Sooooo...if any of you know me at ALL, you'd know that I do NOT wear my heart on my sleeve. Like, AT ALL. To actually witness a physical tear run down my face, is basically next to IMPOSSIBLE. Don't get me wrong...I DO cry...quite a lot actually. I've listed these certain instances for you below (in no particular order).
1. I'm drunk. Not just a little buzz drunk. More like a "this chick just got served 6 lemon-drop martinis, hit 4 walls on the way to the bathroom, and pissed all over her shoes" kind of wasted.
2. I'm giving birth...to Ella...and screaming my face off...for 4 hours...without an epidural.
3. I'm in the shower. This is where I usually make up some crazy ass stupid scenarios that make no god damned sense, and then I begin to discuss them with the other imaginary person in the shower, which just HAPPENS to be myself. So, yeah...this is where I have full on conversations...with myself...and then cry.
4. I'm premenstrual, and watching a Sarah McLachlan commercial...or a Budweiser clydesdale commercial...or a commercial with a baby. Awwwww...hell, when I'm in this state, I'll cry through a commercial about a banana.
So, yeah. Meghan...opening the flood gates...not happening. UNTIL...
My Nikkita invited me over to open my birthday present. Now, it's ONE thing that this woman, with 4 boys, a full time job, and the most asinine baseball/soccer/modeling schedule, would even take the time to get me a gift. But...it is QUITE another, when she puts every ounce of her heart into it.
I mean...just look at that wrap job.
This is where shit got real. She hands me this heavy as all hell gift, and says...
"It's super cheesy. No big deal at all."
I can tell they were books. I'm thinking, in my head...
"WTF, this bitch KNOWS I don't read books. Chelsea Handler hasn't written 10 pounds in books, so it can't be that. And unless it's 4 "I Heart My Little A-Hole" books, I'm not interested.
Moving along. This is what I discover after tearing it open...
Yearbooks, right? Big deal. NO!!! These were MY yearbooks. I lost the originals in a basement flood, 18 years ago.
Cue hysterical "Girl scout's brand new puppy got hit by a car" kind of tears.
She broke me.
And she breaks me time and time again just thinking about how thoughtful and amazing she is to me. I know I'm always yammering about how ridiculously inappropriate we are to one another, but MAN...she's one AMAZING bitch.
Here's a little task to all of my lady/guy friends...
Share this. Tag a Bestie, and tell the world something amazingly thoughtful about her/him.
So, my love muffin of a Husband captured a video of me, a while back, with zero knowledge of my own. He was super sketchy when I turned around, so I knew he was up to something. My biggest fear is being video taped. Do people even say video taped anymore? Is it just videoed? Is that a word? I dunno. Well, I figured that's what he had done. I searched that damned phone ALL night, and finally....my ass found it....and it FOUND my ASS! My first instinct was to delete it. Nobody in their RIGHT mind should be subjected to this absolute embarrassment and shaming of Missy Elliott. Not only that, but I HATE pictures of myself. There are ZERO videos of me, and very minimal pictures. I love to pack on the winter insulation, and I do it withOUT a problem every year.
Seriously though....who EFFING cares! I WANT my kids to see how spectacular of a dancer I am. I WANT them to remember how much fun I had with them. I WANT to remember every moment of this average Friday night.
So....to all the Mommas out there...GET UP AND DANCE LIKE AN ASSHOLE! Who gives a shit what everyone else thinks. You're the most important person in the WORLD in the eyes of your kids. Quit worrying about your damned weight. Who cares that you took down 6 burrito bowls that week, and you eat Oreos off of your bellybutton in the bathtub (just me?). They don't see that!!! They see that you're having fun, and they're having fun with you!!! Stop stressing about your new friend, FUPA, your hail damage, and armpit fat! Just.Fucking.Dance. And GET IN FRONT OF THAT CAMERA!!!
Let's be real for a second though. My Husband saved this shit to his phone! Hid it within some Google drive. Pffffft!!! You KNOW he wants some of that (extra weight and ALL)...no DOUBT.
"Not my f*cking kids!"
Alright ladies and gents…put the knives away. I know…I know. What kind of pure demon a**hole celebrates having to put their tiny human angel faces on a bus? (slowly raises hand)
I get it. Some of you work full time. Some stay home. Some work part-time. Some live in a van down by the river. I'm not here to judge, and neither should you. This is the card I was dealt. A mother f*cking ACE OF SPADES!!! I'm a SAHM. I AM blessed. I wouldn't have it ANY other way, but SH*T…I'm DONE!!! Momma's tired.
I love the sh*t out of my kids. I really do, but GOOD GOD…I have SIX!!! I'm not saying I don't love staying home, but EFF ME!!! Sometimes I feel I'd give a left nip to be able to head to an office…interact with adult human beings…who typically enjoy other "adult" conversations. I'm TIRED of f*cking singing "Let it Go". I'm tired of looking at their poop because it slightly resembles Sheepy from Doc McStuffins, and wiping sh*tty buttholes. I'm over sippy cups. They all f*cking leak. The 800 outfit changes…UGHHHHHH!!! Braid your hair? WHAT f*cking hair? You don't have any!!!
"Can I have gum? Can I have gum?"
"NOOOOO!!! You can't f*cking chew gum!!! You'll just swallow it! And then you'll sh*t bubbles!"
There she goes…swallowing the f*cking gum.
The older ones don't do sh*t!!! Here's how that goes…
"Girls, clean your rooms! Ella, get the kitchen…Bailey…the living room, and Harper…the hallways."
10 minutes later…
"MOM!!! Can we go to the park?" (Having done nothing)
What in all of sh*t's wizardry just happened?
All in all…we're all PARENTS, and we're in this sh*t together. High five that Mom that cries her face off when she puts her 5 year old on a bus.
But for F*ck's sake…
That Momma that's celebrating outside her front door, with mimosas in hand and a giant smile on her face (slowly raises hand)…give that bitch a HUG!