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Out Of The Closet

As you may know, I write under a pseudonym. When I started this blog, my husband was still in the Navy and teaching at a military college. He had quite a few concerns about his bosses or students finding what I write so that’s why I went under a different name. That and the fact that I rip my in-laws to shreds and would rather them not find out.

Here it is over six years later and my writing has taken me further than I ever expected. On this blog and social media, I’m changing over to my real first name. I don’t use my pseudonym Facebook at all and miss out on interacting with all of you.

I’ve developed some really great relationships with some of you and want that to continue. By the way, I came up with Elle since my last name starts with an L. I’m still going to use Davis for my last name when writing since it’s a much simpler name to say and spell.

There you go. The real me is out of the closet.

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Who Is That Frantic, Disheveled, Crazy Mom Dropping Her Kid Off At School? Oh, It’s Just Me.

When we moved over the summer, we ended up being only a few blocks away from the hummingbird’s school. I had these images in my head of walking her to school in the morning, hand in hand, with all the time in the world. Easy breezy.

In reality, I think that has only happened once.

No matter how much time we have in the morning before she has to go to school, time escapes us and chaos ensues. Every damn morning.

I make her lunch the night before and have her lay out her clothes for school. I make sure her backpack and school folder are all set to go. Most of the time, I even remember to put her lunch in her bag before we leave the house. Yeah, I’ve gotten the call about my 6 year-old finding that I forgot it. Whoops.

I’ve found that I am happy as hell when she actually wants to eat school lunch since that’s one less thing to worry about getting done.

Despite ALL of the preparation, that easy breezy walk to school ends up being a mad dash to the car and a drive only a few minutes away instead.

Me: We have to leave in 10 minutes! Have you brushed your teeth and hair? No? Well, please do that now. Sweetie, we need to leave soon. You can watch Paw Patrol once you get home from school. Why aren’t you dressed yet? Did you brush your teeth? Okay, we need to leave in 5 minutes. No, you don’t need to change your clothes. Wear what you have on. It looks fine. Please, we really need to go in a few minutes.

Go put your shoes on. Wait, you didn’t brush your hair yet. Go brush your hair. Little Hummingbird?! What are you doing upstairs? I’m ready to walk out the door. Well, come on! Let’s go! Please! We’re going to be late! Why did you change your outfit? And where did your socks go? We need to hurry! Pleeeeease, let’s go!! I don’t know where that other shoe is. Just wear your purple shoes. No, you can’t wear your sandals. Because it’s too cold.

Sweetie, please, please, pleeeease just put on your shoes. We really need to go. Okay, well, I’m leaving. No, you don’t need to bring your My Little Pony stuffie to school. Leave it here. Pleeeeease, let’s go!!!!!! I’m walking out the door for real this time. I guess I’m going to school by myself. Then, come on and put your shoes on. Hurry! It’s time to go!!!

This happens almost every freaking morning. Oh my god.

We end up rushing to school in the car, I park since they don’t have a car drop off/pick up area in front of the school, and we zoom across the school grounds and go inside. As we do this, I see the easy breezy moms walking their kids into the school. Some are pushing strollers and may have a meandering toddler, along with their school age child. These moms don’t even seem to be breaking a sweat. They look so put together and are often chatting with other moms even though time is ticking away before the late bell.

There are a few moms I see with their hair and make up on point. Wearing skinny jeans, ankle boots, and a shirt that isn’t wrinkled. The nail in the drop off coffin is that these moms are almost always holding a Starbucks coffee. The two Starbucks we have in the entire area aren’t close by.

It would be one thing if they had a coffee from a nearby place but they have time to presumably shower in the morning, put on full make up and have perfectly coiffed hair, wear clothes that could go from day to a night out with the girls, get their children ready for school, AND on top of that they have plenty of time to drive 20 minutes to and from Starbucks before dropping their kid off at school.

I’m jealous!

And then there’s me. I’m so busy getting my one child ready for school that there are days I can’t even remember whether or not I even brushed my hair. I’m usually in my pajama pants and ugly but oh so comfy Uggs, wearing my husband’s comfy and oversized warm jacket. I’m also usually starving since I was only able to have a few bites of breakfast in between yelling for my daughter to HURRY UP, and I’m in desperate need of caffeine.

What’s worse is that I’m not much better when it comes to picking my daughter up from school. Except for getting a shower. I’ll get so caught up in doing things around the house and running errands. When I check the time, I’ll be happy to see that I have an hour or two before the hummingbird needs to be picked up.

I’m not sure what happens in that time… maybe I’m abducted by aliens and my sense of time gets screwed up from it but it never fails that the next time I check the clock, it’ll be 10-15 minutes before I need to pick her up. Wtf? So, instead of that easy breezy walk to her school in the afternoon, once again I’m making a mad dash to the car to get there on time. And of course, the couple of times I’ve been a few minutes late are the days she gets out of class early.

I know I’m just not cut out to be that chill mom bringing my kid to school with plenty of time to spare but maybe some day, I will actually have time to put on some real pants. Probably not but I can dream.

*Anna Nalick

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As Yoda Would Say… Soccer Mom, I Am Not

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Okay, Yoda never said anything like that but if he had to use his car as a free taxi service and shuffle his kids around from activity to activity while they whined about being hungry, tired, mad about being rushed out of the door because they’re moving as slooow as slugs, etc., he’d be over that shit pretty quick.

Let me just start by saying, my 6 year-old hummingbird has a natural athletic ability that leaves me so proud and in absolute awe. Like I tell others, she may be small but my girl has spunk.

And yes, while I can say no to her doing an extracurricular activity, it can sneak up on me and before I know it, she’s involved in a buttload of things.

I’m all for the other activities she does… except soccer. For some reason, it makes me irrationally stabby. I’m fine with her gymnastics class, especially after being rid of the Type A mom master, and I love her ice skating classes. It doesn’t hurt that her dad usually takes her to ice skating while I’m snoozing in my warm and cozy bed. But, just like last year, I dread being a “soccer mom”.

Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing my little girl kick some ass on the field. I just find it much more pleasant watching her play soccer in our backyard. She’s more confident about being on a soccer team this year which is awesome and helps soothe my nerves since I don’t have to drag her kicking and screaming to her soccer games. I just find myself being the one who gets whiny when it comes to going to soccer practice and games this time around.

I don’t want to sit my ass out in the hot sun… soon to be the freezing cold and rain and snow… for an hour. I don’t want to be outside when I can be lounging on my couch on a Saturday morning, reading my mindless and very welcome US Weekly without pants and a bra. I don’t want to sign up for snack duty and feed 10 kids instead of just my own.

What’s up with that anyway? When I participated in sports as a kid, I felt like I won the snack lottery from saving my allowance and scoring a hot dog at the snack shack at the little league baseball field. Even a cup of cold water from a thermos that my coach brought along made me feel like I struck gold.

So, in other words, BAH-FUCKING-HUMBUG, soccer!

Who knows, maybe the little hummingbird won’t want to bother with soccer next year. One can hope. In the meantime, I will start pinning plenty of varieties of spiked hot chocolate to possibly take along with me to upcoming soccer games.

That’s what I call getting into the spirit of the game. Yeah, such a bad pun. Ahem, I’ll see myself out.

*GNR

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When You Go Out Of Your Way To Make A Nice Meal For Your Family And They Kind Of End Up Being A**holes About It.

1350591749695_7822193*I’m still sick and I have to say, I am the biggest pussy ever when it comes to having a cold. It definitely makes you see just how good you have it when you’re healthy.

Last week, when I was in my “pre-sick” stage, I wanted to make a nice dinner for my husband and the little hummingbird. It’s also the day that I made the incredibly orgasmic mini salted caramel apple pies.

Even though we’re a family of 3, it’s such a pain in the ass to get everyone on the same page when it comes to agreeing on what to make for a meal. Okay, actually I need to take that back. My husband will eat anything. Even some of the most horrible, OMG, what the fuck went wrong meals I’ve made over the years.

It’s my 5 year-old daughter who is picky, picky, picky.

Here’s where I have to say I for the most part ate pretty much everything my mom made. She was a single mom for many years and we had several meals of those cheap pot pies. She did the best that she could to feed us so I absolutely appreciate her efforts.

Come to think of it, I was probably more of a whiny little kid when it came to the food we had but I did my best to eat what she was able to afford.

Anyway, as a parent, there is probably at least one time, if not more, where you make a nice dinner for your family and go out of your way to cover all of the different tastes for them. It’s a pain in the ass but damn it, you want everyone to sit down, have a nice dinner, and not bitch and complain.

This particular night did not go as planned. Of course it didn’t. Fuckity fuck!

It may not seem like a fabulous dinner but I made buffalo macaroni and cheese. The perfect comfort food. So delicious and kid friendly. I even made a special casserole dish of it for the hummingbird.

I was running an hour behind though and everyone was bitchy by the time I was able to serve it up.

I was also bitchy and a total asshole to my husband because while preparing this meal, I realized that while I went to the store earlier, I forgot to get half and half. Fuck!

Then I flipped the hell out and sent my poor husband to the quick mart down the road. He was trying to be helpful and offer alternatives but I was all like NO! I FUCKING NEED THIS FUCKING HALF AND HALF, FUCKING FUCK!

Not one of my proudest moments… obviously.

I finally get this dinner in order and on the table. But did my family appreciate it? Hell no!

My hubby chowed down without breathing because he was so damn hungry and my daughter whined and said she didn’t like it. She wanted me to make Kraft mac n’ cheese instead.

And I had to get up multiple times for my daughter. “Can you please get me a napkin, mom? I wanted juice instead. I dropped my fork, can you get another one? My food is cold now, can you microwave it? Now my food is too hot and I can’t eat it. I don’t like this. Can I have something else?”

OMG! Really, people? REALLY?!

So, I sat there and cried. I totally lost it and cried while thinking fuck this shit.

I sat on the couch and cursed my family under my breath while my husband and daughter happily played together after dinner.

But then, I kinda sorta pulled it together and we had those delicious apple pies for dessert.

And all was finally good again.

Because mmmm, pie!

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Tattoos And Guilty Pleasures

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I got the little hummingbird’s cold that she had last week. So, of course I’ve been so sick this week and really NyQuiled up. Yes, that’s a word. Okay, it is in my mommyhood vocabulary.

My week has pretty much been like this. Cough, cough, cough. Tell my husband “Fuck this shit! Kill me now!” Cough, cough. Nap. Do a shot of NyQuil. Cough some more. Tell my husband I think I’m dying. Cough. More NyQuil. Etc. Yes, I’m such a pussy when I’m sick.

Since I ramble all of the time, I wanted to hear from you.

Who, me? Yes, you. Couldn’t be! Then who?

That’s a little something my 5 year-old came home singing one day so it’s been in my head.

Anyway…

First off… tattoos.

I’ve been seriously thinking about getting another tattoo. Ssshh, don’t tell my husband. He’s still having a heart attack over the tiny dolphin tattoo I got 12 years ago. Yes, I’m a dolphin/ocean freak.

Poor guy. You should have seen him in my pierce everything phase in my early 20’s.

I just can’t decide what to get.

Something to do with music, a hummingbird, my daughter’s name?

Secondly, when you have a bit of free time, what are your guilty pleasures?

No judgements!

For me, it’s watching Teen Mom 2 and loving to absolutely despise Kim Kardashian and her WTF moments, which seem plentiful and endless.

Your turn. Spill it!

Happy weekend, ladies and gents!

*Updated. Oh, yeah! Another guilty pleasure is reading dlisted. I came across this gossip site 6 years ago when I was pregnant with the hummingbird, dealing with hyperemesis gravidarum, and desperately needed laughs. Michael K. and his writing is brilliant.

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I’m Finally Ready

Well, as ready as one can be after losing a child.

After we lost Ben, it took some time to receive his ashes. When we finally got them, we quietly decided that the best thing to do at the time was to lock them in our safe.

While we didn’t speak the words, I think it was mostly because we weren’t ready to accept it. So there his ashes sat, locked away along with our feelings about such a tremendous loss.

Recently, I felt it was time to take them out. Time to slowly face what happened, as difficult as it is.

The loss is too great and I still can’t seem to find the words to express my grief.

The pain comes in waves and I think the reason that it happens that way is because if grief came all at once, it would be too overwhelming to handle.

Too heartbreaking.

So much more heartbreaking and devastating than it already is when dealing with this grief every day.

But I’m finally ready to take this first step.

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A Mom’s View: What Happened To My Bathtub?

As I took a shower yesterday, I went to shave my legs but when I lifted one of my legs up, I knocked over a small bucket containing a few squeaky ducks, some kind of small fish that squirted water, and a fake orange wtf from my daughter’s play kitchen.

That’s when I started thinking. What the hell happened to my bathtub?!

Pre-hummingbird, I would indulge in long, hot showers. Oh, those were the days. Or the occasional relaxing bath complete with an inflatable bath pillow, a loofah brush, soft music, and lit vanilla candles on the bathroom counter. Maybe even a glass of wine.

Post-hummingbird, I’m inundated with squeaky ducks, toy cars, and even snorkeling gear. Because every kid, or at least my kid, can’t seem to have a bath without it.

Now, I do quick showers while the hummingbird yells out Mom… Mom? Where is my Hello Kitty shirt? I want to dress up like Elsa but can’t find my blue dress. Can you give me a braid ? I pooped, can you help me wipe my butt? MOM! Are you almost done???

That’s when I thought, you know what? I’m going to show you a mom’s view of the crap all over the bath. And because I’m kinda nuts, I even took a picture.

Now, keep in mind, it’s usually more of a disaster than usual but I recently cleaned up because in just mere hours, my in laws will be visiting for four fucking days. Yeah, you read that right. My in laws are coming for a visit.

RED ALERT… MY IN LAWS ARE COMING!

Don’t worry. I’ve already purchased an economy sized bottle of red wine and made sure I have plenty of vodka at the ready. Actually, while we were at the store, my husband grabbed a big bottle and said “Do you think this will help you make it through my parents visit? hahaha

In case you’re new here, you might want to take a look at some of these in law posts: My MIL ruined my wedding and made me want to set myself on fire just so I could get away from her crazy, In-law Apocalypse, My in-laws are coming and I’ve already reserved myself a spot in a psych ward just in case, The time when my in-laws invited themselves to my sister’s wedding and she wanted to kill me and then my mom wanted to kill them only 2 hours after their presence, the very touching story of A Lack Of Boundaries With A Side Of Ranch Of Ranch Dressing, and my personal favorite… When You Wish Upon A Star… And It’s Stuck Up… Up Where?!.

If you dare, just scroll though my subjects and look up in-laws and mother-in law where I vent, bitch, and whine about them.

But back to the subject at hand.

A Mom’s and Dad’s view after kids. This could go two ways, zero participation where all you hear is crickets, chirp, chirp… or wanting to show your view. Whether describing your kids takeover of your bathroom in the comments section, or posting you own photo on my Facebook page, This Is Mommyhood.

I would absolutely love to read about it or see pics. I can’t be the only mama out there with this issue.

So, come on ladies and gents. Don’t be shy. We’re in this together. Show me what you’ve got! If this goes well, I may, just may show you my 5 year-old’s room aka the disaster zone that’s clean for five minutes and then BOOM, it’s an outright mess. I may even show the hot mess that is my kitchen, or the hummingbird’s play area… GASP!

This is my view of the bathtub. But keep in mind, it usually looks much worse, with toys on the floor and lying all over in the tub:

Mermaids, and buckets, and snorkeling gear, oh my!

Mermaids, and buckets, and snorkeling gear, oh my!

xoxo

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