What's in a Name?

Time for a change, and here's my new blog name. I love it and really don't care if no one else does, because if nothing else, it's honest and describes how I feel when I blog. I achieve bliss with lots and lots and lots of coffee. I know my husband will read this and go What? She doesn't achieve bliss with me? Our children? And some of you are also reading this and going Her blog brings her peace? What a loser! Yeah sure it does, even though I adore the lovey dovey crap of marriage and family. Any mother knows (don't lie now) that the real, true, bliss of some quiet time, with no kids, and no husband, even for a few minutes, with your beverage of choice is second to none.

Oh and by the way, I'll be working on my image header next, because I don't live in NYC and feel like a fraud having that image at the top of my page. I would also love it ,if you hooked up with me on Twitter and/or Facebook... You can find the links on the right.

Shameless plug for followers now over, it's time for me to get going, and enjoy the rest of my Sunday where there is more focus on kids than there is on caffeine.

OCD - My Life Partner

My husband takes second place to this one, and I feel he will always have to. I have no idea where I get it, tried to research it, but then my three ring binder (color coded and indexed alphabetically) got too full of "How to Recognize Obsessive Compulsive Disorder" lists and what not, so I had to burn it and resign myself to the truth that there is no hope for me. I can generally manage to contain it, specially after four plus years with twins. Now, I pick up toys and arrange them by type and size on the shelves after the kids are down for the night, I do laundry on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays at 9am exactly (when they're in school). So, it's under control. Ah... control, the story of my life!

Anyway, so my OCD has now apparently decided it hates my blog skin. So, I've been trying to fix it and make it perfect, but it's not perfect yet... at least O doesn't think so. Thankfully, there are some wonderful designers out there who give away their layouts for free, so I'm looking. I even have a system, where I check into their sites and browse through each category for about ten minutes each, and after I've downloaded about five or six layouts, I try them out. It's all planned and perfect, but not perfectly perfect.... Yet!

Mommy Liar, Pants on Fire!

Are you a Mom? If so, good. This one's for you. If you're not one yet, or you're a dad, read this anyway.

So mommies... Life is hard right? You have kids who's needs you have to meet, car pools, lunch bags, early mornings, breakfast, a husband, no husband, laundry, dinner yada yada, you get the picture. So, clearly it's impossible for you to be happy and cheerful all the time? Of course it is. There are days when you just want to yell "Shut the fuck up" and really, really wish everyone would. I know I do and I'll be damned if I lie about it and constantly give the impression that life is just one big bottomless bowl of yummy ice-cream.

It is not, so shut up and stop lying (directed at the mothers who do). Life is often full of crap, admit it and get on with it already.

Stop with the incessant I love my kids, they're the light of my life, I can't imagine life without them. Sure you can... you secretly imagine yourself lying on a beach, sipping daquries (or other drink of choice) secure in the knowledge that right then, they're annoying the hell out of grandma, but you don't care because you have a full body massage scheduled in half an hour. Liar, liar, pants on fire!

Stop constantly reaffirming vocally how much you love your husband. How much do you love him when he throws his dirty clothes on the bedroom floor, because his lazy ass can't be bothered opening the laundy hamper? How much do you love him then? Do you also love him like you love cuddly toys when he's snoring on the couch, with the TV blaring and you're making dinner amidst a kid riot? Please, stop lying!

There is no such thing as the perfect life, perfect kids, the perfect husband. And here's a thought, there's also no such thing as the perfect wife and mother. (I can almost hear the roar of disapproval from the perfect mommy camp, they'll probably send me a letter of protest on embossed, scented lilac colored stationery.) So, all you delusional women with Compulsive Liar Disease. Cure yourselves! I'm tired of your I have the bestest life, because I have the bestest children, from the bestest husband in the whole wide world. Gag, puke and gag again. Stop the madness! When your kid is being a brat, which is often, suck it up and admit it. Children are the biggest brats known to any species in this galaxy, and making them out to be less than that makes you look like an idiot. Give them some credit, they could win competitions, if there were competitions titled What the Hell do You Think You're Doing? instead of those dumb kiddie pagents they hold for overly made up kids with overly obsessed parents.

I know (well sort of know) this woman who's kids are perfect. Their screeches during tantrums sound like bluebirds singing, their fights are like lovers wispering in the moonlight, they have only ever spilled a drop of water on their clothes. Bull fucking shit! You need threpay lady and you need it fast, because heaven forbid you ever snap... well, read the papers about parents who snap.

Why the obsession to put up a perfect front? Who makes up these stupid rules? Stupid, insecure people, that's who. And, I for one would like to slap them upside the head. They're ruining it for the rest of us who don't give a good goddamn about being vocal when things aren't looking up. Some of them actually have the audacity to look down on those who don't tackle life with the same denial skills they have. Well, I say screw them. Whether, you're a mom of multiples, one singleton, seven children and very specially a new mother, remember, everyone loves their kids, bends over backwards for their families, loves thier husbands and tries to love their MILs. But we love them faults and all, and nowhere does it say we're not great mothers if we admit our life is sometimes very, very hard or even just plain sucks.

If it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger. And one day it will make you into one hell of a mom, (if you don't whine all the time. Seriously, don't whine all the time... let it out and get on with it). It's so much better than being a Living-in-denial-and-compulsively-lying-perfect-mother-figure-who-could-be-one- cup-of-spilled-juice-away-from-having-a-complete-nervous-breakdown.

Now go tell your kids they drive you bat-shit crazy!

I Hate Text Speak - Translation: I H8 Txt Spk

This rant has been a long time coming. Right from about the time thirty something women decided they couldn't live without a cell phone. I completely get why they need one, what with me being thirty something and a woman myself. I use my cell phone for a number of important things like sending text messages to my husband in dire emergencies Where the hell are you? Need bread for sandwiches or Will you be late? Good, I'm not cooking so get some take out or sending a few messages to my mother Kids fine, just ate lunch, off to nap. If I don't send her a message she calls to ask if all is OK because she hasn't ***gasp*** heard from me all day. Then the kids start demanding to talk to her and fight over who talks first. It all gets very loud and unbearable, so sending her a few messages keeps me sane.

Plus, the kids use my cell phone to call her every night before they go to sleep, so there's another use. Other than that, I more or less ignore my cell phone when not updating my Twitter and Facebook. I make an attempt to answer calls, I really do. When my phone rings, I look at it and will myself to answer it. Unfortunately my will to answer it battles with my will to not answer it and the latter wins. Can't be helped, all my wills are very strong and fight to the death.

So, people have begun to text message me instead, in the hopes that I will respond. I don't. Why? Well, because about 99% of those text messages are not in any language I understand. It's not English, that's for sure, not Urdu or even any of the local dialects. So yeah, it's this stupid teeny bopper language called 'Text Speak" which loosely translated means We're the laziest generation ever and can't even be bothered learning English. Which is fine with me, but what's not fine with me is when people well into their 30s and beyond, start using this damn new age language and expect everyone else to just get it and love it like mothers love quiet time.

A friend sent me this the other day der cums a point n yr lyf wen u realiz hu maters, hu nvr did, n hu alw wl. So dnt wori bout ppl frm yr pst, ders a resin y dey didnt mke 8 2 yr fucha.

OK what? I responded with Umm thanks, next time just send me the English translation. LOL (Added the LOL to sound like I had some freakin clue as to what I was talking about, but I soon realized that abbreveation know how is not in the same league as full fledged text fucking speak) She sent me a text back O cum on, mov wid da tymes. Well, fuck you too, you older than I am hag who thinks helping to butcher the English language is "keeping up with the times" T-I-M-E-S not T-Y-M-E-S. Why the hell would you replace the i with a y? Does it save you time? Does it sound easier in your egg head? And what the hell is da? Isn't that German for there? Why are adults behaving like 15 year olds? Why is my otherwise very open minded self not getting this at all?

So, I turn to Facebook for some sanity, which by the way has more or less become a sort of safe heaven for me online. I enjoy spending time networking and ocassionally taking nonsensical quizzes about which perfume best represents my personality. And status updates are fun to respond to as well. But, more and more I see status updates like XYZ s haVn A1 tyMe liStniN 2 sUm kEwl muZc or Whn u ck me, u wl fynd me sez da Lord.

Right, they win, they even translate scripture. And, I am just going to be content sticking a fork in my eye everytime I read their shit. Then rinse my eye out with bleach.