I'm starting to hear scratches on the blackboard

**I wrote this on Friday and for some reason I didn't post it. So here ya go**

You know how you can deal with annoying things for a little while, then you finally get to a point where they start to drive you crazy and you feel like your head is about to pop off? I'm there today. Like, SO there.

One of the greatest things of the whole summer happened on Tuesday. THREEOFMYKIDSWENTBACKTOSCHOOL!!!!! (cue Ren and Stimpy's "Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy) Running errands hasn't been this easy since June. There's no one arguing. Vivian doesn't have anyone teasing her, so she's not constantly whining. Life is sounds great, right? I mean, my last post was about how awesome my life is. I've been high on life all week.

Remember how I said that no one has been here to bug Viv? Yeah, that also means that there is no one else here to talk to her. Or answer her questions. Or play with her. Or listen to her stories about blabbity-blah. My head is about to explode. Her cute little voice is starting to sound like shrieking monkeys.

She'll start preschool next Wednesday, so my ears will start to get relief. We've decided to homeschool for kindergarten this year (blah, blah, blah, state cutoff dates for starting school, blah, blah, blah, missed it by seven fucking days, blah, blah, blah). I figured, why the hell not? We are going to be here. It might make my life easier in the long run. Ha ha ha.

Shit! I knew that high wouldn't last.

things that help me know my life really IS awesome

1. people that get me. right away. without any explanation.
2. mel.
3. when my teenager is sincerely appreciative.
4. when my three youngest kids are kind to each other for no good reason.
5. friends that go out of their way to hang out with me.
6. not feeling like 'the maid' when i clean my house.
7. yoga.
8. when my friends from different circles like each other.
9. when vivian plays by herself all afternoon.
10. an ass that makes me smile when my eye catches it in the mirror*.

what helps you know you have an awesome life?

* gratuitous ass comment

Because I don't want to pick paper out 'ma girl

All day, I've had at least three different topics swirling around my brain about what I would blog about today. First, I was going to compare and contrast Charmin toilet paper and Scott Tissue. Then I really struggled about whether or not to share my latest recipe for toaster leavin's. Then I had an awesome afternoon with my two favorite fellow yogis, and discovered a pose that was nearly orgasmic, so I thought I'd share. But then, I read Tia Becky's blog, and decided that I would expound on her thought-provoking question.

Then I decided not to.

Like, just now.

Just like that.

And as I am writing about how I'm not going to answer her blog. I just realized that I just answered it. Blogging is important because it's ALL MINE!!! I can do whatever the hell I want and you can't stop me!! Ha Ha Ha It's the first amendment, bitches!!!!!

That's some awesome shit right there! Just think about it- All damn day, we have to do what everyone else needs. It starts when we get up early to wake up the kids for school. Then we feed them breakfast, help them pack lunches, make sure they catch the bus on time, clean the house, play with little kids, run errands, be here when the big ones get back to school, make them do homework, cook dinner, clean up after dinner, get them in bed. And if we are still coherent, we have sex with our husbands (or not), and go to bed so we can do it all over again the next day.

But when I blog -or not blog- I do whatever the hell I want. I get to make all the choices. I don't have to have a certain number of vegetables in my blog. I don't have to make sure it's on time, I don't even to have good language on my blog. It's whatever, wherever, however I want.

It's my selfish, dirty, indulgence. Aren't you glad you came?

What is wrong with women?

I went to a baby shower yesterday. It was my first one in at least a year. I avoid them. They are stupid. They are boring. I don't go because I love babies. I don't. I'm SO OVER babies. I don't want to look at one. I don't want to hold one. If you have a baby and I hold it, feel special. Really. Feel even specialer if you have a toddler and I pay it any attention because I dislike toddlers even more than infants. I'm not even sure that I like my own kids, but that's another story.

Oh yeah, back to the shower. I decided to go because this girl is sweet. Not sweet in a fakey way, but in a sassy, honest, and nice way. She works with my husband and has known him for several years, and I have hung out with her a couple times. I mostly just wanted to see her because I haven't seen her since she found out she was preggie. I knew she would be a cute preggie, and I was right. She looked adorable.

So there we were, a group of women (and a couple men), sitting around at a baby shower. Take a wild guess what these ladies start talking about? BIRTH STORIES!!!

Now on to my point: Why do women feel like they need to out-bad each other's birth experiences?? I seriously hate when women who have experienced childbirth feel the need to tell a first time preggie/never been preggie woman how horrible it is. As if she's not already terrified of the unknown, you want to tell her that it is worse than she ever imagined it would be!!??!?

Instead of allowing it to continue, I promptly asserted,"This baby shower is a bad birth story free zone." My beautiful, clueless, scared, preggie friend looked me straight in the face and thanked me. The other women stopped. The party continued. A good time was had by all.

But why do women feel like this is ok? It's not helpful. It's our responsibility to offer encouragement. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. These women need to feel empowered. They are already overwhelmed, they don't need to know about your episiotomy. As much as I'm so over babies, I love talking about positive birth experiences. It doesn't have to be scary, or tense, or unbearably painful. It doesn't have to be managed and controlled and regulated. God made us to have babies. If you want to talk to someone who will encourage you and help you feel like you can do it, talk to me!

I know that everyone's experiences are different. All four of mine were. I know that some people have risk factors that others don't. I respect your decisions to do what you feel is right for you and your baby. Just remember who your audience is when you are recounting your story about being in labor for 48 hours. K?

New? Or just new to you?

You might have read yesterday's post and thought something (either good or bad) about the 'new' Marianne. I just need to let you all know something: THIS SHIT AIN'T NEW! This is me with my ass hanging out! This is the me that has been hiding under the past 12 years of pressure to be a 'good girl'. I've been holding the hell back for far too long. I'm done.

I am happy. Happier than I have been in a long time. I am free. I feel like I have real connections with people. I'm done putting on a happy face and having superficial conversations. I am finally getting to genuinely know people I have been acquainted with for years.

I guess this seems drastic to some of you. For others, it's no surprise. Understand it or not, it is.

Ok Assholes - the remix

I wrote and posted and deleted all within the space of a few minutes last night. I'll leave the 'why' up to your imagination. However, I will give you a hint. Shiraz was involved. So here's another try, bitches! (oh yeah, and the hard Marianne cusses. A LOT. get used to it)

Yesterday, was my son's birthday. You all know him, right? He has been alive for 12 years and one day. This information is important. Remember it. Mel and I had decided on his name months earlier. We didn't know if it was going to be a girl or boy, so we picked out both boy names and girl names. We were prepared. Or so we thought. One thing we didn't discuss was how we were going to spell the names. I figured that since his first and last names were pretty straightforward, it wasn't necessary to collaborate on the spelling. WRONG!!

He spelled my son's name with a 'y'. A damn 'y'?!? WTF? That's a fuckin' gay-ass way to spell a boy's name. T-r-y-s-t-a-n. That's not how you spell it. It's supposed to be T-r-i-s-t-a-n, dummie. But I got over it. I'm ok with it now. Partially.

People usually misspell it the first time they write it. When this happens, one of three things will happen. 1. I correct them on the spot. 2. I make sure they get the chance to see the correct spelling so they know. 3. I do nothing because it's not important. Almost always, I do nothing. People spell names wrong all the time, and it's not a BFD.

Except, if you are a member of the family. There are some things people should know. How to spell your grandson's name is one of them. In my case, there are only two grandsons. My kid was the first one. Not only that, but he was the second grandchild born into this family. So why the hell does his grandmother consistently spell his name T-r-y-s-t-o-n? I am sure that she has been told how to spell his name. He's 12. She has had 12 years to get it right. What's the problem?

I blame my husband. It's Mel's stupid fault for fucking up the spelling in the first place. HMMMMM, now I know where he gets it from.

I do it when...

I have something to say. I think you bitches need to know what's happening in my life. Sometimes. You care, right? I don't like to tell you all about stupid stuff.

That's why I don't write all the time. Because, frankly, my life isn't that great. I don't have interesting experiences. I don't take beautiful pictures. I hate typing recipes. And I most certainly can't lie and pretend that my life is all rosy and my children are perfect, and my husband is the best. Well, my husband is practically perfect, but that's beside the point.

I noticed that over the past three years, I have been writing less and less. When I wonder why, I think it's because I was depressed during at least two of those three years. For the past year, I have felt pretty good-ish. Maybe I have been enjoying life. Maybe I have been taking more time to do the things that relax me (knitting), and I haven't been able to blog. Or maybe during those morning hours that I used to blog, I have been sitting in the sunroom drinking coffee and being myself instead of wishing I could be somewhere else or be someone else entirely.

Tia Becky has this thing going about writing hard. I've been holding back because of social pressures. I know who is reading this blog, and frankly, I don't want to hear their shit about it. Dammit, tomorrow that's all going to end. I think. Maybe.

what is it about me?

The other week, I was having a conversation with a good friend about me. Yeah, I was talking about myself. Specifically, why people think I don't like them. I don't know if we really nailed down the reason(s), so I figured that it would be a good idea to ask you all. I can take it. Whatever you have to say. Really. I wouldn't ask unless I wanted to hear what people thought. So go ahead- I can handle it.

But before you tell me about myself, I need to let you in on a few bits of information:

1. I don't gossip. If you do something that I don't like/don't agree with, I'll either tell you to your face, or I will keep it to myself. If I talk about you behind your back, it's to say something kind, or ask about you. I don't talk dirt.
   
2. I don't dislike anyone. There are some people I click with better than others. There are some people I don't click very well with, and that's normal. If you know that we don't click very well, please refer to #1.
3. If you ask my opinion, I'm going to give it to you. Occasionally, I'll give it to you even if you don't ask for it. The honest one. If I ask your opinion, I expect that you'll give me the honest one. (otherwise, why would I ask?) I'm sorry in advance if I'm tactless. Some people have the gift of being able to filter their thoughts before the words escape their mouth. I am not always blessed with this gift. (understatement)
4. I am sarcastic. However, I am not mean spirited. I do not mean to hurt your feelings. If my sarcasm is too much for you to handle, please tell me. I'll stop. Or at least make a super good-faith effort to be less sarcastic to you.
   
5. I am bossy. GASP! BUT, I can take orders too. I like to be bossed around also. And convinced to do things. I don't have to be in charge. If I boss you, and you don't want to be told what to do, just tell me NO. I can take it!
6. I don't have to be the best. I mean, I do know I am awesome. But just because I am freakin' awesome, doesn't mean that I don't think you are freakin' awesome too. I enjoy my friend's successes. I am truly and genuinely happy for you when something awesome happens to you. I like to tell my friends how proud I am of their accomplishments. I like to tell my friends about my accomplishments that I'm proud of. If I do a good job at something, I own it (Thursday at Bowie State-I rocked my presentation). If I suck at something, I own that too (The swim event during my first and probably only triathlon-it really was embarrassingly awful and slow and awful).

That's me in 6 paragraphs. I know those things are what makes me "Marianne". I mostly love myself, so I don't plan to change who I am. I just want to improve my relationships with you bitches.

MWAH!