Rex, Rocky, Vivi, and Billy                                                                            

Hear Me Out

Hear Me Out

I’m trying to go through my notes here and give you something to make you smile amidst all the absolutely sickening shit show of events happening: mass shootings, terrorism, alligators, death, lunatic politicians.  Of course I (we) want this to be a place you can come and laugh about the shenanigans of parenting, but I’m asking myself if I can really just pretend none of this shit is happening while we’re briefly here in blogland, you and I.  Should I just show you pictures of my messy house and all the ways Vivi and Billy are driving me bananas today instead?


Now you don’t have to beat yourself up.  My house looks worse than yours right now.  I haven't even shown you the bedrooms.

That’s a magic of tidying up pile I’ve been working on for 3 ½ weeks.  Yeah, working just like fucking magic over here.

I digress.  But I’m good at doing that.  Honestly, if I don’t get it out and vent a little bit about our scary state of affairs, I’m not going to be able to write about anything else.

As a wife, a 30-something, a sister, a friend, etc. etc., but especially as a mother, I worry like everyone else is right now --> well, what the fuck is going to happen next?  How is it all going to play out?  Sometimes I wish I could time machine to the future and read all the history books they’ll write about this period of time.  What the hell are they going to refer to this era as?

Turning a blind eye to everything that’s happening lately doesn’t help the situation, but being totally engrossed and obsessive about it really doesn’t either.  On some level, I feel like elected officials, whoever the fuck, have failed us and they’re not really interested in making it up to us.  And Jesus Christ, on the other hand, there are so many people out there, troops, police, an endless list of people protecting us and keeping us safe.  But I guess everything is just a fucking dichotomy now and it leaves me frustrated, angry, sad, and discouraged about the future of the world our kids will raise their kids in.  Are you depressed yet?  I’m sorry!!  I’m not a Debbie Downer; I’m a human mom living in some really fucacta times!  Thank God Billy’s new trick is to hug me and fart at the same time or I might be laughing a lot less.

I can’t try to be eloquent about all of this, and I never feel I’m informed enough to spew my opinion in your face.  So, I’ll just say I’m scared.  I am.  Not in a panicky sort of way, but like a constant, dull, uneasiness that’s always hanging out somewhere in the background.  And maybe it will lessen in time, and maybe it won’t, but I’ve thought about moving to a desert island with my extended family a little too often lately.  Of course I know we’d most definitely be eaten by cannibals, so I almost always immediately talk myself out of that one.  And yes, I do find the beauty and happiness in small moments throughout the days like these:

I’m not a fucking doomsday prepper, but I don’t believe in ignoring the world around me either, the kind of living that “until it happens to me, then it doesn’t affect me”.  Life has a way of upper cutting us in the taint when we do that.

So I guess I want to know how you guys feel about it.  Do you not want to think about it, let alone get involved in an online conversation about it?  Are you saying to yourself, “WTF Brittany?! This post sucks a bag of dicks!”  Or do you feel powerless, like whoopdie fucking doody pants, I have the right to vote, but I lack the power to truly change anything.

Do I pay it forward?  Random acts of kindness?  Do I join a “moms against guns that spray bullets out like a water hose"??  I mean, it’s utterly absurd and fundamentally wrong that it’s not inconceivable that an armed jizz rag could walk into a school and cause unimaginable horror and pain.  And that is the most motherfucked up thing of all.

Maybe I shouldn’t even be writing this and I should be laying my hands on my piles of clothes to see if I feel “joy” or not, and finish cleaning up all the piles of shit?  I don’t know.  What’s the answer I’m seeking here?  Maybe to know I’m not alone in these thoughts?  We don’t have to word vomit political views at each other, but maybe we could just be real for a few minutes and say “hey, this is fucking terrible and I don’t know what to do about it either, but maybe let’s talk about it and possibly figure out what we can do to make this place better?”

Maybe you’re thinking, “You have to go shut the CNN off and be a bleeding heart somewhere else.”  But I won’t know what you’re thinking unless you tell me, and now I just told you what I’m thinking.  So, go ahead.  If you’re gonna spew, spew in this.  And if you don’t get that Wayne’s World reference, what I'm trying to say is, if you have a thought, say it here!  Let Who Runs This Mutha? be your tree of trust.  Are we or are we not in the fucking trust tree?!

Next week I’ll bring the funny back, or at least I’ll fucking try.  But hey, this is me being an honest mom, and also I mentioned farts, so there.

Say It Aint Snacktime

Say It Aint Snacktime

Happy Birthday and I'm Crazy (A Combined Post)

Happy Birthday and I'm Crazy (A Combined Post)