Cube Super Star, or not. Whatevs.

I die a little every time I sit in my 4×6 work station. Life slips away every time I’m standing (because sitting is unfriendly) at my desk, which really isn’t mine but just a general space where everyone congregates and over zealous moms forget everything they know about personal space.

I’m lucky to have these two jobs. Without them I wouldn’t have money for medicine, gas, water, power, and even the occasional overpriced Starbucks iced coffee. But still, they are killing me.

I get yelled at ALL THE TIME.

THERE ARE TOO MANY WIRES.
YOU BETTER MAKE THIS WORK.
I’M PISSED. I’M TIRED.
I’VE BEEN HERE FOR HOURS.
THE STUPID … JUST SHUT OFF.
I CAN’T CONNECT.
YOU NEED TO FIX THIS.
WHERE ARE MY REPORTS.
YOUR COMPANY SUCKS.
I HATE THIS SHIT.
BUT ON THE WEBSITE…
YOU NEED TO REMOVE THE FEE.
I WILL MAKE A SCENE.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY KID WAS DROPPED FROM CLASS AFTER I WAS GIVEN TWO WEEKS TO PAY MY LATE CHARGES BUT NEVER DID?!???

The usual.

So the moral of this short piece kids of all ages is – do what you love.

Keep on writing, drawing, playing, building… Don’t stop. Don’t end up soul less in a no-chance-to-ever-advance position.

The end.

It’s coming.

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It’s already here.

The despair, the feeling that you’re thisclose to drowning. Running out of breath, running towards an exit, wishing you were anywhere but where you are.

But you’re there.

Sitting next to the person that’s supposed to be your light. But instead, sitting next to them is like being underneath a huge, ominous storm cloud.

It’s sucks and I’m sure there’s a more poetic way to say it but why waste your breath?

Relationships. The shitty ones will suck the life right out of you.

The end.

Almost Winter Blues

I’ve been feeling a certain type of way.
A lonely kind of way.
All different shades of blue.
No escape, no light in sight…

Just sadness. But the type if sadness you feel creeping in. Slowly, but it’s there, like a knot in your throat. There’s been no consoling me. Mostly because I should be happy, content, at peace.

It’s crazy, really.

Maybe it’s the weather. But I’m in for a long, cold winter, and the forecast is looking grim.

Bah, humbug.

Don’t even care.

I eat junk food.
I fart.
I swear.
I, as if, and roll my eyes.
I eat yellow and red food dyes.
I drink un-organic shitty coffee.
I ate all the donuts, and pizza, and chips.
And will eat more tonight while watching cartoons or trashy reality tv.

I wish all of you a beautiful weekend filled with mistakes, adventures, and love!

Feelings.

I have them and they’re awful.

Quick confessions:

1. I’ve cussed out my annoying coworker about 1,000 times in my head already. We’ve only worked together 3 times.

2. I farted in the toy aisle of Target or the baby section, not sure. I’m very forgetful lately.

3. I’ve wished for time machines to exist and in my head I’ve changed my life a thousand different ways.

Also, I’ve just been wishing. Not for anything specific so I guess it’s just mostly sighing and hopeful dreaming of things that will never come true.

Sigh.

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Love and then love them more.

Life.

So wonderful, so unfair, the innocent die, the wicked prosper, and we cling to the last bits of hope.

There have been so many deaths in my newsfeed not just of the old but of the young. Car accidents, sickness, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, all of them unsettling. I find myself complaining of not having things, THINGS, when so many friends and acquaintances are grieving and wishing they had people, people they loved and even hated back in their lives.

Put your phone down, turn off the screen, take a break from the online world and love the ones you hold dear today. Forgive the ones that wronged you but didn’t know better. Live with the living and remember the ones you’ve lost. Laugh, cry, hope, and grieve. Remember all the amazing things and people that you have and give them all the likes and double taps in the world.

Life is uncertain but your love doesn’t have to be. I wish you all a Happy Father’s Day may you live, laugh, and love everyday like it’s your last.

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What’s wrong with liking pink?

Lately, I’ve had plenty of moms go on about how their incubating daughters will not grow up to like pink or princesses. They rant on about how instead their girls will play with legos and not be doormats for men. They will raise strong and independent women. 

Get the fuck outta here.

Here’s why I’m proud that my girls like pink and run around in tutus pretending to be princesses:

1. They like it.

End of list.

Liking pink and or princesses is not a defining factor for whether a young girl grows up to be a doctor or a stripper. Pink is a color for crying out loud. It’s adorable, fabulous, fierce, strong, it’s anything you make it to be.

Princesses are not all whiny spoiled babies. They’re polite, kind, generous, host kick ass tea parties, can shoot arrows, refuse to get married, they can be everything and anything they want.

You know what’s going to be the most important factor in your daughters upbringing? YOU.  

You and you alone have the power and responsibility to encourage and raise your daughters to be strong, kind, happy, empathetic human beings who will do the right thing – Always. Whether they’re wearing pink or blue, playing with legos or barbies, whatever floats their boat just make sure they grow up loved and happy… and the rest? Let them paint their world in whatever color they choose.

Live, love, laugh and play princess with your kid.

I’m fucking fat.

Yes, I’m fucking fat. Yes, fucking, was a necessary adverb. And yes, it’s all my fault.

I’ve never been so fucking fat in my life before. I’d like to take this opportunity to make a list of countless excuses I have used and said to myself to justify the ballooning of my midsection. 

1. I don’t have time to meal prep.

2. Healthy food is way, totally, oh-my-god more expensive than junk food. 

3. I like my food like I like my sex – Fast, easy, and to the point. Ain’t nobody got time for romance or fancy dinners while you’re running around with kids ALL DAY AND NIGHT. 

4. I’m poor. I can’t just dump out all my bad foods. What the hell would I eat?

5. I’m tired.

6. I’ll start after my birthday/anniversary/holiday/random party/every weekend… 

7. It’s Friday.

8. Ice cream and chocolate are the only treats I can afford.

9. The toddler is throwing a fit.

10. The toddler is crying.

11. The toddler is itchy.

12. The toddler requests her breast. Yes, I still breast feed. Sue me.

13. The toddler is finally napping.

14. The toddler woke up.

And the list can go on and on… 

I need to do something, quick. I can’t keep letting myself go. 

And before any wrong ideas start brewing in your head I am not fat-shaming. I am self-shaming. 

The end. 

 

Running like a mother…

Just finished running my first 5k in a very, very long time.

Setting: Hundreds of mamas running with their kids, significant others, and waiting for the porta potty. Moms have small bladders. Long story short – I had a blast. I’m insanely out of shape but I didn’t place last in my age group. Granted, women twice my age, women with strollers, and sweet little elementary girls all passed me by but I loved it.

I felt like dying during my last lap but I made it. I’m here, not dead, to share this awesome experience. 

Not only did I see a wonderful display of motherhood and family but I learned it’s never too late discover or start doing something new that you might end up falling in love with. Running never appealed to me but look at me now… Writing about the Running Like A Mother 5K and glowing or maybe that’s just sweat but still.

P.S. You know that hippie trip I’m on? I SMELL. Coconut oil and hippie oils/deodorant rocks do not cut it when you run that much!

 

Confession: I don’t want to be a mother for Mother’s Day.

My life is – Whiny kids, a whiny fiancé, constant cleaning, zero privacy, no sleep, cartoons 24/7, in short: I am a martyr. The, a person who undergoes severe or constant suffering, definition of it.

I bet you already know what I want for Mother’s Day.

That’s right, I’ll gladly give up the flowers, mimosas, and the company of the ones that bless me with so much happiness daily… All for a little rest. Sweet, sweet, ever fleeting rest. To pee in peace would be divine. To not hear MOOOOOOMMY every five seconds would be a dream come true.

I am tired. I’m only human. I need some space. So please, please go away and have fun while I sleep and drool in the beautiful silence of solitude.

But please come back soon, I only need an hour or two. No matter how much I complain, I always miss them at the end.

Ain’t that something?

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