Trigger Warning: Long story about gross things.....

So, I thought I was shot... when I was ten. 

Let me tell you the story: 

It was Thanksgiving morning.... the air was crisp, the sun hiding behind a layer of clouds...

[honestly I don't know what the weather was like.... it was 21 years ago]

I had turned 10 the summer before, and I was very naive.... keep that in mind.

I woke up, disoriented in a dark room at my grandparents house.  

I also woke up with a severe, crippling pain, it felt as though I was dying slowly. 

I turned on the light to get ready for the day [I crawled to the light switch-lets be honest.]

And as I pulled myself up to the light and propped my broken body against the wall I looked down... to my horror I had been shot. The pain all made sense. I had been shot. 

I crawled to the hall-shouting out for help- "PLEASE SOMEONE, HELP, I'VE BEEN SHOT!' 

no one answered, everyone left me to die. 

Typical.... 

who shot me? was it someone I knew? 

I made it to the kitchen, that 25 feet of bloody, desperate crawling really made my gun shot wound ache even more.....

There in the glow of the florescent kitchen lights was my cousin, 14 year old male cousin half way through puberty and thankful a brother to 5 girls- and looking completely terrified. 

"What's wrong, Beth?"

"Jordan.... I've been shot."

"What?? Where??"

"I don't know where! But I've been shot. I'm in so much pain... and no one is here... AND JORDAN.... there is blood EVERYWHERE. I am not going to make it much longer... I can tell."

His face seemed to look less terrified, almost calm. [Not the reaction I was wanting in this moment of slow, painful death]

"B, I think I know what is going on. You are going to be ok."

YOU KNOW NOTHING YOU IDIOT.... -I thought very loudly but kept to myself because I needed his help. 

"I think you started your period.... this is normal, I'll show you what you need to do. Everyone goes through this."

"OH.... DO YOU??"

"Well no, not everyone.... just women"

"Well, that's not even fair" [cue me literally sobbing uncontrollably]

Since everyone was next door rehearsing their Thanksgiving music special at the church [my grandpa was a pastor and the church was on the same plot as the house] Jordan went in the bathroom and found a weird square package and a tube package.... they both looked terrifying. 

"One goes on your underwear... the other one.... in you. I don't know but you'll figure it out-I'll go find our moms" 

"IN ME????? NOPE. Wait outside the door, what if I die?"

"You're not going to die."

I DIDN'T DIE. 

You guys, I DIDN'T die. 

Later that day I found out I had a Vagina... and what a Vagina was. That was a little shocking. Also found out what a period was. That was disgusting... AND THEN I found out that it happened monthly... and I asked to have a Penis instead. Apparently that takes a surgery and our insurance didn't cover it. 

All this story to let ya'll know... My daughter thought she was shot this week. [she didn't really, I've been preparing her for this for about a year... she's read the books, had her first moon supplies, etc. my trauma made me over prepare her]

I feel officially old. 

Why can't you just be 4 again?

Why is there fur in my cupcake?

So I have a massive dog. 

He's like, huge. 

No not like your Lab.

NO not like your Rott.

He's still bigger. A lot bigger. 

About 160 big. 

He broke my Dyson vacuum when he was only a year and half old by the sheer volume of hair he produces. [double coat year round]

He was harder to console than my infant the first 9 months of his life. 

His craps are bigger than my Pomeranian.

He has a severely sensitive stomach AKA when he gets the butt squirts it's a damn flood. 

He's a week away from being 3 and he's still my big, perfect baby. 

But this week... he's had a week. It's almost like he knows it's almost his birthday and he's not ready for it. He's overwhelmed you guys. Like, I'm not kidding you. He's been heavy sighing more than usual. He's been head hugging more than usual. He's been 'under foot' [which like is more trying to be under crotch but just lifting mom up] more than usual. I keep telling him, 'babe, it's all going to be ok'.... but he's a man, he doesn't listen. he didn't even act this dramatic when I had his balls consciously uncoupled from his body.

Do you ever have those days where you look at your kid and you know, 'nothing is getting done today, this guys going to make it a struggle bus day'.... Well by about 7:10 this morning I knew today was one of those days, not because of the kids but because of the massive blob that decided he could fit on the couch [he has never climbed on before...ever] because he needed mommy. But then Dal [his 3 year old little toddler he owns] was in his way... he needed to be closer to mom. So, in true giant dog fashion-he moved the ottoman out of the way and became my ottoman... after fussing with the rug that wasn't to his liking, he finally passed out, underfoot and now I can't move. Because you never wake a sleeping baby. DUH. 

So, I guess I will work from this EXACT spot, breathe lightly, and hope he gets the comfort he needs in the next hour so I'm able to move again. 

It's not easy being almost three. 

My 43" three year old and my 160 pound almost three year old. 

KIDS.

My dog just ate shit.

Sorry if that was too rash. 

My dog. My cute, little, fluffy, adorable Pomeranian just ate my sons shit. From his pull up. That he pulled down. In the middle of the living room. And shit fell from his butt.... on to the floor. 

I'm sitting here, mid first episode of 'Sneaky Pete' and Dal is just standing in the middle of the room- butt out, poop flopped on the floor and I..........................I had a mini asthma attack. Tears flowing. Snot oozing. Mascara decorating my cheeks like I've been at Coachella for two days straight. But no, I just had an asthma attack because my kid shit himself, dropping it all over the floor, and my dog ATE IT.

It wasn't even the eating of the shit that got me, it was how swift she was. She was like a lightening bolt. We didn't see it happen and it was already mid throat. It was almost like a magic trick, a really gross, puke worthy magic trick. I'm scarred for life. I had to book an extra therapy session this week just so I can discuss it. 

But enough about me, how is your day???

Ok-actually more about me. We went to my bestie's daughters birthday party this past weekend. It was so nice. I was able to see her family [my 'I pretend they are my family' family]. And then Dal found out there were balloons being popped and ALL hell broke loose. He made a grand exit from the party, screams, screeches, and straight up madness. We left and the siren sound from his mouth was almost poetic. He fell asleep mid-drive home and still sobbed in his sleep for 25 minutes. How is this life? Who cries in their sleep??

It was a long day Saturday.

But today is a new day, and I am so grateful for that.

Well, I was so grateful for that till I realized it was the middle of April and it was snowing... at about 6 AM this morning.

So, I'm super excited about tomorrow. TOMORROW is a new day.

Tomorrow is hopefully a shit free day. A snow free day. And maybe even..... a laundry free day [ok that was reaching lol we all know that's not true]

Happy Monday ya'll!

He's so lucky he's cute.

I thought today was Monday.

Today felt like a Monday. My sinus infection is really putting a cramp in my sleep schedule. But my sinus infection can suck it. I don't have time to be tired. I don't have time to NOT sleep. 

I hit snooze 10 times. I'm literally the worst mom and I hit snooze TEN times. I still packed her lunch, drove her to school... but I really pushed the envelope today.

Every inch of my body felt like it had been hit by a train. But life happens and I had to shove myself into momentum. Coffee. Coffee helps most everything, and nasal spray. That statement makes me feel old. But, as I take all 8 of my vitamins and my heart burn medicine- I feel that nasal spray kick in and I am feeling a LOT better. 

After drop off I got to photograph an awesome little dude and we got into some tacos for his session. So it was perfect. And then I went to Target..... so, I mean. You get it, you know. I was fine. I will survive today, Venti latte in hand- and a red cart in the other, you pretty much feel invincible at least until you check out. 

And once you get past check out, you remember you have a doctors appointment. 

Dermatologist time.

Honestly one of my more exciting appointments, my dermatologist has completely changed my skin in 6 weeks, after a year of cystic acne and pain and scars-and multiple doctors promising me they could fix it. Low T has really screwed with my body, but at least someone has me on the right track skin wise- Thank you sweet baby Jesus.

We made a plan for next month, burning my face off for weeks on end until I have a whole new face.

Sound so fun I can hardly wait. 

I finally made it home, cleaned the house, fed the fam, and put to everyone to bed..... I finally had some quiet time to take a shower. Mid-shower [the steam feeling like a million little hands massaging my sinuses] and I hear a tap on the door.

nooooo. no. just no. go to bed. -says the little voice in my head.

"Yes?" my mouth says. Against the little voices' better judgement.

"Mom I peed myself...." [literally only one pull up left in the house till tomorrow]

"What?"

"Yeah, I peed... I'm really disappointed in myself"

You and me both babe, you and me both.

"It's okay boo, I'll be right out."

I swear you guys, today just felt like Monday.

And of course mid popcorn pour for the kids the bag exploded.... so I ate counter popcorn.

I went to the gym.....

I was awake with a sick little dude, coughing in my face... til about 4 AM. I realized at 9 am I had no coffee in the house. [cue sobbing in the bathroom for about 23 minutes while everyone else was still fast asleep] So now I am sitting here with JUST my tea-caffeine free crap- and a bowl full of refried beans and Tabasco sauce. Judge me, I dare you... honestly I'm too tired to care at this point. I'm a mess-and I fully accept it. 

The knot in my butt of testosterone replacement is doing well, thanks for asking.... it's turning into a nice shade of purple.... so I'm heading to the gym to hopefully walk it out. And speaking of the gym, I have a story for you. I just couldn't NOT share with you. 

A few days ago I was at the gym, I try to go at the slowest times possible, I am gym antisocial and EXTREMELY sweaty.... those two things don't need high traffic. I made it to my stationary bike, towel in hand, layers of shirts and lack of any desire to be there what so ever... but I promised my doctor I'd try my best...... and I had nothing else going on. I set my settings, logged myself in and chose my course.

Feeling more and more like wings sounded better than being at the gym.

I settled into my jaunt around some ridiculously themed track on my bike screen and I was thoroughly trying to enjoy myself when I felt someones eyes on me.

 I scan the room, Caroline by Amine blasting in my headphones.

In the middle of a very slow gym 

stood a man at a solid 5' 8", deeply tanned, oiled [yes, oiled] arms-neck-chest, spiked, frosted tips, cut off sleeves [tapered in at the nipples], topped off with some extra short shorts even I would be cautious while wearing. He was holding himself with a deep self-confidence most would envy. Arms crossed, one knee bowed to the side-looking seriously serious about something that was really, really serious. [Furrowed brow and all]

I started to become increasingly concerned with the strong almost constipated looks he was creating. His stance was strong-only moving enough to adjust from one leg bend to another..... 

He continued this stance for about ten minutes. I was beyond invested at this point. 

AND THEN.

And then, you guys.

He walked past me. He was FINALLY done with his dedicated posing and worrisome looks.....

As he walks by.... the most shockingly.... offensive.... crop dust of all times enveloped my face, my body, and I truly believe- my soul as well.

I could not contain myself. 

The uncontrollable giggle could not be contained.

The smell was so rude.

BUT his commitment to trying to air it out for SO long was beyond impressive, I had to give it to him.

Let me be honest, I hate working out. So, when I workout I need entertainment. And that, my dear loves, that gave me so much to hold on too.

So that is my entirely pointless story. Have a wonderful Sunday!

My sick boos still being sick 

S.O.S.

You. GUYS. I can hardly put into words how my week has been going...... but I'm going to try because, I do what I want. (If my kids say its ok.)

So, we went on a little spring break, I can't be one of those crowded crazies in Florida over spring break [social anxiety over here], I do our Vaca's over less frequented months so I don't lose my mind. It saves everyone from my anxiety fueled wrath-trust me, it's best this way. 

We had an awesome time, we visited my old stomping grounds and had a blast at our indoor water park.............................but then something happened. WE. GOT. HOME. 

By the time we made it home Mini had the Flu, the first time in seven years she has been sick.... SEVEN. And after two weeks she is a whiner.... let me tell you, she whines about EVERYTHING (once she feels better but still wants the extra treatment). I know, I am a horrible mom for saying it, but after day 9, I lost my mind a bit. I'm insensitive, I'm the worst.... but it only got old because she had perfected the 'forced cough' AKA the not wanting to go back to school after spring break cough. I know this cough, because I created this cough back in the day. 

The cough equated to Popsicle for breakfast, Oreos all day, sprite for days, every movie ever, laxed betimes, hot cocoa and LOOOONGGG bubble baths. 

But then her brother got Croup, and she realized the jig was up. So now we have two 'sick' kids. One forcing coughs for ice cream bars and one that is stuffed full of steroids and begging for bed time. Coughing is all I know anymore. We're on day 15, the natives [me, just me] are growing wrest-lest. I dream of sleep, I dream of healthy lungs, of margarita Monday's on warm summer nights, I dream of cheesecake.... unrelated but still relevant.

And today on this 15th day of illness:

 Today I had a productive day of Testosterone butt shots and long walks on the elliptical to release the injection knot..... it consisted of me of not having the ability to sit on any surface without a heat pad, yes I've been walking around with a plug in heat pad for my butt. No shame in this game. I am an old lady with monthly butt injections. #livingthelife

And don't forget: this is 30.

picture of that cute croup kiddo.

If I could have anything....

I am sorry ahead of time... I'm going to be serious today.... abort, abort if you don't want the real/emotional/deep-ish me today. Tomorrow, we'll be back to normal jokes but today I want to tell you something. If that's ok?

Today I was thinking... I was watching someone make homemade pasta, and for some reason it made me think deeply about something so close to my heart. 

Today I asked myself a question (note to yourself, never stop asking yourself questions.... it's a good thing) what is one thing I cannot have that I wish I could have. Something that is not actual possible.

It took about a millisecond to think of it. And I want to share it, because it means the world to me. And I want you to feel my joy from it (though there is sadness there as well), if that makes sense? 

I want to be in my Grandma Greats kitchen. I want to be there during the school year-when most everyone else in her life was too busy to visit her. I want to be there right after school, when I got someone else to drive my brother home.... when I made it there before Jeopardy... at the tail end of Wheel of Fortune. I want to walk in the door as Grandma Great is talking about Vanna Whites waist size and how I better not let carbs get the best of me like she did (sorry grandma I did let carbs get the best of me and I now know what you mean.. but pizza is life). I want to sit down with her, she'll tell me for about an hour how she wants to die and I tell her it doesn't work that way God and me won't let you. Sorry, not sorry.... I think I created that phrase because of her. No you can't die. We would get passed that, every time and then she would get up. And that's when I knew I was in for a treat. She would ask me, 'Do you have to leave soon?' and she and I both knew I had no where to be but on her couch.... I would follow her to her kitchen, the same way I did when I was a kid in her farm kitchen. It was a different location but she made it work. She hated it, it wasn't home like home had been but it was what she had. A farmhouse to a duplex. She handled it so much better than I ever could have. I bitch WAY to much to be anything as amazing as she was. But I hope someday I am an eighth of a woman she was.... she was everything. 

Then, then you guys, she did the most magical thing in the world. She turned nothing into something perfect. She was a magician. She never taught me to do anything perfectly, she always taught me to acclimate to anything worth acclimating too. Grandma Great was a baking goddess. There is no other title to describe her than complete goddess. She spoke love with her hands and it was beautiful. I always thought she was a magician, she asked you the problem and as she listened she started putting together the recipe of whatever baked good you needed to soothe your soul, and she was never wrong. (accept for those dumb dieting bitches...she hated those in the family) You had a relationship problem? There was a cherry pie with your name on it, from scratch, within an hour. You had a friendship issue, buckeyes. A spouse problem, thumbprints. A sibling problem, caramels. It always was changing depending on what her soul spoke. 

So when I asked myself today, what is one thing I could have, that there was no possible way to have.... it was this: 

'I wish I could walk through her door, one more time, and sit down...and have her make the perfect dessert for missing her.'

I know, that is beyond depressing sounding, but I have found a dessert to make for most every other situation, just like she taught me... but that is one feeling I've never been able to bake for. My kitchen is covered in memories of her, my summers with her, our game show days, every moment in the kitchen I cherish-she was in. So to me I think that there should be an amazingly light dessert to represent her, even missing her it should be light/it should be warm/it should be memorable. 

So that is my 'if I could moment.'

Throw back to Olan Mills repping.

Bow... on.... FLEEK.

WHO TRUSTED YOU WITH THIS [PT3]

Heyyyy guys.....

Still 30.

Like we were 27 yesterday. It's so damn cute to be 27. But 27 is not 30.... and 30 is 50. If you're 30 you get that last reference in your SOUL.

I'm exhausted. I would MUCH rather take multiple naps than have a social life.... be active.... or just function at all. You guys, it's exhausting being 30. [Probably a direct correlation to my low T and aggressively active 3 year old]

But I AM TIRED. Oh you want to hang out after 3:45 PM on a school night?? Are you insane?? I have to wake up at 6 AM. I can't party like I used too. {Still love you though.... talk again in 15 when the youngest graduates... after I nap?}

New Life Excuses that have massive truths in them:

-Sorry my dog wants to lick my other dog and I want to film it, because they are amazing.
-Sorry my oldest wants to read Oliver Twist to me.
-Sorry my snake is shedding tonight.
-Sorry my kid is creating an interpretive dance and I need to find music for him.
-Sorry I'm busy, my lizard wants to watch Kimmy Shmidt tonight, thanks though.

The older I get the more I think how in the world are we trusted to be adults at 18? How are we having kids in our 20s? How are we allowed to live on our own before 40? We're idiots just trying to keep it together and we have NO clue what we're doing. Facebook us is not real us.... Facebook us is bullshit covered in glitter while we're losing our minds in the middle of a grocery store in real life being controlled by a very young human with the personality of a narcissistic communist and the mouth of sailor they inherited from us. And honestly without them telling us what to do we would be devastated, please tell me how that is not a mess? We are a shit show forced by social media to portray a perfect bubble of quaffed hair and caked faces and we're praised when we give just a *little* real moment of ourselves in some DEEP facebook post about our weaknesses or our imperfections every 6 months or so.... 'She's so real'.

Cue me puking in my mouth. I'm not a bitch-promise-I am just too tired to believe anyone is that PTO perfect. I have kids. THE JIG IS UP.... [If you're into being exhausted and don't judge sweat pants as formal for drinks, I'll meet you after school at Chilis and probably give you a hug, because you know what?? You're a damn hero and I'm here for it.]

So I'm going to sit here, I may have some cake before 9 AM.... I WILL drive my kid to school in a robe and face mask.... I will yell at my toddler.... he's a jerk.... I will get McDonald's fries.... I will drink a beer before 5 PM.... and I will plate Olive Garden as my own and lie through my teeth about my homemade Alfredo sauce, because I am tired, I am 30 and I don't want to do anything more than that. AND THAT.... my friends, is OK.

Honestly?? I'm tired.