Comment

I amuse myself

Well, I finally finished my mind map!
bitmoji
No. Not really.
But almost.
I amuse myself.

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*sips fruit salad*

Thing 1 posted this on my facebook this week.
I was amused.
fb_img_1471553142543.jpg
Then I got to thinking…did I drink too much when the girls were growing up?
Am I a bad mom?
Am I a bad example?
I’ve decided to answer all three of these questions with a nopity nope.
I am an excellent mom. Playful and sincere, with loads of important life lessons.
Of course, I’ve had phone calls or text messages from each of them at one time or another asking me for my Cosmopolitan recipe.
Hmm…perhaps I’m not the best mom after all…
Meh, I’ll just have another sip of my fruit salad and decide not to worry about it.

Categories: me, on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

riding the struggle bus

I had a bad day Monday.
It was the day of: Are you even alive?
I struggled the entire day. In all honestly, I should have gone back to bed and waited for Tuesday.
My friend Nora was quick to offer to come to my rescue, even though there was nothing she could really do to help. She’s good like that. I’m blessed to have her in my life. She’s a wonderful human being and she’s a good, strong, and loving friend.

I got a text message from her a little while ago. It said: Now it’s my turn to ride the struggle bus today.
She shared her struggle and we “breathed together” and she asked one question that I answered with truth and love. I think she’s feeling less anxious, and I know I don’t feel as concerned for her as I did when it started.

All that said, (and this is why she’s so great…she has the same wack-a-doodle sense of humor as me) I freaking LOVE that phrase “ride the struggle bus”. I’m fairly clever with words but have no qualms admitting I’d probably never come up with that phrase.
She was amused that I dig it.
She could see past her anxiety and appreciate the humor in the phrase.

Sometimes you can’t help but ride the struggle bus.
But if you’re really fortunate, you’ll have people in your world that will ride with you…or at least wait for you at the next stop.
That’s when you can stop and breathe together. And hopefully be amused.

Categories: peace and wellbeing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Say it proud!

Rick Bragg writes a column for Southern Living Magazine titled “Southern Journal”. This journal entry for May is called “Donkey Business (How I went from a proud rancher of bulls to a jackass man)”.
Mr Bragg writes about feeling a bit ashamed about being a writer. He writes that he feels other southern men judge him for not having a more manly profession. In the column, he explains how his family’s property had Hereford cattle until one day his mother asked to sell them off because she’d been chased by one of the bulls.
Like most good southern children, boys especially, he wasn’t about to disobey his Mama and the cattle were no more.
Which resulted in him no longer being able to tell folks he “raised bulls”.
Apparently, his Mama then decided the land looked lonely and wanted miniature donkeys…wackiness ensues.
And now when Mr Bragg is asked by some “real man” what he does, he tells him he’s a writer because he surely doesn’t want folks to know they are mini donkey on his family’s land.
(P.S. Mr Bragg, you are a beautiful writer, shout it out with pride!)

This struck my funny bone. The humor and telling of the story.
It struck my heart too.
Once upon a time, I was a very young stay at home mom…not college educated…”just” a mom. These years were the happiest years of my life, which I would trade for absolutely nothing and sometimes wish I could revisit. But I remember being in groups of people and when it came time to share what I “did” I would say: I’m a stay at home mom.
I wouldn’t feel prideful when I said it, I would feel less than.
I knew it was the most important job I would ever have. I knew I wanted to raise my own children. I knew I wanted to be the person they could trust most in this world to keep them safe.
But at that time I assumed the “rest of the world” with their fancy degrees and their office jobs would just look down their noses at me.

I remember the first time someone looked at me with awe when I told them what I did. Clearly the “rest of the world” understood the dedication and love and work that went into being someone’s (Two someones.) mommy all the live long day.
I saw respect in that face. The respect I had earned through my hard work at this labor of love. The respect I deserved.
It took me a while to understand how to reconcile the way it felt. It seemed to me that I might be viewed by the “rest of the world” as someone of no importance because my worth wasn’t in my job like most of the people I knew.
Only it wasn’t my worth that was in my job. I had the most important (and lifelong!) job in the history of all jobs. My job was to help, create a foundation for the girls to build their lives upon. My worth was irrelevant in my job. My job was to start them on the paths to their own worth.

It wasn’t much longer I didn’t hesitate to say I was a mommy. When I tell people now that I was a stay at home mom for fifteen years, I say it with pride and joy. I say it as though nothing I’ve done (as “work”) before or since matters a fraction as much.

I’m forty four years old. It took me a long time to stop comparing myself to the “rest of the world” probably longer than it should have…but that’s a story for another day.
I am me. The me I am because of the live I’ve lived. The choices I’ve made. Being a mom made me stronger than I might have been otherwise.

Sure, they might be miniature donkeys instead of Hereford cattle…but they’re my mini donkeys. And I’m their Mommy.

Categories: me, on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

getting my literary dork on

At the dinner table last night, we were going over the course catalog for Thing G’s high school career, YBW, Thing C and I were remarking how taking yearbook as an elective would be a really great experience and why. Thing G gives us his one raised eyebrow, mouth slanting down one side “y’all are so weird” look, which in actuality is rather charming and not offensive. (He was SO not feeling us.)

Thing C told the story of how the yearbook his junior year had been rushed to press and was riddled with mistakes, which lead him to recite the quote: All in all you’re just another brick in the wall. Then he said, “It’s cool because the school is named after Jackson, so I get the wall part, but…yeah, that quote doesn’t really mean what they thought it meant.”
First we laughed about The Princess Bride: you keep using that word I do not think it means what you think it means. But Thing G has not yet seen that so we had to quickly explain about “inconceivable”. (Must show him that movie, I suspect he’ll actually like it.)
He was much more interested in the wall quote and why it was inaccurate for the yearbook which means we then had to explain all about The Wall…which was humorous to say the least. YBW was spectacularly accurate in his explanation. (I did not know that my sweetie was a closet The Wall fan…I can’t decide if that’s cool or freaks me out…though I guess we all went through that phase, I know I’ve seen that movie at least 10 times…but not since the middle 1980’s.)

Thing C remarking about misusing a quote reminded me of being in model home during a “parade of homes” visit years ago. In the most beautifully decorated nursery I’ve ever seen there was a Shakespeare quote painted on the wall above the crib. …to sleep, perchance to dream…
This blew my mind! Why would ANYONE write that on the wall of a child?
Uh…because they had no idea what it actually means.
So I relate this story and Thing C is in agreement, YBW seems to accept my point of view but I feel his frustration that we’ve moved so far away from course selection.
Thing C and I talk about Hamlet’s soliloquy and how inappropriate it would be to encourage that for a child. Thing G doesn’t understand why I’m making such a big deal about, so we explain why Hamlet says those words and how trying to decide whether or not to take your own life is written beautifully by Shakespeare, but taken out of context it doesn’t mean what the designer thought and it’s not a positive message to aid a baby’s sleep.
We finally sorted the course schedule for next year, and in addition to the core curriculum, Thing G is interested in technical drawing and NOT yearbook.

Thing C and I began an offshoot conversation which began with his remark that he’d never read or seen Macbeth. Which made me go all theater girl about the superstitions surrounding that particular production. “The Scottish Play” stimulated an interest to do research, so away from the table we went, we spent the next forty minutes our faces in his laptop screen getting our Shakespeare on. The only way it could have been more perfect was if Thing 1 had been here…she shares our passion for the Bard.
I have so much love and gratitude for Shakespeare, his words continue to delight, entertain and educate me, and for Thing C, who shares that love with an unfettered heart.
Golly, I love exercising my literary dorkiness!

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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