All posts for the month April, 2016


Published April 28, 2016 by sarcasmica

I have a struggle that is invisible. It isnt tragic. It isnt a requirement or necessity. It isnt big, flashy, or important. It’s just teeth. 



This struggle seems childish and impertinent at best even to myself, but there you have it. I’m feeling overwhelmed, angry and bitter that I even have to deal with this! 

I have written here and there about it. I have 7 baby teeth still. Seven. I am not supposed to have them, obviously, but I do. Moreso, they are primarily all up front and visible. 

Are you snoring yet? How is this at all interesting? It isn’t! That is part of the problem. Who the hell has had to deal with this?! 

These teeth have started retiring on me. Quitting. A few are determined to go out gloriously. One is doing something called reabsorption. My gum has actually decided “I’ve had it with your shit, baby tooth! You don’t belong here, imma sizzle your ass into oblivion my damn self!”and is evicting it by disintigrating it. Another one is hanging on mostly by plaque at this point. My dental team-that’s right, this shit requires a team for my mouth-doesnt really know how it is still in my head. I personally think it’s trying to win a bet. Possibly even trying to kill me in my sleep when it could fall out and choke me. “Death By Tooth …Baby Tooth”

Another one has totally hijacked the placement of an actual permanent tooth- the minority. It has taken over the spot besde my front tooth and just staged a sit in. “F-k you, incisor! Who says you get to be up front?! I was here first, asshole.” 

Basically I picture my first teeth as malcontent disrespectful little shits giving the finger to the proper grown up preferred teeth who are just trying to do their job and wondering, “By the way..where are all the grown ups?”

So where is the struggle? I have to take control of the rapidly declining situation. One cannot walk into a place of dental business and request to be patched up. Nope! I have to tak to an Orthodontist about a plan, he has to agree with the dentist about the plan, and they both get to recommend shit gets done by party 3 and possibly also 4 because no one cross-degrees for effectiveness in dental school.

All different professionals, all in different geographic locations, none of which will work physically together at any given time.

Over. Whelming.

Add to that never having to get a root canal or wisdom tooth pulled and i’m freaking out a bit. A lot. Fairly often.

Problem #1 Having to pull teeth, choosing which ones to pull and when. Some of which are still functioning, but wont be for too much longer based on lack of any root structure

Prob #2 None are straight. All involved in my overbite

Prob #3 How not to look like somebody’s mother-neice-cousin showing up for a family picnic. I am going to have gaps aplenty! Giant spaces in prime grin real estate

Prob #3 What to fill spaces with; attempt to pull molars forward to fill in space and lessen the implant bill, or leave alone and fill with a partial bridge? 

Prob #4 Freak out. Adult braces? Dental bridge?! Toothless?! 

Prob #5 Try not to act out with violence when husband behaves insensitively and fixates on the cost of it all. Afterall, knocking his teeth out will only shift the focus off of you and add to the overall cost (because you KNOW if it were his mouth/teeth/smile being effected only the best would be insisted upon)

Prob #5 realizing you need a project manager to keep track of the scheduling and planning of rearranging your mouth

Prob #6 No one is going to givr a rats ass about it. No one cares about your stupid teeth! (Unless they have to be in a photo with you)

So that’s what has my knickers in a twist lately. Teeth. Having to finally step up to the plate and make decisions about something the Tooth Fairy was supposed to handle 30 years ago. 

I am expecting a large deposit based solely on the interest these puppies have earned, Tooth Fairy. I better because I have to pay for this mess somehow! 



Published April 21, 2016 by sarcasmica

Apparently photography is hard.

With my iPhone it wasn’t. .. well, unless I wanted to photograph something more than 2 feet away, anyway. I took lots and lots of photos with my iPhone at Zazu’s Sanctuary and did just fine. In fact, our Instagram page recently hit 10K!

I recently have gotten into the whole photography hobby. For an early mother’s day gift, I got a Nikon 3300. So far I love it, but when I’m photographing anything at a distance, I’m always fighting the auto focus. I’m not comfortable enough with the camera yet to try manual. I’m just now wrapping my brain around ISO/Aperture lingo.

Apparently the older you get, the harder it is to retain information! Honestly, I’ve read through 80% of the manual, but that doesn’t mean diddly squat when you don’t know what it’s all for, or what it means, or 2 hours after you read it.

For instance, I can read that I need a certain aperture for low light photos, but the ISO needs to be something else to capture the image but I have no idea what that means, practically speaking. I have to go and do it.

So imagine my surprise when, after “practicing” with my camera a whole two times at the sanctuary, I take my new technology to the zoo today and wound up with 5 – 10% of my pictures actually in focus and acceptable. They aren’t the crisp sharp images I had thought I captured. Even when reviewing them through the live view screen I was surprised, discouraged, and frustrated to see so many not actually turn out like I had hoped.

It was a mixed bag of emotions  because it was a fabulous day at the zoo. The hippos were out of their pond for the first time that we had ever seen!


Too bad it isn’t focused.


The lions started playing right as we took our spot behind the CLEAN glass! We got there around the same time as about 87 school field trips, so I was very keen on the fact that glass would soon be smeared with slime and boogers.


Instagram has spoiled me a bit in being able to alter the sharpness post click. I’ve been using the post production Nikon software to alter brightness and tinker with some of the very general settings, but nothing can really save an image that didn’t begin in focus.



Some of the best moments involved birds, coincidentally. Both my daughter and I got pooped on. For me it was a common cockatiel that did it. My daughter got tropical forest “bird dookie” as she exclaimed. Thankfully the people behind us had a baby, so they offered a wipe to my screeching dookie bedazzled daughter. The birds proved more entertaining than ever today, actually, poop and all.


She was freaking out when more than one would hover for the millet-sticks. Not in a good way. In a Tippi Hedren kind of way. She pulled it together kind of quick, though. I was laughing so hard, it was hard to take a good picture. That poor ‘tiel is looking at her so funny, like “Did you forget your meds today, child? You have poops bigger than me.”

In all honesty, i’ve never used a DSLR camera on my own before so I know I need to practice. It was just a skosh soul-crushing to find out that I am not, in fact, a National Geographic photographer after all. In my head the awards are prolific! Features and gallery openings, even!

I still have a bit of fantasy reality going on from my childhood it seems. I’m working on reigning that in. So now I get to do all the fun youtube tutorials and online photography lessons. SOOOO much less fun than an unseasonably warm sunny day at zoo with my kid clicking away at some eager subjects.


Sliding Doors

Published April 17, 2016 by sarcasmica

There are few times in your life you catch a glimpse of an honest “could have been me” moment. I had one this morning.

My husband had a flight to catch this morning. Business trip. Something he does very often. So often, in fact, that he has a routine down based on the departure time since he takes this early morning Sunday flight every couple of months.

We had an unscheduled stop at a drug store before he caught his Uber to the airport. We said goodbye, gave hugs, said “I love you”s. I try and appreciate these moments because with a traveling husband, you never know if it’s the last one. As dramatic as this sounds, it’s true. I’ve never thought about it being the last time he sees me, though.

He transferred luggage, swapped keys and we each got into our cars. I had a moment where I felt the need to just rush off and get to the next stop. I was bringing home doughnuts for the kids and who wants to wait for a doughnut? But for whatever reason I thought, “just a second… i can wait until they drive off first.”

I leave the parking lot and head to the doughnut shop. My mind is switching from thought to thought, planning my day, trying to function on 5 hours of sleep and I am approaching my doughnut shop intersection. I have a green light, I’m 20 yards from the light when out of nowhere an older man in a sedan drives right through the intersection from my right.

I am stunned. I check my signal – still green. I look around at the vacant roads to see if anyone else witnessed this egregious lack of awareness on this man’s part.  Apparently 6:30am on a Sunday only two people in Seattle need to get somewhere.

One of the things that sticks with me is his face and the complete and total lack of any awareness that he drove right through an intersection on a full on red light. Not even a sketchy run-a-yellow light change. The light was red when he approached the intersection and was still red his entire ride through, and even after he crossed. Zero reality registered on his face, and I was close enough to see the face of this man in the blue Toyota Camry.

Thankfully my stop was immediately after and I parked and took a few minutes to just digest what just happened. What the hell?!

I got the kid’s doughnuts, and headed home with trepidation. Every intersection was suspect of my death. Somewhere on the drive the realization dawns on me that if I had zoomed away from my husband in his Uber instead of waiting that extra minute, could I have been in front of that reckless car? Maybe I would have been ahead of the whole thing and missed this moment altogether. I definitely have a few angels looking out for me, and there has been more than one occasion a coincidental “just in time” escape, but I was 100% aware of what I escaped this morning.

It’s never occurred to me when saying goodbye to my husband it might be the last he sees me.

Once in a while the fragility of walking around on this planet with our family shows itself. It seems 6:30am on a Sunday morning road is a good location to catch a glimpse.









Spring Break Awareness

Published April 11, 2016 by sarcasmica

Spring break is a mixed bag for this stay at home momma. I enjoy lazy mornings ignoring my kids as they fight down the hall from my closed door. No lunches to pack, no schedules to watch. Because of this, I always get caught in the trap of feeling like I need to plan a couple of days so we don’t kill each other can make the most of their time off and our time together.

Stupid mom.

Here’s how it always goes:
Step 1. “Woo hoo! A whole week of FREEEEEEDOM! No school, no lunches, no homework!!” and then I realize i’m actually the mom and not the student, and this actually means more time with both kids.

Step 2. “Shit. What can we do this week?” Scour Red Tricycle for activities, scour the internet for museum calendars.

Step 3. Choose something ‘educational’ or enriching. “They will LOVE this! How fun am I?!”

Step 4. Demand the crying stop after informing the children of the incredibly thoughtful plan that takes them out of the house, away from the games and TV and stuffies.

Step 5. Vow to throw out all electronics and burn them with fire.

Step 6. Calmly ask the cherubs to prepare themselves for evacuating the house for three hours.

Step 7. Yelling.

Step 8. Crying.

Step 9. Wonder why you bother. Constantly perform “what if” math: “If we leave now, we get there ____ and we can be home by ____.”

Step 10. Everyone is now in the car pissed off at everyone else and only one person is practicing calm breathing through red flaming nostrils.

Step 11. Drive. Don’t care where, just get on the f*&^ing road.

Step 12. Arrive after only three wrong turns from the distracted backseat fighting.

Step 13. Enjoy the outing. Take the obligatory pictures. Breathe. Appreciate the fun has begun and everyone is participating.

Step 14. Someone is now hungry/thirsty/has to pee

Step 15. Legs are now hurting, someone is bored, enrichment is over, “Why do I bother?!”

Step 16. Drive home in silence.

Step 17. Arrive, turn on devices, look at the beautiful lying pictures, feel proud of yourself for at least getting them out of the house and possibly absorbing some Vitamin D

Step 18. Realize it’s now dinner time and the next act will soon follow

Step 19. Remember the mantra everyone else seems to like beating into your head,
“This is temporary.”
“Someday you will miss this.”
“Next year they will already be so much bigger.”
“Motherhood is magical.”
Vodka helps all of the things.
Appreciate everyone was able to walk by themselves, free from ailments and disease, no one vomited or crapped in a diaper (yourself included)

Step 20. Do it all again in the summer, times 100, book that camp STAT!




Published April 1, 2016 by sarcasmica

In life, we sometimes have to learn the same lesson over and over again. As a parent, I have had to learn lessons repeatedly. For instance; sympathy goes a long way with your kids; hugs are required, not requested. And the whopper: These little humans that I made actually resemble me on a genetic level.

My son is the image of his father. From the time he was a newborn people were confused by my relation to him. He was a fair skinned, silver-haired, lean, blue-eyed baby. I’m a dark haired, brown-eyed, tan robust woman. One person actually suggested I dye my hair so that I would resemble my child.

Given that, it isn’t always at the forefront of my brain that my son might take after me in some areas. After all, I failed to score a left handed kid with either child so what else could possibly get passed down?

This week I was taught yet another lesson by my child- moods matter. For my son moods matter a lot. I have been playing around with my hormone schedule this week. Coincidentally, my son has been an exhausting nightmare challenge all week. I have felt like our only interactions have involved yelling, giving directions, arguing, demands, and making meals. To add insult to injury I’ve had emails from his teachers about how great he did at school all week. Best week ever, in fact.

Last night I decided to scrap the whole hormone schedule and I went back to taking them.

Today began with markedly less anger and arguing… then it hit me- moods. I have always been sensitive to moods around me – friends, parents, siblings – I am an emotional comrade good or bad. As an adult I’m more cold-hearted so the only mood I match is my husband’s, but it dawned on me that my son has this same quality and always has.

Children pick up on moods, yes. My daughter knows when best to tiptoe near me and when she can be a little more carefree. She is a greatly sympathetic child and always just wants to help. My son, however, will simply mirror my moods and emotions. This is frustrating in the honesty of it all. It often makes me question if the venom that sometimes comes out of his mouth is a carbon copy of my own language. It is not, in fact, but it’s his language used to process the emotions he’s mirroring in his mom, dad, and grandma.

I don’t know if that makes sense or not. Here’s an example of how I experience it for myself: Currently I am sitting at my computer. My husband is at his in the same room. He is doing bills. This makes the air tense already. No biggie. If he has an issue with his keyboard, however, he tends to punch his keys, slam his keyboard, and curse.  I immediately feel that rage and my body is shaky and tense and I subconsciously hold my breath. My body is tense, and so when a kid wanders in with “Mom? Mom. Mom! Momomomomom” during this tornado I will respond with the opposite of love and patience.

I don’t just get annoyed with my husband for not controlling his temper. I don’t just feel annoyance on his behalf, I am as affected by his mood as he is, but my feelings are directed at him instead of his keyboard.

I have a feeling that muddled it up even more. Anyway, this revelation came to me that my son has this same ability/curse. So now i’m not only responsible for what I teach him, model for him, guide him, but i’m also responsible for taking on his emotional mirroring when i’m already in a shitty mood.

Lesson learned? If you are medicating your child for mood and stimuli control, be goddamn sure you yourself are taking your own medication if he happens to even minutely express an Empath’s intuition.






















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