Living in a Sitcom

Do you ever feel you are living in a sitcom or reality show? I sure do. In fact, I wait for the cameras to pop out at any moment, or the makeup assistants to powder my nose 🙂 The craziness that is my life seems to be much wilder than any of the 8,356,241 reality shows currently on the schedules. Let’s see, I am going thru a slightly messy divorce, have 2 teenage boys and live with my boyfriend who is also going thru a messy divorce and has 2 teens THE EXACT SAME ARE AS MINE. So four teenagers between us. Among my friends I have a friend who is president of the PTA & sells sex toys for a living, a pole dancing instructor, one who just married a drag queen, and 5 girlfriends going thru messy divorces. Including one living with her ex while divorcing, and another who’s ex dropped dead before she could file! BUT we have some amazing women, Cancer survivors, ones battling debilitating illnesses, single mom’s raising their kids without a cent from the father’s that sired their kids. We have laughter, tears, unreal situations that if you weren’t there, you probably wouldn’t believe they happened.

Do we pull each other’s extensions out like the Real Housewives of NJ? No, who can afford extensions! Do we throw drinks at each other like the NY Housewives? HELL NO, that is alcohol abuse! $100 lunches and dinners aren’t our speed, but we do go for pho, and out to crack crabs and throw back some beer Bawlmer style.

Hey, with all the craziness that goes on in my world, it would make for great amusement. It definitely keeps me laughing 🙂


Hijacking others’ Family Events, and other tales of Classless Women

    An open letter to all of the scorn birds out there…

    Ok, no one in this world is ever perfect. I am certainly one of those people. Never have pretended to be perfect, although I certainly have strived to be. But I digress… Being an ahem… 40 something women going thru a divorce, I have made some stumbles getting to some new found happiness. I admit it. But heed my warning, don’t ever call someone out, unless you want YOUR dirty laundry aired. I have been a lady up until now (unlike some people I was raised with manners and class), the gloves are about to come off 🙂

    Now, let’s get back to the title of t How would you like to be put in this position? Probably would be horrified, right? Well I got the honor and privilege, TWICE. This C U NEXT TUESDAY with barely a high school education had the ugly hairy teeth to do this first at my family function, and next at my boyfriend’s. How? She is my boyfriend’s EX. Now, to show you how I took the high road, I did not go to MY family function (my first cousins bar mitzvah), just so there would be no confrontation, both of us being there wouldn’t detract from the true occasion, and I honestly was SO OVER her public displays of bad behavior. I took the high road. This was not a distant relative, it was one I had a good relationship with. She knew her for a decade. She proceeded to say things to my family, in front of my kids. Stay classy!!

    Now this week really sent me over the edge. She gets invited to my BF’s sisters wedding out of courtesy. I wasn’t backing down. Sorry, not doing it.

    So the night went like this. Prior to leaving, her daughter has a full on meltdown because 1) her jewelry was all tangled beyond belief, and 2) she was desperately trying to quickly polish her nails. Epic fail. To a 16yr old, that can be a full on disaster if time is tight. I stopped her from breaking down, re polished her nails (with a full gel mani in 15 mins may add), and untangled the necklaces. Did I get a Thanks? No. I get thanked by Ms Unmannered by her badmouthing me all over this intimate wedding. While her DATE watched.

    I’ve kept my mouth shut, and kept away from my blog long enough (she and her trolls were blog stalking–yes ladies (and I use that term very loosely) I know you read and Google stalk me. Kindly go screw yourselves). I’m done with playing a doormat.

    I’m NOT sorry. Not a bit. Did I get her husband, yes. Am I sorry, No. Their marriage had been over as she had admitted in letters SHE WROTE TO HIM ASKING FOR FORGIVENESS 10 years earlier. Stupid, stupid woman sending them over here. So, the next time you tell someone I stole him from you, I am coming forward right now and telling EVERYONE are a big fat liar. YOU GAVE HIM AWAY BY BEING A MISERABLE BITCH FOR OVER 10 YEARS. Your marriage sucked, you were abusive to your spouse (you even physically attacked him, drawing blood–with witnesses in attendance to your outbursts). You even tried to have a relationship with MY EX when you thought it would serve your purpose. Don’t believe me, I have the texts, text logs, and emails to prove it. You are out witted here. I’m done, you will not play the victim anymore. The next time you badmouth me, I will start airing YOUR dirty laundry. You have been forwarned. And BTW…The gravy train is over, MD doesn’t like leeches.

Before you gossip about others, think about what they have on you. . .

To all the gossips, when you talk -ish about others, do you not have a moments worry that someone may open their mouth about you? To all those women scorned who think they have a lifetime of karma they can exercise, are you without any skeletons in your closet? And do you think they will NEVER come LOUDLY RATTLING out? NO ONE is perfect!! NO ONE! And others out there know your DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS you don’t want your friends or YOUR KIDS to know. Karma is one helluva bitch, and so are those you are incessantly talking s#*t about at all the wrong places. When your enemies know all your dirty little secrets, it is a dangerous game. One you may not want to continue playing. You had your fun, time to grow up, act your age, and move on. Just FYI, men find this behavior abhorrent. So if you ever want to be able to keep a man, cut this ratchety behavior out! No man wants to f_&k a vagina with teeth. And you my dear, are one giant walking vagina with teeth.

The Boys of Summer

Hats off to the Orioles.  For the first time since 1997, they took us to the playoffs.  Which is amazing alone, but with a team full of virtual “no names”, it is just short of miraculous.  I grew up watching the glory days of Orioles magic with my Dad and Pop-pop. So, seeing this magic return was well, magical.  Especially now that my boys are enjoying watching baseball.  Baltimore is a city rich in sports history.  We are the birthplace of Babe Ruth afterall.  So to see the excitement and magic return around the Orioles, reminded me of the fun I had watching games with my Grandfather who truly loved baseball.  Recently even ESPN even said that Baltimore has the best fans not only in the NFL, but also in MLB.  We have two great teams to be proud of, that play in two top-notch stadiums, and even the players from the two teams root for each other!! Now THAT is sports unity! 

Maybe our political leaders could learn something from this.  You don’t have to play for the same team, but you can still support one another 🙂

Cheese…how to smile for the camera and mean it. A commentary on…The Mom Stays in the Picture – The Huffington Post Reading this blog post, made at the beginning of October, which is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, really touched my heart. As a woman, we all have “ugly moments” and shy away from the camera. As mothers, we seem to feel like we have more. We are so highly critical of ourselves, we will make any excuse to not be on the other side of the lens. I come from several generations of these types of mothers. My beautiful grandmother, my Nana, who just passed away just shy of 91, avoided the camera like vampires do garlic. My late mother, another beautiful and amazing woman, struck down early in life by breast cancer, hated getting her picture taken and would turn away, or hold a hand up “paparazzi style”. But I didn’t start out camera shy… In my younger years I would gladly pose for pics. You don’t seem to care about bad pictures as a child. It wasn’t until I got older and realized some family members were good, and some bad, behind a lens, did I become somewhat self conscious. Then, the process of getting older begins, getting married and having babies enters into the picture. Pregnancy pics are enough to make you want to be a hermit. Enter into it complications, chronic illness, swelling, and boom! Do not take my picture!!! Then comes the postpartum baby weight pics…just harpoon me. I had a myriad of other health issues added in the mix, Multiple surgeries, longterm steroids, chemo drugs, biologics, all make you look horrendous. So I began my own hide behind the camera trick. Worked great. But I missed out on capturing many beautiful family moments with my special family. Then my Grandfather passes. Then my mother is diagnosed with cancer. I begin to see that hiding isn’t the answer. I start making small appearances out from behind the lens. Then my second son is born. My health takes a dive, my mother passes, and I am facing another photo hiatus. Four years later, several near death experiences later, I meet a fabulous photographer who talked me into an empowering photoshoot. She made me feel beautiful despite all the scars and imperfections. I started posing for pics with my family and children…all the time. This about face in body image played a huge role in my role to be able to cope with my mastectomy. Now, anytime anyone asks to take a picture, I gladly smile. And if it involves one of my boys, I smile even bigger 😀

The not so endless summer

When you are a kid, summer seems a world away during the school year.  Then once it arrives, the break can drag on if you don’t have fun activities awaiting you.  As an adult, a day is a day.  Summer just can present new logistical nightmares with the kids out of school, and crying boredom at every turn.  So, as parents, we madly scramble to fill up their days with camp and playdates. 

Now, if your family is anything like mine, there are wrinkles.  One child is more independent, money is a bit tight, etc…  But this year we had a whole new monkey wrench thrown in, injuries. Both boys had broken their arms.  Before you go calling DCS on me, it is much too boring to even bother.  Younger spawn broke his arm on Mother’s day skateboarding @ Dad’s house…without the pads we bought him.  He thankfully wore the helmet, but out of adult eyes, he decided his thrice broken hand did not need a wrist guard.  Silly parents for buying them!  Now the older Boy’s arm happened at the hand of the younger spawn.  Or shall I say the CAST of his brother.  In a small scuffle, younger brother goes to hit his older brother with the CAST, and big Bro blocks with his left.  Well…the block ended up costing him in the form of a broken arm.  A broken ulna to be exact.  So, when #2 son goes to get his 1/2 arm cast off & brace on, #1 son gets a full arm cast put on.

So I bet you are wondering, what does this have to do with camp.  Most sleepaway camps are heavily loaded with sports related activities.  Which under regular conditions would be great, but for two broken kids, in various states of recovery, not so great.  The counselors are young, told to get everyone participating, and the kids are forced to do the activities even if they don’t want to…and my kids would want to, but couldn’t.  So therein lies the problem.  I had to find a sleepaway camp not heavily sportsloaded.

In the end, I did.  Habanim Dror Camp Moshava.  The boys went for a full four weeks and loved it.  And that says a lot considering it was their first sleepaway camp experience other than a one week Boy Scout camp.  They are full of camp stories, talking to camp friends, and already are looking forward to next summer!

Now the school year is upon us, and the craziness sets in of a Double transition: Up to Middle school, and up to high school.  A lot of change has gone on in our household this year, and I think this will probably be the one that will take the most time to adjust to.  Not that separation, death, new relationships, aren’t difficult, but greater responsibilities will impact the kids a bit harder this fall.  They are great kids though, and as a team, we will sail thru this transition. 

How One kid came to break the other, and more associated craziness…

On Mother’s day, I was given the gift every mother wants from her son, a broken arm.  Not my own, his and the subsequent ER visit on Mother’s day.  Thank God our pediatrician is a rockstar and chief of pediatrics at the hospital.  Hell, I’m no fool, I  called him on the way and plead for mercy!  He fast tracked us, and since calamity kid is a frequent flyer, we got the VIP treatment.  That’s how we roll. ha!  So calamity kiddo ends up with a broken right arm, and subsequent cast after a visit to the pediatrics sports medicine office.  Or should I say, machine.  That place cranks out 200+ plus kids and athletes a day.  Some doing the same boneheaded things all kids do.  He ends up in a baby blue hard cast.  Do you see where I’m going with this??  The parting words from Ray, their “Master Caster” were, “keep it dry, don’t stick anything in it, and don’t use it as a weapon.”. Those words went in and out quickly.  That night he was already whacking things with the cast.  Oy.

Fast forward two weeks.  Older son tells me, calamity kid whacked him with the cast and now he has a lump on the bone.  But he says it is OK.  Three days later, calamity kid apparently does it again and my older son says it is in same spot.  Sooo, I call orthopedist office to piggyback another appt onto calamity kid’s since he was getting his cast off in 3 days. 

We check in at the doctors, and the receptionist was skeptical.  “I’ve never heard of that happening, but OK.” never doubt a mother’s intuition, especially mine.  I could be a psychic.  The rest is like a Seinfeld episode.  It was backed up in X-ray, so a half hour wait ensues.   They take my older son back first, then second child.  The nurse comes out and tells me “it IS broken!”  I wasn’t surprised, but a bit horrified to be honest.  Right then she calls out to another tech “you will have to wait, I need to put the brothers in the casting room.  Yeah, one broke the other’s arm with a cast.  Isn’t that crazy!”. I wanted to crawl in a hole.  So we meet with the doctor.  She went over the findings, and said she’d never had this ever happen before.  Welcome to my insanity! 

So, after one gets a brand new full arm cast, and the other gets a brace, we go to checkout.  The receptionist, sees the new cast and exclaims “OMG it IS broken!” And proceeds to say one broke the other’s with his cast.  At that moment, every head whips around in the waiting room, audibly (along with corresponding gasps and giggles), and I waited for the comedy soundtrack “wha wha wha …”.  To quote Sally Brooks, “it is just a day in the life of a Suburban Housewife, word to your mother-fing mother.” Seriously.  Now where is my Mother’s Cure and make it a double.

Previous Older Entries