All posts for the month June, 2014

Camp Countdown

Published June 30, 2014 by sarcasmica

This is it. The wall. I’m already counting down ’til week long YMCA camp for my big kid. It’s not that he’s terrible. He’s a doll.
But it’s the constant influence he’s got on the little one. The brain washing. The potty mouth. The genitalia jokes. And worst of all, the ignoring. I may have inadvertently taught him all these things, but now he’s teaching my three year old and that is the final glove slap across my face.

I have a Vegas trip right over the horizon, and i’m ready for it. Sooooo very ready for it. The desperation. The blood shot eyes. The cramping index slot button finger. The ever-perfume of stale cigarettes. The bad perms and tacky manicures. The sleazy stilettos and wall-eyed paranoia.

Bring it on.

At this point, i’m just hoping I can stay awake and out of the room until at least 10. If I wake up before 7am any of those days, I will be pissed. I will make it my mission to wake up slow and languid and lazy .. and slow. I will NOT be hopping out of bed for bathroom runs or bad dreams or shadows or puking.

My husband is on his own if any of this happens. Momma is off the clock!! wait a minute… is my husband going too?



Published June 29, 2014 by sarcasmica

I’ve always had a love/hate thing with nostalgia. It’s easy to reminisce and get lost in the past sometimes. It can be freeing. All the people I love are there. My dad, my childhood friend, and now my first band crush. The past is where all those people still laugh and smile and hug. I do so miss my dad’s giant bear hugs. And voices. When I think about any band activity, there is my friend’s sarcastic comments and laughter. That’s where my crush’s shy crooked smile still shines. My dad’s booming voice and big laugh still rings there.

The past gets trickier and trickier to navigate, though. It’s painful. As good as it feels to look into the past, the tears eventually bring me back to Now. It’s a painful trip, but worth it.

It’s funny to think of all the people i’ve met in my life, none are so memorable as my junior high class of ragtag Catholic School brats. I joined the family in 6th grade after nearly flunking 5th. My mom was not going to have me follow in my brothers’ delinquent public school ways, so she did what most parents of delinquents do: enrolled said kid into Catholic School. I joined a class of people who had mostly gone to school together since kindergarten. It took me a little while to finally fit somewhere, but I managed. This was a tiny school in a reasonably large town. Everyone’s families knew each other and you got to see everyone’s dysfunction at church every Sunday. You could tell a lot from a family by which mass they went to.

There was the 8:30am mass family- Traditional
The 10am mass Family – late risers
11am -Spanish speaking
5pm – the rebel Catholics/newbie approachable Catholics – the only mass you didn’t have to wear pantyhose and dressy shoes to

My mom and I at some point went to each of these masses because my mom was in the choir. Well, all but the Spanish speaking, that is.

Anyway, for all the drama and shenanigans, we were a pretty tight knit group of kids. I could tell you the names and describe the adolescent faces of every single kid I was there with. High School? I could maybe remember 1/8 of the names and even less of the faces.

I don’t know if it was our age or our setting, but from my perspective, those three years made the biggest impression and the best friends. I had a massive crush on a boy and the unfortunate reality of everyone knowing – including the guy. Painful. I had a best friend whose house I walked to constantly, it seemed. She was good with the boys, and I was hoping to learn. She lived behind a big shopping center with an AMC theater, and I had my first kiss in that parking lot. Unbeknownst to me at the time, it was a dare. I thought he wanted to kiss me.

My first party was at a friend’s house. I walked there in my ruffled skirt and flats. She had a patio where I got to dance with a boy.

Our class took a trip to Sacramento together. It was my first time on a plane. So many firsts shared with people you are destined to separate from to go on and live your life.

These people will always be the ones I shared all my adolescent painful, awkward, exciting, joyful, confusing firsts with. I have to wonder if I live in their history as strong and loud as they live in mine? Am I just a fuzzy face in the background of a ‘first’, or was I a leading role?

The past can be a fun place to visit, but thankfully my Now is a pretty amazing place to live.

A Letter To My Big Kid

Published June 24, 2014 by sarcasmica

To my 8 year old son:

On my way to bed the other night I checked on you like I always do. As I walked into your room, my throat clenched as I saw your peaceful, calm, daddy long legs body restfully sleeping. I was reminded in that moment that you are still my little boy.

You may not be my little baby anymore, but you are most certainly still my little boy.

I’m grateful for you.

I took a picture to remember your face as it is in this moment. Peaceful. Still young. Still learning and testing and pushing limits. You try so hard to be big. Smart. Mature. Strong.

But you’re still my little boy.

You have a baby sister that can eclipse your innocence. I will tell myself more often to pause and enjoy your growing moments too. You are still growing! You are far from done, and sometimes I forget. I forget when you stomp away angry at something, or demand justice for yourself with your hand on your hip, or ask to be left to play with your friends. I forget that you are still right now the youngest you will ever be from now on. I will continue to take pictures of you to help me remember that.

I want to have pictures and videos of all your silly faces and bad jokes to look back on when you’re 13. When I want to remember that you used to like me and think I was great.

I am not sure how much i’m going to like the teenage you, but I know without a doubt I will still love you to the moon and stars and back, infinity times.

I’m so proud of you.

You are my amazing little man, and I helped make you. (You’re dad may have helped a bit)

I love you,



Hellooooo Summer!

Published June 24, 2014 by sarcasmica

It’s here. Summer has arrived in my ‘hood and it’s been great so far. We are only one week in, but hey. I’ll take what I can get!

I realized this week that I have rarely had my two kids all to myself. I know I will be scoffing at this in a matter of days or (hopefully at least) weeks, but it’s true! My oldest was at school most of the day, and when he was home it was all about home work or therapy or driving here and there and everywhere. I’m either with my kid(s) with a play date or my mom or on occasion my husband will grace us with his presence.  Our days are wide open and i’m optimistic that the three amigos will ride again. My son, my daughter, and myself. This is the summer before my three year old goes to Pre School. PRESCHOOL! My son asked me, “What are you going to do when we are BOTH in school, mom?” all concern and wonder filling his little face.

“Whatever (the f*ck) I want ! It’s going to be glorious!! … and I’ll miss you both while doing it.”

Ahhh innocent youth. Truthfully it’ll be a calm and guilt-laden two and a half hours of my day. I’ll be feeling like I should be very resourceful and motivated while doing something like catching up on Real Housewives or unlocking those 150cc Mario Kart 8 tracks.

You know … the important things.

Eventually I’m hoping to work my way up to mopping and laundry and possibly even dusting.

be still my extendable Swiffer

Who knows?! But as of right now I’m enjoying being in the thick of it with my kids. They are old enough to pee and poo nearly alone. We still have the shouted, “MooommmmEEEEEEEE! Wipe ma’ BUTT!” (the 3 yo) that rings through the house daily. My son will still only tentatively go into some public restrooms, but we are not having to deal with potty training and pull ups and diapers and wipes and creams and powders.

Our destinations can include pools without fear of the poopie floater!

A bag of goldfish can get us through any disaster

They will both now wear a band aid – and god help anyone if the things comes off and there is not a spare

Things can be asked for with real words – usually shouted and sometimes inappropriate words. No more guessing as to the source of the fit/tantrum/possession

Computer/console/handheld games can be played SOLO. My kid can actually read all the minutiae instructions and training himself! And it’s even incentive to read MORE

My oldest can run to the neighbors and ask to play without a mommy escort

I’m not tied down to a nap schedule anymore

All in all, I have high hopes for happy parenting for at least 75% of the summer, people. This is monumental! (I can’t help but notice the word “mental” hiding beneath the surface of that word.)

Here’s hoping the days are filled with sunshine, smiles, fun and lots of love for all the parents out there…. well, ok, I really mean the mommies. Daddies can fend for themselves.

In Search Of

Published June 20, 2014 by sarcasmica

A new husband. He must be a dentist or orthodontist. My husband is aware I must leave him for a new man. He is more than on board, considering. We cannot afford my mouth any longer.

I woke up about a week ago with an excruciating pain in my face. Almost like my jaw was dislocated during sleep. I have had TMJ forever, but it’s never been a problem – per say. Well, in one night it became a huge problem. I went to my dentist who proceeded to put his big blue gloved sausage fingers in my mouth to manipulate and stretch my clicking and sticking jaw.

It was weird.

For someone with public intimacy issues, it’s never comfortable for a strange man to put his thumb in your mouth.

I was sent on my way with a recommendation for muscle relaxers. Jackpot !!

Today I went for my follow up and after more fingers in my face, he asked what my long term plan was for my teeth.

“uuuuhhhhh … my plan is that three of my husband’s four kids are about to be in braces, apparently. My plan is I can’t afford a plan for myself.”

I have 7 baby teeth. One of which is very loose. This happens to be a canine. I have a smattering of places in my mouth where my weak little teeth are placed, and this is causing serious issues with making a cost-effective plan.

‘Cost-effective’ and ‘dentist’ never seem to go together

I came home from my appointment and informed my husband of all the minute details and depressing facts and came to the conclusion I need a divorce. I need to find an eligible dentist husband for a short period of time, and then I can re-marry my current husband.

This plan will be far less painful and expensive than going the route I have been suggested.


Ode To Stretchy Pants

Published June 18, 2014 by sarcasmica

Dear Stretchy/Comfy/Yoga/PJ Pants,

I love you. I love you, but it seems we’ve set an unhealthy example for my children who now will only wear comfy cotton stretchy-wasted slug pants. You have let me hide from my self the fact that my waste is expanding and testing your elastic limits. It’s easy not to notice when you wear clothes on a daily basis that have no boundaries. It’s a well-known fact, but for good reason! They fit the mini van better than my jeans or capris. Buttons and zippers don’t feel good when my gut flops over and rests there for minutes/hours at a time. Damn you to fabric hell!

I must now limit your use to a few times a week, as opposed to every damned day of the week. My daughter had a twister of a conniption fit this morning when I forced her ‘little’ three year old body into (size 6!) Levi Capri jeans.

It was like the exorcism of Gemma Rose.

I had to bribe and manipulate to get her to keep them on long enough to realize they were just pants. Soft ones, even! Not the cheap scratchy denim. These are top o’ the line consignment denim, man.

So it’s finally time to leave you on a hanger long enough to familiarize yourself with my closet and the other clothes not in regular rotation. Do not be confused by the closet. It’s where the date night/IEP meeting/bank clothes go when not in use. You will be put on something called a hanger. It is a tool that hangs you up off the ground. Enjoy the suspension above the heels and strappy flat sandals. There might even be dust. Do not fret. It will brush right off when I shake you out. The top of the dresser will miss you, but most of all, my ass will miss you. I will think of you often and see you sooner rather than later most likely.

Make friends with the sequined shirts. It’s the only time you will cross paths – in the closet.

Thank you for the added pounds and comfy sitting.



and just as a reminder:









….especially the shiny ones

Kid Quotes

Published June 17, 2014 by sarcasmica

I was explaining to my son what he got his dad for father’s day.. here’s the conversation:
“…and also a jar of really hot hot sauce.”
kid: “Why does dad like hot sauce so much?”
me: “I have no idea, he just does. He likes hot things.”
kid: “Yea, like you.”
…awkward pause followed by hysterical laughter from me

After completing the 2nd to last day of school:
kid: “You know mom, I like school now.”
me: *snort*, “Why? What is it you like?”
kid: “Recess. Making friends.”

this is the ‘Day late and a dollar short’ lesson

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