I Am That Mother: Shit I Shouldn’t Say

The other day while trying to get my kid to listen to me–she’s 2.5–I said it:

“Why? Because I’m the mom, and you’re the daughter. I make the rules.”

“I’m the mom, and you listen to me. I’m in charge.”

Like hell you do and like hell you are, she probably thought. Continue reading

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To All The Parents I Judged Before I Was A Parent: I’m Sorry

To all the parents I judged before I was a parent: I’m Sorry!

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I remember all the times I gave parents a secret dirty look.

“Oh why is that kid not wearing shoes or socks? It’s freezing out!”

Listening to another tantrum in Target—on karmic end, I never gave a nasty look or made any bad comments. I usually felt bad for the kid—“Oh boy, someone’s having a bad day. I’m so glad I don’t have a kid.”

“Jesus is that kid a brat! Parents these days. They spoil kids, you know?”

I was a regular old “know-it-all” yet I had barely parented a plant. Continue reading

Mom in the Mirror

Dear Mom in the Mirror:

You didn’t make anything homemade today.

All you do was heat up leftovers, slacker.

Your kid was bad in the store today, so you had to withdraw a privilege, and now you feel like crap.

You know it had to be done, but you work so much Mom, that when you have to be Bad Cop, which it always seems that that role is on you, it hurts.

Shouldn’t you have predicted your kid would act out? Shouldn’t you have known Mom?

What are you doing wrong to make your kid act so out of character?

Are you a bad Mom, mom?

Continue reading

(Too) Great of Expectations: Do we expect too much from marriage?

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Ah Marriage. The divorce rate is up. The institution of marriage as we know it, has been troubled for quite some time. This isn’t shocking news, but I have been doing thinking and talking to folks about marriages–both good and bad, and I can’t help but wonder to myself, “Maybe we simply expect too much.”

We grow up thinking about marriage–I didn’t but most of my friends did–and to some extent, I feel we have all bought into this idea that marriage is love and romance. That it’s passion and joy. Marriage is supposed to be love at its peak performance: the ultimate love and devotion to the one person you’re absolutely sure you know is the one for you.

Then, 50% or so figure out that hey, maybe this person isn’t for me.

Maybe it’s because we are thinking about this marriage thing all wrong.

This guy thinks we are.

I feel that to some extent, I am guilty as charged. I’m a very passionate and sprightly person. I like romance and surprises maybe a little more than the rest of the population. Yet marriage is rarely romance or surprise. It can be utterly monotonous and predictable. If it’s not to at least some extent, you might just be married to someone with bi-polar disorder, and in that case, I hope you are incredibly patient and understanding. Or a psychiatrist.

Note: I know folks who are bi-polar and just fine, but an unmedicated bipolar person might just ruin you.

Just my two cents.

Maybe our expectations when walking down that aisle of dreams is paved with a bunch of shit that simply lowers our real resistance to what every day marriage is really like. We expect romance, love, commitment, and unwavering devotion, but the fact is many marriages will be tested in every single one of those aspects. If your marriage has always been awesome from the get-go, either you are delusional or incredibly lucky and deserve a talk-show explaining said phenomena.

This isn’t to say that marriage is a mistake, although it can be.

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This is to say that marriage is not what we were sold. That story is unlike the one you will be facing each day as a married person. You can ask yourself every deep question in the book pre-marriage like, “Can I tolerate his nose hairs?” “Can we agree on religious practices?” ‘Is it okay if we still have threesomes?” “Will her mother always hate me?” “What is the meaning of life and can I find out for just 9.99?”

Even if you get all the right answers. Yes, you guys can pick up 18 year-old chicks at bars still and No, her mother will like you, (such lies) it will be unlike what you had really expected. This is what I feel is a huge factor in divorce. We look through the lens of marriage at the beginning in a rose-colored shade that doesn’t help us for when we put on the glasses and find out, damn, things don’t always look so sexy.

So in response to this disconnect between real-life marriage and the fantasy bullshit your religion/family/friends/media told you so you would stay monogamous and not be a male whore, I have a great suggestion.

Want to get married? Are you thinking of popping the question?

Well, then I suggest you hunker down for one married couple for a year. This can’t be a newly-wed couple though. They’re still looking through pink shades. You need a couple post 5 years, with at least one kid. Spend a year with them. Sit in their bedroom closet. Go into their master bathroom. Listen to their conversations and fights. Watch their bank accounts. Watch the sex.

Does this look like what you imagined it to be? Did you expect fights over a purchase of Starbucks? Did you expect 1950’s-esque arguments over women and men’s roles in the kitchen? Did you expect the sex could be at times, boring?

Now, can you sign yourself up for the possibility that five years after walking down that aisle of clouds, you will be arguing over money, parenting, sex, household chores, and that time you told your father-in-law to fuck off?

Does marriage look so wonderful now?

Sure, you will see all the good things. The comfort of knowing one person. Family life. (Not to say that all marrieds need kids–that’s a personal choice and I respect all!) Having someone fold your hole-y sweaters and buy you new socks when the old ones become extremely ghetto.

There are good things too, but can you as a whole, encompass it all with that one person?

If you’re a method actor, a genius, person of incredible mental strength, etc, try chaining yourself to the one half of the married couple for 1/2 of the year, and the other person for the other 1/2. Really experience the fights! The orgasms (hopefully!) Feel the love during heated arguments when the nastiest shit ever is spewed that you wouldn’t even say to Hitler.

Get the full monty of marriage. And then ask yourself: are my expectations appropriate? Do I know what it takes to really be married?

If you answer yes, then good luck my friend! Remember, it does work out too. The other 50% are happily married…or at least happily masturbating while claiming joint taxes.

-Toodles and Kisses

A new Birth: Birthing me

This year I was supposed to be the proud owner of two kids.

Guess what? I wasn’t.

We did not have a baby again, in March of 2013.

Our only kid was born in March of ’11.

It sucked, basically. Roughest time, and it really showed which family and friends were there for us. Isn’t it funny how some family members can be the crappiest during the roughest time of our lives?

I digress.

Anywhoo, I blogged about this loss, and while this was easily one of the roughest years in my life, something big came of it all.

I birthed me.

Cue the new age music. Cue the Yanni. Break out the Dr. Phil and Oprah.

When you have a baby, your personality and goals can really be shoved by the way side because let’s face it, the kid’s needs are way more important, and hell, you’ve got a lot to figure out now that you’re a mom. You and Dad or you and your partner need to figure out the rigmarole of a new life. It’s stressful, however joyful it may be.

And no one can express to you how hard it will be, but it is.

I endured 3 sick pregnancies– January 2010 to August 2012, and so my goals and life were drastically different from when I had first graduated Columbia.

This year, as sad as it has been, has also brought me many great things.

A new job–a real job, one I like and can learn a lot from.

An almost finished memoir. I give myself until November for it to be done.

My comedy act is on the stage again.

I’m freelancing.

I see friends.

I decided that if I wanted to be happy, I had to do everything in my own power to make myself happy. I couldn’t wait for it to come to me. I couldn’t let life’s stressors and disappointments keep me from moving ahead. I had to move ahead no matter what was put in my path. No matter who deserted me or supported me. No matter what fell my way.

If I want happiness and some semblance of a life, I have to make that happen.

And I am.

And this is a major thing.

It is hard because I am juggling a lot, and I am missing out too,. Making one choice means eliminating another choice, and that is never easy, but it is life.

As alone as I have felt this year, I am not alone because I have myself. I am stronger than I give myself credit for, and more capable too.

I only wish I could remember this.

I feel it’s a flawless female socialized gene to doubt ourselves or feel bad for what we want.

I know that this year is already onto greater things, even if it means I am one year older and one step closer to Botox. PS. having a cute dermatologist doesn’t help the matter.

I just have to remember to keep moving ahead for happiness, even when things are low. My daughter stands to gain so much from a mother who always moves ahead with her head held high, and the rewards from my good choices will float on down to her, the most important person in my life.

 

See? I learned all that without any self-help books, Dr. Phil, Dr. Oz, or psychotherapy (although I am a believer in therapy).

This message was brought to you by the tiniest dose of self-esteem, and ice cream cake, dairy’s answer to anti-depressants.

Cheers!

Thanks to the Age of the Pinterest and DIY Mom, we average wives are in danger..

I check out numerous pages, blogs, and social media sites to see mommies and wives who cook everything from scratch. Every toy is hand-built. Nothing is made in China.

While I strive to avoid unhealthy food and junk ( I’m insane about avoiding processed stuff and juice –only for a treat), I am not a DIY mommy truly. I try to DIY and love/insist on keeping the television off and expanding on pretend play, but I am not a Pinterest Mommy. I am not  DIY mommy.

Some of the most mouth-watering foods and recipes are posted by the best mom cooks and chefs.

I’m starting to feel envious.

I would love one of these moms to be my wife.

All I need is for you to cook and never complain. Be sure to clean up after your cooking projects. Don’t leave any dirty dishes in the sink. When you’re done doing the cooking, might you make a bunch of toys and play objects for my kid to play with? Because you’re my Pinterest Wife, and that’s what wives do.

I will sit here and do what I do best. Educate, Enact a billion character voices. Teach my kid how to sing. Read to her. Teach her how to count in French and what the words cavort, cajole, and charm mean.

The Pinterest Wives of the World are making the regular wives and moms look bad. It’s like the PTA mother of the year on steroids:

The PTA mom brought cupcakes, stayed home, and never yelled.

The Pinterest DIY mom caters full events, makes all toys, keeps a clean house, never yells, never picks her nose when anyone is looking or flirts with younger men, and always darns her husband’s socks.

The Pinterest DIY mom can afford to stay home and buy everything organic, including organic band-aids. Hell, the DIY mom makes her own damn band-aids. Her husband goes to work daily with a homemade meal, and for every holiday event at work, he brings a full-spread, courtesy of DIY mom.

When I make dinner every night, I clap for myself.

When I have taught my daughter how to draw Charlie Brown, I cheer.

These moms and wives are making the regular folks like me, an endangered species. Pretty soon, no one is going to want to befriend us on the playground, and our husbands will leave us for more crafty types who make their own clothes, paint their nails with homemade nailpolish, and even furnish and decorate the house like a professional.

The average woman will be home in fear that she will be ridiculed for her store-bought polish, average home, and half-assed crock pot dishes.

Instead of being alone on the swings and divorced because I can’t make homemade pie crust, I’ve decided to enlist one of you DIY moms for my very own.

I promise to water you, but I will never feed you.

You can make your own damn food.

Signed,

A mom who likes to make brownies from the package, and flirt with the young guys at the pizza place, in no particular order.

Lessons on How to be a Douche: Etiquette for Jerks

There are times in all of our lives when sometimes we as individuals are unsure as to how one should behave in a particular situation. However, there are some people who have no freaking clue on how to behave, ever. Here are a few tips on how to follow these losers’ leads, and be a douche just like the best of them.

#1- Play Your Heavy Metal Loud. All. Day. Long

A little Black Sabbath never hurt anyone, A lot of Black Sabbath and other heavy metal or really ANY kind of music on loud, all day, when you live in an apartment complex, townhome, or any neighborhood near others, is totally douchey.

I am glad you sold your soul for rock and roll arse, but I don’t need to hear your music all day. Go pump some iron and smoke a joint while listening to your music at ear-splitting volume at someone else’s house.

Thanks.

#2 Advice, Unwanted

If you really want to be a total jerk, just go up to any old tiny female, one about my size, and try to give her workout tips even though she didn’t want any. Even though you have a beer belly and legs the size of twigs, I am sure that a very cut and fit athletic woman wants your input because you know, she’s only 100 pounds or so, and she must need your advice, Gut Boy. We wouldn’t want to leave the poor woman clueless now, would we?

#3  Don’t Wave.

If you want to go to Hell, don’t wave at a young toddler who waves to you. In fact, turn around, give the child a grimace and the finger. That would be more appropriate.

#4 Ignore Child/Children. Stay on phone.

When you are at the park, pool, or anywhere else in public, ignore your filthy kids, and instead stay on your phone. It is way more important, I’m sure. No, you shouldn’t watch your kid ram into mine or other unsuspecting kids on the playground. No, you shouldn’t watch your kids go around like wild animals. Instead, continue you with your life. Kids aren’t that important anyway, right?

#5 Advise on timing of babies

It’s always necessary to tell other folks when to have kids if you want to be a MEGA DOUCHE.

If a woman has a kid who’s already—GASP–2 years old, it’s time to advise her to get on top of kid #2. How dare she let that uterus rest? Doesn’t she know she has the world to populate? That she was put on the planet to make tons of little unemployed minimum-wage earning mutants?

Or better yet, if she has many kids, it is your advice to close down the shop now! Tell that woman to shut down the garage, and tie those tubes. How dare she muck up the planet with her filthy kids?

#6 Don’t Leash Your Dog

If you want to be an ignorant douche, do not leash your dog. Dogs don’t need to be leashed. It’s okay for you to put their innocent lives at risk by not leashing them and risking them getting hit by a car. It’s okay for them to shit wherever they want. It’s okay for a dog on a leash to be threatened by your unleashed mongrel. It’s totally okay. Dogs are animals and need to be free. No, the word domesticated in front of that can’t possibly be real if you’re a super douche. No, dogs should just run free and risk injuring themselves or another. That’s what douches do, and douches don’t care what happens, because we all know leashing a dog is cruel and unusual punishment.

#7 Gawk at Women’s Bodies

Women are not on this earth to be humans you know. If you’re a Douche, you know that woman are here to be looked at, poked at/in, and dominated. Women are not equal. Women are just hot pieces of ass to be enjoyed and discarded. It is totally okay to make comments about a woman’s body when she doesn’t know or even like you. Yup, that’s awesome!

I hope these tips help you become the best douche you can be, or at least commiserate with me that there are way too many inconsiderate douches in the world.

Thank you, and excuse me while I let my dog shit on your lawn, flaunt my boobies everywhere, unleash my child to run free and terrorize others while I go on Facebook at the park, and blast my Run DMC for my whole lovely neighborhood to hear.

Be a Good Girl

Women are told from the time we pop out of our mother’s uterus and become the keeper of our own that we should be “good.”

Be a “good girl.”

Be nice. Nice girls don’t do that.

Little girls are polite. Be polite.

Be nice.

Be nice.

Be nice.

Maybe I don’t want to be nice. Maybe I don’t want to be good either. Did anyone else get the memo that being good kind of sucks? That being nice all the time makes one a doormat? That taking shit from everyone and smiling and saying, “It’s okay,” makes you one miserable good girl. Plus, no one looks cute with a shit-stained smile.

I feel like sometimes I’m just compelled to say the nice thing or right thing because I know that if I don’t, I will be seen in a negative manner. I really hate that about myself.

I also hate that I am brought up in a world that tells me women aren’t funny, that we’re undersexed (such a bunch of BS folks), and that we’re all supposed to be nice and polite.

Don’t rock the boat darling.

There are so many times in my life that I just let people be their douchey selves while I laid down and said, “Sure, walk all over me. Go ahead. I hope you enjoy the walk.”

I should have handed these individuals a complementary water bottle and chocolate, sunglasses, map, and towel while they enjoyed taking a walk all over me.

That was what I got for being a “good girl” and being nice.

Sometimes, I was a bad girl in society’s eyes, yet to the person begging me to be bad, I was being submissive: translation: a good girl to an even bigger asshole. A good girl is submissive.

A good girl forgets who she is and what she wants so that others can be happy.

A bad girl does what she wants and shapes her life in ways that are meaningful to her.

I’ve let negative comments, conversations, and interactions ruin my day either because I was being too nice or polite to walk away…or too “good” to say what I wanted to, or even worse, I said exactly what I wanted to and was now reaping the guilt that my assertiveness had spun on me.

I’ve had men tell me I am stupid or that I’m not funny…or that my writing is stupid. I even had one guy tell me I couldn’t graduate college…that I was that dumb.

Apparently, he hasn’t seen my degree from Columbia, but I digress.

I have silenced myself with women too when they have hurt my feelings, by not saying what I wanted to say.

Sometimes, I said too much or just enough to feel like an ass for being so direct.

I just wish I never felt that conflict between who I am and who I should be according to the unspoken rules of society.

I am sometimes good, sometimes bad, but never awful.

To those that took a walk down the length of my heart and soul at my expense, you are all filthy animals, but I will never lie down in the mud with you, and you never stole my true self completely. Even in my darkest times I have always had an energy, a spring in my step, and an inner desire to move forward. No one will squelch that.

Let every day in my 30’s be a testament to living my life fully as who I truly am at all points and times, as along as I am not hurtful to others.

Let my daily activities show the things that matter to me, and reap work that matters to me.

I cannot worry about being good when there is so much time to be spent on making my mark on this world lest I be forgotten.

If we’re not here to be remembered for something that impacts others in a positive way, then why bother?