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Human, Woman, Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend & Aspiring Unicorn Breeder

1.16.2014

Momcore!

Today my cousin posted a funny on Facebook (<-- click link) and I had to stop everything I was doing to blog about it (seriously, click the link). First of all I had no idea that there were that many subgroups of weirdoes nowadays, and second I know a group of weirdoes that makes those groups of weirdoes look like a group of bottle sucking babies.

MOMCORE.

That's right, Momcore. I'm coining that and you can't stop me.

We're the ones who say, "Back in my day we didn't have 472 subgroups of freaks. We had one group of outcasts and we all had to just learn to get along: punks, hippies, metalheads, potheads, geeks, goths... they just called us all alternatives back then. Ramble, ramble, blah, blah, blah, memories..."

Ahhh... the good old days.

You all of the new generation need to know something: We Momcore bitches are the coolest of the cool, even if cool isn't cool anymore.

You Crust Punks think you're bad ass? You ain't got nothing on us... We have another humans beings vomit crusted down the front of our shirts... sometimes two or three other peoples, actually. And probably their shit too. Lice? Hahaha... been there, done that. Several times in fact. We invented crust punk. No literally... we invented you... as in gave birth to you. I'm pretty sure I know some of your parents. Now go home and get cleaned up. Your mom told me you're having dinner with your Grammie tonight.

You Emo Hipsters - (yes I'm lumping you all together because you look the damn same) - with your too thick glasses and scraggly beards just think you're hipper than hep, huh? Just where did you get those glasses? Probably at the Goodwill. And we probably donated them because we needed even thicker, stronger prescription glasses as we aged. We blame that on you, you know. We can't see due to all the fucking squinting we've done over the years: reading you the same bedtime story 197 times in a row, watching you on stage at your numerous recitals, crying over you for the good and the bad. So you're welcome for the glasses... and all that other stuff as well. Oh and thanks for fucking up our hormones with your birth. We now have scraggly beards too.

Nintendo Core...pffft. WTF is that? Is that even a thing? No. It's nothing. Nothing I tell you! We were around for Texas Instruments and Atari. PONG. That's right. Pong. That's all I've got to say about that. Now get off the damn PS4 and go clean your room!! I'm not asking again.

Popcore Dork and Scene Queen... where to begin... We told you 9 years ago to clean up the finger paints!! We can't believe you've not gotten around to it. That's ok though. We still have paint all over us too... from painting over the Justin Bieber mural in your bedroom that you had us do when you were 10. We blame ourselves though... perhaps it was the mushrooms we ate in the early 90s. You're the poster child for the lingering, damaging effects of hallucinogenics. We're so sorry about that... we love you despite your neon madness.

Oh you Steam Punks with your fancy gadgets and utility belts. It's a nice concept, really. I like fancy old-timey things too (seeing as I am a fancy old-timer myself). But have you looked in our purses lately?? Understand that we could bring down cthulhu with a mere flick of our overloaded key ring. Octopus? What octopus?! We gave birth to and raised your wiggly asses. Try dressing/feeding/bathing a two year old. Or a preschooler, a toddler, and an infant all at the same time. I see your octopus and raise you a confused husband. You'll see... one day you too will have an octopus or two of your very own. I'll feed it lots of candy and then send it home to you.

Wicked Juggalos. Oh my. We don't blame ICP, once again we blame ourselves. It was that time we dressed as a clown for your 3rd birthday party, wasn't it? We are so, so very sorry. Mommy loves you. Now please, honey, take the clown paint off of your chubby little face and let's go to therapy. Your appointment's at 3:30. Hurry up, I said... yes we can get McDonald's afterward, if you hurry.

As far as the rest of you go... I swear I'm not picking on you all. I was a weirdo once myself in the long, long time ago. I have the faded, shitty tattoos and grown-over piercing scars in my face/body to prove it. Sometimes I still bust out my Ministry, or Ramones, or Primus, or Depeche Mode CDs (yes CDs... we didn't have MP3s or whatever) and blare it in the car... much to your surprise.

I guess part of my mockery is due to the fact that I'm just a teensy lil' bit jealous that I no longer have the freedom to express myself exactly how I want to. None of us Momcores have that liberty because our first concern is YOU and how our actions will affect your life... whether you're still little or almost grown, you're our first priority. Always. So if we give y'all a hard time, that's mostly why... ok and partly because we think you look like an idiot - (don't feel bad your grandparents felt the same about us).

But, as I said before, always remember: We Momcore bitches are the coolest of the cool, even if cool isn't cool anymore. And yes, we love the hell outta the little collection of weirdoes we've made. So here's to the future that Momcore made... We raise our collective Merlots to you freaks kids. Cheers!

 
I thank God everyday that I have normal-ish kids.
Horrible Drawing By: Meh

1.09.2014

We Just Knew and We Just Do.

Our oldest son and I had an interesting conversation yesterday as I was driving him to work:

"Mom, did you ever love anyone before Dad?"

"Yeah, I did. A couple of times actually. And Dad loved others before me, too."

(Oh man, I had opened the flood gate of questions...)

"Well how did you know he was the one? What was different about him; like how could you tell the difference if you loved other people before? You two did everything backward and unconventional, but you are still together when all my friends parents did everything right and they're not. So what is it that makes him different? How have y'all managed to stay married and be happy?"

I thought about it for a second and gave him the short answer:

"We just knew and we just do."

Short answers are a mothers go-to (because I said so). Our hearts & minds are so full of unspoken thoughts/answers/words - things we know our children can't possibly fathom. You see, the long answer to his question would take almost 18 years to explain.

But I do want to explain. So I'm going to try...

My Son,

Here's the romantical part:

I hear parts of our story - your father and me- in every love song. And I do mean every love song. The sad ones, the happy ones, the angry ones, the mushy ones, the lustful ones, the ridiculous ones, the perfect ones. Same with movies, plays, books, operas... any story really. I'm reminded of us every time, because we've been through it all.

Sure, there were other people before we met... but when it came down to it, none of them were worth enough in our hearts to make it work. Whether we were the dumpers or dumpees, at some point we decided they weren't worth investing in any longer.
 
For him, however, I'd happily trudge through the pits of Hell, and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he'd do the same for me. I know because we've been there and back several times, and each time in the fire has only served to forge a deeper bond. He knows the deepest, darkest parts of me, the secrets I'll never say aloud. And I know well those parts of him too. He also knows the softest, most affectionate parts of me, and I him. There is no corner of our souls that's undiscovered for the other, and yet, every day, we manage to find additional reasons to love and appreciate one another.

He's my very best friend, you know... The person I confide in, laugh with, discuss things with, plan with, and dream with. And all those intense teenage in-love feelings you get, I still get them for your dad. I get all starry-eyed and giddy when I think of him.

In fact, he's the very first person I think of when I think of anything at all. 

And here's the practical part:

When it comes down to it, marriage is a choice. It takes two people with the same morals and values working toward the same end: A happy, love-filled, satisfying life lived together. Not part of a life. Not life until shit gets too hard. Not life until a midlife crisis, or until your spouse gets old, or sick, or boring, or until you find someone better, or until you feel you have a different calling in life, or your spouse makes a huge mistake, or you fuck-up too badly, or blah blah blah, or whatever.
 
Life.

You know that I don't believe in "the one" but here's the caveat, he is "the one." Don't misunderstand me. It's not because I believe that fate whisked us together and that he's the only person in the universe that I could possibly be happily married to. He's "the one" because I chose him to be the day we made our vows. I continue to choose him to be "the one" Every. Single. Day. And he does the same.
 
"We just knew and we just do" because we made that choice together, which was something we weren't willing to make with the others for a myriad of reasons: personalities, values, morals, life direction, etc. Most people don't make that choice these days, so yeah, I can see how we seem like an anomaly. I assure you we aren't that special. We're just two people who made a vow and decided to stick to it come hell or high water, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. Period. I know that doesn't seem like a very romantic notion, but I promise you, it can be so intensely romantic that sometimes your heart will burst with it. So there you go.

I hope that one day you too will be lucky enough to find someone to love and experience life with.

Love, Mom

I hope we've given our children deep roots...
Pic by: Me

1.01.2014

Trifecta New Years Resolution Challenge

This weeks challenge for the Tricfecta Writing Challenge: a 3 word New Years Resolution. Hopefully I'll be able to keeps his one! You can link up here: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2013/12/trifextra-week-ninety-nine
Anyway, here goes, my three words...

Live. Life. Fully. 

*insert Katy Perry's Firework song here*
Happy New Year!!!
Cell phone pic by: Me