CUT IT OUT!

*My friend Lindsay is committed to making our roads safer.  She is tired of the needless loss of life that happens on our roads.  She created the blog Fix The Toaster to wake the world up to this easily solved problem.  Check it out - your life might depend on it.

Here's a post I wrote for her site last week...

CUT IT OUT!

 

 When someone tells me to “cut it out,” it totally turns me on.  I’m a strong woman and I need this kind of blunt, somewhat aggressive command to be reigned in a little.  Don’t get me wrong.  I have to actually know the person commanding me to ‘cut it out’ or at least feel a sense of security with him or her.  Let’s not get too dirty here.  But…if my husband were to read this post (doubt it) he might find himself getting lucky if he would find a way to simply use these three little words.  Oh man, I’m getting off course here – this is not the intended subject of this post.  What I want you to understand is that I love the expression ‘cut it out!’  I use it often too.  Not to turn people on mind you but to reign in my little ones.  I have two toddler boys who are awesome and fun and WILD.  If I walk in on them say; punching each other in the face, I might loudly, in a low commanding voice yell, ‘cut it out.’  It gets their attention, stops them in their tracks, and allows me the one second opening I need to get down to their level and calmly walk them through some kind of teaching moment. 

‘Cut it out’: a multipurpose expression that can be used on various ages.  (Noel’s Dictionary 40^th Edition) OK, now to the point…

A few months ago I realized that my texting-checking e-mail-surfing the web while driving habit was becoming, to put it simply, STUPID!  I mean really, what was I thinking?  I was giving myself all kinds of excuses too; I’m in standstill traffic, I can text safely.  I’m using SIRI, I’m not actually typing.  I’m just going to check this website for one thing, it’ll be fine.  WT?  Every day I was reading posts by @fixthetoaster about terrible accidents and loss of life due to this addiction that has taken over me and about 78.4%* of all other drivers on the planet. (*fictional stat to make a point)  I would find myself horrified at the numbers, disturbed by the videos and yet I was STILL finding sneaky ways of feeding my iPhone-while-driving addiction.  And then one day I almost – almost- thank GOD, rear ended a cyclist while I was – wait for it – checking FACEBOOK of all things!  Holy shit. “Sorry bicycle dude I was updating my status.”

‘CUT IT OUT’ I screamed at myself as I threw my iPhone on the passenger side floorboard.  Just ‘CUT IT OUT!’  This is the moment that I committed to ending this life threatening habit.  For my kids.  For my husband. For myself.  For the planet.  I mean seriously people, what are we thinking?  Put it on the passenger seat, turn up the volume for all incoming texts and calls and if you must answer a call and you do not have a Bluetooth, PULL OVER for goodness sake.    

The best way to kill one habit is to add another.  I commute over 2 hours a day so I do need something – something to take my mind off, but not too far off – the road.  So I chose Audible.com.  A great, healthy, not too expensive, new habit.  By listening to audio books I can stimulate my mind, entertain myself, and get smarter.  (*Maybe I should listen to a book on grammar – nahhh) Since I picked up this new habit I am no longer iPhoning it while I’m driving.  This could be the equivalent to donating quarts and quarts of blood, volunteering at hospitals, serving my country.  OK, OK pipe down.  I do not mean any disrespect to our service men and women, maybe it’s a stretch to compare, but is it?  Our roads can be dangerous and by not using my phone while driving I am potentially (probably) saving lives. 

For $14.95 a month I get one audio book per month and a clear conscious.  If I don’t use the credit it rolls over to the next month.   Although texting is hip and social media keeps me current – with Audible.com I have read (cough cough – listened to) over 10 books in the past 4 months.  Titles ranging from – wait, I need to keep some things private. But let’s put it this way – you can get ANYTHING (almost) on this website – fiction, non-fiction, self-help, history lessons, comedy, classics, whatever you fancy.  A piece of advice – there are SOME books that should not be listened to while driving – you know what I’m talking about.  CUT IT OUT!

Recycle!

Wondering what to do with your leftover wrapping paper rolls?  Well...here's an idea!

PLAY SWORDS for TODDLERS 

  

* I am aware that I will most likely get hit in the face with these often but I will consider these valuable teaching moments!

In my very best DIY wording...

You Will Need:

1. One wrapping paper roll

2. Two paper plates

3. One sheet of colored paper

4. Tape

5. Scissors

6. Pen

Instructions:

1. Cut the wrapping paper roll in half.

2. Trace the circle of the roll onto the paper plates

3. Cut that hole out (this is my favorite description)!!!

4. Slide the rolls onto the plates. (put the top of the plate downward)

5. Cut strips of your colored paper

6. Tape the colored paper to the top for effect.

7. Fold 2 strips of colored paper in half twice.  

8. Tape those strips around the bottom of the plate.  

       (this will keep the plate from sliding off, maybe)

TaDah!

Seriously, that is my best writing ever.

Have fun storming the castle!

The Haircut. MINE!

Today I am sad.  It’s kind of ridiculous, sort of embarrassing and I feel way too old for this sort of thing but…I got a bad haircut.  My friends are being supportive, encouraging me with : “it looks really healthy,” “it really frames your face,” and “it’ll grow back.”  And they’re right.  But I am still sad.  It is not what I wanted.  I asked for a simple trim to my shoulder length bob and I left the salon with a chin length choppy shag, fringy bangs and a brand new charge to my credit card.  

I’m also angry.  Angry at myself.  Angry that after 40 (well 34? maybe) years of getting my haircut by a professional I still cannot speak up when the artistry is happening and I am not liking what I see.  I am so overly trusting and polite that while my locks were dropping by the inches I just sat there thinking that my very hot French stylist knew exactly what he was doing.  But the thing is, I knew what I wanted when I walked in and I wasn’t getting it.  AND I was still going to have to pay for it.  So why didn’t I stop him?  I have been through this before.  Each of my friends has been through this.  My mother has been through this.  Probably my Grandmother too.  I should have learned my lesson the first time, or the second time, or even, oh man, there have been sooo many times!  Why do we women keep keeping our mouths shut?  I have some ideas but I’m going to need more time to write that piece.  

So back to the point, I am sad today.  I am angry and I feel ugly.  Deep down I know this is silly.  I know that this is a very minor problem to have.  And I know that beauty comes from within.  But I am a sleep deprived, full time working mom of two toddler boys that are in the midst of competing temper tantrums right now.  They go from kicking me to punching me in less than a second and last night a tiny toy whale fell off of the bed and no one has slept since.  The last thing I need is a bad haircut.  

So what should I do?  My go-to self help is this:  If you had a daughter and she was in your shoes right now what would you tell her?  Well, I would tell her that her hair looks really healthy, it frames her face and that it will grow back.  And then I would hold her tiny, tear filled face in my hands and say, “Honey, you are beautiful no matter what – beauty comes from here” and I would tap her little chest on the heart side and then I would kiss her pinched up angry forehead and say, “let’s go get some ice cream and maybe on the way we’ll pick up some fancy bobby pins, we can always pin it back!”

On my way to CVS.

Superheroes

These are my boys manning the polls today.  

I think they were influential.  

It was subtle, but effective.

"With great power there must also come great responsibility."

Let's make this world great for our aspiring superheroes.

Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy

The toddler tantrum can come at any moment.  Your day (or night) can go from Happy Happy Joy Joy to Holy F***ing Sh** Balls in less than 2 seconds.  And that is exactly how it went down in my house last night.  

It was just a simple bath.  2 toddlers, 1 bath, 7pm.  This is how we do it.  Water is good.  Soap bubbles are fun.  Routine helps the active child.  Until it doesn't.  And then you enlist the trickery.  Glow Sticks.  Water Paints.  Bath Color Tablets.  Last night it was the latter.  

"If you get into the bathtub you can pick a color and make the water change to blue or purple or red.  Your choice, but you have to get into the bathtub first."  

My youngest was totally sucked in; took his clothes off (with some help) and climbed in as fast as possible.  My older guy was on to me.  He knew that this water color changing thing was maybe cool but not nearly as cool as running naked back and forth between the bathroom and the bedroom, taunting me with his new found 3 1/2 year old contrariness. 

"I don't want to take a bath, mommy.  I will never take a bath.  Never-ever-ever!"

"OK sweetie, but then you don't get to make the water change colors.  It's your choice."  

I'm working on the whole "It's your choice" thing.  I get it.  It makes sense, it does,  But I hope it doesn't mess him up later in life when he realizes that he doesn't always get a choice.   But that's for an entirely different post.  Let's continue.

The "I will never take a bath - well it's your choice" dialogue went on for about 5 minutes; my youngest splashing away happily in his purple magic water.  At some point during our enlightened conversation, I noticed that my 3 1/2 year old was playing with his penis.  This is normal.  He's a young boy.  Exploring his parts.  And stretching them!  He was wrapping his penis around his finger like it was a Twizzler.  I didn't want to make a big deal out of it but I was afraid he might be hurting it.  I don't know.  I don't have one.  Does that hurt a penis?  He kept twisting it and screaming in my face.  

I very gently said, "Sweetheart, please be careful with your penis." 

He screamed back, "I will not be careful with my penis."  

I whispered, "OK, it's your choice (arrgggg) but don't break your penis."  

"I will break your vagina!"

WHAT?  Wait, what did he just say?

"I will break your vagina mommy."

Somehow I refrained from screaming back at him, "YOU ALREADY DID MISTER" and instead I just burst out laughing. 

He wasn't sure what to do.  His little toddler face went from mad to happy to confused and then back again.  His lips were somewhere between a smile and a snarl when I simply repeated him.  (Again with the trickery.  Albeit actor trickery)

"You're going to break my vagina?"

"Yes, I'm going to break your vagina.  And if you try to stop me I will bite you."

I stuck my arm out and asked that he please bite me instead of breaking my vagina.  Giving him a choice see. He thought about it for a minute and then he simply climbed into the bathtub as if nothing had ever happened.

The rest of the night was the Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy kind of night; but I did sleep with my light on.  WTF?

 

The 3-Year Itch

As performed in 

EXPRESSING MOTHERHOOD 

Fall 2012 at The Banshee Theater in Burbank, CA

__________________________________________________________

(Shannon enters a swanky hotel room dressed for a night out and in heels that she has obviously not worn for a long time. Her overnight bag looks very much like a Diaper Bag.  There is a male prostitute on the bed.)

Hello?  Hellooo?  Oh. Hi!  Hi there.  I wasn’t sure this was the right room.  I’ve never been to this hotel before. Oh my god!  You're not wearing in clothes.  OK.  Wow.  I guess this is the right room.  And wow look at that view, you can see the whole city from up here. 

What do I want to do first?  Oh goodness, I don’t know.   I’ve never done anything like this before.  My girlfriends put me up to this.  They told me it would be just like an episode of Hung.  They were right.   

I should close the door.   I told my husband I had book club. 

How much did they pay you?  Never mind. God that’s rude.  I’m sorry.  I’m just so nervous.  I can’t believe how nervous I am.  I’m sweating.  Are those scarves? Are you going to tie me up? I read Fifty Shades of Grey.  I know all about that.  I made the mistake of reading that book while on a family vacation.  In Texas.  On Dude Ranch.  Probably not the best choice.  Cowboys are hot.   And I am not single!   I’m married!  I have children.   I can’t believe I’m here. But I just turned 40!  You’re supposed to do stuff like this when you turn 40 right.  Start checking off your Bucket List?  Actually, paying for sex has never been on my Bucket List.  But my girlfriends are paying for this so I feel like I should at least...

Look, I’m here because my husband thinks I’m no fun anymore.  He said that to me in marriage counseling.  He said, “Honey, you’re no fun anymore. You’re not the same person I married.”  I was crushed.  And then I almost punched him in the face.  Really?  You don’t think I’m the same person you married?  Hmmmm.  I wonder why?  Is that because since I've married you I’ve had two babies, gained 400 pounds, completely lost my identity and not slept for more than 4 hours on any given night?  Do you think that has anything to do with it?  I mean I have just this week handed down my last pair of maternity jeans.  My children are 2 and 3 years old!  This has not been an easy week for me.  I had to buy regular jeans.  And regular jeans are not comfortable.  They cut into your belly.  If you have had a baby and your jeans do not have an elastic waist band they are going to hurt.  And they're labeled weird too.  The jeans I had to buy today were labeled 16X33.  I felt like I was buying wood at Home Depot.

I’m no fun anymore?   I felt like we were making some progress.  I was just starting to like him again.  My friend Anne has this theory that 3 years into raising your kids you kind of wake up, like you've been in a dream.  Or a nightmare.  And you look in the mirror and say,  “OK, well that was some sort of wild, twisted,  upside down roller coaster ride, now who am I again?"  She calls it the 3-year itch.  I call it the 3-year bitch!  Because according to some people in my family I have been a complete bitch for the past 3 years.  But these last 3 years have not exactly been normal!  I wrote a song about it.  Wanna hear it?  I’ll just sing a little bit of it.   

(Sung to the tune of the Lone Ranger theme song)

“What the fuck? What the fuck?  What the fuck – fuck - fuck?  What the fuck?  What the fuck? What the fuck - fuck - fuck?  What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck - fuck - fuck?  What the FUUUUUUCCKKK?  What the fuck - fuck- fuck?"

That’s what it feels like when you hit this 3 year mark.  It's like "What the Fuck?"  At least now my kids can use actual words, which means they can do more than bang their little heads on the floor when they’re mad.   I have a red head and that kid can throw a serious tantrum.   I love my boys.  They’re the most amazing things on the planet. But I feel like I’ve been spinning in a circle for 3 years like a hippy at a Grateful Dead show and I’m just now starting to slow down. 

Not fun anymore!?  Well maybe if he wasn’t such a…I’m not sure we’re going to make it.  I don’t know what to do.  Do you know that one in three marriages ends in divorce? 

It doesn't make any sense.   I thought I was fun.  I spend at least an hour a day pretending to be a dinosaur.  My house looks like a miniature Lego Land and yesterday my kids sharpied my couch. How much more fun does it get?      

I don’t think he’s talking about fun. I think he’s talking about sex!  And when was the last time sex was fun?  1986?  Sex is not fun right now.  Sex is a hassle.  It means I have to take a bath, shave my legs, and then I have to find enough energy to pretend I am interested.  I'm sure you understand.  And then, When and where are we supposed to have the sex?  We tried to sneak off once; we put the kids in front of the TV, turned on Dinosaur Train and ran downstairs to the bedroom. It was the fastest sex I’ve ever had in my life and it ended when my youngest fell down the stairs!  Dum, dum, dum, THUMP!  Right down the stairs.   I had to hold the little Boo Boo Buddy on his poor little head while I was naked.   It was awful.   

My husband always wants to do it after the kids go to bed, but by the time I’m done feeding, bathing, and reading 17 rounds of Fire Engine Man I’m exhausted!  I’ll tell you what he should do if he wants to have sex with me.  He should clean the house, board the dog, send the kids next door, give me an hour alone in the bathroom and then - just rape me.  I'm serious, if he just came up behind me and starting ripping off my clothes I wouldn’t have time to think about it.  He would have to have a condom though.  God help us all if I got pregnant again.   I mean I’d love to have more kids...if I lived on a farm. 

I think I'm pre-menopausal.  It’s an actual thing you know.  My moods are crazy.  I have hot flashes.  And when I get mad at my husband, I get really mad.  Like Irish football fan mad. Last week, I got so mad at him that I literally pushed him into a wall.  I’m not proud of it, but it was not unwarranted and he should have just moved out of the way. I’ve seen a lot of movies and European women are always pushing their men and getting away with it.  My husband said that if I ever pushed him again it was over.  I wish I were European. 

You look tired.  Do you want some coffee?  We should get some coffee.  There's a Starbucks down in the lobby.  Let's go.  Do you know that my husband doesn’t even drink coffee?  Can you imagine?  We’ve actually figured out how to live as roommates.  It’s not bad.  It works for us. He sleeps upstairs on the couch and I sleep downstairs with the kids.  We’re both fine with this.  My sister-in-law isn’t.  She keeps asking me when I’m going to kick the kids out of my bed.   I say, "I don’t know, when are you going to kick your dog out of yours? " And then I remind her that neither of my kids shed.  And then to avoid confrontation, I take my iPhone and sneak off to the bathroom to play Words with Friends.  Do you play Words with Friends?  I’m terrible at it.  But I love to play.  We could play sometime.  I’m sure you already have a lot of people to play with huh?

Well, I guess I should wash my hands before we get started.  Do you know that today my oldest kid pooped on my shoe?  He was so proud of it too.  He looked up at me and said. “Mommy, I go poopy.”  And sure enough, there it was.  His poopy.  On my shoe.  Not these shoes.  Oh God no.  I have only worn these twice in my life.  In 2006 at my cousin’s wedding and tonight.   I

I was so sad at that wedding.  My husband couldn't be there.  He was in Texas with his Mom.  She was in the hospital.  In a coma.  And I couldn't be there for him.  I had to be at this wedding in KY.  It was heartbreaking.  I was so sad.  I missed him so much.

That’s it.  I miss my husband.  Oh my God.  I don’t regret having our kids but our lives are so different now.  And it changed overnight.  We thought we were ready.  We were excited.  We bought blankies and toys and these cute little baby socks.  But there is no way to know what it’s like until you’re in it.  And then one day those little socks aren’t so cute anymore and you’re just in this shit storm.  You’re not sleeping, and you’re hungry, and your house smells like sour milk and urine. You’re screaming at each other and nit picking every little thing the other one does.   I boss my husband around as if he had no idea what he was doing.  And to be fair, usually he doesn’t but…Oh my God!  I don’t want to get divorced.    We’ve been throwing that word around like it was nothing.  We even spell it out so our kids don’t know what we’re talking about.  It's so hard right now.  It is so much work.  But I love him.  And I love our kids.  And he's right.  I am not the same person he married.  I'm a mommy now.  I'm a mommy.

And I am sooo tired.  Do you think we could just order room service and watch Breaking Bad?