Relate….

I’ a mother, can you relate?

A woman who juggles breakfast plates.

I’ve gained some pounds and I’m outta date.

To the mom’ out there can you relate

Been diagnosed with a motherhood rut

My hair is tangled and needs a cut

There are days I just don’ know what else to do

No blame to give to any of you

When I walk by and you seem full of hate

Ask yourself, can you relate?

A tireless job I have and love

But days I pray to the man above.

Give me the strength to do my best

Allow my body to heal and rest.

Be kind to me I need it indeed

Because being a mom is like planting a seed

No matter how I grow in size

I need the room to bloom and rise.

A journey of motherhood simply awaits

I hope for a garden of moms who relate.
 https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/relate/

 

 

Bliss is short for Blister of life

Bliss….it rhymes with so many things…miss, piss, kiss, hiss and dis….All of what seem to be the BLISS of mootherhood….

To mention each rhyming word, here we go.

Miss: I miss being able to laugh and sneeze with out pissing on myself, my body being my OWN. Eating meals, not left over day old food found between the seats of my car, going to the bathroom without having to be a hostage negotiator from the toilet, empty schedules and lazy days…and when my kids are gone I find I do the most missing then….well sometimes.

Piss: pissing alone, not on myself, not covered in kids piss or the smell of piss in my house full of boys, feeling pissed that I have hid my last soda and tiny humans found it and are slurping it right in front of me with a smug look of caffene bliss. But I find myself the most pissed when I complain about my children.

Kiss: being kissed by snotty nosed gremlins that are my offspring. Find lip marks on surfaces I cant fathom reasons why they are there, kissing my husband…..you know the long deep passionate hot and heavy kisses that are interrupted with CAN YOU WIPE ME MOM or the disgust that moms and dads kiss. But I find myself sad if they leave without giving me a kiss.

Hiss: since 2005 I have found that I sound like a fucking hissing snake, cat, alligator or honeybadger when my kids wont listen or fight non stopppppp. But there are times I make myself laugh so hard at how ridiculous I must look and sound when I use my motherly hiss…cage me already.

Dis: this right here usually is from other momsters trolling the park and playgrounds. The disrespect from other mom’s is so fucking insane…I know you pee on yourself, I know you have .mised a shower or two along the way…..we are the same fucking fabric…So because I haven’t jumped on the GLUTEN bandwagon don’ sit there with your fucking homemade granola bars shaped like festive items that go along with holidays themes. How bout this you swapsters in disguise,  how about we exchange that look of empathy, respect regardless of how I’m momming or your momming. Because I got you moms out there. I got your backs…you want me in your mom group cause I’ not being pushed about by NO one…when you need that ruthless, truth telling, no nonsense talking, sailor cussing ride or die mom….Im your sidekick..I have had to give a few cunt punts in my time and my aim is remarkable… But when you find a tribe of moms, or women who keep it real no matter what, you have struck GOLD.

This is my Bliss.

Because I’m a mom

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/bliss/

Right Foot Green

Today, I found myself at the local Macaroni Grill with my dearest least judgey being named Natalie. Natalie and I have been friends since 7th grade and it’s simply put we have been friends along long time….No reason to do the math.

Mimosas were 2.00 dollars and I told the humble Ryan to keep them coming and just keep my bubbly flowing… for Natalie was in for a lengthy and colorful update on my life over the last few months.

I may seem all over the place but bare with me and it will come full circle.

A great friend can sit across from you and hear all the fucks and cunt rash remarks flow from my mouth as if I were reading a bed time story, she could hear me…She saw me…the raw unedited version most get from me without casting a judgey eye, at all that exploded from my non motherly mouth. At this very moment I was just a woman, just a sailor cussing, bottomless mimosa drinking, 6000 calorie eating human. Free of the lanes that dictate a mom. I explained with laughs and even times my eyes were full of tears that I felt lost. A weather vein spinning from the relentless winds of life, motherhood, wife and all the other fillers that fuel the unkind wind that keeps me spinning in various directions to nowhere. At this moment her lips part and ask the question…am I having a midlife crisis? I fucking laughed then settled back and pondered….am I? At 34 fucking years old can this occur? Nahhh. I then simply said…I’m a twister board spinner…you know the game of twister? It’s as though this unknown force is spinning my twister board and it lands on fucking Right  foot green…What in life’s fuck does that even mean? I’m tangled in myself playing life’s game of twister……who will be the more tangled unbalanced person that falls first..me, motherhood or wife? As of this moment It’s unknown. But the spinner is about to spin once more and the pressure of being agile, flexible and moving the right limbs at just the right moment have me feeling that a tumble or straight fucking face plant is upon us. Left foot on yellow could bring the entire game to an end.

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/compass/

Cheeky

This week I have had the great pleasure of staying in the hospital. Hospitals are strict about the rules. In my bed my the view isnt amaizing but when I look up at the ceiling I can’t help but chuckle and smirk. They DO NOT WANT ME TO FALL. They have posted a sign on the ceiling tiles….and a. Camera is installed from the ceiling to ensure I call before I fall.

I’m pushing boundaries over here…I like to see how fast and far I can make it before the frenzy of white coats and RNs come racing after me. Lets say its 50/50…

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/cheeky/

A mom’s staycation

The most expensive staycation I have had in years… it may seem an odd time to be away from our children during their schooling. However we moved right along with the plan. Our home away from home was large, updated decor, friendly staff and for a moment it seemed Adults only….I was very wrong. It is an all inclusive resort. From the moment I stepped inside I was greeted with a smile, and  Welcome to Baylor SCott White & hospital. Upon arrival I was given 2 lovely braclets. Checking in seemed to go off without a hitch. I was quickly unrobed by 2 female nurses whom meant business. The cocktails consisted of IV fluids, anti nausea meds and pain meds..please note cocktails were included in my stay. Next I was was ubered via rolling bed to radiology to have pictures taken of my lungs….also included. Before long I found myself back in the original room waiting on that hooka of albuterol. Finally my room was ready.. our room was a premium room…im talking 3rd floor window view of A/C units… The room isn’t large but it does come with pajamas known as that ugly snapping moo moo and anti slip socks, adjustable bed, 50 thread sheet count. flat screen T.V., room service just one button away, meals served in bed and all the juice I want. This staycation may seem terrible to most. I see the value in this. Someone well many someones are taking care of me when Im sick. Iam the paitent and there is round the clock care for all my needs. When a hospital stay feels like vacation and you beg to keep you just one day longer….because at this moment I’m just the paitent. Not the cook, janitor,  errand runner, uber driver, hostage negotiator, tutor or problem solver. The 9000.00 dollar bill seems worth it to me.

Relocate

In 2005 I learned I would become a mother. With in an instant things began to relocate. Internally, organs moved to make way for this growing human. My bones relocated preparing for birth. My breasts grew and now sat just below my chin. My belly button once perfectly placed couldn’t be located….not by me anyways.  My smaller more fashionable clothes moved from everyday wear to the back of the closet likely to never be seen again. As my pregnancy went on everything surrounding me had to relocate to accommidate me. The last thing to relocate was my mind set. I lived for me, I did for me, it was all me. I found my new location on the corner of what the fuck is happening and I’ve never loved someone so much. The neighborhood of motherhood is where I planted my roots and invested everything I have to live there. Relocating was the craziest, most wild, life changing event Ive ever lived. But from where I stand the view is incredible.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/relocate/

Patina

Patina: also pronounced you-look-old-as-f*&$#.

I like to think my skin patina is ivory but the truth is Im splotchy. My face literally ombres. It’s certainly a uniqueness I have. My patina consists of day old mascara that rest just under my eyes. Like barnacles attached to a sea animal. The day old foundation has worn away from the places I touch my face when I display disatisfaction….so almost my entire face. A fine shadow of color is left appearing as purposefully placed lip liner, dont be fooled it too is day old lipstick hanging on to my face for dear life. As you move down to my shoulders my hair is left on my shirt like loose Christmas tinsle only to be highlighted by the deodorant on my shirt….my clothes a wrinkled in great fashion my socks look like mismatched handles…functional yes but appearances leave questions lingering.  Who has cared for this woman? Where has this piece of a women journeyed to? What does her patina say about her value to the ones who have had her all these years? Well my patina is worn because I’m loved and love so much. My skin, hair and clothes show the voyage I’ve weathered and stood the test of motherhood. I may not be a looker but I’m strong and sturdy, I have stood this test of time.

/https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/patina/

The who, The what, The why

Who am I, seems to be the scariest question and quite frankly the question the most difficult to explain just using WORDS. Explaining me needs a comic strip. Im full of passion and it can creep out of every pore of my body at the worst times. For example…being around other mom’s who take everything to serious….passion usually erupts from my large loud mouth while my face contorts itself into a look that will rattle souls. It mostly comes from a good place. Im relentless, this quality tends to draw the line in the sand for most people. It’ never awwww I think I like that Kathryn lady….nahh. It’s you like me or you undoubtedly DON’T.  I use cuss words as commas I do me. I say what I want exactly when I want and to whom I want. I’m a bit of a relationship arsonist.  I can burn bridges faster than a momster can get all judgey.  Im’ handed out truths like a kidnapper with candy.. Im a mom and wife and my life is crazy and messy but it is mine.

What I write is how life as a mom plays out in my mind. There are days I view it as a well written blockbuster movie and days it seems like a tragic event. What my fingers type is my truth, it is me finding a way to help see humor in being a mom.

The why….is truly because if it isnt documented from my vantage point I lose the ability to capture motherhood at it’s most vulnerable, disgusting, embarrassing, life altering and moral changing moments. I once thought I’d never allow my children to eat food off the floor…these were values I was sticking to…until number 2 came and I watched my parenting style, values, and compass all change. Why I blog about being this mom I am is hopefully there is a mom out there who is struggling and can read this and see we all do it differently and I accept you for you as long as you own it.

Daily Prompt: Tenterhooks

I admit that the word tenterhook left me puzzled. Google I did and I read many definitions to this word. I absorbed the word and thought how in the hell can I blog on this 18th century contraption. It was about 15 minutes later as I got…I mean fought my children to bathe and ready themselves for bed that it dawned on me. I am emotionally and physically submerged in motherhood. By the end of my day I’m drenched with doubt, worry, chores that have no end, dishes, laundry and the 6000 other things that need to be done by 6am. My family stretches me out and attaches me to our family tenterhook, to dry me out and be ready to pull me from my drying state just to have my emotional and physical fabric for the upcoming day. I’ve been submerged, stretched and dried so often that my edges are fraying. Modern advancements have rid the world almost completely of tenterhook however it still feels very relative to my life.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/tenterhooks/

 

Battle Cry

Source: Battle Cry