So I bought a bible today. I am just as shocked as you are.

Lately I have been feeling like I want to do better and be better. After trying numerous shades of hair color, gaining and losing the same 10 pounds, trying the whole denim skirt with boots look, I decided “Hmm, perhaps this feeling goes deeper than vanity?”

I figured, oh, I know, what about God. HE can help me do better and be better. But, I really do not know him. I mean I know him, I believe in him, but I do not know him (Other than the fact that he sent his only kid to die for us, which is a pretty big deal.) But I also want to know things like, where did he come from, who his parents are, his likes and dislikes, his enemies (yes Satan, I am talking to you!) I mean I know all about my friends, in some cases I know all about their family, I figured I need to get to know God in the same way, right?

Joyce Meyer has this challenge thing going on starting March 1. I forget the name. It’s like 30/30 (or something like that)  the premise is for 30 days you spend 30 minutes studying Gods word, and in return, that is how you will get to know him better. Holla! So now I am on to something. However in order for me to study God’s word, I need to have said word. Over the years, the few bibles I have had have somehow disappeared. Much the same way socks do in the wash.

That is how I found myself in the Christian bookstore today. I narrowed it down to two bibles. The first one was a pretty soft cover bible called “The Everyday Women’s Bible” and the second was “The Busy Moms Bible.” Believe it or not I picked the first. I figured I can’t take any shortcuts if I am trying to do better and be better. I mean yeah, I am busy, but who isn’t? Anytime anyone makes anything for “busy moms” you know there is a shortcut or two in there.

Then, I strolled over to the music section of the store. A song had just finished playing on the overhead radio that I knew and liked, and there is no harm in looking, so yeah, I also bought a cd. I am not just saying this because I am trying to do better and be better, but the Matt Maher cd is pretty damn good. I think it is called “And all the People Said Amen.” It’s a live cd, I was surprised to find out I knew quite a few songs on there, and, well it’s just good!

So I make my way to the counter with my brand new bible and cd, I am feeling good, I am feeling this is right, and even though I know I should be sticking to a strict budget, I was okay with this purchase. As the cashier was ringing me up she was telling me how Toby Mac was here in town last week for a concert and this Matt Maher guy was the opening act, and he was the only reason she went to the concert to see Matt. Then somehow she started talking about how she owes money on her taxes and will wait till the very last minute to file, then she apologized to me for talking bad about the IRS and yeah….she was nice.

Now it’s time for me to go pick up the girls from school, and I am determined for them to like the new Matt Maher cd. Because if I am trying to do better and be better then so do the kids, and I am sick of them listening to Justin Bieber and Kesha all freakin day long, so yeah, new music.

I showed Gracie the cd cover, she read “And All the People Said Amen” and I was trying to be so excited with “Good job Gracie, nice reading, now do you want to hear the song you just read me?” I played them the song while driving, only singing the chorus because that’s all I knew, and I am so into it, I am totally feeling it and thinking “Wow, this must be what going to church feels like” I am motivated, driving, clapping, new bible sitting next to me in the passenger seat, “And all he people said Amen” I take a quick look at the girls in the rear view mirror and they are making funny faces at me.

Whatever. Rome was not built in a day.

Baby steps.

But you better believe they will be listening to that cd on the way to school tomorrow.

I am not really sure where exactly I should start reading in the bible. I will probably just wait till March 1 and read what Joyce tells us to, but I am so excited, because, I did buy a bible today!

 

I have not been blogging in awhile because I felt I had nothing important to blog about. Oh sure, there are my crazy kid stories, the crazy cat stories, my never ending quest to lose weight, but nothing that I felt other readers would actually want to read about it. Then, it just hit me. Who cares if I have nothing to say? Who cares if my blogs are just my ramblings, who really cares? I just need to show up. Because whether it is this blog, or a possible memoir type of book, I feel in my heart of hearts that writing is what I am suppose to be doing. So, I just made the choice to show up. Here I am, showing up. That’s always the first step, right?

My husband is the first one to leave the house every morning. He is kinda lucky that way. Joe misses out on the 30 minutes it takes me to wake up Sofia. He misses out on the girls arguing over what kind of cereal they want for breakfast, which color tights they get to wear to school. He misses out on Vinnie always running 15 minutes late, no matter how many times I warn him “this better not happen again.” Joe misses out on the craziness of the start of our day. Kinda jealous.

Joe is a person of routine. The alarm clock goes off, he sleeps for 15 additional minutes, jumps right out of bed, shower, dresses, takes about 10 minutes to find the car keys and he is out of here. As soon as he gets out of bed, he is already in “work mode.”

Joe also has gout. So there are many morning when he does all of the above with a limp. I do not understand his stubbornness to not go to a doctor, but it is what it is. Therefore, I decided to take matters into my own hand, do some googling for natural remedies for gout (because you know just as well as I do, everything on the internet is truth!) and found that pineapple juice is suppose to help. I have no idea the why or how of it, I just know it is suppose to help.

Every morning I have a small can of pineapple juice waiting for him. I am sure he thinks I am nuts, because the fact that he still has flare ups should be my clue that the pineapple juice is not working, but still, I am stubborn that way…….and kind of nuts.

Because if the day comes and I am not here anymore, I want him to remember the pineapple juice. I want him to remember that every morning without fail I left it out for him, hoping that it will help him and every morning without fail he took it, knowing damn well it would not do any good, but he took it for me, to make me feel better. I mean that’s kinda what you do in a marriage, right?

So yeah, I want to be remembered for pineapple juice.

Talk about my blogs rambling! The important thing is I showed up!

The kids go back to school this coming Wednesday. I am counting down the days. Heck, I am counting down the hours. It has been a long summer. Productive, but long.

So I had all three kids in the store today to finish up the last of school shopping.  Re read that sentence. ALL THREE kids.

Usually it is just the girls, which is hard enough, today my 12 yr old tagged along because he needed clothes.

Here is a quick little vision for you. My 12 yr old is pushing the cart. Except he is like 10 feet behind us, because his sister is doing cartwheels as we walk down the isle. My youngest daughter feels the need to touch everything she sees. Like everything. Candy, toys, mannequins and even the store customers. So that was fun.

Meanwhile, I have a triple espresso hoping it will get me through the next two hours.

Yes, two hours. I do not even need to explain. You guys know how it is. Also, there was a 70% off sale on all clothing.

We are in the “Young Mens” department and I am checking out the clearance rack while daughter number 1 is still doing cartwheels and daughter number 2 is hiding somewhere in the middle of the rack.

I find an AWESOME pair of pants for the 12 yr old. They were perfect, for him and only 12 bucks. Only thing is, he needed to try them on.

I direct him to the fitting room, which just so happens to be right across from the lingerie, that is also 70% off!

Me~ “Okay, go try them on, I will be over here looking at the bras and stuff.”

Vinnie~ “Too much info mom, but okay.”

He tries the awesome pants on, but sadly they were too big, and those were the only size. So, it’s back to me. I am going through the racks, picking out cute bras and matching underwear that are anywhere between 1 and 7 dollars.

I am in heaven.
The kids, not so much.

Gracie (yes, she is still doing cartwheels) “Gross mom, you need a bra, for dad huh?”

Sofia (the one who is still touching everything) “Ewwww, Gracie, don’t say that. Mom and Dad do not kiss”

Vinnie (the smart ass one) “Ummm, they do more than kiss, how do you think you got here?”

The thing is, I was so into all the good deals, all the pretty bras, underwear, and lingerie, I did not even care that I would potentially be embarrassed in 5-4-3-2-1…..

As I am holding up a very pretty yet modest piece of lingerie……asking Vinnie what he thinks……

Vinnie~ “Oh my god mom, are you really asking your son what he thinks of sex clothes?”

and then it all went downhill from there.

In unison now….

Me~ “Omg, it is not sex clothes.”
Gracie ~ “Gross mom, I cannot take this.”
Sofia~ “What’s sex?”

Yet, I could not stop looking at everything because…
1. I am cheap
2. I am used to these kids having no filter.

I keep looking telling them all to “Be quiet, people can hear you!”

Finally, Vinnie has some kind of….hmmmm……what word shall I use? Vinnie has some kind of ballsy attitude all of a sudden, and again, in a voice a tad bit too loud……”Mom, can we just go, I am sure dad will like it , he is a guy, it does not take much”

and because the apple does not fall far from the tree, I felt the need to come back with “Okay, I get it, everyone is tired and is ready to go home, but lets get one thing straight, I buy these things for me. No one else, I buy them for me. If dad likes it then that’s an added bonus, but I buy them for me….and trust me, nothing stays on long enough anyway for dad to even notice what color anything is!!!”

Vinnie is looking at me like a deer in headlights.

Then, just as I throw the piece of lingerie that I finally decided on into the cart, I am greeted by the lovely salesperson. “Mam, I am sorry, I am going to have to ask you to not have your daughter do gymnastics in the middle of the isle, and, maybe…..”

I wanted to die, because IF I had allowed her to finish, I just know she was going to say SOMETHING about the topic of conversation. You know, the “sex clothes” and “dad not noticing the colors” and such.

So, I gathered up the kids, and my brand new lingerie and left.

Five more days! Only five more days till the start of school!

My youngest sister is a single mom of a 10 month old little boy. She lives with my mother and step dad in a very rural town out-in-the-middle-of-no-where.

I always tell her, her life reminds me of “In Her Shoes” meets “Hope Floats”

I know it is still early for my sister, but when the time is right, I want her to try the online dating.

Now, before anyone starts rolling their eyes, just hear me out.

1. It’s not like I want her to meet Mr. Right. I am totally fine with Mr. Right Now.

2. Everybody is doing online dating now, and if you disagree with that, then you are either married, or old enough to be my parent.

3. I believe online dating can be a good thing if some rules are followed. (talk through email first, if that goes well, give your number out, if that goes well, meet in a neutral location with lots of people around)

4. I also believe online dating is good “practice” for when Mr Right does come along. Plus, there will be lots of funny stories to tell (because, lets face it, you will talk to about 50 toads before talking to anyone semi normal) See…..good practice!

So, today, I finally told my mother that I think it would be a good thing for my sister to try online dating. It’s not like she is going to be introducing anyone to her son (meeting the kids comes after a year of dating) Just to give her some “dating experience”

So, as you can imagine, THAT conversation went well.

Mother~ How is your sister, she never tells me anything?

Me~ Good, good, she is doing good……actually……..and I know you will disagree with me……..but…..I kinda want her to try online dating.

Long pause. Like an 8 minute long pause. I was able to lay the phone down, go pour myself a drink, and still come back to silence.

Me~ Hello???

Mother~ Jennifer, what are you trying to do, are you trying to kill me? She already brought one psycho into our life, I am not ready for another. What is she suppose to do, go to the big city and meet a guy for a drink?

Me~ Ummm, well….yeah.

Mother~ IN MY DAY AND AGE A GENTLEMAN CAME TO THE DOOR, HE WAS INTRODUCED TO THE PARENTS, NO. NO, I AM NOT HAVING IT, I AM NOT GOING TO HAVE MY DAUGHTER TURN UP DEAD IN THE RIVER.

Me~  The river?

Mother~ YES JENNIFER, WE HAVE A RIVER, MAYBE 20 MINUTES AWAY. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME? I AM GOING TO HAVE A TALK WITH HER, NO, THIS WILL NOT HAPPEN.

Me~ Okay, calm down there cowboy. Kelly does not even want to do it, it was just an idea I had because……

Mother~ WELL YOU NEED TO KEEP YOUR IDEAS TO YOURSELF!

Me~ Oh geez.

Mother~ AND WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN WHEN HER BODY IS FOUND, HOW ARE WE GOING TO EXPLAIN THAT TO THE BABY?

Me~ Again with the river I see.

Mother~ I HAVE TO HANG UP NOW, I AM GOING TO GO PUT THIS IDEA OUT OF HER HEAD.

Me~ You said she was sleeping! Don’t wake her up, geez, it was just a thought. She is not even into it, it was all my idea, leave her alone!

Mother~ DON’T YOU TAKE THAT TONE WITH ME, I AM STILL YOUR MOTHER!

And there you go!

So, what have we learned?

1. My sister is going to end up being a crazy cat lady.

2. I need to set up a pay pal for therapy donations……for my sister……and myself.

and this is why I drink Vodka, it’s cheaper!

Recently, my sister was able to get herself out of a pretty bad abusive (physically and mentally) relationship. Sadly, this was not her first one.

I had a long chat with her over the phone and asked some pretty tough questions.

Domestic violence can happen to anyone, from any walk of life.
1. What is your definition of domestic violence?

Intimidation and control by physical confrontation, mental anguish, emotional manipulation.

2. Would you say you have been the victim of DV?
Yes, in 2 relationships.

3. Roughly, how many times were you hit?

Physically, I’ve been pushed, held down, bit, and punched. I am not a woman who has suffered daily physical abuse
at the hands of a continuously violent partner.

4. Tell me about the first time you were hit?

The first experience with physical violence in a relationship was being pushed against a stack of
tires taller then myself, and having the breath knocked out of me.

5. What made you stay?

I felt bound by my circumstances. I thought I had nowhere to go. Not wanting to be a burden to other people. Wanting to
find a solution by myself.

6. What made you leave?

When you lose respect for someone, and start to gain some for yourself, it’s much easier to leave. In regards to the relationship
where I conceived my child, I didn’t leave until the lease was up. I ended up moving to a different state. The relationship continued
for months until I realize that even parenthood wouldn’t change things. I left for the well being of my child.

7. Did you ever want to leave but just did not know how?

Yes. Sometimes you find yourself (or think you are) bound by circumstances. The first abusive relationship I was involved in, I was in
my early twenties, and didn’t have the know-how on what to do. My vehicle wasn’t reliable, my finances weren’t adequate, and I didn’t
want to burden my friends or family with my mistake. When I did eventually leave, I was stalked by this person. I had to leave a lot of
my belongings behind, including my vehicle, which wasn’t running at the time. Almost a year later I was able to recover my things, although
the person tried to tell me that legally I couldn’t do that. I ended up contacting his boss, threatening legal action myself, and the matter
was resolved quickly.
The second relationship, I was older and a little wiser. This time, I was on a lease, and I feared legal action if I moved out. I also didn’t
want to leave my beloved pets behind. I’ve read that a lot of people stay in abusive relationships because they don’t have anywhere to go that
will accept pets. A big part of why I didn’t leave this relationship was my pride. My twenties have proven to be a huge learning experience for
me. After spending many years on friend’s couches, I didn’t want to leave my apartment. I loved my job and I loved having my own apartment. When
I became pregnant, I suffered from hyperemesis gravidarum, which is severe ‘morning’ sickness. For a solid 4 months I was sick and terribly weak.
Although my relationship was heinous and in shambles, I didn’t have the energy to move until my lease was up.

8. Tell me about the worse incident?

The worst incident occurred when I was in my first trimester of pregnancy and very ill with diagnosed severe morning
sickness. When he came home to our shared apartment, after having some drinks and hanging out with some
of his family, he asked me why I was nice to other people, but not to him. An argument ensued, it started
to escalate, and I went to the bedroom to get away and cool off. He followed, struggled to keep me from
closing the door, and eventually kicked it open. Then, the physical fight started. He came at me, I tried to
defend myself, but he was very strong, and I was pretty weak from being so sick. I was fighting him off, but
he pushed me down several times, and bit my finger really hard. The fight moved from the bedroom to the living
room, where there was screaming and threats. As I was trying to call the police, he accosted me again, and
wrestled my phone away from me. He went to the sliding glass door of our balcony, and threw my phone into the
night. I ended up locking him on the balcony, and went to look for my phone, but I couldn’t find it. When I
re-entered the apartment, he kicked through the glass door, and came after me again. This whole ordeal seemed to
go on for over 30 minutes. When the police arrived, we were back in the bedroom, he was on top of me, and I was
screaming for him to get off and leave me alone. All this time I was screaming for help, and begging someone to
call the police.

9. Was verbal abuse involved, how?

Verbal abuse was involved in both of the abusive relationships I was in, but particularly in the one with the fight
I just described. There was mainly accusations, like I was doing this or that, and criticisms about my life, work,
past, etc. The verbal, emotional, and mental abuse all went hand in hand.

10. Advice you would give to others in your situation?

Someone will show you their true colors sooner rather then later, so at the first sign that something is off, you’re
better off to just get out.

11. How were your kids affected?

Luckily there was no physical harm done to my son, which was a concern because the attack happened early in my pregnancy. I’d say that my
son is affected in one way because his father and I will never be together, but I definitely do not look at that as
a bad thing. Children can adapt to what they know, and if a civilized co-parenting relationship is what he grows up
with, then I don’t think he’ll feel lacking in any way.

12. What did you learn most from being a DV victim?

That I’m stronger then I ever thought I could be. That I’m really smart, and really kind, and that I’ll do anything to
keep my child safe. I learned to listen to my gut instinct, and I learned how devastating the cycle of toxicity can
be, and how it can affect every aspect of a person.

I am one of those people who loves to eat, and it’s not the good stuff. We are talking cookies, chips, french fries, burgers, hoagies, pasta. Pretty much anything that is not a fruit or veggie.

I am also one of those people that looks for any occasion to eat. “Oh, it’s the weekend, lets celebrate!” “Your birthday is coming up, what shall I cook?” “Only 4 more months till Thanksgiving, lets work on the menu, I will make cookies while we do that!”

And, even the not so good occasions. “Let me cook you something nice, you had a bad day at work” “Oh, bad grade on your test, I can make you a sandwich?” “You broke up with your boyfriend, lets go to dinner”

and even one I am not so proud of….car breaks down, and all I care about is if we are still able to go to Red Robbin.

I have struggled with bulimia (did not take a genius to figure that one out, huh?) It is not an easy disease. it takes over everything. One day I will talk about it more in detail, but not just yet.

Anyway, that is the habit I need to change. The way I look at food. The way I can take any emotion. Happy, sad, anger, depressed, and assume that one way or another food will help. Sometimes it does. I wont lie, but it helps for the wrong reasons.

Doing low carb has helped me tremendously. Also, about once every two weeks I “allow” myself to eat whatever I want to eat….with no guilt.

But, it’s still there. I am learning, I am a work in progress.

So, when I see my bad habit wanting to come out and play, I distract myself (and no, not with a candy bar!)

I am learning to re train myself on how I see food.

Now, vodka, that’s a different story.

Writing prompt from Mama Kat’s Writers Workshop

“A bad habit you would like to break”

As you are reading this new blog post of mine, some of you may question why on earth would I post this story. I have two simple answers.

1. As my kids get older, I feel I need to tone down on the kid stories, because, well, it is their stories to tell.

2. If I can no longer write about certain things about the kids, then the only one left to write about is yours truly!

So, with that in mind…carry on.

DISCLAIMER~ Dad, this would be the blog post that you do not want to read….and probably anyone else who may be sober.

So, I was in the shower, listening to One Direction, doing my usual routine. Washing my hair, shaving my legs, and…..other areas.

I have been shaving for a very long time now. Other than the occasional nick on the knees, I have never had any issues…..until now.

As I am shaving the “other area”, something I have done thousand of times before, something happens. The razor kinda sorta slips.

Perhaps it was my choice of music, or perhaps I am just a clutz. Either way it was not pretty.

The pain happened instantly. I am literally standing in the shower, bouncing around like a complete fool, legs together “ow ow ow ow ow ow ow , oh my god what am I going to do ow ow ow ow ow”

I guess I got a little too close to an area that has no business seeing a razor?!

Through the tears I clean myself up while asking myself “How the hell am I going to explain this one to The Husband, or even worse, The Doctor?”

Okay, not too much blood. I will be okay.

Ummm, not so much. Seriously, I could barely walk….or sit down….or use the rest room.

A question to all of you out there who had babies vaginally…..do you remember the pain? The soreness? How you could not even pee without it burning?

Well, this is now me….except I do not have a little baby to show for it. In fact, all I do have is a piece of my insides now missing!

Forty-eight hours later and yeah, still hurts.

The Husband will ask me “Why are you walking funny?”

“Oh, my back hurts”

“It does not look like your back hurts, it looks like your butt hurts.”

“Oh, okay, why would my butt hurt? It is my back, I did too many push ups today or something.”

I am still not sure if he totally buys it. Really, if he knows me at all he knows I would not be doing push ups, unless there was chocolate involved.

I have tried to take a mirror and look at the area that I somehow sliced to pieces.

That did not work, because as stated above, I am a clutz.

My sisters told me I need antibiotics, and, to stay away from a razor.

My brother had no advice for me, other than he could have went the rest of his life without knowing this about me.

My Dad, just hearing bits of pieces of (no pun intended) the story, also got a visual that he need not see.

My mom, leave it to my mom “YOU KNOW THEY HAVE HAIR REMOVER FOR THAT AREA?!”

I know I know, but then you risk leaving the hair remover on too long and burning yourself.

Ouch!!!

So, I will just go on with life as usual, I will make every excuse in the world not to have sex,

and if the day comes where you read on my headstone “Death by razor” then you know the story behind it.

You’re welcome.

So……be honest, I bet there are a few of you more traumatized by the fact that I was listening to One Direction while taking a shower?

Cheers!

The other night, I played the funniest practical joke on my sister, brother and two sons. Lucky for you guys I have the text to prove it.

Quick back story. I recently read Buzz Feed where some comedian who I had never heard of asked his Twitter followers to send a text to their parents and then to re-tweet their reply.

The text was ~ “I just scored two grams for 40”

immediately followed by “Sorry, wrong person”

I could not stop laughing. Some of the replies from the parents were amazing!

So, of course I just had to try it myself….except I did not text my parents…I wanted to do my siblings and kids instead. Sooooo here we go.

This is my sister.

I was laughing so hard I had a few typos in that last text.

next up….my 19 yr old son.

next up….my 12 yr old son…

Sadly there is nothing to show. Want to know why? because as soon as I sent the text, I  hear him falling over in his room, in such a hurry to come rat me out.

“Dad, Mom is doing drugs, look at what she texted me”

Sorry to burst his little bubble but my husband was in on it too.

Sucker!

And finally, my brother…

I am going to ignore the extremely long time it took my brother to respond.

However, there is no fooling him……yet.

I had so much fun doing this, and believe it or not, vodka was not even involved.

I have no idea where to begin this story other than to say if my life was made into a t.v sitcom, I would be making bank money.

For the past three months or so, I have noticed an unusual freckle on my face. Those of you that do not have the pleasure of knowing me in person should know that I have freckles on my face. I would say a fair amount along my cheeks.

There was one particular freckle on my left cheek that just did not look right. So, I waited. I also talked to my sister who had a few skin cancers scares, and then I waited some more.

This thing was not going away, in fact, it was changing, getting bigger, and darker, and uglier. So…I did what any moron would do and I googled “skin cancer symptoms.”

It did not look good. I had to get this checked out before it spreads. The good thing is skin cancer is one of the most curable types of cancer if caught early enough. Well, I was already three months in and freaking out.

Seriously, I was freaking out. I could not sleep at night, I kept having dreams of  dying and Joe raising the kids by himself. I told myself that before I die I want to write letters to the kids for all the important events I will miss. Prom, wedding, first date….jail time (that one is for Vinnie) and I even thought I should write a  letter to Joe’s new wife because she would be playing a big part in my kids life.

I was stressed, worried, scared, and of course kept this all to myself. I did not want my family to worry (they would have) and I certainly did not want Joe to worry (he would have) so I figured “I got this” just keep things on the down low till I am able to get in to see a dermatologist/RN.

My appointment was this past Thursday. With the kids safe at school and Joe safe at work, I was able to go, feeling confident that I was not making anyone worry for no reason.

This was my first time going to a dermatologist. I was nervous. Especially because I figured I had the early stages of skin cancer.

I am in the office playing Candy Crush Saga on my phone, trying to do anything I can to help me not think of what will happen in the next 15 minutes or so.

Finally, they call my name and I head back. My dermatologist (who is also a RN) is stunning. I mean stunning. There are a lot of pretty people out there but this lady had a certain kind of class and sophistication that you either have or do not have. She had it….and she was 50. She did not look 50, probably late 30’s to early 40’s. And…….she also had skin cancer two previous times in her life. So, I knew I was in the right place.

She has me lay back on the table with god awful fluorescent lights, and hands me a magnifying mirror. I believe that was my first glimpse into hell.

She tells me to sit back up and she goes over my history, am I a drinker, drug user, smoker, sun exposure, blah blah blah.

“You’re nervous arent you?”

Well of course I am nervous! She told me to sit tight she will be right back with something to calm my nerves. I was wondering what my chances were that it would be vodka.

Once she returns she hands me this glass of ice,  berry mixture, and tells me to drink it, it will help to de-stress me.

I took a small sip. It tasted like vitamins….but then, I started thinking. And as history has shown, the worse thing I can do is to start thinking.

No one knows where I am at (because I kept it a secret) I could totally disappear and no one would have any idea where to look for me. What if my drink is drugged and she wants to rob me or use me for some kind of weird health/science experiment or something?

Then she started asking me “How old are your kids?” “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

So I made sure to tell her I had to pick Joe up as soon as I left the office so she would think someone would be expecting me.

yYes, I am a moron who watches too many movies.

Finally it is time to get down to business. She tells me to take a few deep breaths and relax. I lay back down and she comes to examine my freckle.

“Is this what you are concerned about?”

I look in the mirror, and confirm, yes, that is what I am worried about.

She gets pretty close, looks at then says to me “Jennifer, that is just a large blackhead, that’s nothing, I can get rid of that now?”

“Huh?”

“Yes, you probably need a better skin cleaning ritual at night, but that’s all it is, see watch”

Two q-tips later, my skin was clear. No unusual freckle, nothing.

Needless to say I was quite embarrassed, and felt like a fool, and made a mental note to go to the store to pick up a good facial cleanser……..and vodka.

Last night, at Gracie and Sofia’s school, there was a special Awards Night Assembly. Gracie received an award for her accomplishments in Math. One would think “Aww, how sweet” “Oh, what a great story” “How could Jen POSSIBLY mess this one up?”

Well, grab some vodka because I am about to tell you how.

It all started the day before the Awards Night Assembly. I am standing outside the school, waiting for the girls to get out.

My phone rings.
I do not recognize the number.
Because I do not recognize the number I decide to answer…because I am nosey.
It was the school. The same school that I am standing in front of.

Since the girls are due out anytime now, I was a little confused on the phone call.
I am looking around wondering if I am being punked or something. Surely the lady on the other end, who is calling to remind me about Awards Night knows I am right outside of the school, waiting to pick up the kids?

She did not. In fact, she was kinda surprised when I told her “Okay, I need to go now, the girls are coming out”

Perhaps it was the language barrier…..or not.

Before we hang up, I assure her that we will be at the school tomorrow night. She then makes sure to let me know how important and special this is for the kids, and even suggested I bring some balloons for the occasion.

Moron. This is not my first go around. I have an 18 year old son.

I got this.

Fast forward to last night.

The plan was, AJ (18 yr old son I was just talking about….oh wait, he is actually 19. I could go back and edit, but the fact that I did not realize how old my oldest kid is kinda puts the icing on the cake to this story.)

Anyway, back to the plan. AJ was going to cook the girls dinner, while I run to pick Joe up from work. We would come back to the house for about 15 minutes (just enough time for me to comb their hair and make sure they look presentable to take in public)

While waiting, Joe asked me if I knew where my NY GIANTS hat was.

“Why?”

“Umm, so I can wear it”

“No, you cannot wear it. I mean under normal circumstances I would love for you to wear my hat, but no, not tonight”

“Why not?”

“Because, you know, the whole no hat in school rule. It’s a respect thing”

“Fine”

All went as planned.

We even got to the school with time to spare, found some seats, and then just waited. The girls were looking around the room to see if they could spot some of their friends, while Joe was looking around the room pointing out every male who was wearing a hat.

Finally, the Principal starts welcoming everyone, making introductions to some people who I do not remember.

Gracie’s teacher sneaks up on us and sits down next to me. (Gracie is on my right, then Sofia, then Joe….if you need a visual)

The teacher and I quietly say hi, and chit chat for a bit. She is a great teacher, young, hip….so you know, her and I have a lot in common.

The next few minutes happened so fast. The Principal then begins to explain how the awards ceremony will go. He will call the name of the kid, the kid is then suppose to walk up to the front of the gym, take a picture with the Principal and some other teacher, then walk to the left of the stage and wait till all names have been called.

And then it hit me.

Crap crap crap.

I forgot to tell Gracie she was getting an award.

Gracie, the one who cannot stand change, who has her set routine and does not like to be deterred from it, the kid who does not like surprises at all. I forgot to tell her that we were indeed here to watch her to get an award.

Clearly this is not going to end well.

OF COURSE, Gracie was the first kid called.

Gracie sits there.

I look at her teacher with a panic stricken look on my face.

“Ummm, I kinda for got to tell Gracie about this”

“You forgot? How did you forget? Okay, we will use the band aide method…….Gracie, you got an award, congratulations, go up on stage…go go go!”

Yeah, epic mom fail how many now?

But it gets better. Because I forgot to tell Gracie about the award, I also forgot to tell Sofia. Or at least prep Sofia that tonight “Gracie is getting an award and if you work really hard next time you will get one too”

Yep, none of that happened. So it was no surprise when after all the names of the kids were called, Sofia burst into tears “I WANT AN AWARD TOO”
Joe was ready to kill me, the teacher is laughing at me, I am looking for the closest exit and Gracie is up on stage giving me her pissed off look.

and remember the phone call from the moron at school the day before?

She is having the last laugh now, as we gather the screaming children, who do not have balloons. One is yelling “What was that about mom?” and the other “You hurt my feelings, I did not get an award!”

Somehow, a quick stop at 7-11 for Gatorade and gummy worms made everything better.

At least for the kids.