You know you're not in a good place mentally when you get as excited as I am about grocery shopping alone... and you plan your trip to take as long as possible...
It's been one of those "Calgon Take Me Away!!" kind of days. The kind where you had plans but your family decided it was more of a "we maybe shouldn't be in public together" kind of days. The kind where mom cries because everything & everyone sucks and she's at the end of her God damn rope and just barely hanging on...where everyone then behaves for all of an hour, and Mom relaxes for a second and in that second it all turns back to shit.
That kind of day.
Maybe a pint of Phish Food will help, maybe it won't...but it's worth a shot.
And if not, well, maybe shots would help. Tequila, anyone?
Saturday, June 11, 2016
Friday, May 27, 2016
Summer Vacation, Day 1: We're Surviving...Barely...
The kids are now on summer vacation. Teachers and children across the town are united in their joyous excitement! Maybe some parents are, too ... I say good for you! Me? I'm terrified. Summer means days at Grandma's for the kids, being spoiled by Grandma, watching too much tv, spending too much time on their devices, spending too much time in close physical proximity to one another during the day...summer means a couple of weeks of fun and good moods...then the fighting begins. And the boredom sets in. And the whining starts. Ugh.
Knowing all of this, I decided to take a few days off work to make happy memories with them, while they are still happy. Today is officially Day 1 of my "staycation." I'm already regretting it... (kidding, kidding).
Last night, after staying up "suuuuuuuuuper late" (according to them, 9pm is still super late!) - they remarked how nice it will be to "sleep in allllllllll day."
Reality: Wyatt is up at the ass crack of dawn, watching Stampy Longnose videos on his Kindle. At top volume. Until Mommy stumbles downstairs to tell him to shut up. Er, shut *it* up. He totally redeems himself with a sweet smile and a request to go to his favorite bakery to get some breakfast treats while the younger ones and Daddy are still sleeping. DEAL! We head out at 6:45 am, and we're back by 7:45. I imagine that I will make everyone's day with the treats...except this bakery (Friesen's, for you locals, which is AWESOME) doesn't make regular old cake donuts, and the lack of sprinkles causes Callan to lose his shit. (Looking back on the day, this was clearly a warning tantrum...). And then he claimed the Maple Bacon Muffin (*MY* beloved Maple Bacon Muffin!) as as his own breakfast. And in a total dick move (sorry, but almost all 3 year olds are horrible people!), ate the top but left the rest and threw it in the garbage can. I'm not even a little ashamed to admit that I still ate it; honestly, it hadn't touched anything super nasty, it landed wrapper side down and I don't care what you think anyways, because that muffin was freaking delicious! And the joke's on lil' C - all the salty and delicious bacon was in the part he didn't eat.
My hubba-hubba-hubby and I head out to do some yard work before the rain sets in. Callan comes out to help. He does a fairly good job pulling some little weeds for me, but then loses interest and takes out some toys. Check that: all the toys. And puts them in the pile of leftover dirt from garden prep. Did I mention it was going to rain? That started sooner than we expected. Garden dirt, rain ... you can see where this is headed. Muddy toys, muddy boy. And girl, because Amelia came out to play, too. Got all the toys back in the garage and headed inside. To do ... nothing, apparently! Glorious nothing! Kids on Kindles, Mom on her phone, Dad on his phone...yes, it felt wrong, even though we all were co-existing peacefully for a few blessed moments. I mention to John that we should do something today. Maybe clean the house or something. We laugh. Oh, we are just so funny! Noone was in the mood, and we were kind of trapped inside, so no point in making it an awful day by expecting the kids to do work. Besides, it was Day 1 of summer vacation!!
By noon, the smell of reheating pizza was in the air, and was just enough to lure Wyatt and Amelia out of the dungeon. For a couple of seconds. Callan freaks out because his pizza is not cold. He wanted cold pizza. I give him a piece of cold pizza. I ask if he wants a beer to wash it down, but he says "No fanks!" (So polite!). John and I peruse the grocery ads, with me thinking I'd make a list and do the shopping, while he hung out at home with the kids. He had other plans: "Let's get ready & head out." Me: "Let's? Are we all going?" John: "Yeah, I thought it would be nice for everyone to get out of the house." This from the man who tries to convince me that he should never have to go grocery shopping and especially not with children in tow. I swallow hard and say "It's Friday afternoon of Memorial Day weekend, every place is going to be crazy busy. And Callan's in asshole mode today. Are you sure this is a good idea?" He nods. I say "OK. Let's do this!"
Remember the Breakfast Tantrum that was an Omen? And the freak out at lunch? Definitely foreshadowing our day. Stop #1 and Callan loses it again. This time: because some nice lady in the Aldi parking lot gave me her cart - sort of a pay-it-forward-chain at Aldi, so I didn't have to dig out a quarter to pay her back ;) - and apparently Callan wanted to pick out a cart. Ugh. Tantrum in a parking lot. He calmed down, but refused to hold one of our hands, and ran out into the parking lot. So John took him back to the car while Wyatt, Amelia and I went inside. I was impressed with their mostly good behavior, but these children just have no spatial awareness whatsoever. Or awareness in general. Stepping in front of people, taking up the whole aisle...we did a lot of apologizing and I started getting more anxious by the minute. Survived that stop relatively unscathed, in psyche and in budget. Made somebody else's day by giving them the cart, too.
Next stop: Cub Foods. We all go in. My anxiety peaks as they're repeating their mistakes from Aldi. Amelia cannot stop dancing and bouncing and stepping in front of my cart and dancing and bouncing and STEPPING IN FRONT OF THE GOD DAMN CART!!!! Ugh. But I have to be proud of myself: I didn't yell. I didn't even say any grown-up words. I didn't ram that cart into the back of her heels like I wanted to. I touched her arm lightly and caught her eye and quietly - so, so quietly - said "Last warning. You need to stay behind me. Next time, I will run you down." Queue the big eyes. She flits off to Daddy's cart. Then back to me. Then back to him. Then Callan has to pee. Then Wyatt is pushing the cart WITH ME. Then tries to do it on his own. Then needs my help again. Then Amelia gets directly in front of my body and "helps" push the cart. We go to the pop aisle and the kids go wild, demanding root beer and 7-up and cream soda and...water. Bottled water. Callan proceeds to whine & tantrum AGAIN because we won't buy him a bottle of water. John promises one at check-out. Which Callan clutches in his chubby little paws like it's the last bottle of water on earth. Amelia continues her bouncing/dancing/annoying me and getting in the way of my attempts to bag my groceries. I feel like I'm going to lose it. I don't. I tell her and Wyatt to put their hands on the cart and don't move, as I bag up John's groceries (we did separate carts so we could double on some of the sale items with limits. So devious, we are!). They listened, thankthelord. But I need a very large iced campfire mocha (non-fat, about 1/3 the amount of chocolate they normally use, dark chocolate and OF COURSE I WANT THE WHIP!) like I've never needed one before!! Alas, a stop at the in-store Caribou is not in the stars as John has reached the end of his rope.
Off to HyVee. The decision is made to have me - JUST ME - run in quick. Oh heaven! Alone in the grocery store! Oh look! Starbucks! You will be mine...after I'm done shopping. I knock out my list in record time.
I'm a liar. I took my sweet-ass time picking out a perfect watermelon and waiting patiently for the meat-man to restock the on-sale ground beef. I read labels. I don't buy half of what I look at, but I'm on freaking vacation at the HyVee!! I'm smiling and chatty with fellow shoppers and HyVee employees and as I'm staring down the display of S'M'Oreos (s'mores Oreos, duh!), I get a text message: "Don't buy any stupid shit!" I look around wildly, expecting to see John and the kids spying on me and watching me enjoy being by myself and taking my sweet-ass time. They're not there. Whew!! I carry on. But with a little hustle now, as The Guilt is creeping in. I finish up and hit up the Starbucks.
There's a line. I wait, patiently. Then impatiently because the lady at the front of the line is waving someone over because her Starbucks app is apparently not working and she doesn't have any cash on her. I'm not feeling especially generous to a woman who is dripping in diamonds and designer duds, so I decide against paying for her $9 worth of Starbucks beverages just to speed this shit up. Also, the wait gives me more time alone ;) A couple of people get in line behind me and for the first time, I become aware of my own appearance and, um, odor. Realizing I had forgotten to put on deodorant, and had not changed out of the clothes I had been wearing while doing yardwork, and that I wasn't really even trying to suck in my gut ... I decided the Cinnamon Dolce Latte I had been dreaming about was not a good choice. I order an iced tea. Iced Fucking Tea. WHO AM I?!?! And the barista asks "What kind?" And I repeat my order of "Shaken Iced Tea Lemonade." And she asks me again, what kind? And I say "the lemonade one!" like a total newbie, because I do not realize that you have to tell them what kind of fucking tea you want in your fucking iced tea lemonade drink that is not going to be even remotely as delicious as the iced Cinnamon Dolce Latte would be but which I am ordering because I don't want to be the fatty ordering a full fat drink or the one obviously trying to make it seem like I'm not a giant fatty by ordering the non-fat, no-whip version of this and getting the reminder from the barista that the flavoring is not sugar-free... So not only am I smelly and gross, I'm an idiot who doesn't know what she's doing at Starbucks and have to ask what choices I have. *** sigh *** I should have stayed home today. Why do I care about what those people behind me think of me? The dude behind me also orders iced tea. He orders it perfectly. "Shaken Iced Tea, Peach. Passion." Oh bite me, Perfect Tea Orderer Man! Oh, fragile self-esteem ... sensitive mindset ... sick of you!
I traipse off with my cart to the car. After two previous stops, the trunk of the ol' Camry is getting pretty full. This last load almost fills it. Are you familiar with the Camry? The trunk on this thing ... you could haul some bodies in there. Just sayin'. It's big. And we bought a lot of stuff today. Including some 12 packs of soda and sparkling water ... about 30 lbs of ground beef ... lots of processed things in boxes ... produce ... and it's almost full. This is important to note. There are also 3 children, their car seats & booster seats, across the back seat. Off to Home Depot!
Obviously, John is allowed to enter alone. I'm enjoying my iced tea lemonade. NOT! It's shit. Don't ever order it. Or at least add sweetener to it. A few minutes go by and I realize that it's only fair that he gets a vacation, too. Then I realize it's charcoal sale time...and we've got the Camry already loaded down with groceries & shit. And I say a little prayer for him to exercise restraint, for I know the charcoal is a fabulous deal and this sale only comes around one time per year and we are nearly out of charcoal at home and the official grilling season is now upon us and he does prefer the charcoal to the gas grill in the summer... A few minutes go by. I'm getting nervous. He knows...He knows how little space we have left. He knows we can't be buying 8 of the double packs of charcoal. RIGHT?!?! Yes, yes he does. He only bought 2 of them. Which had to go under the kids' feet in the backseat. Wyatt's knees are now touching Callan and Callan is not having it. He hits Wyatt. Wyatt hits him back. Giant 9 year old vs. giant almost 4 year old. Who wins? MOMMY WINS, MOTHERFUCKERS! Or, more accurately, Mommy loses. Loses her shit. I ban touching one another. I ban screaming. I ban talking. Amelia cries because she "wasn't doing anything!" And she's right, in that moment, she wasn't. "I know, baby." I tell her. "I know you weren't right now. It's just so freaking loud when we're trapped in the car and the boys were fighting and I am at the end of my rope!" And she says "You need some coffee, I think." So I laugh and say "yes, yes I do." And instead I drink my sad stupid lemonade ass tea and I try to find some calm. All I can think is "The cinnamon dolce latte would have helped."
And now, after John and I unloaded the groceries and put away the things that had to be put away, after he started the fire in the firepit that I asked him to but which I am now ignoring, after I have ignored everyone for a good hour...now I'm going to wash up the ice cream pail and giant bowl that previously held fruit that didn't get eaten before it went bad, so we can again fill it with fruit that probably won't get eaten before it goes bad. And the kids are bored. And whiny. And hungry.
And apparently there's "nothing to eat in this house."
And I'm also going to start drinking now.
Happy Memorial Day Weekend, peeps!
Knowing all of this, I decided to take a few days off work to make happy memories with them, while they are still happy. Today is officially Day 1 of my "staycation." I'm already regretting it... (kidding, kidding).
Last night, after staying up "suuuuuuuuuper late" (according to them, 9pm is still super late!) - they remarked how nice it will be to "sleep in allllllllll day."
Reality: Wyatt is up at the ass crack of dawn, watching Stampy Longnose videos on his Kindle. At top volume. Until Mommy stumbles downstairs to tell him to shut up. Er, shut *it* up. He totally redeems himself with a sweet smile and a request to go to his favorite bakery to get some breakfast treats while the younger ones and Daddy are still sleeping. DEAL! We head out at 6:45 am, and we're back by 7:45. I imagine that I will make everyone's day with the treats...except this bakery (Friesen's, for you locals, which is AWESOME) doesn't make regular old cake donuts, and the lack of sprinkles causes Callan to lose his shit. (Looking back on the day, this was clearly a warning tantrum...). And then he claimed the Maple Bacon Muffin (*MY* beloved Maple Bacon Muffin!) as as his own breakfast. And in a total dick move (sorry, but almost all 3 year olds are horrible people!), ate the top but left the rest and threw it in the garbage can. I'm not even a little ashamed to admit that I still ate it; honestly, it hadn't touched anything super nasty, it landed wrapper side down and I don't care what you think anyways, because that muffin was freaking delicious! And the joke's on lil' C - all the salty and delicious bacon was in the part he didn't eat.
My hubba-hubba-hubby and I head out to do some yard work before the rain sets in. Callan comes out to help. He does a fairly good job pulling some little weeds for me, but then loses interest and takes out some toys. Check that: all the toys. And puts them in the pile of leftover dirt from garden prep. Did I mention it was going to rain? That started sooner than we expected. Garden dirt, rain ... you can see where this is headed. Muddy toys, muddy boy. And girl, because Amelia came out to play, too. Got all the toys back in the garage and headed inside. To do ... nothing, apparently! Glorious nothing! Kids on Kindles, Mom on her phone, Dad on his phone...yes, it felt wrong, even though we all were co-existing peacefully for a few blessed moments. I mention to John that we should do something today. Maybe clean the house or something. We laugh. Oh, we are just so funny! Noone was in the mood, and we were kind of trapped inside, so no point in making it an awful day by expecting the kids to do work. Besides, it was Day 1 of summer vacation!!
By noon, the smell of reheating pizza was in the air, and was just enough to lure Wyatt and Amelia out of the dungeon. For a couple of seconds. Callan freaks out because his pizza is not cold. He wanted cold pizza. I give him a piece of cold pizza. I ask if he wants a beer to wash it down, but he says "No fanks!" (So polite!). John and I peruse the grocery ads, with me thinking I'd make a list and do the shopping, while he hung out at home with the kids. He had other plans: "Let's get ready & head out." Me: "Let's? Are we all going?" John: "Yeah, I thought it would be nice for everyone to get out of the house." This from the man who tries to convince me that he should never have to go grocery shopping and especially not with children in tow. I swallow hard and say "It's Friday afternoon of Memorial Day weekend, every place is going to be crazy busy. And Callan's in asshole mode today. Are you sure this is a good idea?" He nods. I say "OK. Let's do this!"
Remember the Breakfast Tantrum that was an Omen? And the freak out at lunch? Definitely foreshadowing our day. Stop #1 and Callan loses it again. This time: because some nice lady in the Aldi parking lot gave me her cart - sort of a pay-it-forward-chain at Aldi, so I didn't have to dig out a quarter to pay her back ;) - and apparently Callan wanted to pick out a cart. Ugh. Tantrum in a parking lot. He calmed down, but refused to hold one of our hands, and ran out into the parking lot. So John took him back to the car while Wyatt, Amelia and I went inside. I was impressed with their mostly good behavior, but these children just have no spatial awareness whatsoever. Or awareness in general. Stepping in front of people, taking up the whole aisle...we did a lot of apologizing and I started getting more anxious by the minute. Survived that stop relatively unscathed, in psyche and in budget. Made somebody else's day by giving them the cart, too.
Next stop: Cub Foods. We all go in. My anxiety peaks as they're repeating their mistakes from Aldi. Amelia cannot stop dancing and bouncing and stepping in front of my cart and dancing and bouncing and STEPPING IN FRONT OF THE GOD DAMN CART!!!! Ugh. But I have to be proud of myself: I didn't yell. I didn't even say any grown-up words. I didn't ram that cart into the back of her heels like I wanted to. I touched her arm lightly and caught her eye and quietly - so, so quietly - said "Last warning. You need to stay behind me. Next time, I will run you down." Queue the big eyes. She flits off to Daddy's cart. Then back to me. Then back to him. Then Callan has to pee. Then Wyatt is pushing the cart WITH ME. Then tries to do it on his own. Then needs my help again. Then Amelia gets directly in front of my body and "helps" push the cart. We go to the pop aisle and the kids go wild, demanding root beer and 7-up and cream soda and...water. Bottled water. Callan proceeds to whine & tantrum AGAIN because we won't buy him a bottle of water. John promises one at check-out. Which Callan clutches in his chubby little paws like it's the last bottle of water on earth. Amelia continues her bouncing/dancing/annoying me and getting in the way of my attempts to bag my groceries. I feel like I'm going to lose it. I don't. I tell her and Wyatt to put their hands on the cart and don't move, as I bag up John's groceries (we did separate carts so we could double on some of the sale items with limits. So devious, we are!). They listened, thankthelord. But I need a very large iced campfire mocha (non-fat, about 1/3 the amount of chocolate they normally use, dark chocolate and OF COURSE I WANT THE WHIP!) like I've never needed one before!! Alas, a stop at the in-store Caribou is not in the stars as John has reached the end of his rope.
Off to HyVee. The decision is made to have me - JUST ME - run in quick. Oh heaven! Alone in the grocery store! Oh look! Starbucks! You will be mine...after I'm done shopping. I knock out my list in record time.
I'm a liar. I took my sweet-ass time picking out a perfect watermelon and waiting patiently for the meat-man to restock the on-sale ground beef. I read labels. I don't buy half of what I look at, but I'm on freaking vacation at the HyVee!! I'm smiling and chatty with fellow shoppers and HyVee employees and as I'm staring down the display of S'M'Oreos (s'mores Oreos, duh!), I get a text message: "Don't buy any stupid shit!" I look around wildly, expecting to see John and the kids spying on me and watching me enjoy being by myself and taking my sweet-ass time. They're not there. Whew!! I carry on. But with a little hustle now, as The Guilt is creeping in. I finish up and hit up the Starbucks.
There's a line. I wait, patiently. Then impatiently because the lady at the front of the line is waving someone over because her Starbucks app is apparently not working and she doesn't have any cash on her. I'm not feeling especially generous to a woman who is dripping in diamonds and designer duds, so I decide against paying for her $9 worth of Starbucks beverages just to speed this shit up. Also, the wait gives me more time alone ;) A couple of people get in line behind me and for the first time, I become aware of my own appearance and, um, odor. Realizing I had forgotten to put on deodorant, and had not changed out of the clothes I had been wearing while doing yardwork, and that I wasn't really even trying to suck in my gut ... I decided the Cinnamon Dolce Latte I had been dreaming about was not a good choice. I order an iced tea. Iced Fucking Tea. WHO AM I?!?! And the barista asks "What kind?" And I repeat my order of "Shaken Iced Tea Lemonade." And she asks me again, what kind? And I say "the lemonade one!" like a total newbie, because I do not realize that you have to tell them what kind of fucking tea you want in your fucking iced tea lemonade drink that is not going to be even remotely as delicious as the iced Cinnamon Dolce Latte would be but which I am ordering because I don't want to be the fatty ordering a full fat drink or the one obviously trying to make it seem like I'm not a giant fatty by ordering the non-fat, no-whip version of this and getting the reminder from the barista that the flavoring is not sugar-free... So not only am I smelly and gross, I'm an idiot who doesn't know what she's doing at Starbucks and have to ask what choices I have. *** sigh *** I should have stayed home today. Why do I care about what those people behind me think of me? The dude behind me also orders iced tea. He orders it perfectly. "Shaken Iced Tea, Peach. Passion." Oh bite me, Perfect Tea Orderer Man! Oh, fragile self-esteem ... sensitive mindset ... sick of you!
I traipse off with my cart to the car. After two previous stops, the trunk of the ol' Camry is getting pretty full. This last load almost fills it. Are you familiar with the Camry? The trunk on this thing ... you could haul some bodies in there. Just sayin'. It's big. And we bought a lot of stuff today. Including some 12 packs of soda and sparkling water ... about 30 lbs of ground beef ... lots of processed things in boxes ... produce ... and it's almost full. This is important to note. There are also 3 children, their car seats & booster seats, across the back seat. Off to Home Depot!
Obviously, John is allowed to enter alone. I'm enjoying my iced tea lemonade. NOT! It's shit. Don't ever order it. Or at least add sweetener to it. A few minutes go by and I realize that it's only fair that he gets a vacation, too. Then I realize it's charcoal sale time...and we've got the Camry already loaded down with groceries & shit. And I say a little prayer for him to exercise restraint, for I know the charcoal is a fabulous deal and this sale only comes around one time per year and we are nearly out of charcoal at home and the official grilling season is now upon us and he does prefer the charcoal to the gas grill in the summer... A few minutes go by. I'm getting nervous. He knows...He knows how little space we have left. He knows we can't be buying 8 of the double packs of charcoal. RIGHT?!?! Yes, yes he does. He only bought 2 of them. Which had to go under the kids' feet in the backseat. Wyatt's knees are now touching Callan and Callan is not having it. He hits Wyatt. Wyatt hits him back. Giant 9 year old vs. giant almost 4 year old. Who wins? MOMMY WINS, MOTHERFUCKERS! Or, more accurately, Mommy loses. Loses her shit. I ban touching one another. I ban screaming. I ban talking. Amelia cries because she "wasn't doing anything!" And she's right, in that moment, she wasn't. "I know, baby." I tell her. "I know you weren't right now. It's just so freaking loud when we're trapped in the car and the boys were fighting and I am at the end of my rope!" And she says "You need some coffee, I think." So I laugh and say "yes, yes I do." And instead I drink my sad stupid lemonade ass tea and I try to find some calm. All I can think is "The cinnamon dolce latte would have helped."
And now, after John and I unloaded the groceries and put away the things that had to be put away, after he started the fire in the firepit that I asked him to but which I am now ignoring, after I have ignored everyone for a good hour...now I'm going to wash up the ice cream pail and giant bowl that previously held fruit that didn't get eaten before it went bad, so we can again fill it with fruit that probably won't get eaten before it goes bad. And the kids are bored. And whiny. And hungry.
And apparently there's "nothing to eat in this house."
And I'm also going to start drinking now.
Happy Memorial Day Weekend, peeps!
And So It Begins...
So here we are ... the start of something new. My #1 goal for this year (and every year) is to improve communication with my friends and family. Obviously, I have failed in the past. Lots of you have suggested that I start a blog, so, well, here goes!
So, the title of my blog is "Crazy Cakes Tales from Awesomesauce Town." Why's that, you ask? Well...because my life is crazy, but also kind of awesome. A lot of the time. (And also because it's a little less offensive than "Holy Shitballs, Be Glad This Isn't Your Life!") And we use the phrases "Crazy Cakes" and "Awesomesauce" prolifically at our house. Well, at least *I* do. Oh, and I bake cupcakes & cakes & bars & cookies & ... did I mention I'm obese? Well, I pretty much am. Anyways, I don't bake as a business because, honestly, I can't handle the pressure of having to be perfect. So it's more of a hobby, something I do for fun, for my kids birthdays and sometimes for family events.
I have, on occasion, done some baking as a favor to friends, who do pay me. But it's not a business venture I'm interested in pursuing. Because I have this annoying trait of expecting so much from myself and then beating myself up when I don't meet my own (usually unrealistic) expectations. I'm also working on that this year. But seriously - can you imagine screwing up the cupcakes ordered for a wedding? Or a fun birthday party? I'm not nearly talented enough at the decorating part to handle that kind of pressure ... I make tasty cakes, but they aren't always the prettiest ;)
Gaaaaawd, now I'm using emoji's in my blog. I'm such a cliche! And I'm totally off topic!!
Wait, what was my topic?? Right. The blog.
So what, exactly, do I hope to accomplish with this blog? In all honesty - I don't know! I think I'd like to foster a community of other "good enough" type people. Where we can share our life failures and our successes - where I can share crazy crap that happens in my world - and you can share yours. Deal? Deal! (Totally stole that from my BFF - shout out to Ang!).
Most of you know me already. You know I'm crazy, my husband is crazy, and, well, crazy breeds crazy 'cuz now we have 3 crazy kiddos. Crazy in the best possible - and least dangerous - sense of the word. We're loud. So loud. So fucking loud. My kids' laughs are always the loudest. And kind of obnoxious. But I love them so much. Currently, the children are 9 (boy), 7 (girl) and 4 (boy). There will be no more. Three is enough! We're busy in the sense that we are always doing our best to keep the kids alive - and it turns out, that's actually harder than you'd think it would be. I joke. Kind of. We're not busy (yet) with activities and playdates and all those things. I'll maybe go into more detail, but for the most part, the oldest child isn't in to doing much of that, the middle child would do everything under the sun if our budget allowed, and the youngest is not in school yet, so he doesn't have any friends anyways. For now, I'm enjoying the current level of busy that we're experiencing, because I know it's going to get so much worse as they get older. They are the loves of my life, even though they make me crazy. I've never know something to be so exasperating, frustrating, amazing, incredible, terrifying, overwhelming, terrible and wonderful all at once - until I became a parent. That old roller coaster cliche from the moving "Parenthood" is so freaking true.
Things I love: my children...my husband...hoodies...jeans...hiking boots...nature...COFFEE!! (elixir of the Gods, aka: the thing that keeps me from killing people!)...diet soda (don't judge!)...music...ellipses...the Oxford comma...chocolate...reading...crafting (didn't say I was good at it, though)...Halloween...friends...my family...movies...beer...rum...wine...Southern Comfort...Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey Whiskey...America...my grandparents...my aunts & uncles & cousins...being an aunt...this list is not in any order of specific preference of things I love - if it were, coffee would be at the top :) ... I love a lot of things. I don't hate much - mostly ignorance and stupidity (both of which I also display occasionally!). I hate snot. It's the one bodily fluid that I can't handle. I can deal with puke (it's gross, but I can deal with it). I can deal with pee and poop. But my daughter has a nasty habit of getting the walrus look post-sneeze, and it makes me gag. I don't get it either, but ugh. Just thinking about it makes me queasy. I hate getting my eyes checked (I have a horrible and irrational eye phobia - not of eyes, but of something happening to my eyes - and I have a mini panic attack when they have to shoot the air puff into my eye - I cry and it takes like 4 or 5 attempts to get it done. Pretty sure my chart there reads "C-R-A-Z-Y" in big bold letters). I really, really hate cancer and Alzheimer's disease/dementia. Both of these things suck and take too many people away from us. I really, really hate that. I also hate spiders. With a passion. They should pretty much all die. Unless they eat mosquitoes, in which case they can hang around, outside, and hopefully not be those big ass furry spiders that live in places I will never, ever visit. And I also truly believe turkeys deserve to die, so PETA will probably protest this blog if it ever gets well-known.
I'm off-topic again. That will happen. Frequently.
I have no real mission with this. Just giving it a shot to see what happens. Thanks for visiting!
So, the title of my blog is "Crazy Cakes Tales from Awesomesauce Town." Why's that, you ask? Well...because my life is crazy, but also kind of awesome. A lot of the time. (And also because it's a little less offensive than "Holy Shitballs, Be Glad This Isn't Your Life!") And we use the phrases "Crazy Cakes" and "Awesomesauce" prolifically at our house. Well, at least *I* do. Oh, and I bake cupcakes & cakes & bars & cookies & ... did I mention I'm obese? Well, I pretty much am. Anyways, I don't bake as a business because, honestly, I can't handle the pressure of having to be perfect. So it's more of a hobby, something I do for fun, for my kids birthdays and sometimes for family events.
I have, on occasion, done some baking as a favor to friends, who do pay me. But it's not a business venture I'm interested in pursuing. Because I have this annoying trait of expecting so much from myself and then beating myself up when I don't meet my own (usually unrealistic) expectations. I'm also working on that this year. But seriously - can you imagine screwing up the cupcakes ordered for a wedding? Or a fun birthday party? I'm not nearly talented enough at the decorating part to handle that kind of pressure ... I make tasty cakes, but they aren't always the prettiest ;)
Gaaaaawd, now I'm using emoji's in my blog. I'm such a cliche! And I'm totally off topic!!
Wait, what was my topic?? Right. The blog.
So what, exactly, do I hope to accomplish with this blog? In all honesty - I don't know! I think I'd like to foster a community of other "good enough" type people. Where we can share our life failures and our successes - where I can share crazy crap that happens in my world - and you can share yours. Deal? Deal! (Totally stole that from my BFF - shout out to Ang!).
Most of you know me already. You know I'm crazy, my husband is crazy, and, well, crazy breeds crazy 'cuz now we have 3 crazy kiddos. Crazy in the best possible - and least dangerous - sense of the word. We're loud. So loud. So fucking loud. My kids' laughs are always the loudest. And kind of obnoxious. But I love them so much. Currently, the children are 9 (boy), 7 (girl) and 4 (boy). There will be no more. Three is enough! We're busy in the sense that we are always doing our best to keep the kids alive - and it turns out, that's actually harder than you'd think it would be. I joke. Kind of. We're not busy (yet) with activities and playdates and all those things. I'll maybe go into more detail, but for the most part, the oldest child isn't in to doing much of that, the middle child would do everything under the sun if our budget allowed, and the youngest is not in school yet, so he doesn't have any friends anyways. For now, I'm enjoying the current level of busy that we're experiencing, because I know it's going to get so much worse as they get older. They are the loves of my life, even though they make me crazy. I've never know something to be so exasperating, frustrating, amazing, incredible, terrifying, overwhelming, terrible and wonderful all at once - until I became a parent. That old roller coaster cliche from the moving "Parenthood" is so freaking true.
Things I love: my children...my husband...hoodies...jeans...hiking boots...nature...COFFEE!! (elixir of the Gods, aka: the thing that keeps me from killing people!)...diet soda (don't judge!)...music...ellipses...the Oxford comma...chocolate...reading...crafting (didn't say I was good at it, though)...Halloween...friends...my family...movies...beer...rum...wine...Southern Comfort...Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey Whiskey...America...my grandparents...my aunts & uncles & cousins...being an aunt...this list is not in any order of specific preference of things I love - if it were, coffee would be at the top :) ... I love a lot of things. I don't hate much - mostly ignorance and stupidity (both of which I also display occasionally!). I hate snot. It's the one bodily fluid that I can't handle. I can deal with puke (it's gross, but I can deal with it). I can deal with pee and poop. But my daughter has a nasty habit of getting the walrus look post-sneeze, and it makes me gag. I don't get it either, but ugh. Just thinking about it makes me queasy. I hate getting my eyes checked (I have a horrible and irrational eye phobia - not of eyes, but of something happening to my eyes - and I have a mini panic attack when they have to shoot the air puff into my eye - I cry and it takes like 4 or 5 attempts to get it done. Pretty sure my chart there reads "C-R-A-Z-Y" in big bold letters). I really, really hate cancer and Alzheimer's disease/dementia. Both of these things suck and take too many people away from us. I really, really hate that. I also hate spiders. With a passion. They should pretty much all die. Unless they eat mosquitoes, in which case they can hang around, outside, and hopefully not be those big ass furry spiders that live in places I will never, ever visit. And I also truly believe turkeys deserve to die, so PETA will probably protest this blog if it ever gets well-known.
I'm off-topic again. That will happen. Frequently.
I have no real mission with this. Just giving it a shot to see what happens. Thanks for visiting!
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