Enoughness. Part Two.

Ok, let’s see how quickly I can write this thing.

The list for this morning:

  1. I slept in my bed last night. By “my bed” I mean…. MY BED that I slept in as a wee young child up until I left for college. You know? It was pretty comfortable. That was the bed where I would lie and dream about my life…. you know…. the dreams where I become an alcoholic, then recover, then get to write two books about it? Those dreams.
  2. These conversations:

 

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I am pretty sure Brian KNEW that I didn’t mean “cat.” He is rather smart. And yes, I am not kidding about the feeding thing. In my “brian notes” it does NOT mention stopping to actually FEED MAH SWEET BAHBIES while I am gone, and Brian sees food as a willy-nilly experience punctuated pizza distributed at weird times… so. Let’s hope they’re alive when I return. But then… he just sent me a text promising that he would not forget to FEED THE PETS and I am really starting to question his parenting.

Also, feeding the pets is a no brainer. All Steve has to do is sit in front of his dish and look sad, and food will come. It’s impossible to avoid. He’s that good.

BTW – he is “working from home” while I am gone. This narrates to: “watching ESPN and typing once in a while” but no judgment. I write blog posts while binging on Project Runway, so yep.

3. Oh, I didn’t explain the “gone” thing? Well, here you go:

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4. This is where I am heading:

 

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5. Also: I have really good hair today, so here’s hoping it holds on for tomorrow too. One never knows.

6. And this:IMG_8134-1.JPG

My pops drove me to the airport. Y’all, he was talking on the phone to his office, zipping in and out of traffic like the Boss of it All, and I only had to pray once for our souls at a rather dicey merging into traffic situation. The man is a BEAST, I tell you. A very sweet beast.

As we unloaded at the terminal, he told me, “Have fun. Try to be in the moment and actually enjoy it, you know? God is giving you all the gifts.” (I know, Dad, that’s not EXACTY what you said, but it’s close and I haven’t had enough coffee yet. #writerslicense).

 

I will. I will enjoy it. All of it. It’s such a crazy life.

Do you know why I get to do this? Because God is awesome. And I did what he asked, after a lot of whining and fighting and nutty behavior. I got sober.

#soberblessings

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See you in New York!!!

 

 

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Vacation from the Summer Vacation.

Today, I did kind of a dumb thing. Want to hear about it?

Linking up with the lovely Kate at Five Minute Friday today. The theme is:

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Kate’s graphic is so… peaceful. It’s all cute and pink. Look at it. Preshus widdle flowery thing.

So, hey, if you added a bunch of germs and despair and a thermometer or two, then maybe the image would fit what’s going on over here.

It’s rest time at our house. Enforced rest. Rest, but without permission. The kind that just slams you upside the head and says, “SIT DOWN, WOMAN. THAT’LL DO.”

So, I have mentioned that we have been firmly wedged into a summer schedule that is the King of all Summer Schedules Ever! Like, we WIN at Summer Schedules! Our Summer Schedule is the BIGGEST of them all! Our Summer Schedule could EAT your Summer Schedule for Breakfast! It is SOOOOOO the boss of you!

Perhaps, I am delirious. Fevers will do that to you. (This is called foreshadowing, y’all. Cue the scary music.)

Ok, so it seems the Summer Schedule is now the boss of US.

Strep. Both boys. Same time. Duh duh DUH.

Momsie doesn’t feel so good either, but that’s probably because every time my kids get sick I SWEAR I get the same exact thing at the same exact time so somehow, maybe, someone will bring me a cup of apple juice with a straw. I JUST WANT SOMEONE TO BRING ME SOME JUICE WITH A STRAW, PEOPLE. SOMEDAY.

Is that so much to ask?

“But yes, Momsie,” you ask, “What about the stupid thing? We really want to know about that. No one is ever going to bring you juice with a straw. Move on.”

Ok, I never had a fever. And also, my kids are very thoughtful in that they decided to go for the two for the price of one option on the sickness. But in the midst of all of this we have hit the usual end of June event that is known as:

We are Here Together and I am Sick of you.

So, the kids are like REAAAALLLLY cranky. This morning, Blonde yelled at Red about how he was rolling his toy truck across the room, and then Red responded later by telling Blonde that he was eating his cereal wrong. The two of them are just endlessly picking at them with such tenacity they are like little unhappy termites, chewing away at my sanity.

THE VERY FOUNDATION OF OUR FAMILY IS CRUMBING, Y’ALL. ALL BECAUSE OF MY ANNOYING CHILDREN.

So, the dumb thing.

I shall re-enact it for you:

Scene:

Both children are bickering about how to go to the bathroom. I think. I’m not sure. I don’t care anymore.

Red: MOOOOOOOOOMMMM, Blonde is telling me not to go to the bathroom this wayyyyyyyyyy. (Or something like that. I don’t know. I don’t care anymore.)

Me: (For some reason feeling all Dr. Phil about things) Ok. Listen. This is what we need to do here, guys. I think you need to start coming to me when you guys are having an issue. Just say, ‘Mom, Blonde and I are in an argument. Can you help us resolve it?’ And then EVENTUALLY you will remember how we worked it out and you guys will be able to do this all on your OWN!!! Hows that sound?”

Holy macaroni. So dumb. DUMB. Every five minutes. Now, they are not termites chewing at each other – they are chewing at ME.

I know there are ways to help kids with endless picking and bickering and conflict but right now I am living in a reality television show and not the tasteful ones like Amazing Race. Well, really I think that’s the only tasteful one, and it’s not even that tasteful. This is more like the one where two people are stuck out in the wild stark naked. And yes, that is actually a show. On tv. That people watch.

Anyhow, I am now hiding in my office, which is on the top floor and at the very BACK of the house. You have to go past the cat box to get to it. Also, there is a lock on the door.

I give myself about seven minutes of alone time up here before they find me.

Pray for me.

Enforced rest paired with a Mom fail? Not for the faint of heart. But that’s parenting.

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Overwhelmed and Underrated.

Well. I’m back.

I realize that this merits this question: “Wait. You were gone?”

There are a lot of snarky responses I can give here, but I’m too tired. Why am I tired? Because, I’m back. From vacation. And it’s that lovely time of returning when your entire surroundings seem to implode. Laundry. How in the world did so much laundry happen while we were gone? Does laundry know about the birds and the bees? Because, I am sure of it, there is some mad procreation going on in The Pit of Despair. AKA – my laundry room.

Also: Our plumbing exploded while we were gone.

I don’t really want to go into details, but let me just say this:

Poop happens. And evidently it’s happening a lot in my downstairs bathroom right now. BUT IN THE WRONG DIRECTION. When it comes to poop, the trajectory is really REALLY important.

I just want to cry.

My beloved mountains are a whisper of a memory, but I still have to wash dishes in a basin in the upstairs bathtub, so I guess I can pretend I’m kind of camping? Sorta?

No. Don’t ask. I have no idea really why I can’t use the sinks or dishwasher in the kitchen. The husband tried to explain about the pipes and connections and I just kinda glazed over into level Red of despair and overwhelmedness, because now what? POOP IN THE KITCHEN? POOP IN MY DISHWASHER? WHAT DO YOU MEAN, CONNECTED?

REALLY? Why don’t we just start shooting poop all over the walls in the living room, while we’re at it? I think it could be done with our salad shooter and a complete mental breakdown, don’t you?

Perhaps, I over-exaggerate. It’s my thing. And yes, I KNOW ‘over-exaggerate’ is redundant. I never said I was perfect! This is a post about poop! Let me get on with it! I’m upset! There’s grossness! And not enough scented candles in the state of Kansas to deal!

But, I did light all my favorite vanilla-orange candles from this place that I usually hoard because they cost a jamillion bucks each. It looks like the Roman Catholic church in here. And it smells divine. Almost like there’s no actual Hazmat scene of horror from the downstairs bath.

Sigh. I’m overwhelmed.

So, you know what I did?

I helped make masks of Toothless from How to Train Your Dragon. Yep. And then, I made a reading bed for the Blonde, and he read seven million Berenstain Bears books to me while I typed this post.

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Nice photobomb, Blondie.

photo 2Being overwhelmed is underrated. It can make you get out construction paper and glue and big fluffy blankets. What can be wrong about that?

Disclaimer: I want to make it clear that my house is not a disgusting dripping mess of brown stuff. It’s just in the bath. The bathtub, to be exact. The husband has promised, on his life, that the brown water will be gone tonight. Until then, I grip harder to the Lysol bottle, and just. Don’t. Go. In. There.

An Open Letter to the Mom On Vacation Who Would Really Rather NOT Use the Communal Showers, Thank You.

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“This is really pretty.  And I could really use a hot shower.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Mom up there in all those beautiful mountains:

You’re on vacation.  It’s fabulous.  Everything looks like a post card.  There are rustic chipmunks frolicking about, and the air is redolent with the smell of REAL ACTUAL pine trees, not cleaning solvents.  You are here in this wonderfulness, all outdoorsy and wholesome, for a whole week.  You even used your Swiss Army knife to whittle a stick at one point.  You WHITTLED by the fire, people.  Basically, you are a walking REI catalog.

There is, however, one small problem.

You fear the shower.

Nooooo, not like in an Orange is the New Black kind of way (and if you have no idea what I am referring to here then God bless you), or in a EWWWWW, GERMS –  THAT EBOLA BADNESS HAS STAGGERED ITS WAY INTO THESE SHOWERS I JUST KNOW IT,  kind of way…

No.  You fear the shower in a… Uh,  I just don’t want to really have to deal with the awkward eye contact and mumbled “good morning, let me show you my jammies and morning hair but hopefully nothing else cuz this space is rather cramped and steamy” kind of way.

You know all those Dove commercials that are all, “let’s just celebrate being beautiful women, OK?  Let’s just be comfortable with ourselves, no matter what, and just embrace our skin, right?”  Yep.  Right.  They never talk about embracing their hair.  In the morning.  When it looks like this:

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That’s just not right.

Pretty sure that’s where we women draw the line.  We’re all, “We love each other! We’re beautiful!  Our bodies are amazing! Some of us had babies come out of ’em!  It hurt but we’re cool!  Group hug!  We are wonderful!  Our extra skin is wonderful!  All the folds where folds shouldn’t necessarily be are wonderful!  In fact, our– WHOA HECK.  YOUR HAIR IS OUTTA CONTRALL WOMAN.  BACK THAT RIGHT ON OUTTA HERE.  We are judging you.”

 

And while we’re at it, there’s a couple other things you have been, shall we say, challenged by on this trip:

1.  Purple crocs.  It’s all you packed for leisure wear.  You are reminded that crocs are terrible things.  They make any outfit – swimwear, jammies, jammies paired with morning hair (see above) just bad.  It’s possible you could get away with the crocs if you were, say,  a blonde, leggy au pair from Germany.  But, as it were, you are a mom from Kansas with rather short legs and absolutely no ability to speak German.  In fact, the last time you were in Germany (a million years ago, pre kids, as is everything in your life that involved a passport and verve) you bravely took on a few words but kept mysteriously slipping into an accent that sounded a lot like the Swedish Chef from the Muppets.  Nicht gut.

So, every morning, as you leave your dreaded showers and squeak, squeak SQUEAK home in your slimy crocs, you really wish you had just packed some flip flops. And some dignity.

2.  Mountain trails with your sweet toddlers will mean copious amounts of antacids and prayer.  Why? because for some reason each toddler will walk on the exact EDGE of the trail, 90% of the time, all the while chattering and skittering about like a squirrel on espresso.   I mean really.  REALLY?  Is it absolutely necessary, wee one, to walk RIGHT UP ON THE EDGE OF THAT TRAIL? THE ONE WITH THE 500 MILLION FOOT DROP OFF?  Has no one taught you the laws of physics and gravity yet?  Well, no, I know no one has, really, yet actually done that.  But STILL.  Look OVER THERE.  NO TRAIL.  Just AIR.  And no, I am NOT exaggerating.  It’s the MOUNTAINS.  There are no kiddie trails here.

3.  After each wonderful hike, all natured up and such, going back to the cabin to create a healthy and tasty meal on a grill with some foil, a fork,  Cheetos, and some soggy hotdogs is, at best, daunting.  But if you just put a lot of CHEESE on all of it, you still can win.  Because cheese?  Dairy. So = healthy.

4.  Marspellows on da grill fix everything.  Grumpy?  Have a s’more.  Marital problems because, vacation?  Stuff your feelings with this golden toasty goodness.

By the way:  I am of the firm conviction that if people could just sit around a campfire and make and serve s’mores to each other with a starry sky overhead – we would not have to worry about all those cease fires and such in the news.  In my humble opinion.  (Hubs is rolling his eyes.  He is now talking using words like, “Oversimplification” and “Starry eyed”  and I think, “Hippy Magic.”  I would offer him the Mom Platitude about how “don’t roll your eyes, they’ll stick that way” but my mouth is full.  With da marspellows.  Food of da Gods.

5.  There’s all these pharmacies here that have green leaf signs out front.  It’s confusing.  And that’s all I am gonna say about that.

6. It is possible to fit three roomfuls of stuff into a one room cabin.  It’s just that… your brain is done after that.  So, once you have figured out how to store your cutlery neatly rolled up in your underwear, and all the bug spray is slipped into the hiking boots, which are holding up the box of shampoo, the bible, and five packs of Slim Jims,  your brain kinda shuts off and you just want to watch an episode or two of Hoarders.

7.  There are some bikers who are here.  Two cabins down.  There’s a lot of handkerchiefs tied on heads.  Not in a cute, Cindy Lauper kind of way.  Oh, and beer.  Beer is alllll over their perimeter.  If there are any slugs in the area they should avoid cabin 23.  It’s a death trap.   You catch your husband eyeing their big shiny bikes with what you think might actually be envy.  Of course your boys are in total awe.  There really is nothing left to do but invite them for some food with cheese on it.

 

 

I think it’s safe to say, dear Anti-Communal Shower Mom Who Is Really REALLY Trying to be a Good Sport About All This –

You deserve a junior camper badge.  And yes, it’s perfectly Ok to squirrel away the bag of Reese’s for your own consumption at a later point, like right after you sqeaak, squeeeeaaak, squeak past the bikers and you realize as you get back to your cabin that though you had wadded up all your clothes in your towel, you managed to drop your bra right outside their cabin.  Retrieving it was fun.  You wondered if they were gonna regard this as some sort of secret gang signal and you were now initiated into their heavily tattooed fold.

It’s possible.  Your hair would fit right in.

 

Get your own biker name!  Click here.

 

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There was this one time when my blog went all BOOM and I had no internet…

So.  I am sitting on a metal bench outside of a bathroom, typing as fast as my chubby little fingers will clatter across the keys.

 

The fingers, they are chubby because we’re on vacation and so:  Cheetos (puffed AND crunchy), CoCo Crispies, and the piece da la resistance:  REESE’S PEANUT BUTTER CUP S’MORES.  YOU KNOW YOU WANT SOME.  This menu is what I like to call:

IT’S VACATION!  EAT ALL THE JUNKFOOD EVERRRRRRR!  It might run out, the junk food, so we need to get it all in before we return to normalcy and my kale smoothies.

 

And also, I am typing away here, while the moths thwack at my head and people keep looking at me funny because you guys are the best.

Just the best.

 

I had this whole “We’ll go away to the mountains!  We’ll rough it, as much as I can do so for 5 days without killing anyone!  And also, I’ll eat my weight in chocolate to compensate for the roughage!” plan for this vacation.

And!  NO internet!  We will really be “Getting Away From It All!”  It will be awesome!

Oh ho.  Until Glennon Melton rang and asked if I might be interested in, uh, you know, sharing my post on her blog.

You might be interested to know that I went on a 5 hour hike with my family today – all the while my Twitter basically fluffed itself up into a ball of blue exploding feathers, and my blog kinda blew up all over the place.  (But in a good way.  Thank you, Glennon.)

And what was I doing?   I was leading my four and five year old across Seven Bridges Trail (“der are 7 WHOLE bwidges there!!!”) and saying things like:  “No!  Slow down!  Be CAREFUL!  Would you not look OVER that so OVER it, please?  PLEASE? Come over HERE. HERE.  OH MY GRAVY, SON IF YOU FALL OFF THIS MOUNTAIN I AM GOING TO KILL YOU.”

Not my finer moment(s).  But we actually had a really REALLY good time.  And so far, everyone has stayed ON the mountain.

So, now I am typing my thank you.  I love you guys.  I am just so grateful.

This has been such a journey, this whole getting sober deal.  It had me kicked and beaten, but then, I finally kicked back, and then… kicked a little more.  And then…

The kicking and screaming turned more into my own long hike up a mountain.  A really beautiful, hard, treacherous, scary, breathtaking mountain, where God lives.

It is a good journey.  Come along.

 

Many hugs and blessings to you.

 

And so, I am leaving you with this:

 

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This is my Red, you know.  Stuffing his cute little cheeks with hotdog because campfire, you know. He reminds me of ET when he wears his little hoodie. “I’ll be right here.”