Diplomas for All

i283163839591050357._szw480h1280_Well, tomorrow is the day I get to report the non-progress I’ve been experiencing. I know I have said this a lot here lately, but I mean really? How much is it going to rain? For the love of God and all of my aching body parts let’s put an end to this unstable air PLEASE?

 

I have been fairly absent from the blogging scene lately. Between school ending and mother in law in the hospital and me feeling like the tin man needing several squeaks of oil, I’ve just been burnt out. Something I seriously don’t understand: why in the world do we need to have these grand graduations after every single school year? Why did I have to attend my 6-year-olds graduation, my 10-year-olds, and my 17-year-olds girlfriends all in one week? Hers I understand. Graduating high school is sort of a big deal, but the others are just part of life. Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing my kids be rewarded for doing good in school, but I didn’t have these graduations and all these goings on in my time and I think, I hope, that I turned out okay.

 

Maybe I’m old-fashioned, I don’t know for sure. But see, in my time passing school was something you were expected to do. Every. Single. Year. And if you did, then you did what you were supposed to the next grade up and if you didn’t then you got to try to get it right the next year in that same grade. I guess there’s not enough opportunity to build these little butter cups up in this day in age. We must give everyone a graduation and an award, just for participating. It’s sad really.

 

So now it’s summertime and there’s one GREAT thing about summertime and that is that we get to sleep in. I don’t have to get up and shuffle kids around to schools. I get to spend all day with these kids and trust me when I say this. I love them. I love them more than anything in this world. And still, I have to say those two sentences to myself several times a day to keep from hollering at them. They fight and argue and tattle tell ALL DAY LONG. And there’s a small period of time they’re being unusually quiet and liking each other for a moment I go in to check on them and they’ve made the biggest messes one could imagine. They can turn this house into a scene on hoarders in nothing flat. Which in turn I make it into a scene as well. But not on hoarders. On Snapped.

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Ain’t Nothin’ But a Chicken Wing

fowlplayWell, I haven’t posted to this thing because frankly, I have been busy. I have been busy with feeling like poo. I have been busy trying to motivate myself to get through the last few weeks of school. I have been busy warding off rashes of unknown causes. And on top of all of that, I have been desperately trying to find a work from home job that pays decently with no set hours and no video talking because I can’t stand the way I look. I don’t want any of the clutter that fills areas of my house to be visible to any potential employers. I don’t want to make another commitment I can not keep because my body throws me a big NOPE NOT TODAY signal. But I do need to work. I need to be able to afford my medicine and doctors appointments. I need to be able to buy small things I need but put off because I don’t have the money.

 

I have always lived paycheck to paycheck whether it be my paycheck or my husbands. And it never matters how big are small the check, we find a place to spend it all promptly. And we don’t have extravagant things so we aren’t the type to just blow money on things that aren’t necessary. Sure, we splurge every now and then, but nothing major.

 

It’s Memorial Day weekend and as I type this my husband is outside merrily playing with his newest addition to the family. One that my youngest son is super excited about too. CHICKENS!!!!! Yes, I said chickens, the feathered sort. The egg laying kind. Something I have expressed no desire to have and raise for several reasons which were probably all petty on my part so I won’t get into that. But bless him for just going ahead and getting them because it has kept them busy since yesterday and out of my hair for a little while. I hate that I feel that way. Continue reading

Fight Like a Mother…

5/15/2017

momdragon

I hope you all enjoyed your Mother’s Day Weekend as much as I did.  My husband and kids cooked me my favorite. Steak (medium rare) and a baked potato. What is even better, they cleaned the entire kitchen and put up the food afterward. I didn’t have to do a single thing. Not. One. Single. Thing. SCORE!! They could’ve fed me pig slop and I would’ve been okay with it as long as I didn’t have to make it or clean it. All I did all day is lay in bed and watch TV. I know, it sounds lazy, but it is what I wanted to do and I wanted to do so with no feeling that I was being pathetic on the inside. 

 

I think that is what we all want sometimes. We want to be granted the okay to be tired sometimes. We want to not feel like we carry the weight of the family on our shoulders. Even when our husbands seem to take over and try to help us, we still feel ashamed of ourselves. We, women, carry it all around with us. And even if just for a day, every now and then, we need to let that go. No price or value can be placed on that gift. 

Momlaundry

But why? Why do we feel that way? I know it is natural and regardless of how many men will deny it, we are just built that way. It is why we can be so moody at times. Even if we are being pampered and not having to maintain things around the house or even on vacation, there is some person or demon in the back of our heads saying, “you know you have to go wash those clothes now or it won’t get done”. And when we ignore that little voice, we feel as if we don’t stack up. We aren’t doing our job. It’s sexist, I know. But it is what we do. I believe we always will. We were built that way. 

 

I never got into the whole women’s march thing and this is the reason why. Call me traditional, but I’m okay with it. Annoying at times? YES! But I guess it is just the way I was raised. I’m a woman, hear me roar! Or better yet, don’t hear me. But one thing is for sure, you will NOTICE me and my actions. And I don’t have to march or wear a vagina on my head to achieve that. 

 

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