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Stage Parents

I have no idea if there is a proper name for sports parents who are assholes, so I’ll just call them stage parents. I dealt with a doppelgänger Kate Gosselin in the hummingbird’s gymnastics class and then, I made sure to get in a different class so I wouldn’t wind up strangling her. But, next session, she was back and just as bad.

She threatens to put her youngest in the car for the rest of the class, simply for jumping up and down while waiting in line. Maybe she needs to be reminded that this is a gymnastics class so her kids are, hmmm, I don’t know… supposed to be bouncy and excited.

Within five minutes of a class, she yelled at all three of her daughters and that was just during the stretching part of the class. My eyes need to be checked she must be seeing something I didn’t Her girls were, gasp!, listening and doing what all the other kids were doing. What the fuckity fuck, lady?

The bird has had many different sports activities and there are some rabid sports parents out there. Nothing compares to Kate Gosselin 2.0 but I just don’t get the roid rage like tendencies coming from these parents and turning sports into cruel and unusual punishment.

I can’t understand the enormous pressure parents like this put on their young children. I watch kids at these activities. They’re either picking their nose, giggling together, or just want to be fed. It’s supposed to be fun and social. I could do without all the nose picking though.

It’s where kids can be kids and make friends. Instead, some poor child is being humiliated in public amongst many people. Wearing pajamas at your kid’s bus stop… I’m all for that kind of embarrassment. Incessantly yelling at your kid for an hour every week while they run, tumble, and have fun… what the actual fuck? I’m not saying these are bad parents. But, it does make me wonder if they’re they’re like this in public, can you imagine what it’s like when there isn’t an audience.

It really is just a game. Let kids run free and have a good time. And someone please hand a tissue to that nose picker over there.

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The Mall Is A Place That Is Hell On Earth

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I recently took my daughter to the mall and it reminded me why I hate the mall. The hummingbird loves it so I endure it after taking a xanax. Not only is the drive 40 minutes away, and I hate driving, but crowds just aren’t my thing either. But, there’s always queso at the mall so besides dealing with the mall bullshit, I eat my beloved tortilla chips and queso at a restaurant that’s in the mall.

That cheesy, delicious, creamy, spicy queso makes me do it.

Cheese has superpowers over me.

But, I’m getting off topic.

The mall fucking sucks and I hate it but I go because after spending half a day at home with a 7 year-old that’s bouncing off the walls and running me ragged, I need to get the hell out of the house. The library is usually our go to place in that situation but on those beautiful, glorious paydays, I have to buy shit I don’t need.

Enter the mall.

Straight away, I have to get my queso and tortilla chips. If I’m full of cheese, I won’t have as much desire to ram people with my body while walking through the mall. It’s the people who stand there talking and are completely oblivious to the fact that other people exist. This person is usually standing in the middle of the aisle so you can’t get past even though you’ve said excuse me twice. They can also be right in front of a store blocking the walkway but you can’t pass because a herd of people decide to come in the opposite direction.

My daughter usually rides the carousel twice and I stand there waving at my daughter every single time she comes my way and take a picture. And usually, half way through, she starts to ignore me while I continue to wave and take 30 pictures of her, none of which turn out.

Then, she’ll ask for a punching balloon thingamajig and each time, I’ll say no.

On we go to one of the stores but wait, what’s that ahead? It’s the fucking Build-A-Bear. That damn store. The hummingbird tries to drag me in while I drag her away and look at that, a small group of people or a family is standing in front of the store, talking, while in the opposite direction, a crowd of people come by like a swarm of bees so we have no choice but to stop and wait which is just enough time for my daughter to use her super strength to get a few feet into Build-A-Bear and just long enough for me to glance at the prices and think what the fuck, break into a cold sweat because an employee of the store eyes us and starts walking our way, and then over-riding my stuffed to the gills stomach full of queso to find my super strength to zoom out of there.

Finally, we’re a few stores down and safe. Or so I thought. There’s a kiosk that has these smushy balls that are sticky and splat on the table and that sounds perverted. For some unknown reason, there’s a magnetic pull that brings kids to this place. After navigating my way from the sticky balls, we head into one of the clothing stores and even though I say we’re just going to look, there’s a cha-ching of some of that payday money.

We start walking to the next store and things are all shiny and calling my name like Sephora or The Body Shop but my daughter’s whiny “MOM” voice that is so bad, dogs can hear, either gets me out of their quick or makes me avoid those places completely.

But wait.

There’s a lipstick I just have to get and that lip balm that I’ll lose in the next few days smells really good so I can’t leave without that.

“MOM!”

Around this time, my mind tunes the whiny voice out because there’s too many shiny, pretty things to look at. That’s when I do what I said I’d never do as a mom but have done since she’s understood it. Bribing is a beautiful thing when you’re in that kind of situation.

I promise her she can buy one thing at the other clothing store within a certain amount of money “if you give mommy a few minutes more.”

Cha-ching!

Oh, there’s the cocoa butter body butter. I must get that too!

Cha-ching!

Before going into the hummingbird’s clothing store, I remind her that we’re only getting ONE thing. That’s it. Just one thing.

Cha-ching! Cha-ching!

Finally, sweet freedom from hell on earth is just out the door but wait. I get the puppy dog eyes and “please, please, please mom, can I ride the carousel once more?”

Okaaay.

While I’m waiting, we’re by the food court and all the smells start making my stomach rumble. The queso has done it’s job in the beginning but now I’m starving and there’s pizza, and Chinese food, and burgers, oh my.

Once the hummingbird is done, we head to the frozen yogurt place in the food court because it’s so smart to sugar your kid up before our 40 minute drive back home. I’m smart like that.

After that, fresh air and freedom from food court smells, crowds, and spending lots of money, we head to the car.

Oh shit, where is the fucking car. I always make a mental note of where I parked but forget it in less than five seconds. Fortunately, my very hyper, sugared up 7 year-old sees our car and it’s home at last.

But what’s that sound? It’s my bank account gently weeping. If only it knew that if we were to get into the clutches of the Build-A-Bear employees, it would be doing the ugly cry from buying all the overpriced bear shit that the place involves.

So, I reassure my bank account that we won’t experience the mall again for another few months. I do leave out the fact that there’s plenty of stuff just sitting there waiting to be bought in my Amazon shopping cart.

Cha-ching!

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I Feel Like Mr. Hand In Fast Times At Ridgemont High. Everyone Must Be Stoned.

Except if you were stoned, you wouldn’t be making such dumb decisions. Well, except for in the food category but those were some pretty yummy dumb decisions.

Does anyone else feel like they’re being Punk’d with this whole Trump business. Is he really winning the votes? Who would want to vote for him? Did I slip into a Twilight Zone episode and got stuck in an alternate universe? Why is he so orange? Does he dive into a bag of Cheetos’ to get that color? Is everyone in on this joke but me?

Seriously? Donald Trump. It just doesn’t compute. I’ve said it before but it’s like we’re in the movie Idiocracy. If you haven’t ever seen it, you will be terrified of the similarities.

And TLC… really? You pieces of shit brought back the Duggar girls. What a bunch of assholes all around. I still see defenders out there for them and my mind is baffled.

I guess the hypocritical defenders of the Duggars are the same people voting for Trump.

I really, really hope I’m being Punk’d.

*Glitter In The Air

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Bullseye

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Since I’ve been back in college, I have cut my 3-4 times a week trips to Target down to about 1-2. I was going there so much, the workers knew me by name and asked where I’ve been if I went more than two days without going. Yes, Target calls to me. If I have an hour or so to kill, it knows. Target knows what’s up.

Target: Oh, hey! You over there. Didn’t you run out of butter yesterday? Sure, the grocery store is closer but you neeeeed meeee.

Me: Um, look Target. I know you mean well but I can wait until the weekend to get more butter.

Target: Of course. No pressure, girl! I’m just sayin’. And you know what? It’s been kind of chilly. You could come on over and get some fuzzy socks or some cozy slippers.

Me: Target, I know what you’re doing. I’m not falling for it. I don’t need more nice, fuzzy socks. So fuzzy. I… NO! I’m not listening to you.

Target: You know how you bought that lip liner and it’s too dark? Well, Target has what you need. C’mon, I won’t tell your husband. Those fuzzy socks are waiting and if you get that butter, you can start baking.

Me: Well… that would be much more convenient to get everything in one place. But, no. I can’t!

Target. I know how you love to spend time looking through the 30% off rack in the girls section. You’ve found some awesome things for the hummingbird.

Me: I MUST FIGHT THIS! WHERE ARE YOU, WILLPOWER?

Target: Like I said, no pressure. But… the Cadbury mini eggs are now out on the shelves and you can…

Me: Fuck it! I’m going to Target!

2 hours later…

Me: What the hell just happened?

*Wish You Were Here

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Stream

There are times I just want to get on here and write a stream of consciousness. Now, I’m sure you’re sitting there thinking “what the hell, that’s what you already do”. That’s true, but I try to make some fucking sense some of the time… probably without much luck.

Anyway, I thought I would start doing my own little stream when the mood hits so here goes. Also, feel free to write your own stream of consciousness in the comments.

Going back to college has been a much more difficult transition than I was expecting. I have 2 papers due this week and all the usual shit to do around the house so I feel like I’m being pulled in so many different directions… more than usual. It’s been overwhelming and my brain has been so scattered. I feel as old as fuck amongst the little ones, like I should get out a walker and pinch their cheeks, then hand them a quarter for being a good little girl or boy.

I’ve been feeling nostalgic recently and have been listening to a lot of Incubus.

Why the hell didn’t I appreciate my 20’s more? Those were some great years but I see now that I really took advantage of what was right in front of me at the time. Not that I still don’t do that.

The little hummingbird isn’t quite as little anymore. Now that we have her ketotic hypoglycemia under control now that we finally know what she actually has after trying to figure it out for the past 6 years, she is growing so much! I can’t even begin to explain how happy that makes me.

All of these years, she’s had such slow growth because of the hypoglycemia and until recently undiagnosed hyperthyrodism. Before last July, she had gained about half a pound that year. Now that she’s on medication to help both issues, she’s gained 5 pound and at least 3 inches.

It may not seem like a big deal but when you have a child that has an ailment, seeing this improvement has been amazing. Not only her physical growth but her mental and emotional growth has been blowing me away. She’s reading chapter books now and it is the coolest thing to have your child read to you in their tiny, little voice.

*Incubus, of course.

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My Therapist Is On Vacation Post: Flower Girl

wedding-bouquet

In all my years of therapy, I only mentioned my former step-mother to my psychologist a few times which is kind of shocker because she was such a bitch. It was bad enough that my biological dad is schizophrenic, was an alcoholic, and would snort whatever he could find. My ex stepmother was bipolar and an alcoholic or as I experienced, a mean and vindictive drunk.

Every time my bio dad “Tom” would piss her off, “Kathy” didn’t just keep it between them. Oh, no, that’s too simple. The bitch would take it out on me and put me in the middle of whatever bullshit fight they were going through at the time.

I was only 9 years-old when it first started since that’s when I met my biological father for the very first time seeing how he was MIA all those years prior.

Blah, blah, blah, to the point.

Tom and Kathy were still engaged when I met my dad for the first time. 6 months later they married, and I spent three weeks seeing some very interesting chaos and dysfunction in the Kathy/Tom household. They would have the most fucked up, twisted fights in front of us kids… I had two step-brothers.

There was that one time when Kathy had a bitch fit when my dad came home from work and wanted to take me out to dinner. Just me and him. For the first time since he came into my life 6 months prior. The bitch had a fucking meltdown over the mere suggestion of Tom and I getting to know each other as father and daughter.

It became a Defcon 5 and my uncle had to pick up the three of us and get us out of that insanity. All because my dad wanted to take me out to dinner.

By the time we had gotten back, things had simmered down and my step-brothers and I huddled together on the couch while the two lovebirds went at it again well into the early morning.

The three of us fell asleep on the couch and had a rude awakening the next morning. The bitch was going ballistic and my brothers and I were hiding underneath the blankets on the couch. When the soon to be newlyweds ended up in the kitchen with their fighting, dear Kathy set a fine example by picking up a knife from the counter and threatened to kill Tom. I remember peeking out from the blankets while she was waving the knife around his face.

If that’s not true love. I don’t know what is.

So, despite the relationship from hell, they actually went through with the wedding.

Dear sweet baby jeebus.

The bitch made me flower girl and by this point, I was shell-shocked from my weeks of hell with Tom and Kathy but because it was the wedding day, people mistook it for me being overcome with emotion. Yeah, it was terror and the culprits were the two people who were supposed to be somewhat sane and stable adults.

The wedding was a shit fest for me and so fake. Especially after the absolute madness I witnessed over and over again within their relationship.

Okay, it’s time to toss the bitchy bride’s bouquet. I didn’t want any part of it. Mostly, I just wanted to get away from her crazy ass. I also found that most of her friends seemed to have hit every crazy, superficial, branch on the bat shit tree. Lucky me had to stand amongst these bitches who were ready to take down anyone who got in the way of the bridal bouquet.

I put my 9 year-old ass in the back so I wouldn’t be trampled on and then the flowers were thrown. I was running away from that mess like a quarterback doing whatever the hell a quarterback does.

That’s when it happened. I accidentally caught the fucking flowers. I couldn’t care less and just wanted some cake and an escape from Kathy. Not even a minute after I caught the bouquet, the superficial bitches started to whine about how it wasn’t fair that I caught the bouquet.

Yes, really. Something about how now that the bride is officially my step-monster, it wasn’t fair that I caught the flowers and I can’t even remember their lame argument over something so petty. Things like it’s not like she’s really throwing her bridal bouquet because it’s just going back home with her since I caught it.

????????

I have no clue but they were a bunch of whiney bitches who made a HUGE fuss over this. So much so that it took away from the wedding and other guests were trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

These were supposed to be grown ass women. I just wanted to give the flowers to anyone who would take them and get myself out of that ridiculous mess. But an even bigger deal had to be made and so cunty Kathy took the flowers back from me and decided to throw them a second time so it would be “fair”.

I refused to go back in with that group of assholes but my step-mother insisted I once again join the group while she threw the bouquet… again.

Guess who caught it?

Me.

Again.

What the ever-loving fuck?

And can you guess what happened?

Yes, those bitches freaked out again and were royally pissed that I caught the bouquet for the second time.

I have to admit that I somewhat enjoyed catching it again and since I picked up such colorful language while staying with Kathy and Tom, it would have pleased me to yell out SUCK ON THAT, BITCHES!

But I didn’t and I offered to give away that damn bridal bouquet… again.

There was actually talk of Kathy throwing the flowers a third goddamn time but instead those bitches complained how a kid caught the flowers twice and WAAAAAA! It’s not fair. It made for an extra fun wedding reception.

After that came our family honeymoon type thing. They took me and my step-brothers to Disneyland and it wasn’t the happiest place on earth. Why? It’s because Tom and Kathy fought their way from the entrance to “the magical kingdom” all the way to the tea cups and space mountain and the water slide thing and you get my drift.

They were saying fuck this and fuck that and fuck you… ALL in front of families and Disneyland workers and even the mouse himself.

It’s safe to say that it will never be my dream to go to Disney world if I ever win the super bowl. I’m scarred for life from going there again.

As I got older, Kathy did super fun stuff like spend some money on clothes or gifts for me but when Tom would piss her off and they would be fighting back and forth, she would demand those things back. I had quickly learned not to accept anything from her “generosity” but just like when I was a flower girl, it wasn’t so easy to tell this woman no.

And this is the type of stuff my poor therapist has to listen to. No wonder she goes on vacation as often as she does.

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Cool Etsy Stuff

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Since I’m already doing 156 things at once, I started doing 157 things by getting more into Etsy. Like that really needed to happen. I pour over fluffy tutus and leg warmers for the hummingbird while I look for anything under the sun. Here are some things I’ve ordered from my recent Etsy obsession.

Mudan Blossoms – They have adorable leg warmers for girls.

Mimi and Lucy – Since I’ve been reading less of my Kindle and more library books, I used it as an excuse to buy these vintage print bookmarks.

Ian’s Cafe – I found THE coolest bookmark of the wicked witch from this place. The witch’s feet stick outside of the book. It’s very cool.

Grey And Green – I started off buying her lotion bar and loved it so much that I went back and ordered the vanilla bean brown sugar scrub and vanilla lip balm which smells amazing. It’s so good that my 6 year-old claimed it for herself.

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