• Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 1 other follower

  • July 2018
    M T W T F S S
    « May    
  • Advertisements

I’m not a mommy-blogger

But I am a mom who blogs.  Can there be a difference?  I think so, I really do.

I admit it, a huge portion of my time is taken up by my kids.  They don’t just take up my time, either, they take up a huge portion of my heart.  They suck my energy and give it back to me in the millions of little things they do each day to make me smile.  Watching my kids sleep is one of the top ten best things I can do, and just hearing one of them giggle lifts the weight of the day from my shoulders.

All of that said, there is more to me than ‘Mom’.  (Mama, Mom, Mommy)  Yes, I am a wife too, but that is only for my husband.  An audience of one.

So when I see articles, blogs, or online communities devoted to mommy-bloggers, I don’t quite feel I belong.  I don’t mean to say that I’ll never post about my kids.  I just don’t plan for them to be the main attraction.  They are the main attraction in most other parts of my life.  This part, the writing part, is mine to keep to myself.  It’s the selfish part of me that wants to create in ways that are unrelated to anyone else.

Please don’t get me wrong! I am not implying that I dislike mommy-blogs.  I don’t. I read and subscribe to plenty of them.  It’s just not what I’m here to do.

So if I say ‘fuck’ or talk about what a douchebag the driver in front of me was yesterday, please don’t let that blow your perception of me as a mom.  That’s not all I am.  I swear, I occasionally have a beer or a glass of wine, or even a whiskey on the rocks.  I listen to inappropriate music with even more inappropriate lyrics.  I love the song “Crazy Bitch” by Buckcherry.  I used to smoke pot and think it’s stupid that it’s now illegal.  (I also fully disclose that every time I have to submit an application for any sort of security clearance. )

I don’t have it all together, I’m not perfect and my house isn’t always tidy.  Laundry often gets done twice because I forget that it’s in the washer and it gets that nasty, musty smell after it’s been in there for a day.  Sometimes I take the shortcut ways to make dinner, and I miss my husband (who is in Afghanistan now) because he is the cook in the family.  I enjoy cooking when I feel like it, but I hate having to do it every day.  Sometimes, I want to eat garlic bread for dinner.

While I’m sure I’ll post about my kids now and then, that’s not what this blog is about.  There is more to me than the other people in my life.  I’m finally starting to figure some of that out, and that is why I want to write here.


One more thing

I really hate when other people at work start singing at their desk.  Thank L. Ron for the iPod.  I do not need to hear somebody else sing out of tune.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some 4-Non-Blondes to listen to…

Maybe I should just post it.

So I’ve avoided posting for a while because all I’ve had to comment on was bitchy.  But then I thought, well, maybe I should just post it.  I mean, really, it’s not like I can hide this side of me forever.  I can’t totally avoid nasty comments, if anyone ever decides to read my blog.  So I might as well just put it all out there.

So I’m going to bitch a little.

First of all, I hate traveling by plane with my kids.  Let there be no mistake, I absolutely adore my children.  They make my days.  I can’t wait to see them at the end of a long day at work, and they make me smile all the time.  But traveling with them isn’t easy and being alone and traveling with them sucks.  My husband is in Afghanistan now, and this past weekend I visited my folks in Indianapolis.  It was just me and the kids. (ages 4 and 16 months)  Because I’m tired of paying stupid fees, I decided against checking my bag.  After all, we were only staying one night, so I might as well just go ahead and carry it on.  So there I was, pushing my daughter in her stroller, with two bags in the basket underneath, pulling my small-ish suitcase behind me, carrying a Vera Bradley bag on my shoulder, and constantly checking to be sure my son was keeping up.  (my son, who also carried twice his weight on his back in the form of a small backpack filled with Matchbox cars)

Doing all of this alone is exhausting.  Dealing with bitchy people on the way makes it suck so much worse.  The lady who was off in la-la-land, ignoring the line and then finally cutting me off at the last-minute, decided to give me attitude when I took longer than 30 seconds to move my bin with our shoes in it.  The security people at the airport in Indy were incredibly rude, which surprised me because customer service in Indianapolis is fantastic.  The guy looking at our passports was an asshole, and had the balls to yell at my son, who did nothing wrong, to tell him to stay with me.  My son hadn’t wandered off.  He had simply turned to look at something and I had to get his attention to let him know we were moving forward in the line.  It took all of 5 seconds and this douchebag goes and yells at him.  Nice.  Feels good to bully a 4-year-old, doesn’t it?

Both my kids wear medical bracelets.  The lady at the x-ray tells me they should take them off because it’ll set off the alarm.  I tell her that in the past 4 years they have never set off an alarm.  Her response sounds similar to a teenager answering their ‘idiot’ parent.  My children go through, medical bracelets still on, without a single alarm going off.  Natch.

I’m grateful to the people on the plane, both to and from Indy.  Everyone was kind and nobody gave me the nasty looks I’ve come to expect when people see I have little children with me.   Both kids were well-behaved and nobody screamed, so I think the kindness was well deserved.

So, yeah, back to the bitching.  I get irritated when people don’t seem to pay attention to what the hell I’m saying.  Especially when it’s clear that everyone else in the conversation ‘gets it’.  When I say, over and over, that I wish Ken’s made their Golden Italian dressing in bottles so I could get it at the grocery store, that does not mean I want to order the individual packets in bulk.  In fact, I have mentioned at least a dozen times that I have found plenty of places where I could order individual packets if I so desired.  But that isn’t my beef.  I want a bottle of the stuff.  I’m not angry that I can’t get it, just disappointed.  But don’t try to then show me all the ways I can get the packets and then act like you were doing me a favor when I tell you I’m not interested.

One last thing, and then I’ll shut up.  At this point I realize that I’m rambling.  I think it’s sad when you find that one of the writers you look up to is kind of a  jerk.  It obviously doesn’t detract from their writing ability or anything, but it certainly changes the way I read them.  Today that happened to me.  I just hit the point where I went ‘really?  Are you that shallow?’   It was disappointing and discouraging.

On a non-bitchy note, soon I’ll be reviewing the upcoming book “My Fair Lazy” by Jen Lancaster.  I can’t wait, and that is nothing to be bitchy about.



I have completely sucked on my update duties today.  I blame most of it on being sick and some of it on not reading as much as I wanted.  What I did wrong was choose a book that was sort of hard to get through to start with.  Not that it was boring or dry or anything.  I’m reading The Unforgiving Minute: A Soldier’s Education by Craig M. Mullaney.  It’s a well-written account of this man’s passage from boyhood as a West Point plebe to adulthood as an Army Ranger who became a Captain and led troops in Afghanistan.

The problem is, the subject matter is heavy.  I keep reading and re-reading passages.  Every so often I’ll refer to the pictures in the middle of the book.  They’re pictures of when he was in West Point, pictures of friends, pictures of his wedding, etc.  This baby-faced ‘kid’ is a grown adult who led others into battle.  As I was reading one section about his experience with Ranger training, I tried to imagine this rather thin guy putting his own dislocated shoulder back into place.  I admit I’m having a difficult time with this.  He just doesn’t seem to be the tough type.  Even so, I have no reason to doubt even a single sentence that he’s written.  He has been nothing if not forthright.  Tough does not begin to describe him.  Unrelenting is more like it.

It’s an excellent book and a good read.  Just not something you can easily plow through during a 24-hour read-a-thon.

I’m going to take a break now and try something a little shorter and more light-hearted.  Possibly “Why We Suck” by Dennis Leary.

My life as somebody else…

Coming soon…

Gearing up for the Read-a-Thon

In a week and a half (give or take) I will be participating in Dewey’s Read-a-Thon.


If luck is with me, I’ll have a full day of uninterrupted reading.  If luck is not with me, the reading will be punctuated by cries, laughter, and requests for snacks from my children.  Either way, I’m ready.  I have stacks of books to read and I am already doing a reading challenge I found on some other site (I’d link to it, but I don’t remember where I saw it or when.)   The challenge there is to read 50 books in a year.

When I decided to make that a personal challenge of my own, I figured it would be a piece of  cake.  After all, I read constantly and I can go through as many as 10 books in a week, depending on what I’m reading and how much time I have.

It never occurred to me that 50 books in a year would be difficult.  Yet here I am, already past the midpoint, still only 22 books into the challenge.  I have until the end of July.

The read-a-thon seemed like the perfect opportunity for me to get caught up.  It’s also a great chance for me to make my move here in doing book reviews.  It’s something I have been wanting to do but wasn’t sure how to segue into it.

So check back here on April 10th, as I review book after book in a 24-hour reading frenzy.   I’ll either have some really great stuff to bring to the conversation, or I’ll be wondering why I thought a read-a-thon would be a fun thing to do.

Dewey's Read-a-Thon

Guilty Pleasures

Ok, in my opinion, my pleasures should not be considered guilty.   In my mind, everything I love is worthy and I love it with abandon.  Yet, there are indulgences of mine that I really don’t like to shout out to the world.  That is, until now.

Why now? I need something to kick off my new blog location, don’t I?  I’m also hoping other people will find their way to my blog and comment on their guilty pleasures as well.

Hey, if we all have them, how guilty can they be, right?

So let me just give you my top ten, for starters.  If I can think of more, or at least more embarrassing ones, I’ll post them.

1. Cartoons. Seems simple enough, right?  Everyone has a little kid inside them (except my mom, I think she was 30 at birth.)  But I like a ridiculous amount of cartoons.  Old ones like Pink Panther are always good.  I love Tom and Jerry.  I also love Scooby Doo, and Casper the Friendly Ghost.  Now here I go into ‘kind of weird’ territory.  I love a lot of Nickelodeon cartoons.  The Little Prince? I’m there.  Rugrats?  There too.  Doug (it was on Nickelodeon first), Rocko’s Modern Life, Ahhh! Real Monsters, Dangermouse, Bananaman!, and many more from my young adult years.

So where does the totally embarrassingly humiliating come in? I like Wow, Wow, Wubzy.  It’s true. I will actually ask my 4-year-old if we can watch it instead of something more educational, like Little Einstein’s, for example.  I think Miss Spider’s Sunnypatch Friends is a close runner-up.

Maybe I need a 12-step program.

2. “-itos” – No really, let me explain.  Just about any food ending in ‘ito’ has my immediate attention.  It will probably end with me licking my fingers and will almost always end with regret.  I never feel good after eating them.  They certainly aren’t good for the waistline that I’m trying to destroy.  But how can you say no to the crunchy, orangey, fake cheesey goodness of a Cheeto? (ok, so it ends in ‘eeto’, sue me)

3. Ed Hardy shoes. Most of my friends have agreed that Ed Hardy clothes are for douchebags.  I have to admit that seeing a grown man in Ed Hardy attire head-to-toe looks a tad absurd.  But I totally love Ed Hardy shoes!  The cute Koi ones, the cheezball ones with the skulls, all of them.  Every time I look at them on Zappos.com I have to scroll on by quickly, before I’m tempted to add them to my cart.

4. Teen/tween ‘parfume’. That’s right, I said it…parfume.  Not the real perfume that I love to buy in department stores or Sephora.  Not the stuff that costs  more than a week’s groceries.  I’m talking Love’s Baby Soft, Exclamation, Cody Musk!  Yeah, baby, you know what I’m talking about.  Tween/teen summer nights at the carnival.  I have them, but I don’t wear them.  I’d feel ridiculous, but I can’t bring myself to throw them away either.

5. Popular music. Well somebody has to admit to liking it!  I listen to DC101.  I like it.  I like a lot of the new songs that come out.  I like the popular ones.  Want to know a secret?  I often buy CDs just to listen to one or two songs.  I’ll just hit repeat or skip and won’t even try the rest of the album.  Oh yeah, I’ll do it!

6. Macaroni and Cheese in the blue box. It doesn’t resemble real, homemade mac and cheese by a mile.  It is loaded with preservatives and crap.  There’s even a Crayola crayon that is actually called Macaroni and Cheese because of its bright fluorescent-like orange color.  But I love it.  You know what I love it with?  What does every pre-schooler like it with?  Hot dogs.  Mmmm-hmmm

7. V.C. Andrews novels. They’re horribly written and all of them have the same basic plot.  There’s incest and/or rape.  A young girl has her family ripped apart by some tragedy and all her dreams are shattered.  They start to put their life back together, in spite of the horrible life they are now living, and then the rug gets pulled from under them again.  Over and over, ad nauseum.  I have to read the entire Dollanganger series at least once every couple of years. (For those of you not in the V.C. Andrews know, those are the books from which the movie Flowers in the Attic was made.)

8. Candy. Iiiiii like candy. (pause for a hand-jive)  Iiiiii like candy.  I really do.  All kinds and not in large quantities, but I love it.  I love looking at it, buying it, and of course eating it.  Although the eating part is not as important as the buying and having of it.  I enjoy candy in small doses as far as consuming goes.  But at any given time you can find at least 5-10 kinds of candy in my house.

9. Hello Kitty. I almost didn’t mention her since I’ve posted about her before.  But how can I leave her out?  Hello Kitty was way popular when I was a kid, then the craze died down.  Thinking it was long dead, I suddenly started seeing the pink-obsessed kitty in stores.  Candy stores, toy stores, Asian grocery stores, and online.  I have promised my husband not to turn our house into a pink nightmare of Kitty crap while he’s in Afghanistan.  I never had to make any such promises about my cubicle at work, though…

10. Not the worst, not the best… I love video games. I love science fiction.  Yes, I am a geek.  I love geeky things.  I think most of the stuff at thinkgeek.com is awesome and I wish I could get a job at perpetualkid.com  The Ender series of books (Orson Scott Card) is quite possibly my source of philosophy in life.  When people ask “Star Wars or Star Trek?” I say both!  (but only the evenly numbered Star Treks, thank you)

So there it is, laid out for all to see.  Love me, laugh at me, hate me.  It’s just my opinion after all…