Eleven Nonhuman Things I Want to Marry

My brain. Arrrrrgh (I’m half pirate by the way), it wanders all the time. I seriously have conversations with myself all day long. I constantly compile lists in my head of just stupid, unimportant, ridiculous things. Like this list that includes 11 nonhuman things I want to marry. Really though, the list should be called: Eleven Nonhuman things I want to marry or have sex with, not sure which. Love and sex are the same right? I don’t know, but I love the poo out of all these things and I need them to love me in some capacity. All these things are probably so bothered by my adoration, but at the same time I feel like they’re singing, “If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it,” because secretly they love me too. However, I doubt they sing that. Instead, they are probably a little bothered by my borderline obsessive Jodi Arias behavior. Why am I assigning these inanimate objects human behaviors? I’m pretty sure that’s called something in the literary world where real-life writers write all proper and junk. But, I digress. Here’s my list:

Eleven Nonhuman Things I want to Marry

1. Deftones. Not the people in the band. The actual music. Makes me all hot and heavy. Come on scientists. Manifest my music into a real-life person.

2. Buzzfeed. If I could marry a website, it’d be Buzzfeed. I want to wake up, glance over and see their lists lying on the pillow next to me each morning. *sigh*

3. Pizza. Pizza is so darn delicious, I want it all the time. It makes me drool like a teething infant. Not even Brad Pitt can do that for me.

4. Toms. The shoes Jesus would wear in the winter. They keep my toes all cozy and stuff. Love them. The best thing is if I did marry my Toms, it wouldn’t be awkward talking about my “husband,” as I refer to him as Tom and no one would be any wiser.



See! I even wear Toms Wedges!



5.  Chocolate chip cookies from 7-11. Seriously, those things are the biz. I’d have like 20 chocolate chip babies with those damn cookies. If it were legal, I’d marry that mofo.



6. Target. Curse you Target with your deceptive ways of making me want more of you. It’s as though we really are married and you keep taking my money, but I can’t help but give it to you. Like a French whore, you are so seductive Target.

7. Home Goods. Add another store to the list of non-human things I’d marry. I could spend hours all up inside that bitch. Mmmmm… Oh wait, got a little wrapped up in my fantasy. Still, I’d marry Home Goods.



He like reads my mind

8.  Grumpy Cat. While I feel like I’m already married to Grumpy Cat in human form, I would still marry him (which I believe is actually a her, so does this make me a lesbian?). She’d surely knock me off my high horse and keep it real with me.

9. BB Cream. Oh how I love thee, making my face blemish free. I’m pretty sure I’m Zoe Saldana’s doppelganger when I use my BB Cream. I want to effing marry it!

Identical me when I have my BB Cream

10. My American Eagle jeans. I’ve been with this particular pair of jeans for about 8 years or so. They still make me feel so youthful and thin. Bonus: They always caress me in just the right spot. Such commitment and devotion really deserves an expensive-over-the-top-my-big-fat-gypsy-wedding ceremony to honor the love I feel for those jeans.



11. Dr. Pepper. I mean duh…He’s a DOCTOR for goodness sake! I’d pay off his student loans like it was my fucking job. He’s so tasty, I want to marry him!

What would you add to the list? Tell me in comments!

The Void

Christal has been struggling to write. Her funny is broken and she attempts to explain it in this Mother's Day-esque post.

When I became a mother eight years ago, I really thought it was the answer to many problems. Although I didn't get pregnant to resolve these problems, I truly felt it would make me better. It was as if I would become the person I was always meant to be. Happy.

At 15, I remember lying in my bed thinking of ways to kill myself. Nothing traumatic happened in my life. I was just done. I felt listless and alone. Life really had little meaning to me. Life was so hard for no reason. The reward was nowhere to be found.

This diminished eventually. I became an average teenager who played sports, went to school dances and class parties. I had a boyfriend and lots of friends. Still, I felt alone and empty. I'd learned to stuff down this feeling of inexplicable despair. I became the perfect child. Instead of turning to sex or drugs, I threw myself into being the model child. Distraction.

I graduated high school and joined the Navy a year later. Here is where I self-medicated in a negative manner. I drank a ton of booze and let boys tell me they loved me. The ever present void sat quietly, waiting for me to acknowledge it. Booze flowed. Boys remained. Distraction.

Fast-forward a bit and I married a distraction. Four years later I brought Real Boy (RB) into this world. It was pretty damn amazing. I gave birth to a perfect boy with so much hope! I told that void to, "Suck it. I'm happy damn it!" But the abyss remained, screaming at me for attention.

I was okay. At least on the surface I was. I went through the motions of mothering a little baby. I held him tight. I sang to him. I tended to him like any mother would. However, I only did because that's what you're supposed to do. While I loved that little man, I just didn't really feel him. I continued to push forward and give RB my best. Distraction.

I divorced my first husband and began my relationship with Real Husband when RB was two. While he was a distraction, it was one of a different sort. I finally met someone with a void. A person who truly understood how I felt. Our emptiness seemed to cancel the others' out. We were absolutely happy. We worked on our respective selves and nurtured our relationship. We decided to have a baby and along came Real Girl.

That girl was the perfect girl. She was an easy baby. I mothered again. It was better this time around. I suffered from mild postpartum depression (PPD), but recognized it and it subsided with treatment. PPD was very different from the void I held inside me. With PPD I was sad, but with the void I was emotionless. Despite the small bout with PPD, we lived in a wonderful world. The sky seemed bluer, the grass greener and the sun brighter. The emptiness wasn't nagging me to join its misery. It must've been hibernating.

About a 18 months ago, I was at work sitting at my desk. Nothing of any particular interest was happening. I was just sitting there and something inside me said, "You're life isn't as good as it seems. Look deeper." Don't worry, I didn't literally hear a voice. It was merely a feeling. I knew it was the void, back with an attempt to lure me in. Again, I tried to distract myself. I went into mommy and wife overdrive. I fought to ignore my feelings of uncontrollable emptiness by cooking and cleaning more. It worked for a bit.

Then, external forces pushed me over the edge of maintaining a sense of normalcy. I gave into the void and sat there basking in its warmth. While dark, it was comfortable. It was where I was supposed to be. I gave up functioning. I did the bare minimum for the kids. My work suffered. Writing almost stopped and all prior obligations were ignored. I yelled a lot and I sat on my ass a ton. I didn't cry. I just sat. Waiting?

The kids began to suffer for it. I know I was supposed to feel bad, but I didn't really care. Everything I did, I did because I had to. I didn't want anything except to be alone and in the dark.

I'm still there. However, I realize a mother cannot sit in the dark waiting for life to just be over. She has to care. She has to get off her ass and make the change. Slowly it's changing. Ever so slowly I'm trying to get my mojo back. If there is one thing I know it's this: Children deserve a present mother.  No more distractions. No more excuses.

On the outside, we're picture perfect.

One More Month

I only have one more month of joy. One more month to revel in happiness. Thirty more days knowing innocence truly exists. The day is coming when I must realize babies do in fact grow up. Yes, Real Girl (RG) turns five. No more infants, toddlers or preschoolers in my house.

I must admit, this gives me a major case of the sads. As a young girl, I never pictured myself as a family woman. I didn’t grow up dreaming about a beautiful, white wedding with the man of my dreams. I surely did not wonder what life would like with my own baby, so imagine my surprise when I fell madly love with those two hellraisers I gave birth to.

Now that I have children and I couldn’t imagine my life without them. All these thoughts were born out of a simple, trivial event in my life. I registered RG for Kindergarten recently. I didn’t think I’d be as sullen while filling out those registration forms. I felt as though I was signing away my right to live. Then, it hit me full force.

Baby fucking fever. Real Husband and I are happy with our family of four. Not to mention the more secure financial future we see without having a child in full-time childcare. Yet, I cannot shake this feeling of emptiness knowing I will not have another baby in my home. No more tiny hands and squishy knees to kiss and adore.

This folks is madness at its finest. Knowing something you want, but resisting the urge to cave and pursue it. You obsess over it. Envision it. Dream it. Yearn for it. Then reality comes swooping in and you have to push the thought to the back of your mind and settle for the life you have. I think I’ve come to terms with not having another baby, but it doesn’t stop me from throwing myself on the ground and yelling, “No,” over and over again while kicking and screaming. (At least in my head that happens.)

The official Real Big Kids

I am lucky to have the family I have. Of course many times I want to just throw in the towel and run away screaming. However, the beautiful children I have and the husband who admires my ever sagging rear-end keep reeling me back in. All I wanted in life was to not let myself be ruled by my emotions. It’s much easier that way. Nonetheless, I cannot get away from these people and the emotions they ignite in my soul feel so good, it literally hurts.

As I watch my family grow I wonder how much more my heart can take before I just explode. I cannot believe I have two big kids. Two children who will continue to grow and rebel and love and scream and fight. Little people who will never know how much I love them until they have children of their own.

One more month. No more babies. Two big kids. Life is good.

Who came first? The mother or the babe?

Giuliana Rancic of E! television fame made a controversial statement in a recent interview. She claimed her marriage came before her child. I can understand that. Every one's agenda is penned with different ink, priorities arranged in varying order. Well, I'm here to tell you I must be the devil because neither my children nor my marriage come first.

In my home, I come first. I do not put my children's needs before my own. Similarly, I do not put Real Husband's (RH) needs ahead of mine. I pushed those babies out of my lady cave and supported that guy to chase his dream. I am putting myself first.

Of course I clean, cook, mother and dole out obligatory sex. However, I only do these things so that I can do what I need to do for me. It's no secret I love myself. I mean I have to. I am stuck with myself all day everyday. Why wouldn't I put myself above everything else? I refuse to sacrifice drinks with my friends or a cute new pair of shoes for the people in my house who drain the life out of me.

I know children are hard work and take all the energy you have. Especially infants. Marriages are always tough and it's hard to nurture the love. Yet, I refuse to give them every single part of me. I have never gone without taking a shower because my babes needed something. I have never told RH I will miss my pedicure because he's busy with an arbitrary task.

That last little bit of myself I hold onto is my sanity. I have touched lightly on my struggle with post-partum depression. Prior to PPD, I had many bouts of regular, plain ol' boring depression. Still, I sit with an ever lingering cloud of depression over my head. This is why I come first.

It is impossible to put anyone or anything above yourself. Now, I'm not encouraging willful child neglect. Rather, I just want to remind all of you out there nothing should come before you. You are all you've got.

Extremist Moms Ruin it for the Rest of Us

A week ago, I shared the Facebook page Sanctimommy over on my Real Housewife of Santee Facebook page. The page is satire at its finest and it really is what I needed in my life. It pokes fun at the ridiculous nature of mothers who offer unsolicited advice and employ holier-than-thou parenting techniques. For the most part, the page share was met with open arms and many gigglesnorts. There were a few ninnies who could not understand the satire and the brilliance was lost in translation.

In my short eight years of parenting, I have encountered the extremist mothers portrayed on the page who advocate for awareness concerning parenting issues. These are the mothers we read about in the newspapers who hold nurse-ins when they felt wronged for nursing in public. These women are the ones who yell about vaccines and the damage they do to our children. They are the moms who feel if for one second you do not tend to the tiniest need of a child, you have failed your child.

I recently read a comment from a parent on Facebook discussing circumcision. Here, the parent shared a story about an experience with a coworker who was pregnant with a baby boy. Here is the unedited, lengthy story:

"i'd like to share a conversation that just took place about 10 minutes ago... between me and an old coworker, who is expecting her second baby boy today... i sent her a plethora of information and links and positive reinforcement... this is what happened: 

HER: Look I've tried to be nice about this, but I'm almost to the point where we are about to not be friends on fb anymore. Everyone has their right to their own opinions and I have mine and you have yours, which is fine, but I would appreciate if you did not force yours on me. You've sent me plenty of information on the topic, and I've told you we have made our minds up and our son will be circumcised. So please just let it be.

ME: i'm not trying to force my opinion on you, i am only trying to help you be aware of the FACTS, because no one else obviously has... and it's alright, i don't think i can be friends with someone who remains willfully ignorant on such a serious issue... i sincerely hope your son forgives you the day he realizes what you took from him

 HER: That's fine, plenty of men in his country are circumcised, s*** is and he doesn't hate his mother bc of it, every man and boy in my family is and has never said a word about being upset or harmed by it. So yeah delete me that's fine, idc but if your going to stay my friend them please leave me alone about the topic bc your not going to change my mind. 

ME: this is the ONLY COUNTRY where plenty of men are circumcised... your son will be in the minority now, because people are coming to their senses because 90% of the ENTIRE WORLD are not circumcised... and over 65% will be intact by the time your boy is in school 

HER: We have a great doctor who was recommended by my ob to do it and I have faith that everything wil be fine, just as my older son's was. Somethings are not for everyone, and you shouldn't discriminate against me bc of my freedom of choice. 

ME: his body is not your choice, just because he is your son, you do not own his penis... doctors make money off cutting over 20,000 nerve endings off of your precious baby 

HER: Please mind our own business bc my sons penis is not yours and I do know that. 

ME: i'll never stop advocating for those who can't stick up for themselves 

HER: Kay thanks for your time. 

:'("

What continuously fascinates me about these mothers, is their inability to recognize the disservice they are doing to their cause. What did this person want to gain from this? This parent passed on information to an expectant mother. At that point, it was up to the new mom to either accept or dismiss the advice. Mission complete. There is nothing gained from taking such an extreme, pushy stance when talking to others. All this does is alienate people from your cause and make them develop disdain towards the parenting issue you're passionate about.You did your due diligence, now move on.

 

I am a woman before anything else in my life, and as a woman I feel it is my duty to help normalize practices such as extended breastfeeding. I want people to know and accept cosleeping as a normal thing. I want women to have to choice to homeschool or unschool. Babywearing? Let's make it a societal norm.

Also as a woman, I did not practice any of the aforementioned parenting methods. Why? I just didn't want to really. It was not because I wasn't educated or informed. I simply did not do it. Nor do I think women who practice these things are kooky idiots. I want everyone to do what they want to do. Simple as that. The unsolicited advice and rude comments don't just come from mothers who choose a more attachment method of parenting.

If I analyze the other side of parenting, the side where mothers work outside the home, bottlefeed, serve nonorganic food, or practice crying it out, the same extremists exist as well. These are the mothers who say, "Your child will never learn to soothe himself if you allow him to nurse every time he needs something," or "What could you be busy with? You're home all day."

You see, this type of Sanctimommy behavior is no different than the first type of Sanctimommy. Opinions are still served with a nice warm glass of pretentious snark from mothers who implement a more structured parenting method. It is rude and often unwarranted. The comments of the extremist structured mother belittle those who choose differently.

I'm not denying my own role as Sanctimommy. I'm certain I've said or done things that come off as rude or pretentious. I also don't think all mothers who voice their opinions are ill-mannered half-wits. At times, we forget our audience and spout off. Regardless, it is important to recognize who we are as mothers and how we want to shape the world of mothering in America.

There is a happy medium when it comes to parenting and sharing information with fellow mothers. I have also visited many websites and blogs that meet that medium and inspire me to be a better parent. One of these women is Gina, The Feminist Breeder. I respect her because she is able to share her experience as a home-birther and extended breastfeeder with decorum and no snootiness. She informs women without putting down alternate choices. This is where we need to be as women. Raising awareness, while respecting other mothers' choices.

The only way we can advance as women, is to support choice for all mothers. When another mother comes to you asking for advice, offer advice with abandon. Otherwise, keep your knowledge to yourself  so you don't become a Sanctimommy.