Posts Tagged With: sense of humor

Birdie’s on it!

My friend Holly gave me a funny little book. It’s very tongue in cheek, written by a grandmother and filled with some silliness, some heartfelt things, and a fair amount of honesty.

In this book, she talks about how the mother of the mother always ‘wins’. How because it’s her baby having a baby, it’s different than her son having a baby.
And I get that. To a point.
However, I don’t feel any more or less ‘winning’ than Husband N’s mother. I mean, apart from the fact that I’ve been told I’m the one they’re going to rely on. To be perfectly honest, in my gut, it does feel that mother-mother connection has a strength the mother-father connection may not have.
But what do I know? I have two daughters, I truly cannot imagine what being the mother of a son would even feel like.
All that said, I feel like there doesn’t have to be a difference.

Only it turns out there is a difference. At least in the case of Baby K’s grandparents.
Thing 1 and Husband N took Baby K over her Nana’s house late Saturday morning.
(just to clarify, Nana is Husband N’s mom)
Nana came home from Savannah and got sick. And I mean sick, like, with sinusitis and a fever, and all that jazz.
(I’m over here like, thank fuck we didn’t all catch it when we were at the hospital together!)
So Nana hasn’t seen Baby K since the day after she was born.

Thing 1 and Husband N knew I needed to write an essay, and I’d been working on it but could use some uninterrupted time to finish it. They also knew if they took Baby K to her Nana, they could control how long the visit would last.
So off they went late Saturday morning so Nana could snuggle Baby K.
In the time they were gone I:
quickly bathed
let the dogs out
started laundry
finished my essay
switched and folded laundry
and
washed a handful of dishes
I was just about to reach out to Thing 1 to see if she would want a bit of late-ish lunch, but got distracted by the dogs needing some water. As I was carrying the water dish out, Thing 1 and Baby K rolled up the driveway. (Husband N stayed at his mother’s to get some stuff done.)
Thing 1 got the baby settled and I made lunch and we talked about their visit.

I asked if she slept or was awake. Thing 1 said she was awake most of the time and Nana snuggled Baby K the whole time. (Of course she did! I mean that’s all any of us want to do!)
And here’s where things get wonky for me…
She shared that Nana made some remark about how your mom probably never puts her down.
That got my girls hackles up a bit. But she remained calm and was polite when she explained how I was here making sure they all had food to eat, and doing the laundry, and making sure the floor was swept (y’all there are three dogs and four cats in this house, the sweeping never ends) and changing dirty diapers, and staying up in the night with them so she didn’t feel completely alone, and generally taking care of everyone until they can figure out how to do it all.
And here’s how I feel about that.
Appreciated.

And you know what, I am absolutely savoring every single moment I get to spend with Baby K. I’m living in this sacred moment and also storing up that feeling for when I go back home and don’t get to see her.
But, I am truly, madly, deeply loving that I’m here with my girl. Stuffing her with calories so she can make milk to feed her daughter. Making sure she has help maintaining her household while she figures out how to be a mommy. Helping teach Husband N to trust his instincts, and how cloth diapers work. Getting up early with the baby so Thing 1 can rest as much as possible.
I’m here to actively love and care for my daughter, and by proxy, her daughter.
I am here to be of service.
Because that’s what the mother of the mother does.
Well, at least that’s what this mother of the mother does.

That’s not what Husband N’s mother would do. Not because she’s mean spirited, but because that’s not how she functions. She’s the hold the baby, talk ridiculous baby talk, give her too much candy and send her home with a sick belly kind of grandmother. Thing 1 and Husband N already know that. They’re prepped for it.
But here’s what I believe is important to remember. She has love to give. It may be selfishly motivated, but love is love is love is love is love, right? Nana is going to love Baby K the way she knows, the way she can. How can that be wrong?

I am so blessed to experience this love.
I have so much love to give, it bubbles up in my heart and overflows out into the world. I’m hopeful that my daughter and her husband are content having it poured over them at the moment.
But that’s not why I’m doing it.


This teeny girl next to me is waking up for a second time this morning. She’s ready for a clean diaper, some warm milk in her belly, and a big ol’ burp.
Birdie’s on it!

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

moderate f**k distribution

Sundance sent this to me via text message late last night.
My initial reaction was a giggle, followed by an Amen.
But as I considered it further, I began to realize it’s an extremely important skill, this moderate fuck distribution.
I mean, really. This is key!
Fuck-giving is a double edged sword. Too much or not enough can kill you.
It is truly all about that sweet spot of fuck-giving.

Giving too many fucks or giving no fucks is not sustainable in the long term.
Giving too many can cause you to lose your damn mind worrying unnecessarily. I mean, who has that kind of time and energy? Giving too many fucks will wear you slap out, nothing should require that much of your attention.
Giving none pretty much means you’ve just shut down. That you’re probably abstaining from interacting with others. And while that may sound good on paper, life doesn’t really work that way.
So the real trick is to decide your own personal fuck-giving threshold.

This is my hand.
In this hand is all the fucks I have to give for the rest of my life.
Because I plan to live another fifty years or so, I need to find my fuck-giving sweet spot. Don’t want to run out of fucks to give. Neither do I want to end my life with ungiven fucks.
Whatever I choose to give a fuck about has to really earn it.
Whatever I choose not to give a fuck about probably won’t miss it.

Moderation is pretty much just avoiding extremes and committing to a comfortable balance.
Moderation is supposed to be a super healthy way to live one’s life.
Therefore I shall attempt this middle ground in which I give the perfect amount of fucks.

Y’all, some days you just have to laugh at the thoughts that hatch!

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , | 13 Comments

identity crisis (or F**K YOU Pottermore)

When I need a break from studying I simply open another tab on my laptop and see what the world has to offer.
Today the world offered me two things that piqued my interest.
1. Loads of information about visiting New Orleans (this will be another post)
2. Pottermore

I ended up at Pottermore because when I realized today is the last day of July, I remembered it’s Harry Potter’s birthday. (the thought process was a bit more complex than that but not quite interesting enough to share)

When I realized it was Harry’s birthday, I thought I’d see about getting sorted into a Hogwarts house.
I did this a billion years ago when Pottermore first became a thing. Of course, I can’t remember my information from this sorting. (I was assigned a random word and some numbers as my username.)
I do know I was sorted into Ravenclaw.
Now, I’ve always sort of felt like I was more of a Raven-puff (Huffle-claw?), a delicate balance of both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff houses. But the fact that the most legit sorting device placed me in Ravenclaw was more than good enough for me.
Though I often wonder if I’m truly clever enough to be a true Ravenclaw.

Anyhoo…
Today the sorting hat placed me in Gryffindor.
Um…what now?

So I immediately do the only possible thing I can.
Because Nora will feel me on this.

(side note: While I am bossy and bushy haired like Hermione. I’m not an insufferable know-it-all. I do remain calm in crisis, and plan, and think things through like Hermione. I am bright and brave like Hermione. Hmmm…I may actually be talking myself into this foolishness…)

Glutton for punishment that I am, in the intervening twenty-five minutes between texts, I get right back on Pottermore to be sorted again. Back to back.
It only gets worse.

(side note: For the record, I am NOT a hater! My own Thing 1 is a Slytherin, as is her Husband N. And good on them! But they possess certain qualities that fit Slytherin house that I don’t.)

I’m over here like, from Ravenclaw to Slytherin?

Right there with you, Buffy.
Full on identity crisis! (Yeah, yeah, based on a made up website about a made up world about a made up school…etc. I know it’s ridiculous, but I’m feeling it, therefore it’s real!)

What’s curious about this entire situation is that my wand and patronus remain the same throughout.
My patronus is a cat. (A ‘duh’ absolutely comes at the end of that sentence.)
My wand is rowan wood with a dragon heartstring core. 11 1/2 inches with unbending flexibility.
(Y’all! that wand is mine x infinity and here’s why: rowan is the “sevice-tree” with a long mythological history. Heartstring is directly linked to living my intention, and dragons are just about as BAMF as you can get. 11 1/2 inches is the size of a Barbie doll, my favorite childhood toy. And unbending flexibility? Well, I’m as unbending AF yet also fairly flexible.)

My Ilvermorny house remained the same as well. (Thunderbird) “Thunderbird house is sometimes considered to represent the soul of a witch or wizard.” That struck a chord in me too.

Anyway, I don’t cotton to this whole sorted into Slytherin house. (No offense, Bear.)
But…Nora may have saved the day!!

Has anyone ever said with unmitigated joy, “Mercury is in retrograde.”!?!
I suspect not.
But today I did!
And when Mercury once again gets itself together, I shall return to Pottermore and set this house situation straight.

This is seriously how I spend my time when I’m not studying. I’ve spent the last three hours on this sorting snafu!
I’m going to need to get it together and get back to studying!

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

I’m a ray of f**king sunshine

I really like cuss words.
Profanity.
Dirty words.
Offensive language.
Bad words.
Expletives.
Swear words.
Obscenitites
Whatever you call ’em, they make me happy.
I find them excellent descriptive words great for most any situation.

I have been told that my passion for, and abundant use of curse words denotes a lack of intelligence on my part. (You know I’m saying a great big ‘f**k you’ to those folks.) But, According to Richard Stephens at Keele University,

The fact is that the size of your vocabulary of swear words is linked with your overall vocabulary, and swearing is inextricably linked to the experience and expression of feelings and emotions.

Unlike the vast majority of women in the world, (some men too) I am a fan of the “C word”.
I know.
I don’t mind if you judge me. Most folks do when it comes to this particular word.
To me it’s just another bad word. It doesn’t offend me in any way, and in some cases I find it amusing.
So much so that I had a bit of a squee when banter cards ran a half-price sale on their ‘not quite perfect’ hardback notebooks!
I ordered a few. I mean honestly can one ever have enough journals?
And they’re just so me.
(“C word” alert!!)

As happy as I am with each one, and My C**ting Notepad brings me the biggest smirk, I’m going to have to admit that List Whore just might be my favorite.
Like there was any doubt…but y’all! It even has a little heart! I (heart) lists!
Though a reminder to not be a bitch is always helpful, because some times I simply can’t help myself.

Going to contemplate the perfect use for each one…
In the meantime, I got fun stickers for immediate use in my planner.

Organized as f**k.
You know it!

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

let us treat self expression with respect

There will be those with differing opinions. And that’s fine with me.
Isn’t that what makes it interesting to be a human? To think and feel things that may be a bit different than the things thought and felt by the people you know?
I’ve learned so much about myself and the world by engaging in conversations of differing opinions.
Here’s the most important thing I learned.
It’s all about respect.
I respect your right to your differing opinions. I expect that same respect in return.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy right?
(Yeah, I know.)

I received a snapchat from my daughter two days ago. It amused me so. I was amused because I too have been where she was. I was also struck by the truth in it. Her truth. Where she was in that moment.
It was real. It was honest. And it was a true representation of her sense of humor.

I know the differing opinion folks might have something to say about her attitude or language. I know I would never have sent something like that to my own mother.
But my girl, she is different.
And I’m a different sort of mom.

Here’s the what.
Honest self expression is not always the simplest action. So if one can manage to speak their truth I say, Bravo! Sometimes that truth comes via opening credits of a television show and quippy language.
I was amused enough to take a screenshot.
At the time, I had no idea I’d be using it for a post, I just knew it was a perfect encapsulation of who my daughter is and why I love her.
It really does come down to respect. I respect her enough to encourage her self expression. She respects me enough to know that she can be herself with me.
And the respect from those of differing opinion to acknowledge that my daughter has an interesting way about her without judging it.

This is what I know.
Be respectful. (of yourself and others)
Speak your truth.
If you do the first, the second will be much simpler, no matter how you choose to express yourself.

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

dem bones

To thrive in life you need three bones. A wishbone. A backbone. And a funny bone. ~ Reba McEntire

This makes such sense to me!
I mean really. So. Much. Sense.

wishbone

A “wishbone” is your imagination. Your hopes and dreams and desires. Can’t go anywhere in life without these. Well I guess you can, but you’ll be wandering…faithless and directionless like the Israelites . And nobody wants that. Dreams are what makes your life worth the Journey.

human spine

A “backbone” is your gumption. Your stubbornness that fuels you for the Journey of your life. Your ability to stand up for what’s right. Your strength to carry on when you want to lay down the mantle and rest.

funny-bone

A “funny bone” isn’t really a bone at all, but you ulnar nerve. We all know it’s not funny when you whack it. In this case, your funny bone is your sense of humor. Your ability to laugh your way through the Journey of your life.

A part of me feels as though a funny bone is the most important of the three. Though I suspect that argument could be made for each of these bones. Actually, the more I think about it…each one of these bones is the most important.
Without your wishbone, you’d never desire more. You’d never want to learn or do or become anything at all. A wishbone is invaluable when it comes to imagining…well, anything really. Without imagination, the Journey of life would be lacking.
Without your backbone, you’d not have the will to make the Journey of life. A backbone helps you be resourceful. It gives you the strength you need to help yourself, and those you love.
Without a funny bone, you couldn’t find the humor in the Journey of life. And we all know life is at the very least amusing. I firmly believe you’ve got to be able to laugh at the bad things as well as the good.

The Journey of life is tricky. It can be good. It can be bad. It can be indifferent. But with the right tools, you can thrive. Just remember these three things:
You gotta dream.
You gotta be capable.
You gotta laugh.

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

I amuse myself

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

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

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

narcissistic much?

I’m a complete and total narcissist and without question or doubt, the world absolutely revolves around me.

Just kidding.

Or am I?

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

storytelling part four (classroom fun)

Friday’s heat advisories kept us indoors so we made our own fun. I got down off my soapbox and let the kids do what they wanted. After expanding our construction zone to somehow encompass the entire back half of the classroom they cleaned up and came together ready the write a story.
I encouraged the worst possible story in the history of all stories and they did not disappoint.

(email title)
total global destruction

Well…sort of.

Miss Robynbird told us how proud she was that we were able to make a story without any bloodshed, so much so that today she challenged us to make the most horrifically terrible story possible! We’re talking fire, flood, famine. We’re talking dragons, dinosaurs, witches and sharks. We’re talking destruction of TOTAL GLOBAL PROPORTION!

During the planning process we shouted out things like:
witches potions
dinosaurs
dragons
sharks
villagers
fire

KR-J asked to begin the story, and it went a little something like this:
Once upon a time there was a scary dinosaur and there was a villager. And the villager found the dinosaur.
AO:
And then there was another dinosaur. A dragon came and he blow fire on the grass where the dinosaur was. A witch came from where the villager was. She said, “NO DRAGONS BREATHING FIRE!”
VS:
Another witch found a villager’s house and saw a cloak and put it on then she went to the dragon and the dragon ate her and she “spelled” out of the dragon and found her body again.
RC:
Then another dragon came and the villager…he saw crocodiles…they are by the water…he was trying to be careful by the bridge, but fell in the pond and the crocodile is gonna eat him. Then the villager got out and runned away from the crocodile.
ZB:
Then what happened, there was a shark, and he was bad and ate some people and there were other people and they went on a bridge and the bridge broke and they fell in the water then what happened, was the dinosaur got the people and stomped on them and they was squished.
JH:
More people ran into the forest and into their house and the dragons blowed their house. Then they run into the bridge and they fell into the water and the shark get ’em.
EY:
The dragon and shark…the dragon saw a knight guard…he tried to fight the dragon and he fired the knight guard and eat him.
Miss Robynbird turned to TK: Bring us home.
TK grinned:
Then there was a bridge that was broken and the shark at the broken pieces and a dragon breathed fire on more people and then stepped on them and they were dead. And then he ate them.

Total global destruction was a SUCCESS!

(Teacher’s Note: YBW asked me if any of the parents found this inappropriate. I laughed. These parents absolutely LOVE this stuff. They think these stories are wonderful. I am blessed to have parents with senses of humor. They are blessed to have teachers who encourage creativity and critical thought.)

Categories: education | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Blog at WordPress.com.

A Teacher's Reflections

Thirty Years of Wonder

Life and Random Thinking

A old dog CAN blog

charles french words reading and writing

An exploration of writing and reading

I am Kat...

My journey through this thing called life....

Self Love Coffee

read. sip. heal.

Hey Mom, Now What?

Real Mom Questions, Real Mom Answers

A Question of Lust

"Love My Way, It's a New Road"

Sawblades In Your Walkman

effervescing with muchness

Modern Mystic Mother

Dare to eat from the tree of Knowledge, Death and Life?

History Tech

History, technology, and probably some other stuff

Tales from the mind of Kristian

Visit the darkest crevices of my mind, dare to tread where many fear to go. You may find something interesting or you may find a mirror to your soul.

Writer of Words, etc

Words, food, thoughts, sports

walkingtheclouds

where the clouds may lead

Meditations in Motion

Running and life: thoughts from a runner who has been around the block

Winter1137's blog

Social anxiety, depression and a cat obsession. The fun never ends.

Bitchin’ in the Kitchen

..because the thoughts that fall, kicking and screaming from my head need a safe place to land..

WhyToStop

Seattle Fashion & Lifestyle Blog By Rachna

Finding French Charming

Finding True Love.. Even After Forty

The Nerdy Lion

Lions can wear glasses too

Family Furore

Motherhood, Mosaics and Mental Illness

A Guy Called Bloke

Changing The Face - Under Construction

Thought Box

Sweet...Bitter...Happy...Sad...All thoughts trapped in a Box...

M.A. Lossl

An author's life, books, and historical research

%d bloggers like this: