You Know it Happens at Your House Too

Johnny Depp, Party of Two, Your Table is Ready

May 16, 2013 by Tara-YKIHAYHT 15 Comments

I’ve been doing some deep thinking about resurrecting this mission of meeting up with you for months. Seriously, this post has been in my drafts since February. I add things, I delete things. I’ve started over multiple times and I’ve stayed up many a night wondering how to make it work. I’ve made lists and I’ve written some real crap. I don’t know why in the hell I worry so much about it. I am certain that ~~some~~ many would say to me to just move the fuck on, but for some reason I just can’t let it go. I have this nagging voice in my head that won’t let me give up. I swear it feels like I’m trying to do something not just for myself, but for so many of my friends who support me and what I’m doing here on a daily basis. My thought processes have been so random lately it has been hard to come up with the perfect approach.

First it was making one of those pics asking for one million Facebook likes and then you would agree to set something up. Surely that shit works for all those people whose faces show up in my news feed. If hundreds/thousands/a million people think it should happen, then it will. Right? I then had a glass of wine and remembered how redonkulous those are so I made this one, just to add that special touch to this post. Totally not the least bit embarrassing.

Um…no.

Hey! How about a working with an amazing company to create something inspired by you? Hell yeah I did that. I worked with my amigas over at A Girl and Her Band to create this AMAZING headband, appropriately named Captain Jack, that is now available on their website. For now I had to use a miniature version of you to show it off, but I will bring one with me when we meet so that we can do something incredible for these inspiring ladies.

Since I can’t rely on getting one million Facebook likes to make something happen, I am going to have to rely on my writing skills for this. Sonofa…. Trying to decide which path to take here has been difficult. I did the letter, I’ve done the movie review, I’ve even gotten my ass up at four in the morning on a whim holding on to that slim chance that I would have a chance to meet you. I could sit here and blabber on about how much I adore you and how much I think you are all that and a bag of chips and how all your movies are spectacular, but even my five-year-old could read through that bullshit. What could I possibly write that would be different from the millions of other letters that you receive?

It was when I was talking with the Enabler and she asked me: If you had the chance to actually sit and talk to him, what would you talk about? Holy. Shit. Why did I not think of this sooner? I need to brainstorm over wine more often.

Let’s just imagine for a minute can we, you and I at a table in a quaint little restaurant. I have a salad because I probably can’t really eat out of fear of having something in my teeth, or having gas; you have a full plate of delightful food and I am extremely jealous because I’m starving. Both of us would have wine of course, except I would most likely down the first glass to calm my nerves. Don’t be alarmed, this will make the conversation much more interesting for both of us. We would get the bullshit out-of-the-way immediately. Yes, I have five kids. Yes, they are all mine. Yes, they were all planned. Yes, they all have the same daddy. Yes, I’m happily married. Yes, we really farm. Oh wait, you thought that YOU would be answering all the questions. I just assumed that you would be so intrigued by me that your list of questions would be never-ending. My bad.

Once you were finished with all your questions, I am confident that I could come up with some suitable conversation starters. I usually suffer from a serious case of verbal diarrhea, especially when I’m nervous, so there is no doubt that it would lead to many foot in mouth moments so please be sure to bring your sense of humor. Rest assured I would at least make the effort to appear like I have half a clue. I am fairly educated and I read quality <ahem> literature (like my own book, I Just Want to Pee Alone) when I have time (which isn’t very often) so surely I will be able to keep up with the conversation. I joke, but really these days I am just trying my best just to form logical thoughts and form coherent sentences. Thanks to my kids I don’t know how much I have left upstairs so I need to seize the moment and utilize what I’ve got while I still have it. The amount of quality adult interaction that I get to enjoy really is limited, so don’t be scared to just tell me to shut the hell up if I happen to get a little wordy.

In all seriousness though, I don’t want to interview you. I am sure you sit through so many of those snore-fests you don’t need another session of the same boring-ass questions. I’m not a journalist trying to land that big movie star interview in order to further my career. I’m a mom who writes for a little bit of mental therapy. I put my thoughts out there for total strangers to read with the hopes that maybe I will give someone a smile or encourage someone to make a change. If it’s a good day I will help someone get just the laugh that they needed to push them up from the depths of grumpiness or help that stressed out momma realize that she isn’t alone. That the very same shit that she has dealt with today, happened in my house yesterday. Luckily for me, very few people (translation my family and a handful of friends) would even know who I was if they saw me walking down the street. Anonymity definitely has it’s perks.

I have absolutely no agenda and I have no wonderful story to tell you as to why I deserve to meet you. I lead what many would consider an “ordinary” life on a farm in the middle of Kansas. I have nothing spectacular to tell you about myself besides I have five amazing kids and one very supportive husband. I can tell you that I’m a devoted fan, a devoted wife and mother to my family, and a devoted writer and entertainer for all my friends. I drink, I swear, I say what I think and do what I say I will. I make people laugh, I make my kids cry, and I have terrible indigestion right now because I know it’s time to hit the publish button on this post and the people, they will read it and they will roll their eyes, and for fucks sake I hope they share it and blow up the internet. I suppose I will leave the rest up to the power of the interwebs, fate….and you.

Peace. Out. xoxo

Filed Under: Family, Friendship, Gratitude, Johnny Depp, Uncategorized, wine

Mom, Are We Poor?

May 8, 2013 by Tara-YKIHAYHT 22 Comments

What. In. The. Hell. Not quite the question I expected to get from my eleven year old as I conducted my normal post school day interrogation Upon further questioning it came to light that a classmate had asked her if we were poor because she didn’t have any school pictures to bring home like some of the others. If there ever was a time in which I ever wanted to suggest to my child to tell someone to fuck off and mind their own business, this was it. Um…have you seen school pictures lately? Horrendous. Besides, the condition of my checkbook is no business of a fifth grader. Not even my own.

After drying her tears and reassuring her that we are in fact not poor, I felt it the opportune time to inform her that we are not what many would consider rich either. While we are not financially strapped and are able to provide our kids with the things that they need, it takes some planning on our part to be able to give them the things that they want. More importantly I wanted to stress to her that while we may not be monetarily rolling in the dough, we are rich in so many other ways. Ways that she may not understand at this exact moment. Ways that don’t agree with her “cater to me right now” mentality. Ways that maybe some of her friends don’t get to enjoy.

We live in a ninety-year-old house. Not just any old house mind you, Farmer Bob grew up in this house. While it doesn’t have sparkly new fixtures, cable TV and brand new carpet, it has things that are so much better. It has character and memories and an outhouse. We have a fort in the trees and hay in the barn to play hide and seek in. We have open space to play baseball in the yard and plenty of room to get away from each other if we need to. We have food on the table and clothes on our backs. We have fun together, we fight, we argue, we love. We are a family.

Being rich in the monetary sense would be fantastic don’t get me wrong. To not have to worry about how to cover this bill or that bill, to be able to give our kids a few of the things that are wanted whenever desired would be an amazing feeling. The question I have to keep asking myself is would I be willing to sacrifice so many wonderful moments in order to have the financial stability to satisfy what would undoubtedly become insatiable appetites for shit that serves no other purpose than to allow our family to slowly disintegrate into seven separate entities instead of one strong familial unit? The answer to that…HELL NO.

It is never easy to tell our kids no, you don’t need that. As parents we have this primordial desire to provide for them, to satisfy their every desire. We feel as if we are failing them if we can’t serve them everything that they want and need on a silver platter. Maybe we are actually failing them if we do throw all their earthly desires at their feet with no request for repayment. Are we raising a generation of entitled assholes? I hear how kids talk to their parents, my own included. I see the look of fear in a mother’s eyes of what might happen if she says no to that toy, my own included. It scares the shit out of me. Scares me that as parents we allow it. That it seems that we really are raising the kind of adults that we ourselves can’t stand to be around.

What scares me even more is the thought that these kids won’t grow up to appreciate the things that don’t cost a fortune. That they won’t understand that you don’t have to be rich in the financial sense to be rich in so many other ways. That family comes first and the rest of it is just “stuff”. That we have riches that far exceed anything that money can buy. That in fact, some of the best things in life truly are free and can’t be captured in some stupid school picture.

Filed Under: Children, Chores, Family, Gratitude, kids, Love, Motherhood, parenting, Uncategorized

I Swear if You Win This Crappy Prize You’ll Get to Just Pee Alone

May 3, 2013 by Tara-YKIHAYHT 64 Comments

Once upon a time there was a mother who appeared to have her life together. Her clothes were always clean, she had no need for , and her hair and makeup were perfection every time she left the house. She just knew that if she left the house not looking like then all the other moms in her circle would think she was a mess. She HAD to look like she had a damn clue. She HAD to appear to have it all together. What these “friends” didn’t know about this mother was that while she seemed to have it all together on the outside, on the inside she had so many secrets. Secrets that she felt she could never tell anyone because they would then think she was a craptastic wife/mother/woman.

She wanted to let her secrets out. She NEEDED to tell someone with the hopes she would discover she wasn’t alone. She wanted to announce to the world that she occasionally has sweet dreams about and that it is possible that she has a small fondness for . (Who does that? I mean Johnny Depp, really? Can’t she be original? Sheesh.) She wanted to get her friends drunk and swap stories about well endowed men and sex and vaginas and boobs. She wanted to help them to realize that talking about these things doesn’t make them shitty wives, they make them normal women with healthy libidos which in turn makes them BETTER wives.

She didn’t want to be judged for drinking too much in the morning, or too much at night, because damn it, those are the things that help her get through the day. Throw in an obscene amount of and at times it was the only way she could stop the one-way train to crazy town. She wanted to help her friends realize that it’s normal for their kids to drive them bat shit crazy from time to time and that it is more than acceptable to drink a glass a wine or eat half a package of chocolate if that is what helps bring the blood pressure down to a manageable level. She needed to know that she wasn’t alone in this and that the time for pretending that motherhood is full of rainbows and glitter has passed. It was time to cut the shit.

She was going to tell her friends that she didn’t have it all together. She wanted them to know that in reality all she really wanted to do was lock herself in the bathroom and scream !!!! She wanted to scream it from the fucking mountaintops that she was proud to be a curse word aficionado, and card-carrying member of the club. She wanted to admit that her life with her kids is nowhere near as perfect as she pretends it to be. She knew deep down that if people wanted to know about her life as a mother, she should probably just hand out copies of to all. She knew that these three books were her life in a mashed up nutshell and she hadn’t even had the time or the money to add them to her collection. She needed to get her hands on them. STAT.

So when this woman saw the opportunity from and to win an amazing Mother’s Day survival basket, she knew she had to enter for her chance to win copies of , , and . Throw in a $25 spa gift card, a DVD copy of , not to mention (chocolate) and (coffee and a mug) and she knew she had to enter. She just knew in her heart that she would win and once she did, she would no longer give a shit what her so-called “perfect” friends thought of her. She pictured herself telling all those Judgy McJudgerson bitches to take a long walk off a short pier, and then she would take her prize and retreat to her bedroom on Mother’s Day where she would lock the door and lay around drinking coffee while reading these amazing and hilarious books and shoving all the chocolate into her mouth.

It couldn’t be any easier to win. All a girl has to do is to leave a comment on this blog telling a secret that she keeps from her circle of friends. What does she secretly snack on while her kids are sleeping? Who did she dream about last night? What curse words does she use when she is home alone but would never say in front of another person? Does she dream of leaving the house with her hair in a messy bun and no make-up? Does she have a certain friend that she secretly can’t stand? It really doesn’t matter what it is, let it out here!

Recap: 1. Up for grabs, a kick ass prize pack containing a signed copy of I Just Want to Pee Alone, a signed copy of Moms Who Drink and Swear, a copy of Parenting, Illustrated With Crappy Pictures, plus a $25 spa gift card, chocolate, coffee and a mug, and a DVD.

2. Enter by a) leaving a comment on the blog telling us a racy secret and b) drop your info in the Rafflecopter. You can’t win if you don’t do both.

3. Check your email on 5/7 to see if you have won. Good luck to you all!

Entries will be accepted until Midnight CST on 5/6/2013. The winner will be contacted via email and if no response is given within 24 hours a new winner will be drawn! Good luck!!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Don’t want to wait? Click on the books below and order your copies RIGHT NOW. While you are at it be sure to order copies for your mother/mother-in-law/grandmother/aunts/neighbors/cousins/OB-GYN/worst enemy. They all MUST read all three of these books. You never know, it may just lighten them up just a little. Help them remove the stick. Laughter, it really is the best medicine.

Filed Under: Book, Friendship, Gifts, Giveaway, Humor, I Just Want to Pee Alone, Johnny Depp, Motherhood, The Underachievers Guide to Being a Domestic Goddess, YKIHAYHT

Have You Found All Your Pieces?

April 30, 2013 by Tara-YKIHAYHT 8 Comments

Lately life has felt like a puzzle. A puzzle right out of the box with pieces scattered, turned every which way, some upside down, some right side up. Some gathered in a pile, some flung across the table. It’s pure chaos. I’ve been trying to gather my pieces and reassemble myself into a beautiful picture but have been unsure about my ability to achieve such a lofty goal. It’s so hard to find the time to take a break, to leave everything behind and take some time to organize all the pieces. Taking time to find the misplaced pieces and to throw out the few pieces that don’t belong anymore. There comes a time when you must stop, look at the picture on the box, and take a good look at all the pieces to decide what needs to be done in order to put the puzzle back together.

I teach my kids to always do the edges first because they are the most vital part to the puzzle. They are the starting point. They give you the boundaries, and idea of how the rest of the puzzle will go together. If the edges are all screwed up, the rest of the puzzle is fucked. It’s unorganized and you are not even able to complete it. Farmer Bob, he’s my edges. I honestly can not do a damn thing without him. He’s not afraid to tell me when I’m being a total jackhole and he always gives me support and help when I need it. He keeps me grounded and helps me keep my pieces together.

It had been eleven years since we had gone anywhere alone. Eleven years. Think about that for a minute. It is redonkulous and embarrassing to even say out loud. Even though we see each other every day, it had been ELEVEN YEARS (have you picked up that it has been too damn long?) since we had taken the time to do something for just us. While we are confident that we have all of our edge pieces properly assembled, we realized that it had been entirely too long since we had taken the time to make damn sure that all the pieces are in the right place. This weekend we straightened our edges. Meals alone without stopping to take someone pee or to cut up someone’s steak, great times with some great friends, naps, a few drinks, and The Black Keys. Edge pieces….check.

Now it’s time to put together the rest of the puzzle. There are so many different pieces that all have to fit together just right in order to complete the picture. Some pieces have gotten lost along the way and the search is on in order to find them. Some pieces have been bent in half or become mangled and will have to be straightened out, or even glued together, in order to fit again. Some pieces are in the box but don’t fit in the puzzle and will need to be removed. Some pieces have been right there all this time, and even thought it was believed that they did not even fit into this puzzle, they may actually end up being the that one piece that has been missing the entire time. It is even possible to find some new pieces that you thought would never fit in your puzzle, but to your delight they fit just like they have been there from the beginning.

Take the time to look at your puzzle. Really look at all of the pieces. Spread them out, turn them over, sort them out, and really look at them. It isn’t an easy task that is for sure. There is nothing easy about searching for the lost pieces and it is hard as hell to throw out the pieces that don’t fit any longer, but taking the time to really look at them before putting them together is so enlightening and refreshing and at times frightening.

This weekend I finally took some time to examine my pieces. I turned them all right side up, found some pieces that were lost, decided that some pieces just don’t fit so they needed to be removed, and remembered exactly what the final picture is supposed to look like. While I still have some work to do before I have a puzzle worthy of some permanent glue, at least now I have the right pieces in my possession and judging by the picture on the box, I think the final product is going to be pretty fucking spectacular.

Filed Under: Famer Bob, Family, Friendship, Gratitude, Love, Marriage, Motherhood, Thankful, Vacation

Parenting Skills I Picked Up Playing Those Pesky Board Games

April 24, 2013 by Tara-YKIHAYHT 4 Comments

We play a ton of board games around here. “Mom, can you play a board game with me?” is one of the most popular questions around here. Sometimes it is the same game for a few days in a row and at times, with a little prodding, we can switch it up to something a little more exciting. As I was returning lost pieces to the game closet, I perused our selection of games and started thinking (which is always dangerous) about how playing these games as a kid myself unknowingly prepared me for parenthood. You with me so far? Here we go:

Guess Who: You know the crime, but who did it? Do they have blonde hair? Do they still poop their pants? Do they have a vagina or a penis? Can they read? Wipe their own butts? Speak in full sentences? Are they clothed? Do they have food in their hair?

Clue: Very similar to Guess Who with the added stress of discovering the crime and the weapon of choice. I suspect it was the five-year-old, in the living room, with the permanent marker. No? How about the eight-year-old, in the closet, with the scissors?

Chutes and Ladders: You bust your ass to get all the way up to the top only to slip-up and have to slide all the way back to the beginning. Relevant for things like potty training, eating with utensils, turning laundry right-side out, and of course proper table manners. Didn’t we just have the discussion last night about not farting at the table?

Memory: Who has practice tonight? Where is that concert? What cookies? How many kids do I have again? Where is my grocery list? Why did I walk into this room?

Operation: The one game you see as pointless until you need to remove that splinter or that bean from someone’s nose. How in the hell did you get rocks in your butt? Is that a Lego in your ear? If you don’t poop soon I’m going to have to help you out. I promise, this will only hurt for a second.

Monopoly: You bust your ass to save money and in the blink of an eye some asshole has taken it all. This game also taught us the fine art of patience because it. never. ends.

Perfection: Working under pressure seems to work pretty well until you run out of time and all hell breaks loose. You scream, you yell, you pee just a little.

Risk: Logistics. Trying to decide if you really want to head into the tween’s bedroom for a surprise cleaning? Do you have big enough balls to attempt to overtake the enemy that is the shithole they live in? Once you conquer one enemy you have to re-evaluate your troops (AKA, your caffeine intake) to see if you have the supplies to attempt an attack on the next. If you go in unprepared, make sure to have an ample supply of reinforcements for afterwards (AKA, wine).

Hungry Hungry Hippos: Quick, shove all the food in your mouth. Meal time really is a race to see who can get done first.

Mousetrap: Chase them around all day long, but you aren’t going to catch them unless you construct some high-falootin contraption…that works. All else fails, offer cheese.

Don’t Break the Ice: You can tiptoe around all day in an effort to keep everyone safe and happy, but one wrong move and you are screwed.

Battleship: You have to ask around in order to find that permission slip for the field trip or that one missing shoe. Where is the TV remote? I know I had that secret stash of chocolate somewhere. You never know where it is, but with the right questions and the use of the fine art of elimination, hopefully you can find what you were looking for.

Trivial Pursuit: You think you know everything that your kids are doing but in reality, you know JACK. SQUAT.

Who wants to play with me?

Are you in the Kansas City area? Clear your schedule for Saturday, April 27 and come join myself, Jen from People I Want to Punch in the Throat, and Stacey from Nurse Mommy Laughs for an I Just Want to Pee Alone book signing event from 10:00-12:00 at The Mommy Shop, 14870 Metcalf Ave, Overland Park, KS. There will be snacks and more importantly mimosas. We would love to see you there!

Mother’s Day is quickly approaching. You know what would make great gifts? These books right here. You need them. Your mom needs them. Your mother-in-law/aunt/grandmother/teacher/neighbor/best friend need them. You won’t be disappointed, I promise.

Filed Under: Children, Family, Humor, kids, Motherhood, parenting, Uncategorized

In the Blink of an Eye

April 16, 2013 by Tara-YKIHAYHT 13 Comments

In the blink of an eye you are no longer just a couple.

In the blink of an eye your life is no longer just about you.

In the blink of an eye you become a parent.

In the blink of an eye your munchkin is sitting up, feeding herself, interacting with you.

In the blink of an eye your baby is a walking, talking human.

In the blink of an eye you aren’t changing diapers and wiping little butts.

In the blink of an eye they can color inside the lines and write their own name.

In the blink of an eye they are getting their own cereal and pouring their own milk.

In the blink of an eye Chutes and Ladders is replaced by Monopoly.

In the blink of an eye they stop asking for apple juice and start asking for pop.

In the blink of an eye they no longer want to snuggle on the couch, but want to be left alone.

In the blink of an eye they are smarter than you.

In the blink of an eye your girls are fixing their own hair and asking for makeup.

In the blink of an eye your boys are talking about their balls and the smell of their farts.

In the blink of an eye your kids don’t need you to read them stories. They can do it on their own.

In the blink of an eye the boys don’t want to kiss their mother anymore.

In the blink of an eye your little girl is asking for bras and talking about her uterus. And boys.

In the blink of an eye the pants that fit them yesterday are two inches too short.

In the blink of an eye they can make their own decisions and learn from their mistakes.

In the blink of an eye you are no longer mommy and daddy. You are now just mom and dad.

In the blink of an eye they start Kindergarten. In the next blink, middle school. In the next…you are afraid to blink again.

In the blink of an eye you realize they are growing up and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

In the blink of an eye it could be gone.

What are you doing in-between blinks?

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Filed Under: Boys, Children, Compassion, daughters, Family, Gratitude, kids, Love, Motherhood, parenting, Sons, Thankful

You Might Be a Parent IF…

April 11, 2013 by Tara-YKIHAYHT 19 Comments

The other day I lost it. Not in a I went bat-shit crazy kind of way, but in a this is so absurd I can’t help but laugh at myself kind of way. When we become parents we seem to make an instant transformation. Sort of like Superman in the phone booth; Average Joe going in, superhero when we come out. Only difference being that it seems that we never take off our capes. Bear with me as I delve into parenthood and some ways we seem to transform into real-life grown-ups, Jeff Foxworthy style.

You Might Be a Parent IF...

You might be a parent if….

You can brush your teeth and hold your 3 year olds wiener while he pees.

You can brown up some hamburger, fix someone a drink, and cut up some veggies all with a baby on your hip and a toddler or two flailing on the floor because you aren’t fast enough with the milk.

You can stop mid-bite to go wipe someone’s ass only to come right back and resume business as usual.

You can whip up six dozen cookies at the last-minute when your kid tells you they forgot that they needed to take snacks for the school program….which happens to be tomorrow.

You aren’t afraid to catch vomit in your bare hands.

You can lay down on the couch and still know exactly what your kids are doing. With your eyes closed.

You take your kids out to dinner and you spend more time in the bathroom than you do at your table.

You can answer all their questions with movie quotes. ”Mom, what’s cannibalism?” ”Mom, what’s a hazmat suit?”

You schedule all well child checks months in advance so that you are guaranteed an on-time appointment but you can’t remember to schedule your yearly hoo-ha check.

You can’t remember to take your grocery list when you go shopping but you know exactly where Sally’s red sparkly headband is that she wore three weeks ago.

You can play two different board games at the same time while catching up on your Words With Friends matches, and you manage to win them all.

Your most popular phrases are “get your finger out of your butt”, “we don’t eat boogers for lunch”, and “no, I don’t want to smell your fart”.

Your living room decor no longer consists of beer can pyramids and wine bottle trees. Instead you discover non-commissioned works of art using mediums that you are certain should be removed by men in hazmat suits.

You can change a diaper in the dark and not leave any residue behind.

You can tiptoe through a bedroom at three in the morning and not step on a single Lego, but attempt it in the daylight and you are damning them all to the depths of hell.

You aren’t against taking a glass of wine and your tablet or smart phone into the bathroom and locking the door, whether you have to poop or not, just for a few minutes of alone time.

You do laundry because hampers are full, not because you have a shirt that is dirty that you want to wear to the bar tonight.

Parenthood has changed me in ways that I never thought possible. While we may not be huge fans of some of the things we do now (I for one am not a lover of vomit), we wouldn’t change any of it. Except maybe the poo on the walls.

How have YOU changed, for the better, since becoming a parent?

If you aren’t reading these books, you aren’t the people I thought you were. Click on them. Order them. Put on a Poise. Read them. Laugh. I promise you will.

Filed Under: Boys, daughters, diapers, Family, Humor, I Just Want to Pee Alone, kids, Motherhood, parenting

Do I Look Fat in These Jeans?

April 8, 2013 by Tara-YKIHAYHT 3 Comments

I’ve been after my friend Angela to guest post for me for some time. We first “met” via our Facebook pages and I was immediately drawn to her. Her positive attitude, her fantastic sense of humor, and the way she truly cares for others is just a few of the qualities that I adore about her. She has been one of my biggest fans and supporters from the beginning of this journey and I am so very blessed to be able to call her my friend. I look forward to the day that I get to sit across the table from her and share a meal and so many laughs. She runs an amazing Facebook page and recently launched her accompanying website that is a GREAT place for women to connect. Without further ado, please welcome my friend Angela, Sad But True Life of a Middle Aged Woman.

Do These Jeans Make Me Look Fat?

We, as a culture, seem to be obsessed with our size. Do my jeans make me look fat? Does this shirt show too much boob? And where the hell did that back fat come from? We spend time looking in the mirror to see if we have added some pounds, lost some pounds or, quite possibly, shifted some poundage from one place to another, as if one day we would wake up and find that some of the fat in our butt or stomach has been magically shifted to our boobs, or other desirable places.

We examine our bodies to see if we have aspired to the “type” that society says we should be. But what is the “perfect” type anyway? Curvy? Skinny? Slim? Big on top little on the bottom? Who knows, but let’s move on…

Once we have finished examining ourselves, we might find that we are disappointed to find our bodies are in the same place that we left them the night before. In an attempt to feel better about ourselves, we now hit the streets looking for a body that we believe looks worse than our own. And why do we need someone to look worse than we do? Because it makes us feel better about ourselves.

I’m sure you’ve been out and about and seen all sorts of body types walking around. Some of these types may be overweight and maybe when you saw them you thought, “She would look so good if she would just lose a few pounds, then she would be perfect!” Or, maybe you saw somebody really thin and you thought, “I wonder if she has anorexia or bulimia.” Then, of course, there is the body type that looks physically fit and we say, “I bet she is a bitch. She only thinks about working out” or “I’ll bet she doesn’t have any problems. She’s perfect.” It seems that we are either too fat or too skinny, never being able to make everybody happy, and this really bugs me, because, quite frankly, WHY does it matter?? If I am curvy or skinny or physically fit, who gives a rat’s ass? I am still ME. I believe that when one group has to put down another group in order to make themselves feel better, it’s completely pathetic. But this isn’t a new feeling for me, in fact it has always bothered me, because, I am that girl. Which girl? Well, both.

I have been from one extreme of the weight issue to the other. I have been curvy and I have been board straight, as in no curves, not one…anywhere. No boobs, no hips, NADA. Then, one day, just like that, I woke up curvy. And I mean CURVY…boobs, hips and a little bit of arm flab thrown in for good measure. When I was curvy, I was told I should “work out” and maybe I should “eat fewer carbs,” like eating fewer carbs was an option I wanted to entertain. As a non-curvy person, I was told, “You should put on some weight” or “maybe you should lift weights, it might help you get shapely.” Each comment, whether it was directed toward my curvy self or my skinny self, would be followed up with, “You’ll feel better, if you do what I said, I promise.” The reality was that whatever or whomever I was, wasn’t good enough to the group that I wasn’t.

Frantically, in my attempt to make everybody else happy I followed the instructions I had been given. When I was curvy, I worked out and ate salads, but it didn’t work. The mashed potatoes from my former life were my friend and they stuck to my hips and promised to never leave me. I practiced looking at myself in the mirror, wondering which angle would make my double chin appear a little bit less. When I was skinny, I did everything I could to gain weight, which included eating everything I could and lifting weights, but to no avail. My metabolism was off the charts, so the weight just slid off. I felt like I looked like a boy and could not possibly be attractive.

Over time I stopped trying to make other people happy because I could NEVER live up to anybody else’s expectation. I could only live up to my own expectation. The reality is that people are people. They are not better if they are curvy or skinny, big or little or rich or poor. What matters is if they are happy with themselves, and that is all. Oh, I hear people saying, “But they are unhealthy!” And I say; that is their business, not yours.

In each and every situation, whether I was curvy or slim, I was still funny, nice, kind, friendly and caring. Those were and are the qualities that stay with me no matter what I look like on the outside. Focus on your inner qualities and while you’re at it, focus on other people’s inner qualities too.

Listen to me when I say curvy women aren’t better than slim women and slim women aren’t better than curvy women. Period. Curvy women aren’t happier than slim women and slim women aren’t happier than curvy women. Got it? If you don’t want to be fat or skinny, then don’t be, but don’t judge someone else for who you think they should be.

Here is a thought, next time you see someone, instead of looking at their body to see who they are, look in to their eyes to see who they are. You will be amazed.

Angela

(currently slim(ish), boobilicious and with a muffin top)

Please be sure to follow SBT on Facebook and visit her website. You can also follow her on Twitter. I promise you will NOT be disappointed!

Filed Under: Family, Friendship, girls, Gratitude, Sad But True Life of a Middle Aged Woman

Parenthood: It’s Nothing Like the Movies

April 3, 2013 by Tara-YKIHAYHT 6 Comments

Parenthood ain’t fancy and it ain’t a cake walk, I think we can all agree on that. ~~Most~~ All of the time I wish this shit was easier. Just like it appears in the movies. Why can’t it just be laid out for us, like in a script? Why does it have to be so HARD???

This got me to thinkin’ <danger, danger”=”"> I haven’t been on a movie set…YET; but I watch a lot of movies and read too many articles on the internet about movie stars (no one in particular) and sets, and all the goings on around them. So allow me to enlighten you just a bit. Go pop some popcorn (I can wait), sit back, relax, and let us look at how parenthood is absolutely nothing like the movies.

Don’t mind me, I just need a moment to pretend.

1. We have no script. Every good movie needs a script so that the actors know what happens next. Parenthood needs a script. Wouldn’t it be lovely to know when to expect that projectile vomit or to know that your kid will conveniently forget to do their homework? To know when your kid is gonna pee his pants at a party or have that meltdown in the store because she wants the pink one not the damn purple one. I know I would love to know ahead of time when I need to be prepared for that first kiss or that first heartbreak. To know exactly the way to handle the first time you catch your little angel in their first try at serious parental deception. Can someone please write me a script?

2. I don’t have a trailer outfitted with a salon where I get my hair and makeup done every morning while perusing an unlimited supply of amazing clothes. While I know I looked pretty incredible in Target the other in my ratty K-State sweatshirt circa 1997, thinning sweats, hair in a messy bun, and no makeup; it would be nice to occasionally have an unlimited/unstained/non-hole riddled wardrobe and someone to coordinate my hair and makeup to match. One could get used to a scalp massage every morning.

3. Having a body double on hand sure would be helpful for the old self-esteem. You ladies know what I mean. We all have that one special time of the month in which we feel slightly, what’s the word here….blergh. bloated. ick. Just imagine for a minute if you can, you and the Hubs snuggling in for some sexy time. You aren’t really feeling it thanks to the magic of PMS, so here comes the old body double. Magically you are toned, your boobs are where they are supposed to be, legs properly shaved, you look incredible. Or how about that time at the pool when you see “that mom” in her string bikini while you sit on the side of the pool in your swim skirt. Bring on the body double. BOOM. Problem solved, esteem restored.

4. Catering available 24/7, don’t mind if I do. Not cooking for a night or two (or ten) would sure be nice. To have it catered in instead of having to go pick it up? Fabuloso. Don’t see something that floats your boat? Order it, someone will go get it for you. I like to cook but this wouldn’t be all bad either. From what I understand it isn’t exactly dog fodder that they serve here.

5. Filming in a warm, tropical location? I think I could make that work. Spend a couple of months in Europe? Sounds so much more glamorous than my little farm in the middle of Kansas. Don’t get me wrong I LOVE country living and the freedom that comes with it, but a few weeks in an exotic location with other people keeping track of your schedule and making sure you get where you need to go when you need to get there…it truly does sound like a nice change to the monotony of wiping butts, keeping track of who has what practice when, who has a field trip this week, and what doctor we need to visit this month.

6. We don’t have a stunt person on hand to handle all those unexpected accidents. You dads consider the trauma you suffer when that bat swing goes awry or when the socks are a little too slippery on the wood floor and their heads are at just the right level. NUT PUNCH. Moms, how about when we try to reign in that temper tantrum and catch that elbow in the boob or that Lego to the face, not to mention the trauma that our bodies (vaginas) go through during pregnancy and childbirth. This parenting gig is vicious and we never take into account our own safety. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone trained in this area to take one for the team?

7. I would love to be walking down the street and some kick ass song comes on just for me. Think John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever minus the white bell bottoms. Having an amazing soundtrack to play at just the right moment would be so freaking awesome.

8. We have no editor. No way to remove those moments where maybe we had too much to drink or told someone to take a long walk off a short pier. Someone to cut out that time we were caught dancing a la Elaine from Seinfeld. How about that party you attended only to go back and look at pictures and see that parsley on your teeth or that booger hanging from your nose. EDIT. Realized after the fact that you said something remarkably stupid to an acquaintance? EDIT. Want to forget that you ever met someone? EDIT. Want to remove that moment of mom guilt? EDIT.

9. Unless incredible set design means mismatched couches, toy tractors all over the living room, toothpaste in the bathroom sink, and Lalaloopsy all over the dining room table, I don’t think I’ll be winning any Academy awards in that department. On that rare occasion that I entertain (still waiting on you Johnny) having a set designer would be the bomb-diggety. Nope, I never have pee on my toilets or shredded kleenexes all over the living room floor.

10. We aren’t getting paid millions of dollars to do this. When I say millions of dollars, I mean that in the most literal sense of the word. Cold. Hard. Cash. Now if you consider being paid in temper tantrums, eye rolls, foot stomps and “BUT MOOOOOOOOOM” I’m a freaking millionaire. Throw in the hugs, kisses, and “I Wuv You Mama” and I have more “money” than I know what to do with. Maybe this parenting job isn’t so bad after all.

Not only do I have a book out, but some of my friends do as well. If you aren’t reading these books, you aren’t the people I thought you were. Click on them. Order them. Put on a Poise. Read them. Laugh. I promise you will.

Filed Under: Children, Family, Humor, I Just Want to Pee Alone, Johnny Depp, Motherhood, parenting

It Really is OK to Just Say NO

March 27, 2013 by Tara-YKIHAYHT 8 Comments

Early on in childhood we are taught to say no. Say no to strangers, say no to drugs, say no to peer pressure. Even as parents we drill the same skill into our own little people. We stress to them the importance of using the word when something doesn’t seem right. That it is okay to give their friends a nice firm NO when they are being pressured to do things that they know are wrong. To say NO if they don’t want to do something. Makes you wonder why after all the years of being told to say it, we are so scared to use it as adults.

I’m do know that I’m not afraid to use it with my kids:

Mom, can I have a cell phone? No, you are ten.

Mom, can I have candy? No. I ate it all.

Mom, do you love me more than the others? No. I love you all equally, just some days I may like one of you more than the others.

Mom, do you have a wiener? Thankfully, no. If I did you wouldn’t be calling me mom.

Smell my feet mom! Not just no, but HELL NO.

Did you fart mom? Nope. Not me. I would never do that. <ahem>

While I love to piss my kids off on a daily basis by reminding them who is the boss around here, I often forget when approached by adults that I even know that the word NO is part of my vocabulary. Why do we have such a hard time saying that one little word to other adults, are we afraid of looking like we can’t handle it? Scared that we will be considered less of a woman/man/parent if we just say we can’t do it right now? Maybe it’s a little bit of mom guilt mixed in with that middle school mindset that we won’t be accepted if we don’t agree with every offer that is thrown our way.

This is extra difficult when the offers involve our kids. Sitting on the PTA board or coaching a ball team. Going on that field trip or making those cookies for the program. Never able to say no. Always willing to adjust our schedules to do what needs to be done. Never able to just walk away. Feeling as if we don’t say ‘yes’ that the job won’t get done. Forgetting that in most instances that one little word could alleviate so much stress from our lives if we would just use it. Just once it would keep us from trying to squeeze in one more meeting in an already over-packed day. Stop us from making just one more trip to the store for supplies. Give us an evening to reconnect with our already over-scheduled families.

Maybe it is that part of our human nature that has this desire to constantly please others. The feeling of never letting someone down. What happens when we become so overwhelmed that we forget to make those cookies or that meeting slips our mind? Disappointment and guilt. That’s what happens. Then we sit in the soup of despair and shitty feelings kicking ourselves in the ass for not being organized to write something down. For forgetting that we received that reminder call three days ago while we were juggling fixing lunch, finishing folding that load of laundry, and wiping the three-year-old’s butt. It is hard to believe that we, the uber-involved incredibly organized, could possibly overlook one little thing.

Here’s the deal, we ARE over-scheduled. We do strive for the acceptance of our peers, even as adults. We always want to appear as if we have it all together, even though we know in our hearts that we are falling apart and will be hopping aboard the crazy train any day now. In all reality, no one really gives a shit if you say “no, sorry, I just can’t make it to that meeting. I haven’t had dinner with my kids all week and I promised them that tonight was the night”. No one is going to think you are a raging bitch if you turn down that seat on the PTA board. OK they might, but if they do then maybe they are the bitch. No one else but us is looking our for us and what we need. What our families need.

The key is to find our balance. To find what is truly important to YOU. You want that seat on that non-profit? Grab it. You want to be the room mother for your kid (s)? DO IT. You want to run a bakery from your kitchen? Good for you. Do you have to do it all ? No way. Find your passion and do that. You aren’t telling the others to piss off, you are just saying that you want to be able to be fully invested in what you are doing. There is only so much room on our plates. To be truly involved with your whole self may take a little more effort but the rewards are ten-times greater than only being involved with just a piece of yourself.

We can no longer look at ’no’ as a word worthy of being placed on George Carlin’s list of dirty words. We can’t be afraid to say it to our kids, we know they aren’t afraid to say it to us. We can’t avoid it just because we are afraid of not being accepted into the cool kids club. If that club looks at you differently because you have priorities and can make a decision based on what is best for you, then maybe it isn’t as cool as you thought it was. There comes a time where that one little word can make the difference between spending time with the family that you love and adore or spending it doing something that makes you miserable. The choice is yours.