Saturday, June 28, 2014

Summer Obsessions

For a teacher, summer is a sacred time when a tiredass caterpillar can metamorphosize into a rad freakin' butterfly.  You have the opportunity to become new.  You can re-invent yourself! With 8 weeks of boundless potential my brain gets excited and synapses in a thousand different directions.

So far this summer I am inspired to make changes in order to be authentic to the feelings I want to feel and the things I want to do.  After attending a local workshop called #ownyourhappy put on by Amber at Brand Love and Emily Ballard, I have spent a week or so just ruminating about a question posed there.  Many truth statements precipitated throughout the day but this one still has me going.

The Question:
 If you could do anything (money/skill/time/childcare/education are not an issue) and knew that you would be wildy successful at it, what would you do?

  -Sub-question for myself:
  -What would you do if you weren't afraid about what someone else would think?

So far here is my list (in a verbal vomit order):

..... I would write children's books/board books with sassy-ass blog post in the back for the mamas.

..... I would buy a yellow motorcycle and re-teach myself how to ride.

....I would have a garden including vegetables and fruit trees and lots of basil. I love pesto.

.....I would get more tattoos.  On my arm.  Yeah, in a visible place.  Who cares.

.....I would create a line of little girl clothes with embroidery on those weird bloomer underwear things: like, "If I'm crawling, I'm falling.  So I guess, in turn I would use my sewing machine more.

..... I would teach a year of 8th grade science entirely centered around trees.  I love them.  Trees are great friends and good neighbors- as well as producers of oxygen. Just sayin'

..... I would work again as a pharmacy technician at an independent pharmacy.  There was something about make small talk with elderly people that I absolutely loved.

..... I would wear more random logo t-shirts, bigger earrings and funky headbands made out of tribal looking fabric.

.....I would move to another country for the summer and immerse myself in a new language. First Italian.  Ciao Bella!

If you could do anything...and would be great at it, what would you do?  #yourlist

Monday, June 16, 2014


Bobby Fisher ain’t got nothing on my husband and me when we really want something to happen.

In a few simple moves we orchestrated an entire weekend of anniversary fun and quazi alone time.

It all started on a Monday afternoon, I was in a bitchy mood and I just wanted a freakin’ burrito.  So after I picked up the kids, I strong-armed my husband into thinking burritos were good idea.  Truth Statement: It didn’t take much.  I am always relieved when I am not searching some form of chicken nuggets to stick in the microwave. 

Then there it was on the wall: A poster advertising Jonny Lang at the Portsmouth Music Hall this coming Saturday night.  Check.

Husband takes out super smart phone, looks up tickets, holds breath..he gasps…there are two seats available in the third row: Check.

Saturday afternoon we had a kid party…in the town where my parents live..Check.

I look up at him, we needed to move quickly.  I called my parents: “Want to have a sleep over with our two amazing children after the kiddo birthday party? Yes?! Ah-mazing! Thanks Mem and Pep.  
Check mate!

This interaction took less than 10 minutes!  I am starting to realize that good things like this always happen in 10 minutes or less.  Anything that take months of organization is not nearly as exciting as the rush of doing something adult-ish, making sure that kids are well cared for and getting a night out alone. 

The opening act was Matt Andersen, who left us speechless.  What a soulful voice! He showed his guitar who was boss!  (..And to think, the hubs and I almost went out dinner and skipped the opening act.)  This performance was so good, we both agreed the Jonny had better bring his A- game otherwise Matt was going to make him look like an ass-hat.  Matt signed a cd for me after the show in the lobby. I kinda wanted to snuggle him because (even though he has been playing the blues for years) it was like I had uncovered secret bad ass bluesy treasure. Arghhh.
Matt Andersen: Canadian blues guitarist eh?

Jonny Lang was great, as usual.  Swoon.  
Hi, I am Jonny, I have been a bad ass musician since I was 15.  
Do the right thing, play the game, and go check out Matt Andersen at Prescott Park on July 9th

Your move.

Friday, June 13, 2014


I  LOVE Panera.  Let me be clear that I HATE their spotty wifi connection, but their Chicken Casear Salads are delightful.

Panera, I like like you.

Years ago before the stresses of kids, marriage, etc, I used to meet my teacher girlfriends at Panera once a week to decompress after teaching.  Incredible right?  One afternoon, after work, I got in line to order my crack-salad and a latte.  I told them my name: Meredith.  They didn’t ask for clarification how to spell it, normally they are close anyways so it was a mutual who-cares situation.

Later on, my husband looked at the ticket, laughing and said "What the hell happened?"

The receipt said: 
Order for: Mdrdader.  ***Here***

So now at home, I am occasionally referred to as Mdrdader pronounced mah-der-dah-der.  I love it!

So from that point on to make things more streamline, if I am at Panera or a nail appointment, etc, the name I use is Mary.  Who can’t spell Mary?!  It’s a classic name, trending circa 1700s, Mary-mother of God, Mary Magdalene, Mary Queen of Scotts, Mary Tyler Moore and Mary J. Blige, etc.

Today I ordered and this happened:

Lesson of the day:
Mothers: No name is safe, so don't sweat the small stuff.
Don't waste your precious preggo time on baby name message boards.  Don't ask your friends and family for their input, don't buy a book or tweet about it.  Take a nap and rock on with your bad self! Go ahead name your kid: Jordynn, Brandn or Nevaeh.  Hell, I named my kid Maey. 

Thursday, June 5, 2014

'Scuse Me for Farting

Mini: 'Scuse me for farting.....On you... again.
Me: Gross, why did you do that?"
Mini: "I needed to."

Sometimes mini#1 is a bit more considerate and just cups his hand over his bum and farts directly into it.  Why? "Because he needs to." Needs to preserve and reminisce about his own noxious gasses? Who the hell knows?!  How can I monitor this flatulence fiesta?!  Was it an accident? Was it on purpose?! I don't know, he's three.  I tried to explain that if he continues to fart on people, that they won't want to be his friend. That will be sad.  He doesn't seem to care, because, well he could always hang around with my smelly husband and smelly dog.

Toot toot, it's a party!
Tonight my husband farted in my son's general direction to "get him back"  Um ok.  So, let's review: my son can fart on people, my husband can fart, (which is apparently hilarious) but it's not ok for him to fart on people, but in their general direction is still fair game.  If my daughter passes gas, it is also funny because it's a baby-fart....Meanwhile if I pass gas, I am disgusting and exiled!

Let's not forget the dog.  Lord, earlier in the week her ass opened up like a sieve and she was shitting all over my house.  Ew.  I thought she may have had a parasite, poor girl.  My husband collected a sample and I brought it to the vet. Nooooope! Nothing was wrong. All tests negative.  It was spite shit.  BM is her weapon of choice as well.

OK so in summary: Farting is the precursor to BM.  BM on the potty is good. BM and farting is normal.  Farting around family is better than farting around strangers - but still kinda gross.  If you can squeeze your butt cheeks together and walk away and then fart, good. If you can't, sure to say "'scuse me for farting!" afterwards.  However, to fart into your hand or ON your beloved mother is NOT OK.

People!  Where is the boardbook for how to explain BM-related experiences and exceptions to a hyperactive-learning-to-be-potty-trained- almost 3 year old??  Furthermore, how am I supposed to help my minis navigate these exceptions when I can't stop laughing?

I am going to put myself in a fart-induced-exile so I can start writing my first children's (hand)book about social exceptions.