Excitement on the side

Two Snaps Up!

Posted on December 7, 2012 | 21 comments

I don’t know if normal people have these – the clothes they should never wear out drinking. When I was in college it was snap front western shirts. Not that they didn’t look fly, because in my book, pigtails and a skinny mini 20 year old girl in an old pair of 501s and her motorcycle boots, they are begging for a snap front western shirt. But those snaps… that ridiculously funny popping sound as you rip it open, it is too tempting. At the time in my life that I sported a red WonderBra most days and a lean and mean 20 year old old body it wouldn’t necessarily have scared anyone, but it wasn’t always appropriate. After several failed attempts at not ripping open my own shirt before evening’s end the snap front shirt went it in to the “Do Not Wear To Bars” side of the closet.

Now at my ripe old age of 36 I do not frequent bars and I do the majority of my boozing in the comfort of my own living room. I rarely get very tuned up. But as they say… it doesn’t take much. And I have not one but two “Do Not Wear to Bars” skirts in frequent rotation. They are genius in their construction. Reversible and loaded with snaps. (You can take the girl out of the bars but you can’t take her snaps!) A wrap around skirt with snaps all around, designed to fit many sizes, the perfect item to purchase after a baby when my waist line was fluctuating.

So, yesterday I was in a foul mood. I decided it was time to tell Sad to roll out. I painted my toenails hot pink and I pulled out one of my Zand Amsterdam skirts. I am heavily influenced by my costume. In my 20s it was common for me to change my clothes four or five times in a night. When my mood changes on the inside I need the outside to reflect it. And when my inside is being stubborn sometimes I force the issue.

Happy Kelly in her Zand Amsterdam skirt, photobomb courtesy of Lucy Q

In my favorite skirt and my candy cane Converse I set out in to the world determined to keep a smile on my face. We went to the dentist. We ran a few errands. And finally we headed to gymnastics. Heavily caffeinated, I dipped in to the bathroom while Em got started in her gymnastics class.

The bathroom in her gymnasium is in the gym. Lucy and I walked through the gym and Em waved at us. I went in to the bathroom and was pleased. It was really clean. I let Lucy walk around in the stall. I was exiting the stall and beginning to pat myself on the back for a successful trip to a public restroom with a walking ten and a half month old when I heard the zzzziiiippp sound.

My congratulations were too soon. Lucy had not put her hands in the toilet. But she had managed to grab my skirt and remove the skirt from the belt. I don’t know if you’ve ever been stuck in a winter coat because you opened up the zipper from the wrong end and you couldn’t pull the zipper back down but once you have a zipper split open it can take a minute or ten to get it straightened out. Which would not really be a problem unless you were standing in a bathroom in your underpants chasing your kid from the toilet paper dispenser back to the plunger saying “Luuucy, Mommmmy needs to get her skirt back on! Don’t touch that!! No, no, baby, stay right here!”

I frequently wonder if I am on Candid Camera. Standing in my candy cane Converse and my underwear shouting at my wandering baby to please not put the plunger in her mouth was one of those moments in time. There was definitely a moment before I fixed my zipper when I was planning my escape. My poor, poor daughter. She was going to be that kid in gymnastics that had the mother that appeared in the gym in her underwear. And her candy cane Converse. She might not ever recover.

I fixed my skirt. In between yelling at Lucy and fumbling with my zipper and imagining myself sprinting to the car with my sweater tied around my waist I was writing to you in my mind. I can’t do something embarrassing behind closed doors. It goes against every fiber of my being. Because while I was standing in my Converse and my underwear freaking out I wasn’t alone. You were all there with me. Now aren’t you lucky?

Sad has left the building. Ridiculousness has taken its place. Should be a fun few days.

21 Comments

Posted in Nonsense

GTFO, Sad!

Posted on December 6, 2012 | 27 comments

Sometimes I feel inside out. Like the parts that are supposed to be on the inside are on the outside. When I was 18 I got the cartilage in my ear pierced and it didn’t hurt when the needle went through. It didn’t hurt when he put the earring in. But when I went outside it stung. Maybe it was the chill in the Boston air. But the way I explained it to myself is that a little bit of my insides were exposed to the air. And it stung.

I live with my insides on the outside. Lucy called me Mama this week and I wept. Emily realized that I want every single extra minute she will give me and I held her hand tight and tried not to cry. The littlest moments make my heart sing. These moments don’t have to wind their way down deep in to my heart and soul to touch me because my heart and soul is right underneath my skin. Sometimes it is even on the outside of my skin holding itself together with nothing but sheer will.

When there is this much good, this much joy, this much Christmas spirit and this much love in your day to day it is harder to reconcile when the Sad rolls through. Usually I exercise the Sad away. Bicep curls make me feel like a bad bitch. Even if I do those bicep curls in my living room while I watch Rikki Lake and listen to Katy Perry somehow I still walk away feeling strong. Because I made the time. For me. Because I am important.

I have been busy. I have run errands. I have made Christmas ornaments and cooked holiday meals and wrapped gifts. I have not exercised much at all in ten days. And I have cried. Holy shit, I have cried. And I have lied by omission. “How was your day?” he asks me when he gets home from work.

“It was great! I hung the stockings!”

But it was not great. It is hard to throw yourself a Pity Party when you are married to a realist. This morning I gave up the act. I tried to tell him this morning about my bad case of the Sad and without forethought I blurted out “I don’t feel special.” Before I could stop myself I pointed out that he will surely tell me that no one is special and we will all be eaten by the worms some day.

Sometimes when you lean on the people you love they give you what you need. The last time I felt paralyzed with fear MQD gave me just what I needed. He gave me strength. I was trying to mentally wrap my mind around having a baby last January. I was in labor and I was scared. “You’re a bad ass, Kelly. You just can’t be too much of a pussy today to be a bad ass.”

This morning I was wallowing. “But the worms will never have had a meal JUST LIKE YOU,” he said.

He’s right.

Hey, Sad! Yeah, you with the swollen eyes and the runny nose and the bad mood, I’m talking to you, Sad. I have seasonally inappropriate toenails now and I am taking back the reins. You can kiss my ass, Sad, my sweaty ass while I do a million jump squats in my living room and evict you.

Even if it is sixty-some degrees outside it is Christmastime, Sad. I have a sweet, sweet husband and a big girl that makes me laugh. My baby girl has started saying mama and she kisses with tongue. Things around here actually pretty great. You gotta roll out, Sad.

27 Comments

Posted in Bad Mood, Exercise, Family, Nonsense, Parenting

Tagged Bad Mood, Exercise, Sad, therapy

I’ll stop the world and melt with you…

Posted on December 5, 2012 | 20 comments

It is hard to know if things are moving too fast or if they are moving just right.

Walking through the store today with Emily I imagined the day when we play Santa together. She mentioned the other day with a smile that she believes in Santa Claus “because if I don’t he won’t come, you know.” She looked at me an extra second. I don’t know if she was winking or if I imagined it.

My little girl is not the only one growing up before my eyes. My big girl is growing up every day, too. She wears some version of the same outfit every day these days. In her pink cowgirl boots she is fearless. In her leopard scarf she is warm and kind.

I picked her up from school today. As we walked to the car she said “You picked me up instead of having me ride the bus. How come?”

I reached my hand out and she took it. “No reason,” I said.

“You just wanted a few extra minutes, didn’t you?” She squeezed my hand.

That kid knows me too well. Yep. I just want a few extra minutes.

20 Comments

Posted in Parenting

Christmas in the Cackalackey

Posted on December 2, 2012 | 17 comments

Sometimes the spirit moves you slowly. In years past the Christmas spirit has crept in on little cat feet like Carl Sandburg’s Fog. Christmas usually comes in slowly.

This weekend it was unseasonably warm. I didn’t expect the spirit to grab me. I was in the produce section at the grocery store. I cruised right by the poinsettias. I didn’t bat an eye at the paperwhites. It was almost 65 degrees outside. I was wearing flip flops. Christmas was coming. But it wasn’t coming today.

Christmas candy

And then I saw them. All at once two things happened. The Christmas Spirit seized me. And I was an old, old woman.

I don’t think these Christmas candies have ever looked good to me before. But I wanted them. I am blaming it on Sudden Onset Christmas Spirit Disorder and not some kind of rapid aging.

I resisted the candies.

But it was a close call. As I walked through the grocery store I had the fully formed thought “I should really keep my eyes open for some kind of a crystal dish.” A crystal candy dish? I have small children. I am in my mid thirties, I am in my sexual prime, dammit!! A crystal candy dish??!! The Christmas Spirit works in mysterious ways.

Hours later the spirit had grabbed hold of me. The tree was up. The mantle is half decorated. Rudolf is hanging on the wall. I had the girls take naps so we could decorate the tree in the evening and not stress bedtime. It was shaping up to be a good day. The tree would go up in a corner I could gate off. It is possible that Lucy will not crush herself or ruin 36 years of ornaments. I was wearing a velour sweat suit. MQD was out with his father to watch football. The windows were open. Chili in the crock pot. I didn’t dare ask the Universe for another thing.

Lucy was running like a drunken linebacker with her hands up. It is a text book bum rush. I glanced at her and back to what I was doing, I had a few seconds before she would slam in to my legs. “Mamamamamaaaa….” I wasn’t sure I’d heard it until I looked to Emily. Her mother’s girl, her eyes were wet and already leaking “Mom!!! She said Mama!”

I dropped to the floor and tried to hold her in my arms, to drink in this baby that is growing before my eyes. She was in a hurry. She had things to do. I let her go. My baby had called for me. I was Mama.

The day carried on. We took showers.

We put on Christmas pajamas and we decorated the tree.

The Christmas Spirit has grabbed hold of Mama by her ankles and it is pulling me under. I might not come up for air for the entire month. This evening when MQD and his father walked in to the house I was peace. I was love. I was goodwill.

There is only one spirit stronger than the Christmas Spirit.

And damn if they didn’t stroll in the house with some. Now excuse me, I need to kick back and watch a Christmas movie and sip a little shine. Christmas spirit is swell. But the white lightning is the spirit that warms me head to toe.

17 Comments

Posted in Family, Nonsense, Parenting

Tagged Christmas, home, mama, moonshine, motherhood, nature, Parenting

I’m so complicated. Really. I am.

Posted on November 26, 2012 | 28 comments

I can’t recall who started it. It was trending not just in my twitter feed and on facebook. It was in my house, too. Em didn’t want to go back to school after her long break. MQD was not particularly interested in going back to work. It seemed like no one wanted to “go back.”

I have adopted a silence when people start hemming and hawing on Sunday in the late afternoon about “going back to work.” When you stay home you don’t have much to add to that conversation. Either you crack a joke at your own expense quickly or you start pointing out that you don’t get days off at all.

I usually just fall quiet. I am not trying to get pelted with bon bons from the stay at home mom crowd for saying this out loud. But staying home with my kids is so far the best job I have ever had. I make my own hours. I love the people that I work for. And I wear whatever I want. The same things that make it awful are the things that make it wonderful. I spend all my time with my co-workers. All of it.

This particular Monday I had a tougher time falling back in to the swing of things. My house is clean. My refrigerator is full of left overs. My laundry is done. A long weekend with family and I had plenty of extra hands on deck. Christmas is more than a month away. I am not ready to start that. So, what exactly am I to do?

Lucy and I had a lazy morning. We stayed in our pajamas. We did some yoga. We chatted with a friend when she stopped by with our eggs. Late morning became afternoon and before I knew it Emily’s bus was going to be home and we weren’t even dressed. For all intents and purposes I did not “go to work” today. Sure, I kept the kiddo alive and happy all day. And on a good day that is enough for me. She is my “primary job.” But on the days when I sit back and watch her and I disengage and I wonder if “this” is “enough” – it makes my heart hurt.

Sitting on the floor in our bedroom by the window I could feel the lonely settling down in to my bones. I was trying to be light hearted when I called him. “Every one is back to work and school and I am just here. It’s so quiet. It’s like I don’t know what to do.”

He was joking. “You should clean something.”

I wanted to hang up. I wanted to not cry. I wanted to not make mountains out of molehills and rail against the Universe that cleaning things is a waste of time when it will all be a mess again tomorrow. He was kidding.

But damn that man of mine. Even his jokes can see through me. Surely he could hear the blue. I don’t wear it well.

Not even ten minutes had passed before I ripped the covers off of the couch and put them in the washing machine. He might have been joking, but I feel pretty fantastic. Sometimes I do need to feel like I “did” something. And by sometimes I mean all of the time. The washing machine will be done in four minutes. In a little over an hour I will pull clean cushion covers out of my dryer and wrestle them back on to the couch. And I will feel like I conquered the world. Or at the very least I will feel like I beat back the blue for yet another day.

But it is not just because I cleaned something. I can’t have you or MQD thinking my life is really that simple.

I also put on lipstick. And in the spirit of giving credit where credit is due I must thank my mother (presumably) for losing a lipstick in my couch. Because apparently it takes more than just a shower and a completed chore to make my heart sing. It takes lipstick, y’all.

28 Comments

Posted in Bad Mood, Nonsense, Parenting

Tagged feminism, Life, motherhood, mothering, nonsense, SAHM, stay at home mom, the blues

Put the Bass in your Walk!

Posted on November 26, 2012 | 16 comments

Sunday morning I got dressed. You read that right. Sunday morning. Who gets dressed on Sunday mornings? If you don’t go to church, Sundays are for pancakes and pajama pants and yard work and walking the dog. They aren’t for getting dressed.

But this Sunday we had plans. Church plans. MQD and I have tossed around the idea of checking out our local Unitarian church for ages. There is something about a baby that makes me yearn to be part of a community. There is a deep desire to be part of a greater good, to reflect upon the gratitude that I feel for the many joys I have experienced in the last year, joys that can only be described as blessings. A Unitarian Universalist church and their “come as you are” approach to worship is right up my alley.

This Sunday’s theme was seeing the world as you see yourself, through the eyes of Love. We sang. We danced. Even as we hokie pokied our way around the room, hand in hand with strangers, as silly as it felt, as desperately as I wanted to roll my eyes, I knew I wanted to come back. We offered praises to the Universe for the trees and the sunshine and children. On our way back to the car we walked by the very same trees in the very same sunshine we had walked by just an hour before. But my smile was brighter on the way out. I saw the trees and felt the sun on my face.

The last time I went to church for a Sunday Service I was 15. I was wearing a tie. And a blazer. And I desperately needed to do something about my permed bangs. There is no explaining my attire. Teenage girls in the company of certain boys will do strange things. Including go to church in drag.

Twenty some years later I am not sure I know what I believe in. But I know I believe in Ru Paul. And not just because I look fierce in a tie.

“My goal is to always come from a place of love …but sometimes you just have to break it down for a motherfucker” ~ Ru Paul.

Teenagers are weird.

*Title for my post shamelessly stolen from RuPaul’s Cover Girl.

16 Comments

Posted in Family, Nonsense

Tagged church, ru paul, Sunday, Unitarian

Posted on November 21, 2012 | 3 comments

I didn’t get the spring & summer potluck underway. But aside from that I think I realized the goals I set out to achieve. And here I am. Full Thanksgiving recap will come. Hosting tomorrow at our home. Happy Thanksgiving, y’all.

Excitement on the side

Thanksgiving has always been a time of reflection for me. Not in the “Oh, I have all of these things to be grateful for…” way as many do. But in a Virginia Slims kind of way.

It seems I have a tendency to clean “emotional house” around this time of the year. Perhaps it is the impending new year, or simply the realization that I do have so much to be grateful for and that there is no reason to hold on to what is long gone or to that which really doesn’t serve me. Whatever the reason, letting go is not my thing, but in November I do my best to look forward.

In 1993 I spent Thanksgiving crying because my high school love broke my heart. But later that afternoon I dismantled the shrine to him in my room (compete with black candles and glossy 8x10s, what? Don’t judge.)…

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3 Comments

Posted in Parenting

An Attitude of Gratitude

Posted on November 20, 2012 | 43 comments

I learned my life lessons from 80’s television. If you tapped a cane on the floor right now I would stand up straight. I would grab the back of a chair and lift my chin. In my mind I would hear Debbie Allen saying “You want fame? … Well, fame costs. And right here is where you start paying. With sweat.”

Some time in the early 1990s I decided that sweatshirts with the neck cut out were maybe not the very best look for me. And I abandoned my dreams for Fame. I hung up my legwarmers and decided Fame wasn’t for me.

A couple of days ago I contributed a picture to The Feminist Breeder’s Normalize Breastfeeding Campaign on Facebook. I chose to send a picture of myself sitting down after an excellent day. Lucy was nursing and I was having a glass of wine. It was the perfect image to reject the idea that nursing mothers have to spend their lives cooped up in a nursery, missing out. Gina’s “offensive” picture featured a piece of bacon and a nursing baby. I thought it was amusing to feature a glass of wine and a nursing baby because Facebook is clearly pro-pictures of people with a drink in their hand.

I have been blogging in my little corner of the Internet for almost three years. It has been a great way for me to hash out my feelings as my life progressed from single parent to a married mother of two. It served as a record of my pregnancy and Emily growing from a teeny little thing to the 7 year old going on 17 that she is today. I have been honest. I have talked openly about my insecurities and my struggles with being a woman and received a lot of “Good for you!” and “Thanks for sharing” and pats on the back.

And then yesterday the picture posted of me having a glass of wine while nursing my baby and within an hour I had that icky “what have I done?” feeling. Comments racked up and the great majority were negative it seemed. These weren’t people that read here and support me. These were strangers sharing misinformation (that breastfeeding and a glass of wine don’t mix) and saying that I was a lousy mother. (My favorite being the woman that pointed out that I was ignoring my baby when I looked at the camera!)

Every day I aim to choose happiness. I choose to see the good and the joy in the smallest moments. It is part of who I am. Yesterday was a test. I kept waiting to feel my stomach flip flop and a tear escape my eyes as I read another comment from a stranger about how I was classless. But it didn’t happen. Because I didn’t need to look very hard to see that there were really only a handful of people shaming me. And they were doing so from a place of lack of knowledge. They really believed that you can’t nurse a baby and have a glass of wine. Shame on them for judging me? Maybe. But don’t we all just do the best we can with the information we’ve got? And for every criticism there were more than a dozen women that said “this picture is great!” or that I looked so relaxed and happy. Or that I had great eyeglasses. (Special thanks to them because amidst a persecution of your character it is important to remind yourself that you are fashionable!)

This morning I am taking the opportunity not to speak to the judgement and the misinformation (largely because the inimitable Amy West has already done so.) Instead I choose to thank my friends and the many strangers that responded on the Facebook thread or on Twitter. So many of you spoke up to say “Hey, you are doing a great job, keep on keeping on.” And really? If I am honest – thank you to the folks that said you can’t have an alcoholic beverage and nurse a baby because it was an excellent platform for dispelling that widely believed myth.

My last thank you goes out to the women and men that spewed the kind of garbage that can only be done from behind the protection of your computer screen. You probably didn’t mean to. But you made this girl with her tiny little blog feel famous! Because you aren’t Internet Famous unless somebody hates you. I am going to have to wear a clean velour sweatsuit every time I leave the house if y’all keep this up. I might even need to bust out that sweatshirt with the neck cut out and some legwarmers. Rumor has it – Fame costs, but I can take it.

Even as a child I knew I had to suffer for my art!

43 Comments

Posted in Nonsense, Parenting, Pregnancy

Tagged Breastfeeding, feminism, Life, motherhood, Parenting

Fast enough so you can fly away…

Posted on November 18, 2012 | 44 comments

Allow me to set the scene.

I was still wearing my velour sweatsuit as I sauntered past his side of the bed. Sometimes I like to amp up the funny before I bring the dead sexy. Funny goes a long way in our house.

There was a successful transfer of the baby in to the bed. She was out like a light. I woke him from the couch and he smiled. All signs pointed to Sexy Town. I had my fingers crossed and my knees, well, uncrossed. He was sitting up in bed when he asked me to grab the cord for his phone.

So, I was sauntering past the bed getting ready to bend over in my velour sweatsuit all Jessica Rabbit like when he said “You’re leaking.” I looked down at my shirt for the tell-tale spot of milk. I grabbed my chest the way only a nursing mother can. I wasn’t wet. “This?” I said, pointing at a spot on my shirt. “Nah, that’s old.”

While I was busy giving myself a breast exam he bent down and grabbed his own phone cord.

“You ruined it,” I said. “I was gonna bend down and get it for you.” I was smiling. But I might have been starting to pout. We had already turned down a street that didn’t head to SexyTown. Might as well pout.

Incredulously he smiled back at me. “I ruined it? You! Talking about your OLD stain! That ruined it!!” By now I had snuggled up against him on the side of the bed. Between the two of us we had about a foot and a half. Lucy and the dog took up all the rest of the room. And like kids we started to laugh. I kept trying to get the words “you mean this old stain?” out of my mouth in feigned breathy sexiness but I couldn’t do it through the giggles. The more I tried to stop the laughter the funnier it was.

The Internet is abuzz this week with breastfeeding pictures. Should we post them on Facebook? Should we nurse in public? Or is it a private thing? You can guess how I feel about nursing a baby in public. Feed your babies, ladies. Cover up or don’t. Just feed your babies. Anywhere you want, preferably before they are super mad. I find hungry, crying babies really troublesome, a little exposed boob here and there, not so much.

But I can tell you where breastfeeding doesn’t belong. It doesn’t belong in my bedroom while I am in a fast car on the road to SexyTown. Because evidently “old stains” can send that car careening towards Laughter and there is no turning that car around. (Note: you need to say “old stains” with your hands up making the “I don’t know what all the ruckus is about” face for the full effect.)

This post is dedicated to the fools that think nursing a baby in public is disgusting and attention seeking. I will give you disgusting and attention seeking, how about this wet tshirt contest winning picture? And to the new mothers that think they will never, ever get to SexyTown again. You will. I promise. It seems like you won’t. But keep visiting that little village called Laughter, it will carry you and your marriage right on through.

44 Comments

Posted in Family, Nonsense, Parenting

Tagged advice, Breastfeeding, Humor, Marriage, motherhood, sex

In my kitchen, again.

Posted on November 17, 2012 | 20 comments

No matter how happy you are, no matter how much you live the life you believe in your heart that you want, there are moments that you look at the door and think “I could just walk out. Right now I would like to just walk right out the door.”

Not forever. Just for the morning. And not because you aren’t happy, just because occasionally it feels like you live in the movie Groundhog Day – “Well, what if there is no tomorrow? There wasn’t one today.” I walked in to the kitchen this morning wearing my winter uniform (velour jogging suit and a tank top) just as I did the day before. And likely just as I will tomorrow.

“I am not making breakfast. I feel like all I ever do is cook food and clean it up. All day.”

If you live across the street from your best friend than you can put on a baseball hat, grab a cup of coffee and walk out the door. Thirty seconds later I was standing in a different kitchen with only one of my children, drinking coffee and bullshitting about absolutely nothing in the way that only women can.

Sitting at her kitchen table I can just sit. I don’t have to fold her laundry, though I have. I don’t have to let her dogs in and out ten times, though I can yell at them for barking. Somehow her kids and their incredible loudness is funny to me, almost entertaining. It’s a change of scenery and sometimes that is all I need. I don’t long for a new life, I just want to live it in a different kitchen for an hour.

I walked back in the house feeling good. “I emptied the dishwasher and I washed out the casserole pan from last night,” sad MQD. A good man picks up your slack. I could have thanked him. Or given him shit for reporting to me like he was a kid deserving of a gold star.

Instead I just smiled and said “That’s it?”

There is a changing of the guard that takes place between parents. I had been “off duty” and I was clocking back in, I could feel it. I was getting the full report of the status of things and he was checking out. When you take away a man’s man cave and make it in to a guest room/baby room you can expect him to lock himself in the bathroom for an hour on Saturday morning.

We listen to Spotify all day from the desktop in the kitchen. There is always music in our house. Always. I was on the couch in the living room, laptop perched on my knees, coffee just out of reach of the little one. “I found a new artist you might like. You should listen to them. When you get your ass back in to the kitchen,” he said. That smirk of his is going to save his ass a thousand times over.

This morning I had a moment when I thought it was hell on earth to relive the same day over and over again. Two hours later and I am smiling ear to ear. Bring it on, Winter. I am going to wear this velour sweatsuit every day. I am going to wear this hat every day. I am going to stand in my kitchen and think about what we are going to eat next only moments after cleaning up from the previous meal. And I am digging the ever-loving shit out of it, yes, I am.

Life isn’t that complicated. Living the same day over and over again gives you the chance to get it right, eventually. It’s not even 11 o’clock in the morning and I feel like I have this day by the balls. What’s up, Saturday? Wanna feel my sweat suit? This is what Happy feels like. Sorry about the coffee breath, you’ll get used to it.