Tag Archives: family

Humor with a side of Nervous Breakdown

I haven’t written in awhile forever. At least it seems like an eternity. To me. I encountered (and I use this term loosely) a major life crisis a few days after I wrote my last post. It was right after my birthday. A wonderful birthday. Four of my closest and dearest friends came from all over the country to visit me. We had a marvelous time making new memories while paying tribute to the old ones.  There were talks of kids, dating, husbands, careers and this strange little trip of a life. 

We all fell right in like 20 years had never passed. Just what I needed.

I can’t go into to it right now, my mid-life crisis, even though all of my favorite bloggers do. I thought about chronicling it, but could never write a coherent post three bottles glasses of wine in. I’m just waiting to find more humor in the situation. No one died, no one got sick…So no worries. Life will and does, go on.

Years ago, I used to attend this great little thing called Cosmic Coffee at my children’s school. (Keep reading – why – because I’m making a point, not just a strange segue). It was a small Montessori school and these were not your regular coffees. They were led by a phenomenal therapist, Michael Rebel. There were many skeletons from everyone’s closet which were willingly brought out into the light to dance circles around us. There were tears. For some hopefully, closure or at least clarity. I rarely spoke. Well, I rarely shared any story of my own. (Lest my own skeletons might have come out wielding machetes or  eating others’ flesh.) But of course I offered my two cents on other people’s twirling bag of bones and I argued, mainly with the therapist, a lot. I also cracked jokes. Constantly. I had a good friend tell me, “Right when we’re getting somewhere with a story or it just gets deep; you throw a joke in there. It’s really annoying.”

But that’s me — annoying and humorous. And that’s the way I deal with life’s craziness. Humor. If you can’t laugh at your situation, then you truly are at your end. At least in my book. 

So I guess I’m just waiting for some humor in my own situation. I do crack jokes about it to friends who know what’s going on.  If you can’t poke fun at yourself then what’s the point.  A few weeks ago I was at this great party. Two friends of mine, who are dating, started to get into a fight. So I barged right in  politely  interrupted and said:

“Are you kidding me, you two are fighting right now? Hold on, you really want to see a fight? Someone go grab Jason and I’ll show you a fight.”

They laughed, snickered and let their argument go. (Or just buried it to have it explode at a later time — ah –romance and relationships.) But the tension was diffused…Then I went on to parody some parents at my son’s tennis match. Good times. Humor through the pain. So what if it sometimes turns into tears. At least at some point you’re laughing.


Coupons and Romance in Aisle 13

I think I have a winner for my Twitter competition. Now if I can just figure out how to use the damn thing…Details coming soon.

It’s Sunday and I’ve straightened the house — so much easier than actually cleaning it and now I feel semi-accomplished. I’m in my work out clothes, so my head’s in the right place. Even if I don’t actually exercise, at least I thought about it enough to get dressed.  Ah, today is turning into one accomplishment after another.

My lovely husband and I just had the previous night off from the kids. And what did we do on a kid-free Saturday? I’m embarrassed to admit it. We cut coupons, went grocery shopping, worked on a business plan, and then watched a steamy foreign film and … well I’ll leave the last part off the internet. It was a good night and now today, I’ve straightened the house…Mission accomplished. Where’s my banner and battleship?

Because currently I’m so utterly boring and I have no drama worth mentioning, I will leave you with some pictures.

A lovely picture from my garden…yeah right.

I kill fake house plants.

This is what I built last weekend, so you can see why today I feel so accomplished. I fluffed couch pillows…

I took a hike through some magical misty woods, until I spotted some weird building off in the distance.

Then I got lost in the plains of South Africa.

Ok, so I didn’t really do any of these things; my husband did…But did I mention I straightened the house?

Here’s to hoping your weekend was as “accomplished” as mine.


I want to add a Twitter account, so I can update the world regularly on my awesome parenting advice and world domination. I mean if you could see how well my kids behave, how clean their rooms are and the fact they start every morning, after bringing me breakfast in bed, with:

“Mommy, after we’re done feeding the homeless, what can we do for you today?”

You would understand why you need me in your life — on a daily basis. Moment by increasingly dull moment. Not sure how to parent your kid effectively, read this. Wondering how to talk to your teenager, have no fear, check out this.  Thinking of improving your marriage? Look no further, I have all the answers here. I’m practically an expert on everything and I have the checkbook, the debt, the kids who adore me and the perfect marriage to prove it. Face it, you really can’t go on without me and my “advice”. (See, you didn’t even realize I was giving advice, did you? Don’t worry, neither did I.)

So, help me think of a name for a Twitter account. It can only be 15 letters.  Your spouse, life partner, mother, sister, boss, friend will thank you for it. Or at least I will…

Yeah sure, I’ll talk to him

I got a call from one of my kid’s teachers today. It was the same story I’ve heard many times before. This time it went something like this:

Teacher: “Your son has been told numerous times to come into the class and put away his books. He consistently fails to do it in time; he’s too busy talking.”

Me: “Yes, he told me he had 5 points deducted because he had his book in his lap.”

Teacher: “Yes, it’s supposed to be inside his desk or at his feet.”

Me: “Oh, ok.”

Teacher: “I give them all a couple of minutes to put away their things in the beginning of class, but your son never pays attention to the time.”

So that’s when I tell them in the shortest length possible, I know. I know he’s unable to do anything in the exact time alloted. He daydreams, he fidgets, he creates things with paperclips etc…but never what you ask him to do right that second. Then I apologize and tell them I’ll talk to him. His story is entirely different, but there are still enough similarities to see and sympathize with the frustration he’s feeling.

We can go on and on that it must be our parenting; he must listen and instantly obey. But…he’s not going to. The reason I know this is because his father is the same way.  He doesn’t even hear half of the things going on around him. He, like my son, can observe the tiniest object in  a place no one would ever look and remember its exact placement, but realize the person in front of him is on fire — no way. They could both instantly recognize a tree has lost 3.5 leaves from a certain branch they walked by the other day, but if you asked them to hand you a pair of scissors they will forget by the time they reach the drawer. Meanwhile they’re contemplating where those 3.5 leaves could have gone. And if they did go somewhere it was probably some far off land…

You know, the far off land where only “artsy” people’s minds wander. I imagine it looks something like The Yellow Submarine movie or a Van Gogh painting.

I know it must be annoying if you’re a teacher. I know it is as a mother and as a wife. It’s annoying to me because I am so firmly planted in this world… I’m a complete and total stressed out mess. There is no wandering to a far off land; I’m too busy worrying about the dirt that’s right under my feet.

And you know what? I’ll never be an artist. I’ll never “see” what these people see. I’ll never live in their far off land. And you know what? That Sucks for me.

The more time goes by the more I realize, public school doesn’t teach you anything but the basics and if you’re “special” in any sort of way it’s just something  hopefully you can deal with and still come out of with at least a speck of self-esteem.  Basically, school — you suck.

And Now for Something Completely Different…

So I’ve been at a loss for what to write, besides those great stories that come into my head while I’m falling asleep. Gosh those are good stories, the verbage is so eloquent, everything falls into place and comes out exactly how I mean it.  It’s perfect. Novels, blog entries, the little assignment sent home by one of my children’s teacher asking me to describe my child, man they’re so good. I should get a tape recorder.

But alas, all I have is the dribble that comes out in the daytime.

It’s back to school time here in the South. Yes, the kids have heat advisories warning them to stay inside for recess, but there is air conditioning which is more than our house had for half the summer.  Anyway, even though it’s hot, it’s time to “get it together”. The routines, the bedtimes, the early wake-ups, the homework, the after school activities, the babysitters, the forms (oh my God – why are there so many forms?), dinner at a reasonable time, the homework, did I mention the forms?

It’s a time better suited to cooler weather. Cooler weather tends to make you want to have some routine. Hunker down so to speak (that’s a Florida term for what you do when a hurricane is coming — why I thought it works here, I don’t know). You know you feel the need to get things done, the need to “make it happen”.  Summer is better suited to lazy days at the pool, vacations, sleep-overs, margaritas, water with everything – just not my margaritas. A time when you swear you’re going to start working out everyday and look fabulous in a swimsuit, but not today…Today is for drinking and lying slovenly in a chair by  the pool. Plus it’s too damn hot to work out, I break out in a sweat just reaching over to lift my wine soda out of the cooler.

They’ll close the pool in a week or two, truly signaling the end of summer. The temperature is expected to be in the 80’s; who could possibly swim in that? In a few weeks we’ll start turning on the fireplace to discount the air conditioning which is set at 65. And I’ll start eyeing my boots and scarves, thinking – well, it is awfully chilly in the house…

The routines will start to become, well, routine. We’ll settle in, getting used to the structured days. We’ll think of all we’re going to accomplish this year. I’ll volunteer think about volunteering  for too much and then whine I don’t have any time, spend too much at the grocery store and then think about where to go out to eat every night. I’ll be late to work because someone’s socks are not aligned properly on their toes. It will be another school year, another chance to get it right. Or another chance to really screw it up. But let’s think positive, right now it’s one last chance to spend the weekend in a lawn chair. One last chance to swear off jogging because it’s too darn hot, one last chance to think every night deserves a wine spritzer. One last chance to think eventually the kids will get in bed early.

I know, I know — who am I kidding? I’ll be saying the same thing come December; I’ll just change the type of drink.

My Margaritas Were A Shade of Lime and My Skin, A Whiter Shade of Pale

Just so you won’t think I’m totally without heart and really want to abandon my children on the side of road, I’m posting a few pictures of vacation bliss. Fortunately my husband adhered to the rule, “No pictures of adults in bathing suits at anytime.” Because nothing makes you feel better than Spring Break at the beach. The walk of shame from your chair into the water is never longer than when your walking past ten 18 year-old girls  in bikini’s whose mothers obviously never knew the value of organic non-hormone filled milk.

Also seriously, how does one get that tan nowadays? I personally return whiter than when I left because nothing under 700 SPF gets on my white creamy skin. I’ll just remember these youngin’s when I’m rubbing cellulite cream into my non-leather like legs. Who really wants to look that good at 18 anyway?

Just you wait you little girls, when I’m 80 my skin won’t look a day over 73. Ha, that’s when it really counts.

Yea Baby, no walk of shame here.

I don't mind the bikinis...

I'll smile when I feel I've seen enough bikinis.

"May your heart always be joyful, And may your song always be sung, May you stay forever young..."