Taking time...

Found these at Barnes and Noble. I need these.

I didn't blog at all this week. In fact I haven't written a thing since Saturday night. I had a few chances to squeeze in some writing, but truthfully, my heart just wasn't in it. There are things happening over here, and none of them have to do with this blog. I've been working close to a full time schedule the last two weeks and I'm overwhelmed and exhausted when I'm home and have a to-do list a mile long. Then when I should be overwhelmed and exhausted, I find myself smiling and laughing with my girls on the way to school, or at Walmart late on a Wednesday night. If I've learned anything in my years as a mother, I've learned to embrace the chaos. I think I've been doing exactly that the last two weeks. Things in my life are changing and as much as I loathe change of any kind, I've tried to be positive about it. I've tried to look change in the eyes this time and hope that change and I can come to a meaningful understanding. I'm going to adapt, I'm going to give it the best college try, because change is going to happen anyway. Fine. I'll accept your friend request change. But I don't have to like your status.

This week I looked at my laptop and sighed. I thought about posting every night, and even enjoyed a day off on Tuesday, but still couldn't bring myself to the laptop. Instead I read some books with the girls, and Caitlin read a few to me. Then one night I made pancakes because it seemed like the thing to do. Another night we watched cartoons and sat on the couch. I was avoiding this space, I'll admit. And I had some bloggers guilt, but I found that it dissipates a whole hell of a lot faster than mommy guilt. That should really be a lesson that I need to listen to. Still I felt the pull, still I missed this place, but not as much as I missed my girls and the Hubbs this week.

It's Friday night and finally I'm able to sit down and type out a few thoughts. It feels good. Not that this is the most inspiring post you have ever read here, but it's real. It's me. I'm tired and I want to go to bed, but tonight, I finally have something to say. What I want to say is that everything is perfect and I feel just fine. But in reality Mac is eating cheese puffs, Caitlin is working on a "craft" that involves glue and fabric and she is doing so on the carpet, and I'm sitting here, kind of watching and kind of not. It's fine. When they need me they will holler. Or scream. Or fight. Possibly set the house on fire. Just kidding.

Kind of.

Sit down...

Last Friday was a day. I worked of course, starting my day at the store at six in the morning. Yes, I said six. I worked until almost two, and then rushed home to change with little time to spare before picking up Caitlin. Of course I got side tracked by old Greys on Lifetime, so the next thing I knew we needed to leave right that minute to get to pick up. And because it's still hot as the sun here, I forgot to grab Capri Suns for the girls. So there we were after school, burning and overheating in the sun. How do we remedy this situation? Starbucks of course.

Let's do some real talk right now. Some of you reading this may be new to this blog, and I realize that you may not know of all my downfalls as a mother. One of the biggest, in the Hubb's eyes, is that both my daughters drink sweet tea. They have been drinking sweet tea since being in utero. Even when my other mama friends were giving up caffeine for their entire gestation, I was sneaking off to Starbucks twice a day for Venti Black teas, extra sweet. After they were born, and twice daily trips to the Bucks was no longer an option, I started making tea at home. So while most of your kids were getting milk and apple juice in their Dora the Explorer sippy cups, mine were drinking sweet tea. And if we ran out while out of the house, they were drinking talls with green straws.

So my girls have known the magic that is Starbucks for as long as they have had memories, so when I asked them what they wanted to drink after school Mackenzie yelled, "Starbucks!!". Now up until this point we have all been getting black teas. It's been like our cool club, but Friday Caitlin asked for a Mocha Frapuchino with out coffee, with whip and caramel swirl. I swear, she said that is verbatim. Looks like Grandma has been teaching her somethings while I have been working. Ok, let's order it. You're in second grade now, get that frap game girl!

We got our frap and our teas, and cookies on the side, because hello, I'm already batting a thousand in the motherhood department, and we went to the grocery store. We get to the store and I put Mac in the cart with her tea, and Caitlin is carrying her frap and her cookie and her face is full of crumbs and her hair is wild and Mac starts asking for powdered donuts because Starbucks cookies aren't her jam today. Whatever. It's Friday. I'm not cooking no matter what happens. So I get what I need plus Lunchables and some powdered donuts and we cruise the store. I break open the donuts and give Mac two. Everyone is happy and sugared and caffeinated within an inch of their lives. Perfect.

As I'm using the self check out I notice another mom. She is there with her son and daughter and they are getting a few things, I don't even pay attention to what. What I do pay attention to is the fact that she keeps staring at me and my children. So I smile, and she gives me the stink eye. The Stink Eye. She gives me the dirtiest look. I haven't gotten one of those in awhile. So I take a minute to regroup. What am I doing that is offensive? I haven't used the eff word. I'm not wearing a cleavage bearing top. My kids aren't being complete assholes in the grocery store. What gives?

Then I look at my girls. Mac has a white powdered ring around her mouth, as if she has been doing blow. Next to her in all her powdered sugar glory is her tall Starbucks cup. Then I look at Caitlin with her wild hair, her shoe boot for her broken toe, and her half drank frap. That's when it hits me, I'm being judged. I'm totally being judged.

I smiled my best, "eat-your-heart-out-bitch smile", stopped and let my kids pick out a lottery ticket (which is pretty much illegal since they are nowhere near 18), and I roll our asses out. But all I really wanted to say was,

"Sit Down".

Sit down lady. There is no coffee in that frap. My kids do just fine with sugar and caffeine and nitrates. I know what you are thinking Jude Judy, you're thinking that I'm breaking all the rules. You're thinking that I didn't read any parenting books to get me ready for this role. But you would be wrong. I did read those books and they made me feel bad about myself. They made me feel like shit. So I threw them out. And if a friend sent me more, I gave them to Goodwill. And yes, I'm breaking all of your rules, but I'm not breaking a single one of mine. Because if I want to feed my kids McDonald's for the rest of the month I will. And if I decided to give them ice cream for breakfast I'll do that too. Because these are my kids. Mine. So I decide. You raise your brats. I'll raise mine. Deal? Now go sit the eff down.

As a side note, my kids looked way happier than her kids. I bet she makes her kids eat kale. Clearly I'm the one doing it right. 

Dear Mom and Dad, Happy Anniversary

photo by Laura Hernandez Photography

Dear Mom and Dad,

Happy Anniversary. Forty years is quite an accomplishment. I should know, I'm married too, and as I've learned, marriage is hard. Like really hard. Why didn't you tell me?

Forty years married, but more years as friends. Thank you for teaching me that marrying your friend is the key. That marrying someone that makes you laugh is everything. Some of my favorite memories are the ones of the two of you laughing and sharing a joke. All the times Dad talked to the TV and made us laugh. All the times Mom said something backwards, and made us laugh harder. 

Thank you for showing me that love was always most important. No matter how mad we got. No matter how much we shouted. You taught me that love is worth every fight. I appreciate that now that I'm married. I realize that there is no perfect marriage. I realize that love is imperfect as well. But despite it's imperfections, it's always worth it.

Thank you for teaching me that there are things more important than money. Probably because we never had any. Thank you for showing me that when we did have a little extra, we spent it on things we would appreciate. Like dinners at Gino's on the Wharf. Or trips to Disneyland when I realize now you should have paid bills. Thank you for that. Thank you for teaching me that sometimes making memories are more important than saving money. I get that you made those sacrifices now.

Mom and Dad, I know that the last forty years haven't been perfect. Most likely they haven't been a sweeping and passionate love story. And that's ok. What's important is that the last forty years have been your love story. There were hard times and happy times, and times when things most likely sucked. But thank you. Thank you for hanging in. Thank you for sticking it out. Thank you for loving each other enough to know you couldn't live apart. I'm not a kid anymore, and I realize now, more than ever, that this is the hardest part of marriage. The sticking by each other. Even when you'd rather sock that person in the jaw. Thank you for making it look easy when I know it was anything but. I appreciate the work you guys put in. I appreciate you both.

Today I want to celebrate you both. Because Dad will buy you a funny card, Mom. And Mom, you will forget to buy him a card at all. I want to celebrate you guys and your success, as friends, as a married couple. Because you Mom and Dad mean the world to me. And you've made my world a better place. 

Happy Fortieth Wedding Anniversary, Mom and Dad. Cheers to many more.

Summertime Blues

It's hard to admit that summer is over when you live in Fresno California. It's still hot. Like over one hundred degrees hot. We go back to school in shorts and tank tops and we laugh at the excitement of Pumpkin Spice Lattes. Because it won't be cool until November. At least.

If I could, I would extend summer. I really want to. I feel like this is the summer that escaped me. The summer that I was too tired to live, to tired to breathe, too tired to do anything. The summer that is over, and I feel like I have nothing to show.

This was the first summer I worked since before becoming a mother. It's the first summer I've had to work since my kids were in school. It was weird. My retail schedule did allow for sleeping in, but my kids still had to be shuttled in the hot Fresno sun to caregivers. I had to remain on a schedule of work and mommy, and then working mommy. That was new, and weird, and if I'm honest uncomfortable. It was the first summer I felt like I was missing out.

It was a summer where I was left feeling like we all missed out.

I didn't have a plan for this summer, or a bucket list. I just had one thing I really wanted to do. Just one thing. The beach. I just wanted to take the girls to the beach. Our little piece of heaven, that we enjoy every summer. It's not fancy, and we usually have a picnic of fast food or sandwiches, but we play and laze in the sand. The girls splash in the water and collect shells, and when we leave we are peaceful, refreshed.

The Hubbs and I had conflicting work schedules. And by the second week in August it wasn't in the cards. And I was defeated.

Defeated could have been my word this summer. Defeated because I had to work. Defeated because I was so tired. Defeated because I was defeated. I realize it wasn't fair to my family, but it's what I was. I wasn't fair to myself either. I wanted to write but couldn't, I spent days with my nose in a book or my ass in a chair watching DVR'd shows that I'd seen a million times. Anything to pretend summer wasn't happening.

But it was happening. It did happen.

My hope is that my kids will remember the little things. The fun we had on the fourth of July. The wild party for Caitlin's seventh birthday. I hope their favorite memories are of days spent wandering Target with no agenda and lunch at Panera. Maybe they will look back at ice cream for dinner fondly, or spending late nights outside with the neighbors. When you are seven and four, you know your mom spent the summer working, but you tend to forget that when you also spent the summer in Grandma's pool, and with the neighbors walking the two blocks to the new frozen yogurt place.

I had a case of the summertime blues. I let the circumstances get in the way of my happiness. Sometimes the circumstances seem so big, seem so important but they are not. We had a good summer. We were together. We read books and painted collages and baked a few batches of cookies so mommy could eat her feelings. And while I would have rather been spending the days poolside with my kids, I realize I need to just embrace the circumstances sometimes. The summertime blues didn't mean that I was unhappy, they just meant that I wanted more. I always want more, I always want the best, I always want perfection.

My summer wasn't postcard perfect, but neither is my life. And even though we didn't get to the beach, I'll take this summer for all it's worth. Because no matter the circumstances, this summer was worth it.

This A-hole in the drive thru

Can I ask you a question? Are we turning into a nation of Assholes? Don't laugh. I'm being very serious. Ok, maybe asshole is harsh, maybe I should ask if we are slowing dumbing ourselves to the point of idiocy. I can't put my finger on it, but I really feel like we are slowly turning ourselves into those "humans" in Wall-E. Where everything will soon be decided for us... Case in point:

This Asshole.

Let me set the scene for you. I woke up incredibly early for a meeting at work. Since I'm part of the Management team, I couldn't just roll up as if I had rolled out of bed. Trust me I seriously considered it. But I woke up at an ungodly hour for a Saturday, went to and participated in a meeting, and then as I was leaving decided to take my family breakfast. Because I knew two things for sure, one: there was no effing way I was going to cook breakfast, and two: McDonald's was still serving breakfast for another half hour. Score. My kids can't get enough of high fructose corn syrup and nitrates. So I booked it to McDonald's which isn't really that far from my house and realized that I wasn't the only person on my side of town boycotting the kitchen. The drive through was backed up, almost to the 7-11 in the same parking lot. That 7-11 will have some significance in a minute, I promise.

So here I am at McDonald's now 23 minutes before they forget how to make pancakes and only know how to make chicken nuggets. I'm starting to panic, because if my kids don't get these pancakes, I'm going to have to go home and use my toaster for frozen waffles and that is just an atrocity that I'm not equipped to handle at this moment in time. At 19 minutes before lock down, I have to make the biggest decision of my adult life... Which drive through line to pick. Because my McDonald's has two, to make sure more Americans are getting their McDoubles and hot apple pies. How do you choose? If I go left the right with go faster and if I go right, well vice versa. Well shit, here goes nothing.

I choose right, and I immediately know I've made the biggest mistake of my Saturday morning. I have a feeling that the car in front of me has no idea what is happening, since it sits there for a three car count. A. Three. Car. Count. Which in real life is like five minutes. I look at the clock and realize it's been eight minutes and I break out into a sweat... Eleven minutes until lock down. Eleven.

I'm not sure what the issue is, so I roll down my window with every intention of "helping". I'm not above "helping". And by helping I mean, getting out of my car and walking up to his window and ordering for him. But I refrain when I hear the following...

"Uh, well, I'll have a large Sprite..."

A large Sprite? A fucking large Sprite? Dude. There is a 7-11 literally twelve fucking feet away. You drove right past it and if you had looked out your passenger side window as you sat in this very long and slow moving line for the past, oh I don't know 13 minutes you could have Big Gulped your ass outta my way.

It gets better.

I can hear him and the order taker discussing the menu items offered at breakfast. Then I realize that the order taker is actually explaining and breaking down breakfast sandwiches for this asshole. Sir, excuse me, Sir? Have you ever been to a McDonald's? I mean are you new? Are you an infant? Are you a vegan who has fallen off the wagon?

Then it hits me. This has to be the stupidest person in the world because there are pictures on the menu. PICTURES. And not just pictures of people enjoying food, but pictures of the ACTUAL FOOD TO ORDER. Even better McDonald's has taken out the hard part of having to memorize the names of the food, because they have provided numbers. NUMBERS and PICTURES, of the food. So you can order with ease. So you can order despite the fact if you have a brain or not.

I wish I was making this up. I wish.

So my question is, are we there? Are we to the point that we have dumbed down even the most simplistic things that we are beyond help? Have we some how reversed and become beings that regardless of pictures and numbers still can't even order an Egg McMuffin with hash browns and a coffee? Even if we have no idea what it's called, but we can see it looks delicious and beautiful, and so we yell out a number and then the cashier yells out another number, and then we use our fingers and toes to count out green paper rectangles and metal circles so we can eat our designated number?

Are we really that stupid?

Don't ask me I proceeded to order the wrong breakfast for the Hubbs using the wrong number and picture on the men, and then they shorted me a hash brown because, well it's fucking McDonald's.

Then I went to Starbucks and waited in line for and paid over two dollars for iced tea.

Who's the idiot now?