Monday, August 16, 2010

White Hot

from head...
clean crisp suit
current (a la iPhone) toe
those fucking shoes

Friday, August 13, 2010

Can I Get an Encore?

Like the backdrop to a cheesy reality show, when we kiss, subtle triumphant music plays.

Thursday, August 12, 2010


(previously posted April 09 on my old blog, now updated and tweaked on the new one, ha!)

I'm so happy to have Ms. Winfrey back in my life.  For a while, I'd given up on her.  It seemed like her content was fading and wasn't appealing to me at all.  I couldn't relate.  For the last year or so, she's gotten her groove back.  More often than not, I'm actually watching her DVR'd shows instead of pressing "program information" then deleting it.  I can tell you now that next week's star studded country music all stars show will be deleted without the play button ever being touched.  This week, however, she had me hooked, especially her show on being a mother.  I have to say, it was riveting.  I think every woman who THINKS they want children should watch it.  Moreover, I highly recommend all mothers do their best to carve out some time to watch or at least read about the show.

It's mostly important for my MITs (mommas in the trenches) to see it so that they know they're not alone.  There IS a dark side to being a mother.  We love our babies, but sometimes we want to slap the taste out of their mouths or just tell them to shut the hell up and sit down.  You see?  That virtual, judgmental eyeroll you just gave me is the reason why a lot of MITs go over the deep end.  Sure, we can openly talk about little Johnny or Nay-Nay and how bad they are.  We can go on and on about what we'd do if we got one of them alone at our house - they'd be on the straight and narrow *finger snaps*.  But why aren't we afforded that same freedom of speech when it relates to our own children?  Okay, wait.  We are "allowed" to complain every once in a while about our lack of sleep.  We can mention the exhaustion from taking the kids to/fro practices, but that's it.  Anything really beyond that is off limits.  Hell, we can have impromptu ladies' room discussions about our significant others...what they're doing (or not).  We question our career moves.  Without reservations, dialogues ensue about how we're applying for the next job opening that remotely resembles our current one.  We aren't happy and we want out.  I've never had a conversation with an MIT expressing the same sentiment.

I do believe that parent/child relationships bear a remarkable love.  The man in the upper room knows how my heart swells when I visualize M's grin.  He knows in a silent room, I can hear J's special laugh, the one that's slightly girlish and high-pitched.  It signifies a solid hardy har-har for him.  That same Creator knows juuuust when I'm 'bout to go off.  It's when he does something exceptionally mean to M, landing him on punishment for the during of spring break.  Oh, also when I, with no intention, silently enter a room to catch M with Ritz crackers crumbs for 8am...with no napkin...on the couch!  Sometimes I'm so exasperated.  I get confused as hell.  Have we not gone over the rules?  You can't get anything to eat without asking and you certainly aren't permitted to eat in the living room, on the couch no less!  I want to yell, "WTF?"  The words are in its cycle, traveling through my body just fixing to regurgitate themselves.  But I gag and swallow them (that's what she said).

I'm not saying that O's show encouraged MITs to spit out those words.  No.  It opened the floor for moms to share those not so loving feelings.  Getting beyond the baby's firsts, and getting real.  She showcased several MITs, via Skype, sharing their mommy confessions.  They ranged from not bathing their kids for 3 weeks to subbing feminine products for diapers.  Others admitted to having a favorite child and exchanging a water bottle for a restroom stop, which would ultimately stir sleeping babies.  In the spirit of openness, I can admit to giving both of my babies Motrin to get them to sleep (this is pretty common, BTW, LOL).  I can also admit to having postpartum after M's birth.  I feel comfortable discussing it now, but at the time it was a dirty little secret.

There was a pair of best friends on the show, with 5 kids between them, who often discussed the ups and downs of motherhood.  They had the genius (and very lucrative idea) of surveying other MITs and writing a book about it.  It was successful enough that 2 others followed, also dedicated to shedding and making light of motherhood.  Another mom, Heather B. Armstrong, took to the Internet and started blogging at Dooce when she suffered from postpartum.  Her following went from 30 people, most family and friends, to thousands of moms across the world.  Speaking of thousands, her blog's traffic and advertisements provide her family approximately $40,000 a month!  Her husband quit his job, and they work full-time updating and maintaining the website.  Nice. Her personal tragedy turned into a dream she never visualized.  She hasn't a clue how much of an idol she is to me, sooooo when I ran into her, on a random Wednesday night, essentially in da hood of Washington, DC, I FUCKING DIED!!! 

Ms. Winfrey often gives props to all of the moms of the world, because she recognizes it's such a demanding job.  I say to the MITs, "Take the time to vent.  Keep O's door open.  Get it off of your chest."  We're constantly refereeing or building schedules or doing hair or making projects.  As a mom, we can never officially clock out, but we can certainly take much needed breaks so that we can actually enjoy being a mom.  We deserve it, as do our kids.

Always On 24/7,

Tuesday, August 10, 2010


Today is exceptional.  I can't stand my ex.  It burns me up that he can get to me, but such is life.  I know I need to chant more about this, because really and truly and honestly and bluntly and brutally - he's a piece of dog poo.  Not the fresh moist kind.  He's that dried up, been in the sun, turning gray and don't even stank no' mo' poo.  You could step in his kinda poo and never even know it, 'cause it fucking disintegrates and leaves no trace.  Hmmm,that's it. I shouldn't even see his ass.  He's invisible, only his nose is so big.  That, David Copperfield couldn't hide it.