All posts for the month May, 2016


Published May 31, 2016 by sarcasmica

I had a balanced diet today. I had a plum and it was so juicy, it exploded when I bit into it! Full on paper-towel-floor-wipe juicy.

So my body was compelled to compensate with a couple Funyons. 

I usually dont buy these but that was a fight I was not slated to have with my 5 yr old today. Also, they were on sale and they are NEVER on sale. ..not that my daughter can read the tag, but still.

I also had a peach. It was not a comparable sequel to the plum, so I had to wash it down with a few more funyons..but I determinedly worked my way through that less than amazing peach.

Ok..truth be told I had my daughter help me with half of it. 

I made one soft taco for dinner and made a salad with the other serving. It was delicious! 

So I had that half slice of cheesecake.

I don’t even like cheesecake so my day turned full circle when I pep talked my way through that slice…errr, half slice.

Some people think being fat is easy. I guarantee it’s work and planning. 

Next goal: fruit on it’s own with no reward system…and never shopping when Funyons are on sale (or Lays Dill Pickle chips) 


Time Out

Published May 26, 2016 by sarcasmica

It’s fair to say I’ve been processing some shit recently. I’ve had some dental apocalypse that I’m currently dealing with, and I’m also getting through the after effects of the car accident I was in with my kids.

This, of course, is not the end of the shit show. There have been a few epilogues. You see, the dentist recommended I get a different opinion on the orthodontia the day of my extractions – five days post accident – and now we have hired a lawyer to deal with the crap the car insurance company is trying to pull.

This all requires constant communication and sending info and follow ups and conversations with my husband about how to move forward not to mention the kids are back at their activities and all of our post-accident-related doctor visits.

And my husband is away on business for the length of this.

I’ve been dealing. I’ve been dealing by doing a lot of ‘resting’ which means i’m on the couch a lot. I have various aids with me like heating pads, ice packs, remote controls, water. This is not to say I get much rest. I’m always popping up for snacks for the kids, drinks for the kids, dishes, laundry, normal every day requirements of not living in a hovel. Today, however, i’ve had it.

It seems my sanity breaking point coincides with my daughter’s intolerance for her own poop. She is 5 and she has figured out the magical word “diarrhea”. She learned a bit ago that if she says this word in conjunction with sitting on the toilet, some adult will come and see if she has this mystical situation to deal with.

Needless to say the word lost all of it’s magic after the first five shouts of “ITHINKITSDIARRHEA!!!!”

So today I finally had the ability and energy to get TWO loads of laundry done AND folded… I know… give it a minute…

I did dishes, I cleaned the counter tops with actual cleaning solution. Not just wiping around a wet paper towel. I unloaded and loaded the dishwasher. I cleaned the stove top again with the actual proper cleaning solutions, I made lunch, I dusted the blinds, and yes even managed a cup of coffee in between. (and now must take the Ibuprofen)

I had just sat down to slowly and carefully chew my salad when from the bathroom what do mine weary ears decipher?

“M-O-M-M-Y?” (She’s in a ‘spell it’ phase which is not at all annoying after six hours)
Me: chew chew “yes?”
Pooper: “Can you please come here?”
chewer: “Nope.”
P: “ButIthinkitsdiarrhea!!”
c: “Oh bummer, man. You need to take care of it the same as any other time you poop.”
P:”I CAAAAAAAN’T!!!” – in a high pitched dog whistle decibel shriek
c: “Well, I guess it’s time you figure out how to deal with that since you’ll be starting kindergarten soon.”
(lots of crying and yelling and screaming and crying, none of which are by me I must say)

It all escalates into a big 5 year old poo tornado of refusal and mom-calm and protested wiping and more crying and flushing and just overall ridiculousness. It results in her in her room under her bed tent still crying about how she has to stay in her room for quiet time without TV.

I really wanted a stiff drink by this point. I really needed a time out myself. I just can’t continue on the insanity wagon of parenthood solo right now. I’ve had very minimal time away from my wonderful cherubs of sunshine and this is a time I really would have appreciated some peace and quiet.

I had a flash of her as a baby and having to let her cry it out, so we went back in time. I walked away and into my room where I shut my door. Then I went and took a hot shower with the bathroom door shut, and the speaker turned up. I have no idea what was playing on the speaker, but it wasn’t a 5 year old crying about wiping her poopy butt. I settled for this ten minute spa time out for myself and you know what? I haven’t heard a peep from her room since sneaking back down stairs.

Stay tuned for Chapter II : Why Not to Let Them Nap (written around 10pm)


Recipe: Shit Cake with Vomit Icing

Published May 17, 2016 by sarcasmica


1 Car accident
1 Case of Whiplash
1/2 tsp Concussion
3/4C Working Husband
2 pkg Child
3 Teeth pulled

Combine all of the ingredients in a bowl of overworked husband. Add to this a rattled brain, but make sure it bounces first off the front of your skull, then finally once off the back to rest back in it’s proper place. This will give your reality a slow quality that makes everything that much more interesting.

Bake all of these ingredients inside a borrowed family member’s car. Before completing the directions, allow your daughter to vomit bacon and chocolate milk all over the back seat. Make sure to note that first she will deposit said contents into a paper bag that will give you the false hope a bullet was dodged. Just as you open the car door to exit the vehicle, the bag will break, dumping contents all over the seat upholstery, her car seat, and your iPad.

Dare yourself not to let the F bomb drop right on your child’s head.

Do your best to clean up the chunky mess. Repeatedly pat yourself on the back for not adding to the vomit mess while cleaning up. .. because you know if the husband were here, it would be a double-decker shit cake.

Do your best to remember the perfect combination of cleaning steps. Fail at least two. Give up and dump baking soda on the whole thing.

Now bake it all in the sun.

Heave your oversized vacuum cleaner down the steps with your whiplash-suffering-ass, free to cuss to your heart’s content since the vomit fountain is now safely inside the house near a toilet half naked and covered in a blanket because you refuse to take the time to escort her up the stairs and into her room where the boogey man and all manor of ghosts and goblins apparently live


Curse the day. Curse your husband for not being there to help. Curse the school for not having a better pick up option, curse the car accident and the moron that caused it, curse the cafe you thought would provide a welcome respite in the chaos of your new tornado of life, and then remember you still have to pick up your 4th grader from school and your muscle relaxers.

and come hell or high vomit, you WILL pick up those pills if you have to crawl over fiery, glass-filled pools of piranha.

Be sure to frost your cake with the icy thoughts of resentment at the realization your husband is leaving for a business trip the next day.

Or just throw your hands in the air, your head in the sand, and down a bottle of ‘fukitol’ with a chaser of Grey Goose.

And there you have it, Shit Cake.




Crashing Doors

Published May 15, 2016 by sarcasmica

A few weeks ago I wrote about ‘Sliding Doors’ and narrowly missing a terrible car accident when someone ran a red light through an intersection right in front of me.

Apparently some cosmic force felt cheated because Friday evening I was in a car accident with both of my kids.

Everyone is ok, thank God.

When I was about 9 I was in an accident with my mom. She was driving me to school in her little pickup with my bike in the back. Some woman turned left in front of us in a big sturdy OLDsmobile or Buick- same difference- and completely smashed in the front end of my mom’s truck, wrecking my bike in the back in the process. I blacked out. I do not at all remember anything about the impact. I remember waking up and seeing the damage and knowing we didnt have any money and how much harder this would make life for my mom. She dropped me off at school after and went to work.

Friday the 13th was the scene of my recent accident. I did not black out, but I have wanted to since.

I havent yet had a break down over it. Im sort of waiting for a wave of gratitude and terror to hit me, but it hasnt. Just aching and bruising continue to hold my attention.

Friday was gorgeous here in Washington. It was in the low 80’s. I had the top of my Jeep off for some sunshine and fresh air. After picking my son up from school with my daughter in tow, we headed for my chiropractor appointment. Driving down a 2 lane road, both kids occupied with a device, I was thinking about seeing a movie with my husband later that night when a big SUV decided to turn from the oncoming shoulder right in front of me.

Stereotypical slow motion happened. I saw it happen while my brain was saying, “What is this m-er f-er doing?!” I went back and forth between disbelief and complete understanding. “But my kids are in the back!” was a recurring thought. I knew they wouldnt know until it was too late, so I screamed. Their heads would be down looking at the screen, and I wanted them to somehow prepare for the impact. See it coming. Not get literally blindsided. 

My feet were already on the brake-both feet actually- and I tried to steer away from him but the nano second I realized there would be impact, I screamed. My mouth couldnt form any other words of warning in time for my kids.

And then impact happened. Hard crunching, bone jarring impact. Eyes wide open and seeing it all happen while unable to change what was about to occur is one of the most terrible feelings. Especially since it wasnt just me. 

The after effect was what I imagine a tornado to be like. The kids were screaming. I was shaking. My car was still on. The radio was going, the kids were now crying and screaming. 

It was this insane illogical mix of shattering noise and complete stillness. Deafening quiet. 

I checked we were all still in one piece. No blood. No injuries. Check.

Try to calm the kids from my seat..i hadnt yet moved. My son was yelling any bad word he could think of at the truck. My daughter soon followed suit.

My ears were ringing. I would need a phone. Shit. My daughter was holding mine when we hit…”can you reach it, honey? You sure you’re ok?”

My door was blocked by the SUV so I couldnt get out. 

“Huh..I seem to be trapped in the car..thats ok.”

The strange slow thoughts that run on a ticker tape across your brain when these catastrophes happen are surreal. I knew there must be a process of things I had to do, but I could not think. The kids were still screaming and crying.

Then the people started showing up. “Everyone ok?!” “Are the kids alright?!”

The guy that caused this nightmare walked past us holding his side. I wanted to jump out and scream, “What were you thinking?!?!!!” But I still couldnt manage to move much. Just shake.

A woman popped up on the passenger window and offered her witness info, but she was in a hurry. 

I had to figure out how to simultaneously get her info while calling someone for help and getting insurance info out.

“Did you call 911 yet?”

“No. I should do that first.” 

Someone already had called. Next I had to climb over to the passenger side to get out. That seemed to trigger my son to get out, and now my terrified 5yr old is the only one still inside. She is not happy about this, so i get her out. I hug and check the kids out, the fog is beginning to clear. All of these faces are so kindly offering help and assistance, but they are all over my kids. I just want everyone to back away for a minute!

They are mostly focused on my son who is on the verge of hyperventilating. They all seem to expect him to calm down. 

“He has adhd. Its going to take some time.”

This seemed to be a key in having people slow down. A woman who lives nearby happens to be a search & rescue volunteer so she stayed with the kids while I spoke with the sherriff.

As a mother, it was very alien and difficult to watch someone from a distance help my kids after something so huge just rocked our world. I wanted to just sit down on the ground in a huddle with them until everyone was clear, but I had to talk with the sherriff. I had to produce documents. Also, we were on a dirt driveway and there were ants. I had to call my husband.

There’s a call you dont want to screw up. “Hey babe! Sorry to interrupt your day, I just plowed into someone. Ok, byeeeeee!”

No, definitely not the right lingo.

So it went more like, *pickup pickup pickup* 

Hubbz: “Hey, whats up?”

Me: “Everyone is ok. We were in a car accident, and we are ok. But i need you to come now.”

From there it was all just chaos. Hot, sweaty, scared, confused chaos. I felt like I had to really thank all the strangers that came to our aid. I didnt want to offend anyone by not accepting help. We had a very nice man offer to take my kids into his house out of the sun and give them drinks..

Huh? I dont know you! Of course you cant take my kids into your house without me. Our world just got flipped on its head, man! 

But i said, “ok, thank you” and we all stayed put. Later I went with them into his house and got some water. Unfortunately he also invited the accident causer in for a drink. Talk about awkward! I just hoped my kids wouldnt scream, “you’re an idiot!!” at him…but they  wouldnt have been wrong. The man’s house we were in had two big dogs. 

That I could wrap my brain around. One was a service dog, he assured me. The dogs were very calming. I wanted to bring them both with us everywhere. My husband showed up, checked the kids, then blessedly went to finish up with the cops. The other driver went to make phone calls on the porch. He asked twice if the kids were ok and made sure no one was hurt.

My daughter’s seat belt bruise started to show up. The firemen checked us out, but nothing serious to report. Thank God. (Another recurring chant throughout it all) 

We were able to drive the Jeep home, but my husband reported that the brakes were failing and we need to get it towed.

I am so relieved we didnt hit that SUV with the minivan we had traded for the Jeep. I know it would have been safe, but it would have been a smashed wreck hitting that truck at 30/35 mph. There surely would have been a lot more damage to scare my kids. My son seemed focused on a lack of shattered glass and also he was certain the cars were about to explode.

It has taken my son some time to talk about it. My daughter wants to talk nonstop about it. Me, I just want to sleep. All these new aches and pains keep popping up and I just want to sleep for a week. My neck/shoulders hurt the most and i’ve been dizzy. We will see what tomorrow brings as far as new ailments. I’m happy to take it if it means my kids dont have to feel it.

I know I have some strong-willed and powerful guardian angels watching out for us and Im thankful we all walked away from that crash. Now I’m going to sleep. 

Mine is the top, his is the bottom

Mother Wishes

Published May 7, 2016 by sarcasmica

Happy Mother’s Day to all the women out there whose hearts know unconditional love. I hope you have a day of peace, kindness, love, and respect. For me this is a day of remembering and shining a light on the mothers who have it much much harder than I. I with my two healthy, mobile, independent, head-strong, smart firecracker children. I am blessed that I get to hug them every night. I am thankful that I wake up to their demands.

Happy mothers day to the women whose bodies created life. Created and guided cells into formation of a vessel that holds a spirit. I’d especially like to recognize the strength and courage of the mothers who tragically did not get to meet those spirits. Who did not get to kiss the rosy cheeks of their babies. I am so sorry that you have to endure what must be heart grinding pain that never stops, but I want to say that I see you as a mother even if your child is not here with you on earth.

For the mothers whose hearts came alive at the promise and loving of a child not born to them. These women work and love and worry and care and fret and play just as hard and much and bountifully as any who gave life with their body. These women have to continue to fight a battle biological mothers can’t understand and I want to tell you that I see you. I see how much you love and earn the title “Mom” the same as any other wearing stretch marks. You are warriors.

For the mothers who watched and loved and guided little babies into children who became teenagers and then adults. For any mother in between who had to say goodbye to her child at any of those stages, I am so very sorry. I see you and know that the love that grew in your heart along with your baby didn’t go anywhere. You still hold that love for your child  because you are still a Mom. If they are no longer with you in body, I pray you feel their spirit this Mother’s Day and know how much that child felt all of your love for them.

For the mothers who work so endlessly and tirelessly to care for your children whose bodies are not whole, whose minds are not typical, whose lives will always be a struggle, I wish you a peaceful Mothers Day. I cannot imagine what it is like to care for a spirit who will never meet the expectations you no doubt had when you found out you were pregnant. For the loss of those expectations, I am sorry. For the constant reminders in the world you doubtlessly face how different your baby is, I am sorry. For the lack of compassion and understanding you have to endure, I apologize. I see you. I see the struggle for a woman you want to be, the “job” of mother is known by no one quite as it is by you. You have so much love and kindness and empathy for your child when you are powerless to stop whatever afflicts them. I hope for you this day means extra help and care for you.

For the women who must watch their babies grow and hit milestones from a distance, I cannot pretend to imagine that struggle. Those fears you must have for them, the love you surely must have for them. Why else would your conviction in doing what you do endure? You have most certainly set a standard of courage and power and strength and for you, I wish you peace this Mother’s Day.

Lastly, for the women I have met since becoming a mother, you are all an inspiration. I learn from you all, I am inspired by values each of you live in front of me. I am thankful I have had so many strong, funny, brilliant, courageous women to show me what motherhood can be and to remind me that we are not alone in this gift.

Happy Mother’s Day, ladies! You are all truly deserving of this day.


Da Birds – Greys

Published May 5, 2016 by sarcasmica

I volunteer at a parrot sanctuary 2x/week. I love it. It can be a total mind trip, but for the most part it’s been a dream. Combine this hobby with my new one, photography, and I just can’t help but share. I’m a sharer. A shareologist. A Sharing McSharePants.

Here are some fun stories of the crazies I get to work with.


This is Kepler. Kepler is a talker.He’s been at the sanctuary since around December, I think. He likes to talk about food, so naturally we are buddies. He bit me once when his favorite (and 90% of the birds’ fave) volunteer came into the room. I guess he wanted to be available for the other person because I dropped him right back onto his perch after that, thankyouverymuch.

Recently he’s been in a room with the other Greys. There are mixed feelings about this VERY social bird going into a room with *gasp* other birds. Kepler has had a realization that he is not, in fact, a spoiled prince. He gets taken out quite often still, though. Last week I was in the room talking to him and my first fave, Beeba:


Kepler did his usual foot pop to ask to step up (onto my hand) and I obliged him. My mistake came in either showing up with a haircut and new highlights, or in not immediately going to the door because the stinker bit me. Not too too hard, but enough for me to react. I offered him to step onto my other hand and then he REALLY bit me. So much that I had to drop him, turn toward the door, he flies back up to his perching area and says in a sweet lady voice, “Buh bye.”

I left to nurse my injured pride. When a bird bites you, there is adrenaline. It hurts. Especially when you had trust in that animal. Granted, if you work with them there is always respect for what they can do. You have to understand that there is no such thing as a bird that doesn’t bite. There are birds that predictably bite, or birds that bite less often than others. This was my reminder.

I was there today and bit the bullet, so to speak, and picked him up again. I try not to hold grudges and I don’t like being afraid of them, so I pulled up my big girl granny panties and asked him to step up. (after I spent some time just scratching his head) He did. I went for the door and just hung out with him in the hall. I sat with him on my knee and scratched and talked with him. When it was time to go back, he was less cooperative, but didn’t make any moves to bite me. WHEW! I was trying not to sweat and shake when I had to push my hand into him to get him to step up to go back to the room. He was a gentleman, though, and fully cooperated at that point. Hopefully he will be equally gentile tomorrow.

Another guy in this same room named Tucker is out for my blood. He mostly likes men, so I have that offensive quality when I walk into the room. He’s bit me once, pierced another volunteers nose, and generally just glares at me when i’m in his vicinity. I first realized who this bird was when, early on in my volunteering, I was feeding and he popped his foot up to step up. I tentatively offered a finger and he immediately bit down hard and latched on. I had to shake him off, he falls to the floor and begins cackling at me. “Ha hahaha!”


Tucker also likes to take on a gravelly grumpy old man voice when I walk towards the door and say, “GET OUT!” as often as possible. I take no offense. The feeling is mutual 🙂




Vanity Shmanity

Published May 5, 2016 by sarcasmica

I have never thought of myself as a vain person. I’m not completely careless with how I look, either, but it doesn’t determine my schedule or routine. I have gone out in public numerous times without makeup. I am a big fan of hair clips and pony tail holders because besides a quick blowdry flip and some hair goo, I dont do much with my mop. (honestly i just dont know what to do with it) 

Painting quite the picture of beauty and grace, right??! 

Having kids and then becomming a stay at home mom only reinforced my nonchalance. When meeting other mom friends, one or most hadnt slept a majority of the night, so they couldnt even see me through their bleary bloodshot eyes to care. We all knew the days ended with at least one body fluid on clothes and/or skin, so what’s the point?

Well now I’m past the baby mom stage and the even rougher toddler mom stage. (Toddlers will simply leave the bed to seek you out. You can hide in a cupboard or garage, but by God, they will find you. There is no sleep training for 2 and 3 year olds) I will don makeup more often than not now. I color my hair fairly regularly – once every 6 months is a huge step up!- and my clothes usually match. (I’ve graduated to jeans more often than yoga pants) 

Recently I’ve had some news regarding plans for my smile. I have lots of baby teeth still and they have come to the end of their duty. This is a huge plan that has required a number of meetings and before it’s complete will span no less than 6 years.

Completely overwhelming for me. Last night after consult #2, it dawns on me part of the reason this all has me so reactive. Vanity. Part of the issue is that my baby teeth are all beside my front teeth. Right up front for laughing, smiling, talking, etc. These will all be pulled at different stages of orthodontia. What will be left? Nothing. Nothing can be added during the 2 yrs in braces. Nothing will be filled in until the braces come off. 

So imagine the vision I’ve already created: 5’10, 80lbs overweight, minimal makeup & hair skill… got it? Sort of like a light-hearted rhinoceros. Now add braces and subtract 3 teeth from the front. (Later the total # of gaps will be 8)

Stunning, right?! Now it’s more like a Tim Burton style rhinoceros who will most definitely not be smiling.

Yea, this has my tutu in a bit of a twist and I just can’t seem to get past it. and it’s teeth. Something most people don’t think about. Who cares about teeth?! No one, until you lose them. There are so many bigger struggles in the world, but what impact do your teeth have on your daily life? 

Now we factor in cost. There are SOOoOo many other things I’d rather put that money towards. A private Magic Mike Show,  a trip to Hawaii, liposuction, sponsoring an entire African village, 3 bulldog puppies, a pony…and I am relying 100% on my husband’s great job & benefits to help fund this. His paycheck is responsible for the rest. I am having a hard time digesting that.

Vanity comes in many forms, but the worst is the kind that sneaks up on you and kicks you in the teeth.

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