Thanksgiving (My feet are killing me.)

Well, for you Americans out there, Thanksgiving is tomorrow. Which means that you are going to be spending the next day cooking your ass off. I never worry about the calories that are associated with Thanksgiving because I have spent every waking moment of the week before preparing the house for the holiday. Cleaning is a must. The house certainly cannot be a pigsty on Thanksgiving. No that is damned un-American.

I have been to the grocery store every day this week. It is incomprehensible. I could have sworn that I purchased everything for the Thanksgiving meal a week ago. Oh, I was so smug and self satisfied. I was completely ready. I did not realize that the powers that be were going to get their last laugh. SERIOUSLY I HAVE BEEN TO THE GROCERY STORE EVERY DAY THIS WEEK. Do you even know how fantastic that is? Because everyone in the entire town has gone to the grocery store every day this week. It is like they are conspiring against me. Do they know when I am headed that way? Is there some kind of internal alarm that tells everyone to go to the grocery store? And why does everyone have to walk SO DAMN SLOW? It isn't as if they rearranged every thing in the store the week before a major holiday. They especially wouldn't when that holiday is dedicated to seeing if you really can shoot a pants button across the room if you eat too much.

And do people not know how the aisles work? One side is for going down the aisle and the other is for, you guessed it, going up. But there is always that one guy. The guy that apparently has never shopped for his own food before. I appreciate your attempts to fly little bird. BUT STAY IN YOUR LANE. Talk to that person that you haven't seen since last Thanksgiving on your own time. I am guessing if they have to fill you in on a year's worth of gossip; y'all probably aren't that close anyway. Save everyone some time and stalk them on Facebook.

Can I tell all of you parents that had the Thanksgiving gift of their children being in school until Wednesday something? You are the luckiest damn bastards ever. I was once like you. I had three blissful days to prepare for the holidays without the children in the house. But oh no, not this year. The school district decided that a whole week off for Thanksgiving was the way it was going to be. Like Sisyphus, I am damned to hell. The time I should have had to clean the house and get everything just so is gone. In its place has been: separating my girls for the thousandth time, trying to figure out who made Charlotte cry this time, constantly reminding Adelyn to feed her lizard, yelling at Paige for the 653rd time to put her shoes in her room, telling the girls that it is November and they can't wear shorts and sandals, shoveling out the family room every day, looking for the remote (AGAIN), doing approximately 9000 loads of dishes and laundry, and. . .oh yes. . .GOING TO THE GROCERY STORE. Not that I mind having more time with my children. They are my kids and I love them (most of the time).

But every errand is a circus. "No, you can't get a candy." "No, you can't have a beef jerky." "I'm not buying marshmallows today." "Excuse us, sir. She wasn't watching where she was going." "WATCH WHERE YOU ARE GOING." "Where is your sister? No, not that one. The other one." "Oh, there you are." "Don't touch that." "I said don't touch stuff." "DO NOT TOUCH THAT." "No, I don't want cash back. Because I don't need any cash back. What do you need $20 for? No, that's not happening." "Hold onto the cart, please." "Hold onto the cart, Charlotte." "CHARLIE, hold onto the cart NOW." "Just get in the car." "Get in the car." "GET IN THE CAR." "Stop touching your sister." "Stop 'not touching' your sister." "No, that does not mean that you can touch her." "I swear. I made you. I can unmake you." "Go to your rooms." "Because I said so." "Your dad is NOT the boss." "In the hierarchy of this family it goes: mom, dad, the dog, the cat, and then you." "Yes, the dog is above you." "BECAUSE IT  ACTUALLY LISTENS TO ME." "GO TO YOUR ROOM."

I know there are some of you that actually really enjoy your children. You love every second with them and would never look fondly towards the days that you can just show up on their doorstep for the holiday and have to do nothing. You never look forward to having them FaceTime with you and hearing your grandchildren giving them the kind of hell you experienced. I think you are all big, fat liars. But for the rest of us out there we get to look forward to Thanksgiving. We get to eat our fill of food. We can drink large amounts of alcoholic beverages in the afternoon on a Thursday and not have people surreptitiously mention AA meetings. Then we get to go beat the snot out of our kids in a no holds barred game of football or soccer in the front yard. And maybe, maybe you just trip the one who can't EVER seem to put their damned shoes away. (And sometimes that one is your husband.)

Halloween Horror

It is that time of year again. I remember looking forward to Halloween when I was a child. It was so much fun. The costumes, the candy, and the general loosening of the rules were just the best. It was the one time of the year when it is entirely appropriate to knock on a stranger's door and demand free stuff. Who doesn't love that?

I will tell you who. Grownups. Halloween is just another holiday that is destined to end in exhaustion, my pocketbook being empty, and the large potential of me yelling at some asshole teenager that doesn't have the common sense to realize that he is just too old to be trick or treating and if he rushes ahead of my kid for the candy bowl ONE MORE DAMN TIME I WILL NOT HESITATE TO CUT A BITCH. There is also the high possibility that my episode of nearly psychotic rage will send me straight to my wine fridge to "calm my nerves". 

When did Halloween stop being fun and start being a burden? I like to blame parenthood. (I don't blame my kids. I blame parenthood. There's a difference.) I remember a party that my newly wedded husband and I threw for Halloween. It was a blast. Everyone came in costume. We collected keys at the door because people were going to get trashed. (We were young, and most importantly not parents.) The old guy next door threatened to call in a noise complaint. Good times were had. 

Fast forward ten years and I find myself looking at one of my favorite holidays with dread. These days you can't throw a sheet over your kid and say he is a ghost. Toilet paper mummies are a thing of the past. Now it is about who has the best costume. Who spent the most. Was your costume hand made? Did blind nuns make the lace for your daughter's Elsa costume? Does your yard look like a movie set from a horror flick? No. Well, maybe next year you will do better.  (Did you see the Johnson's yard this year? It is like they didn't even TRY.) 

Halloween has become a contest of the super moms. Last year I was up at midnight the night before Halloween trying to finish up costumes (Because yes I am the mom the makes all my kids' costume, but it is mostly because I can make them better for less than the bullshit ones at the store. I'm crafty but I am also cheap as hell.) and trying to make themed snacks and party favors for Charlotte's kindergarten class's party. (Because OF COURSE I WAS THE STUPID ROOM MOTHER TOO.) By the time we were ready to go trick or treating I was exhausted and absolutely did not want to walk around in the dark. Seriously, the thought of pilfering peanut butter cups didn't even brighten my time. (That's when you know things are just bad.) 

This year I am taking a different approach to Halloween. Yes, we decorated the yard. BUT we decorated it as a family because we enjoy it. We did not wait to see what the neighbors put up so we could rush out and get better decorations. What is up, is up. I am not putting anymore effort into that. (Until I have to take it down....even then meh.) Yes, I am making my kids costumes. BUT I am making them because it is something special that I do for my kids every year. Am I going to freak out if the costume isn't exactly like what the character wore in the movie? No. This isn't comic con. My girls aren't going to care if the costume was perfect. They are going to care that their mom made it for them and that they got a shitload of candy. 

I have decided to stop making Halloween into a contest with everyone around me. This year I just want to have some fun with my kids. (And steal some peanut butter cups.) This year I am rising above. When I get that inevitable snarky comment from another parent, I am just going to smile and move on. (And be stabbing them in my mind.) 

But... that damn teenager better watch it. Some things you just can't rise above. (Better make a trip to the liquor store.) 

Yoga Pants Mom

We've all seen them. The moms that seem to rock yoga pants every day. It seems like they wear yoga pants for everything but doing yoga. In a world where your worth as a mother seems to be measured by the clothes you wear, the clothes your kids wear, the lunches you pack them, your weight, your hairstyle, your shoes, your kid's shoes.... I was going some where with this...

I want to tell you that I see you, Yoga Pants Mom. I see you. I know that your choice of clothing has nothing to do with your skills as a parent. Some days in my house I am lucky to take a shower and feed the kids. Let's not even talk about doing my hair or putting on makeup. There are days that it is 4:45 in the afternoon. My house is a mess. I haven't showered. The only concession that I have made to being a functioning member of society is putting a bra on. (And to be honest once I know that no one is coming over and we aren't going anywhere I might ditch that too.) Today is one of those days. It is Saturday. I just want to relax. I'm an adult. I do what I want. I can be a functioning member of society tomorrow.

Moms, we are judged so harshly by society, the media, and even each other. I have got to tell you. It is exhausting. I am so busy with my own life, why would I and why do I take the time to speculate about yours? Maybe you aren't feeling well. Maybe you have been deep cleaning your home and just took a break to get a coffee. Maybe you are chasing a toddler around and jeans just are NOT conducive to that. Maybe you feel your best when you are in yoga pants or sweat pants. Maybe you are dealing with issues within your home. Maybe you just didn't feel like the whole process of getting dressed, doing your hair, and plastering on some makeup was worth it today. Maybe you are battling depression and this is just the best you could do today. Or maybe you are actually on your way to the gym.

Maybe it is none of my business. And it isn't. Your reasons for anything you do are yours alone. You are the only one you have to answer to. Hold your head high, Yoga Pants Mom. You are rocking this today.

I see you, Yoga Pants Mom. And I promise that the next time I see you I will smile and nod. Because you are rocking this motherhood, wife, life partner, step-motherhood, life. Life is a hard road sometimes. And sometimes it calls for some damn yoga pants.