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August Mom Again

Published November 2, 2017 by sarcasmica

Hello again, it’s me. Your friendly conscious neighborhood August mom. I was staring at my computer screen wanting to get so much off my chest, but then I realized I just want a second cup of coffee instead.

November kicks my ass every year. Every. F-ing. Year.

I love Halloween. Love it. It’s my fave for those millennial readers šŸ™‚ After it’s all over, I always get a little blue. I procrastinate taking down the decorations. I make a mental note of the neighbors that are cleared out and cleaned up by November 1st.

There is so much prep that happens leading up to Halloween, y’all, my brain is just scrambled eggs by the time it’s over. I’m always left thinking, “Really?! That’s it?! It’s done for another year ?!!”

Think about it.. back to school, parent/teacher conferences, all the fucking communication – or lack thereof – between teachers and myself, my daughter’s birthday, then my birthday, then BAM! Halloween.

And then it’s November and i’m looking at Christmas decorations at the pharmacy. November is my husband’s birthday and Thanksgiving, and before I know it it’s anniversary time and then Christmas. Getting older just means less prep and organization between shit. It’s all, ‘Really? Already?’ while everyone around you is holding a calendar wondering what your malfunction is.

This year my son decided to mature. He decided to do this not with a job or paying rent, but by going trick or treating with new friends in our new neighborhood. They warn you this will happen. They warn you when you least expect it, your kids grow up. They don’t warn you it will happen in the form of ditching mom on her favorite holiday to go ring doorbells and take candy!

Ok, i’m calm. Sorry. I am so proud of my anxious, worried, safety-minded, cautious boy for going out and conquering the neighborhood dressed as a psychotic murderous animatronicĀ  bunny. But why couldn’t he warn me last year that it would be the last family trick or treating year?

He is my oldest and he’s (finally) growing up. He actually commented while doing homework last night – which, by the way, has been meltdown free all year!!! – that he cares about his work and he wants to get good grades.

Huh?! Where is my child?! What the fuck is happening right now?!

All of this is happening while we are having minor construction done on the house. We are adding a deck to our nonexistent back yard. I’m supposed to be keeping track of shit like schedules and ordering crap I know nothing about when I can’t even manage a home cooked meal for my family every night. Every day is a magic trick of turning my seemingly empty pantry and fridge into not one, not two, but three meals for my kids! Somehow there is food in their lunchboxes that does not get a note home from CPS for me every day. And it’s not because I don’t go to the grocery store. I’m there all the time! But still we never seem to have one important ingredient each day.

I am not an organized person. I am an August Mom. I am getting by. I am dealing and managing, but just barely. I’m one missed cup of coffee away from a mental break down at all times, it seems. My husband, who has been working very hard lately coincidentally, and I had a fight last night about fucking deck lights. Deck lights! Why can’t we fight about who loves who more, or who wants to have more sex? Or why do you spend money on all of these gifts for me? Why waste that brain energy on fucking deck lighting?!

 

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Oasis in the Summer

Published June 27, 2013 by sarcasmica

If Target had a theme song, that would be considered The Song of My People.

But they don’t, sadly

I was just inside the store with kids both sardine-ed into the cart when my oldest brother called me to talk about some family matters. I’m going through the aisles to pick up my various necessities-that-are-somehow-only-necessities-inside-these-doors, and somewhere around the snack aisle he clues in to where I am finally. He asks, “Who the hell does grocery shopping at Target?”

*crickets*

How is this even a question? I am not understanding the words coming out of the phone. It’s more like who DOESN’T grocery shop at Target ?!

I begin speaking to him like a small dim-witted child.

”Ā  IĀ Ā Ā  grocery shop at Target.”

He was still confused.

“STAY at HOME MOMS shop at Target for ANYdamnTHING”

As i’m trying to keep my cool, i’m looking around and noticing all the moms with now older and varied sized children clinging onto carts and legs and purses, and yet no one is yelling.

Well, one unlucky mom was, but that wasn’t until i got to the other side of the store, and it was short-lived. She was on her way to the toy section.

It is summer in the northwest, people. Even though it’s not July 5th – as i’ve learned is the official start to the season – school is OUT! Where do we universally flock to for an hour of minimally bothered calm and reflection while still able to pick up medicine, meat, milk, and a toy while sipping a freshly brewed/blended/muddled Starbucks?

say it with me now…

Target !

This is our haven. Our meeting place. Our watering hole, if you will. As i explained to my uninformed male sibling, where else can you pick up all the necessities and still keep your sanity? There is bribery for everyone involved. For some reason, the grocery store has a kriptonian effect on my sanity with my children, and their ability to not be annoying.

Maybe it’s the wide aisles, or the various Targets located throughout the store to continually hypnotize all inhabitants, it works, so we go.

It is especially useful on days like today. Days when mommy has PMS, and is staring down another weekend with the husband leaving town for two weeks, nothing to make for dinner at home, and both kids home all. day. long.

If they had a walk-up bar, it would be heaven on earth.

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