Dear Twenty Somethings,

Hey guys.....you sure are ridiculous. I know becoming an adult can be rough. No, you don't have the same body you did in high school. The crowd you run with may be different. You might have to work full time instead of going on road trips whenever, getting drunk on Tuesday night, or up and deciding to play video games for 7 hours straight. Awwwww......suck it up assholes. You are doing it all wrong anyway.

My generation put your generation to SHAME! I actually heard a twenty five year old talk about how going to concerts wasn't fun anymore. DIRECT QUOTE:

"If doors open at 6, that means I spend a good 3-4 hours standing in the same spot without shifting between bands, and getting shoved around for the other 2-3 hours. My feet get tired, my back hurts, I get tired of holding my beer, complain complain. Only recently have I realized that if I'm not satisfied, there is no reason for me to stay."

You guys suck at concerts.

This person went on to talk about how it sucks getting old. WTF?! You whiney bastards!!! I hear lots of mid-twenties folks talk about how they feel "old". What the hell? You think you leave high school and college and suddenly you need to file for retirement? It's not that you guys are old.....it's that YOU GUYS SUCK! Your generation is lame. You don't know how to communicate properly, research properly or APPRECIATE SHIT PROPERLY. Even your partying skills suck. What's that saying you guys like so much? "Go home twentysomethings.....you're not drunk enough!"

You guys suck at hanging out.

It may have been a decade since I was in your shoes, but I remember those days well and they were PRETTY fantastic! I know I lived in a townhome with two roommates, had a hot-tub in my bedroom, worked a full time job, played the field (dated and had fun at it), had great friends, parties, real shenanigans, went to concerts, on vacations, and appreciated every minute of it. I would have punched you in the face if you suggested we stay in and watch tv instead of going out on ANY weekend night and I would've had to be dragged out of a concert early or carried out on a gurney.

You guys suck at dressing yourselves.

You guys can't even socialize properly. You are always checking your phone, quoting memes, taking pictures of yourself, your food, checking in to wherever you go.....I think maybe you guys think you are more interesting than you really are. YOU ARE IN YOUR TWENTIES!!!! Try living in the moment a little instead of constantly trying to capture it for a screen saver. Someday, if you are lucky,


maybe you can be lame, stuck at home with kids, complaining about how you feel old and how dumb the next generation is.
 

Excuses

In psychology and logic, rationalization (also known as making excuses) is an unconscious defense mechanism in which perceived controversial behaviors or feelings are logically justified and explained in a rational or logical manner in order to avoid any true explanation, and are made consciously tolerable – or even admirable and superior – by plausible means.

Enter "The Boy". His laundry list of insane excuses for the incredible things that transpire in my house is quickly becoming legendary. I have decided to lay some of them out in my blog not only for the sake of entertainment, but for genuine documentation. The first excuse was the latest and the inspiration for this blog.

That's the culprit right there giving the parade wave.

1. I walked in my children's shared bedroom to find Little Mermaid stamps covering my daughter's dresser. When questioned, the boy insisted a ninja "sneaked" in and perpetrated the act right under everyone's noses and "sneaked" back out. Ninjas.

2. Another time, his sister was using the age-old sisterly method of tattling on her brother, when he interjected a solid point that would surely blow her story out of the water, "She's drunk!"

3. Poop smears on the bathroom wall were apparently the product of the neighbor's cat.

4. Me, "Did you pee your pants?!"
    Him, "Naw, it just rained on them."

5. Bedtime. Kids hate it. Boy's excuse, "My room is broken."

6. Chores: "My arms are broken! They huuuuuuurrrt!"

7. Anything I won't let him do, "My teacher said I could!"

8. One time, he lost his shoes and told me that dinosaurs ate them off his feet.

9. "I only do what cheerios tell me!"

10. And my personal favorite: Me - Will you clean your room already?  Boy -  I would... but I just don't want to.

The dang kid is four. I just want to hold off on him getting any bigger or any cheekier as long as possible! 

Why Mother's Day Can Suck It

So, if you've been reading my blog for a hot minute, you know that being a single mom isn't all puppies and rainbows and`sing-a-longs and sunshine. Sometimes it's like you live in that garbage room in Star Wars where the heroes get trapped and the walls start closing in on you and the smelly trash seems to be eating it's way up from the floorboards and nobody hears you calling for help or even cares. Just like that. Thank goodness the good people of the greeting card companies thought how nice it should be that moms get a day all their own to feel all specially. Unless those moms are single.

It's a little anti-climactic to plan your OWN Mother's Day celebration, dontcha think? My kids, at seven and four, are not really old enough to plan anything or go to a store on their own. The ex and I quietly despise each other, so he's not doing me any favors. What then? This whole idea of a holiday and a celebration for moms becomes a mockery of what the single mom doesn't have and how she gets to work twice as hard without a break. No husband to shoulder the responsibility, send her to the spa, make her a delicious breakfast, coordinate a special home-made something with the kids for her. FUCKING NOTHING. It sucks.

If I'm lucky, I will get a card from one of the kids that someone at their school has helped them with. IF. I'm being gripey, and yes, it's super lame that this day that's supposed to celebrate me always makes me Bitter Betty, but I do always end up having fun with my kids. Last year, we went to the aquarium together. The year before that we went to the zoo. They don't remember to take it easy on me. They don't shower me with affection. It's okay in the end somehow. They still manage to remind me that they are what keeps me going and we all have each other in the end so who needs all the rest of it?

Suck it, Mother's Day. We aren't buying.

Surviving the Corporate Game

I have only recently joined the corporate world after a LONG bout of unemployment and contract work and HOLY MOLY! It's SO weird. I'm not talking about an office/workplace with a business casual kind of vibe. Nope....this place is suit and tie five days a week. It's such a brand new culture to me that I've had a little trouble assimilating. I regard them with the curiosity and fascination of an anthropologist who has just discovered a lost tribe from the mythological depths of some historical valley.

So I've been picking up a few things here and there and decided to make a list of things I could do to facilitate my ability to fit in.....if I so choose. Let's face it though....most of these people are assholes and I don't really care if they like or talk to me. It's just fun to study them for now.

1. Keep hair tidy and freshly cut. These people hate mess. My hair is rarely in any kind of order, so this is proving difficult.

2. Wear matching shit in boring colors. They key words here are SLACKS, BEIGE, GRAY, IVORY, BLOUSE....basically anything your grandma would look at you in and say how nice you look. Bright colors frighten them unless you opt for a "powersuit", in which case, red is clearly the way to go.

3. BIG fake smile....wear it ALL the time. Even when there is bad news or someone just crop-dusted your cubicle. You can still look like you want to hurt people or cry with your eyes though. There are no rules as far as eyes are concerned.

4. When anyone with a real office (not sitting in a cube) makes a joke or says something vaguely silly, laugh as loud and hard as possible. (Don't fall down or out of your chair)

5. Decorate your cubicle with ONLY the following acceptable items in moderation: kids photos, sport paraphernalia (keep a keen eye for what's the most popular in the office), kid drawings, work-related papers and calendars. THAT IS IT! Don't put up things corporate folk don't understand (ie, art, pictures of your favorite musicians, philosophers, scientists, etc..) Stick to family and sports and motivational posters.

6. Wear expensive clothing. It can't just be boring...it must also be expensive. They know the difference.

7.Make small talk while passing people or getting coffee. Some people may ignore you, but this is okay. It just means you need to seek them out more so that they can see you genuinely care about them and want to get to know them. Small talk can include such pleasantries as "How was your weekend, Phil?" "That's a lovely tie." "End of the month....what more can I say, amirite?"(I call all the men Phil, Robert or Matt as those are the most common names here according to the phone list and the odds are in my favor.)

8. Try and talk about work as much as possible. They all seem really into what they do and focus on the most boring conversations about new policies and company infrastructure. Research some of the most boring areas in different sections of the company so you can "wow" others with your comprehensive knowledge just by using blanket statements. This works for sports talk also.

9. At company gatherings, hang back for a while and gauge who is the loudest/drunkest/wildest person there. Buddy up with them. You will look calm and composed by comparison.

10. I'm still learning the ropes at this stuff....but here are some things I have definitely learned NOT to do:
don't rap old gangster tunes while making coffee, don't "boop" sales reps on the nose, don't donate blood during the work day (especially if you act a little drunk when light-headed), don't try to make up special handshakes with your lunchbox twin (actually, you should probably not even acknowledge that you are lunchbox twins even if you are and you think it's awesome.), and lastly, don't get stuck in a bathroom stall with a broken lock so that you have to crawl out from under the stall to get out. In retrospect, these things may have not helped me to assimilate.

Go forth with confidence that my simple rules will help you climb that corporate ladder! (They don't have any ACTUAL ladders at my work, so I'm not really sure where that saying comes from.)

For the Grieving....

Not Actual Joe....

I lost a really great friend this week. Joe was probably one of the best I will ever have and that says a LOT because I have been really blessed in life with some great people. He really stood out though. There are so many people writing things about him and sharing their favorite memories of him because he was pure gold. I needed to write my own feelings about him down mostly because they are mine, but everyone sees a person a different way. I had nothing but love for my friend. I can feel the empty space in me that his soul's departure has left. Right now, it hurts like the dickens.

Joe was one of the first people I met when I started roller derby just a few years ago. The very first night we hung out together, I gave him a ride to our league's first (now annual) Ugly Sweater Party. My car was broken into that night, the window smashed in. He expressed to me that somehow (in his crazy mind) he felt a little responsible, having ridden in with me. I dismissed him, but regardless, the very next morning, there was a mobile window repairman at my place looking to patch up my window. I called him up and yelled at him that he barely knew me! He had no right! He simply answered that he would not let me drive my kids around in the winter cold without a window and he knew that single moms didn't always have the resources to deal with these situations. THAT was just Joe. Well....he won my heart that day. He won it over and over again many days after.

The REAL Joe

He wouldn't really let me ever pay him back for the window, so I told him that I would be his ride to derby practice for as long as he needed one. (He wasn't driving at the time.) We got to be very close and even my kids came to love him. He became the friend I would call to come over for dinner, go to punk shows with, go swimming, and just bum around and watch movies. He was so very smart and not very fun to play trivia games with. He had a Master's degree in biochemistry....so he seemed to retain just about any information that went near his head. He would work on my car in exchange for food. He helped me move and clean out my old place. He would help ANY friend with just about ANYTHING they ever needed and you hardly even had to ask. What he wouldn't do, is ever ask for help.

Everyone who ever knew him, loved him. He was a tall guy with piercings and a mohawk some of the time who wore a stoic expression most of the time. He was nothing like he appeared. He was goofy, dorky, sensitive, weird, awkward, shy, humble, and amazing. I know so many people that miss him so much right now, not the least of whom, his own daughter, Roxanne. She was his life and his light. He loved talking about her more than any other topic in the world.
My heart goes to her and his family. The short time I knew him made a HUGE impact on me. He will never be forgotten because he made me a better person just for knowing him. Rest in peace big guy....you left a Joe-size hole in this world that nobody else can fill.

How to Quit

I've been asked by TONS of people to write about this. Last year, I quit smoking. I have stayed smoke free since my quit date without a single deviation. This is NO small feat as any smoker knows. Nicotine might be the single most addictive substance out there. Smokers poison themselves slowly and tell themselves it's because they love it because that addiction is so very strong. TRUTH.

Now, I'm not all crusader-y about it (or maybe I am) but I definitely feel like if I could do it, anyone can. I smoked for almost 20 years straight. TWENTY FREAKING YEARS! I quit here and there, but nothing ever really stuck. The bottom line is: I wasn't ready to REALLY commit to quitting. Once you get over that enormous mental hurdle, the rest is cake. Seriously. THAT was my big secret to quitting. You HAVE to be able to tell yourself with complete honesty that you will NEVER, NOT EVER take another drag off a cigarette ever again. And you have to believe it.

First, I set my quit date a couple weeks in advance to mentally prepare myself. It was after my injury last year, so I set my quit date for the day I was getting out of my walking boot. My rationale was, I would be able to move around more instead of being tempted to sit on my ass and smoke. I got some of the nicotine patches to help with cravings, but I got the lowest dosage. I only used them with a little regularity for the first few weeks, then I only put one on when I went out to a bar or party. It really helped with initial temptations.

The BEST tool/resource/aid in my success at quitting HANDS DOWN was this FREE app a friend recommended called Quit Now. It was instrumental and essential in my journey. This app tracks your progress. It tells you how much of your health is returning, how much money you are saving, puts you in contact with others quitting, gives you tips, and marks every achievement no matter how small. It gives you something concrete to refer to so that your accomplishments are marked and have substance. I could not endorse this application more.

Lastly, share your mile markers with friends and family. The support they offer can also make a huge difference. My kids were my biggest cheerleaders and the reason I gave my all. It was easier than I ever thought it could be because of them. I want to be in great health for them and share all their experiences in their lives....not in another room or hanging around outside smoking. I never realized what a time sucker that stuff was! It even becomes a smoker's way of measuring time. STUPID.

This morning I was asking my son if he thought I was forgetting something...because I thought I did and sometimes he is very helpful. He was going through a mental list with me saying, "Keys? Purse? Your money?" Nope....got all those. Then he stunned me by adding to the list, "Smokes?" I stopped short, looked at him and laughed. I said, "Mama quit smoking over a year ago! I don't carry those!" It felt SO fantastic to say out loud, I had to say it a few more times. I QUIT SMOKING! (You can too.)

This One Time In HELL.....

Stupid blog title...better story. I know, I know....WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN EDITH?! Busy and apathetic so get off my back. I'm here now, and with something that may or may not entertain you. I've always gotten great feedback from some of my stories of particular pain on my end. When I'm in agony, it makes for popular fodder. This particular tale dates back to my first days as a mother of two. I was new at juggling a pair of tots and oh so very naive.

So there I was, my one month old boy snoozing happily in the carseat carrier (which any parent can attest are NOT light and easily maneuvered) and a happy little toddler girl bouncing around me fresh off her recent sugar high. I was rounding up the last of my errands and had saved the most detestable for last: The Grocery Store. Not FIVE MINUTES after I had entered the threshold and veered towards the produce, the nightmare began. Baby boy was awake and he was not happy. He began screaming at the top of his lungs and continued to do so for the duration of this story.

I broke into a bit of a mock-jog attempting to make this trip as quickly and efficiently as possible. The girl, however, had schemes of her own. She refused to get in the cart (which, admittedly would have been cramped anyway) and walked at a pace that hearkened that of an elderly man in a botanical garden. Every so often she would stop to touch boxes of cookies and attempt to smuggle them into my wailing cart. Other times, she would dart ahead and around corners playing a one-sided game of Hide and Seek. IT WAS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE.

Did the fun end there? Well now, that wouldn't make for much of a story! As I finally rushed up to the check out line, eyes from all sides burning straight through me, I tried to remove the now red-faced infant STILL screaming in agony as if someone had sliced off an appendage from his carrier. Holding him with one arm, corralling the devious tot, and unloading my goods onto the conveyor proved to be a bit of a challenge. A woman came over to help me (as anyone within a mile radius could see me struggling) and I was trying to hear her over the wailing, but only caught pieces which weren't helpful anyway because they were in Spanish. While attempting to cradle and comfort the screaming (which was now only inches from my ear), my lovely daughter had somehow obtained a lollipop. The lady in front of me was scowling. "I guess I just bought her that." I looked at the cashier who looked surprised and said "I thought she was with this woman!" I tried to repay the lady and fumbled for my purse as the lady stormed off. I glared at the girl happily waving her prize around.

My items were being scanned, the boy was still screaming, but only a bit quieter than before, and I was digging through my purse when I heard a very familiar voice come over the store intercom. "Hewo? Gwandma? Are you dere? I having fun wif mama!" I looked frantically around and saw my daughter two checkout lines over speaking into a phone receiver. I abruptly handed the cashier my card and ran over to snatch the little escapee up. Upon my return the employee packing up my items had the audacity to ask, "Will you be needing help out with these today?" I could tell he immediately regretted his question when he saw the daggers in my eyes as I glared at him, sweaty, flushed, placing the screeching newborn back into the carrier.

I learned a valuable lesson that day. Having one kid is like a vacation compared to managing two of them. And that was the only and LAST time that year I took both kids to the store with me.