funny girl

Today, we get a fun little factoid feature a la Courtney Nicole.

Recently, while reading other blogs (http://notkathy.blogspot.com/ and http://recentlyroached.blogspot.com/), I thought to myself, GOOD LORD IN HEAVEN. These women are funny! And not just lady-funny, but actually funny in a sorta-vulgar-no-boundaries-TMI kind of way! And they still love Jesus!

This sent me on a very strange, very unnecessary inner-self rampage. Why am I not funny? How come they get to be moms and employees and crafty-crafters and DIYers and still have sex with their husbands AND still be funny?! This isn't fair!! I want to be funny, too!!

Spoiler alert: Sometimes I'm whiny, but rarely am I funny on purpose. I just can't do it all.

Take, for instance, two of my favorite people in the world: the bestie and the boyfriend. Bestie thinks I'm funny all. the. time. No really. I'm pretty sure she'd carry me around in her pocket and let me narrate her life, if I was both pocket-sized and carrying the lungs of James Earl Jones. Alas, I have neither of those things.

We've known each other since we were 4, and often like to joke that we were separated at birth. We also secretly believe it, since I once had a student tell me that I'm left handed because I ate my embryonic twin while I was still in the womb.... Anyway. When great things happen to the best friend, I'm all, "Yay! Good for you! You are so beautiful! Life is rainbows!!!" accompanied by a million emoticons and a snapchat of my smiling face. She loves it, I'm sure. But when she has a bad day, I'm the first one to recant whatever crazy thing happened in my life (usually starting with the sentence, "so this shit just happened...."), or a very fitting picture for whatever less-than-appealing situation she has just been in. Usually something along these lines:

Stop judging. We like owls and they make us happy. Moral of the story is that she thinks I'm a hoot. (See what I did there?) When I someday kick the bucket or escape from the nursing home or find myself in a 100+ year-old somewhat-vegetative state of dementia, she is going to look back fondly on us as the funniest ladies aliiiiiive. It's the general foundation of our friendship. It cannot be helped. Perception is reality (and all that stuff), so it doesn't matter if we are the only two people who think we're funny.

 

Which may very well be the case.

 

Her husband and Chris have been friends for years. In fact, while I was off galavanting with her through the hallways of Pre-K, her future husband and my future boyfriend were probably together setting off firecrackers in mailboxes or something.

We all go way back, or whatever the kids call it these days. I even circled boyfriend's "Have a good summer... Stay Cool..." message in my yearbook in 6th grade, and then covered it in ever-so-classy hearts. He had absolutely no idea who I was back then. He was a sexy quarterback and I was the secretary of student council. But that's right folks - I batted my eyelashes, flipped my hair, and *boom* fifteen years later, he is MINE. Dorks unite. There is hope.
 

So why, after all the years of crazy (and I mean LOONEY TOON) exes and horrible first dates and even worse second dates, did best friend and her husband never freaking introduce us?!

The most logical theory: best friend thinks I'm funny. Boyfriend does not.

If you were to ask dear, sweet boyfriend if I am funny, he would probably laugh, give you the crazy eyes, and do a swift, sassy-lady "oh heeeeeeeeyll nah" hand gesture. Boyfriend.does.NOT.think.I.am.funny. (It's okay, pick your jaws up off the floor.) I'm not sure that I've ever made even one joke that he has genuinely laughed at. I usually get a cute, "d'awwww" face, followed by a sweet pat on the head. I feel like Cindy Lou Who when the Grinch sends her off to bed with her cup.

What's even better: when I accidentally say or do something that isn't even meant to be funny, he will sprint across the room at lightning speeds to high five me because he thinks I've finally moved up to what he calls a "Level II" comedic line.

I haven't.

But I got to thinking. No matter how funny I think other bloggers are (and trust me, I get the giggle fits), boyfriend makes me feel certain that their husbands probably do not think they are funny. They probably find blogging weird. And they probably give sympathy laughs at their wive's jokes because they know if they don't, they will have to fake an apology after three awkward days of icy silent treatment. Boyfriend is super "lucky" because I don't believe in the wasp-y silent treatment. (Yes, I made up the word waspy.) I let all that garbage out. Please refer to the earlier "WHY CAN'T I JUST BE FUNNY?!" rant.

It's okay though, because at the end of the day, boyfriend hugs me, tells me he loves me, and says "You are funny. Thanks for being my best friend." Even if he's lying through his teeth, he still wins.

I'm also fairly certain that just before he wifes me up, he will send best friend a thank you letter for NOT introducing us when we were young. God intervened when the time was right.

And I imagine she will probably respond with something along the lines of:

PS. Please trust that I am in the midst of a million step-adventures.  Even as I type this, one is sick, one is on a rebellious-10-year-old-parent-enforced house arrest, and both have taken to very literal slaps to the face when they get mad at each other. *beware the step-meltdown* I'll save that blog for a day that both my funny-girl ego and blood pressure are up to the challenge.

The Trust Language

Respect is a funny thing. We often don't realize how much we crave it until we aren't getting any. In the same way, we I often don't realize I'm being disrespectful until after the words have left my lips or the actions have been completed.

Have you ever read The Five Love Languages? If not, stop reading this. Go buy it now. Read it cover to cover.

I am Words of Affirmation, while Chris is a pretty equal combination of Acts of Service and Quality Time.  More than anything, I need Chris to tell me that he loves me - and he does, every single day. Even when he is angry with me, he makes sure to tell me that he still loves me no matter what.
He needs, on the other hand, for me to show him through acts and time. Lately, this means doing the dishes whenever I can help, picking up P from cheer practice, and helping him clean up the house. His bilingual love language is tricky for me, though - because I try to find ways to do these services while still ending my day with one-on-one time with him after the kids go to bed. I've recently failed at the latter. I spend so much time making sure I bond with the kiddos and help around the house, I neglect his need for quality time. Essentially, I need to do a better job at being a good parent and a good girlfriend. The two things are related, but require very different attention. The daddy in him needs me to speak in Acts of Service, but the man in him needs me to speak in Quality Time.

Why is this important? Because even though he and I are fantastic at speaking the other person's language to them for the purpose of showing love, I still tend to show respect in my own love language, rather than his...

Instead of showing him that I respect him through acts of service, I tend to verbally express my respect. For example... when I made the colossal mistake of invading the ever-sacred privacy of his phone (ladies: big no-no!!), I decided that telling him about it was the best way to show respect. In my mind, I was sure that being honest was the right thing to do - one respectful action cancels out a disrespectful action right? Wrong. Even our 4 year old knows that. And since Chris is an acts-of-service-kinda-guy, he would have preferred me to show respect by not looking in the phone in the first place.
[Side note: In hindsight, I agree. I trust him completely and there is nothing in his phone or Internet history or school record or grocery list or any other crazy thing that my nosey little eyes need to be a part of!]

I am now working my way through learning to respect in different languages - especially if it saves us an argument and the back-pedaling-hogwash of asking for an apology rather than permission. Our different languages were very apparent - and at the same time, completely irrelevant - to me after the apologies had been shared and I sent him this cutesy-ooey-gooey picture:

His response:

"love is trust."

 

Brain, I beg you: Please etch this in stone somewhere and repeat it daily. Perhaps love languages don't always take precedent. Maybe respect doesn't necessarily have a language. Or maybe Chris said something even truer than true - if love is trust, then the languages we speak to each other are trust languages. The only reason you even learn the other person's language in the first place is because you love them enough to be faithful, respect them enough to make an effort, and because you trust that they will do the same. Your love language is the very core of your trust in the other person.

 

 

Love is trust.

love is trust.

l o v e. is .t r u s t

 

What in the blue blazes is a Boohbah?

“How hard is it to keep your cool?”
Pretty hard sometimes. I find that small children have given me a snapping threshold that would make Gordon Ramsay say “Whoa, cool it lady.” Inanimate objects seem to be the main focus of my wrath because they won’t be taken away from me if I really start spitting cherries (best. phrase. ever.) Instead, I find myself hulking the tabs off the effing nappy because they won’t peel up, drop kicking a basket of socks across the room because I can’t find a pair that matches or swearing that if I ever find the murther furking jackhole that put 14 previews on every kid DVD, I will chant “Kali Ma” as I plunge my bare fist into their chest and pull out their still-beating heart. Breeeeeeeathe.

“I would never let my kids become my whole life.”
I used to go over to my “previously cool” friend’s place and think how sad it was that her house was overrun with sippy cups, Polly Pocket shoes and Dora the Explorer crap. Now I lay in my hippy bed reading Goodnight Moon until my right eye twitches and they fall asleep. Then I look at their perfect, little faces and wonder how I ever lived without them.

 

--Excerpt from "When I Have Kids, I Will Never..." by Amy Morrison

http://www.ivillage.com.au/when-i-have-kids-i-will-never/

 

 

Okay. I had to include these excerpts for two reasons.

1. N has a bookcase built in to his bed; there are loads of beautiful little boy books for beautiful sweet little boys, and I love getting to relive my childhood while I read him those stories. But for whatever reason, after we finish Goldilocks or Jungle Junction or Dr. Seuss, he insists that I read him the Boobah book. I have no idea what a Boobah is or why they are made to be so absolutely horrifying, but I read N the Boobah book every single night before bed. Every. Single. Night. Apparently they have squeaky voices, and I freaking refuse politely object to making them. The Cat in the Hat, the three bears, Toadhog in the Jungle - they all get fun voices. But the Boobahs and the loony-toon who created them can bite me.
                      
                [Seriously... What IS this? The longer you look, the scarier it gets.]
 
2. More importantly, even as I typed that, I knew it was a lie - the Boohbahs occasionally get a fun voice because N loves it and I suddenly become some kind of crazy bedtime guru that cures all fears of the dark and "I want another drink of water!" meltdowns. Ever since I started the Boohbah book before bed, it's been an amazing bonding experience, I love him a little more each night, and he finds it hilarious that he gets the "snug as a bug in a rug" chime from me after every story time.

 

Fun bonus: by reading the Boohbah garbage and avoiding the Kali Ma-jackhole-heart-plunge-I-don't-wanna-go-to-sleep disaster, I give Daddy and me an extra hour of "adult time." Mind you, I use the term loosely. Last night after the kids went to sleep, we watched Far and Away, practiced our Irish accents, and viciously tickled each other for twenty minutes. 

 

The Boohbahs are getting to us.

 



Making Memories

I knew that dating a man with kids would change nearly every aspect of my life. But I had no idea it would change my entire support system.

Of course, my family and I are as close as ever. My wonderful mother, aunts, and stepmom have all taken interest in my new role as a step-whatsit. They offer calming advice, personal experience, and an unending supply of "It's okay, this is normal" when I admit that I have no idea what I'm doing. My mom, in particular, has jumped right in with me, assuring me that not only am I a positive influence in their lives, but also affirming my decision to be their other mom.

[Just a few of my amazing family members.]

A few years ago, one of my best friends began having children. The almost 2- and 4-year-olds now lovingly call me Aunt Corky, and I get to spend a lot of quality time with them (especially since N is so close in age). However, it wasn't always so easy to spend time together. Not long after they were born, their mom hinted that, once you become a mom, your support system changes. It is suddenly easier to spend your free time with other parents, rather than non-parents. I didn't understand this - and was slightly offended by it - until now.

I used to go out - a lot. It was rarely wild and crazy, but it was still out on the town, dressing up, new friends, and a girl's night out every weekend. Since Chris and I met about 10 months ago, I can count on one hand the number of times I've gone out. And even fewer were those instances as fun as they used to be. Once I became a step-whatsit, it suddenly became wildly uncomfortable for me to be galavanting around town, Even though I still loved - and needed! - time with my girlfriends, it was suddenly more important for me to be setting a good example for our children. This meant I was suddenly wondering if my girlfriends would be interested in a night in watching animated movies and sipping Capri Sun, rather than dressing to the nines and showing off our stems to people we didn't know.

While I'm trying to help save up for back-to-school shopping and a $500 Youth Cheerleading extravaganza, my other girlfriends are having dinner dates, weekend vacations out of state, attending concerts, and racking up bar tabs that I haven't seen in almost a year. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THIS. Admittedly, I even sometimes envy their ability to do so. My only point is that I suddenly realize what Lindsay hinted at nearly 5 years ago. Being a parent changes your support system. Remaining friends with non-parents once you become a parent takes effort. It takes time. And it takes priority juggling. Being a step-parent adds a little extra "oomph" to the scenario, especially when friends don't understand why I can't just spend a night away from the kids that "aren't really mine."

To that, I say this: I could.

But if I'd gone out on Thirsty Thursday, I would have missed P getting her very first cheer uniform at practice, and celebrating with a dance party in the garage with her dad. If I'd gone to a concert on Saturday, I would have missed N asking his daddy, "When will you get married? Because if you got married, then we'd all have a mom around all the time, and Courtney wouldn't have to go home at night because she'd already BE home. So when can we do that?"

[P's first cheer camp]

 

Friendships are not static. They change, the dynamics change, the logistics change, the circumstances change. I still love my girlfriends just as much as I always have. I miss them more and more each day, and there are days when I JUST want to sit and have a margarita with them and feel a little bit of nostalgic "normalcy." But I now understand why my parent-friends seemed to disappear for awhile when they became parents. Your heart is suddenly SO filled with love, you just don't know how to carry it around town without spilling ooey gooey feelings all over everyone.

 [My flower from N: "This will be better than any present Daddy gives you, I promise!"]

 



To be perfectly honest, with the kids heading toward pre-k and 5th grade (and puberty and slumber parties and escalated temper tantrums and Ew, don't hug me, my friends are looking!), I want to hang on to this overflowing ooey-gooey--ness for as long as my hands can stay on them.
So friends, please please excuse my absences. I'm busy making memories.

 

 

Tuesday Trading: Parents vs Non-Parents

Okay folks. I read through John Kinnear's article "5 Things Parents Need To Stop Saying To Non-Parents" (below) first thing this morning, and I had to share.

For one, about a year ago, I was definitely #1 - sharing stories about my dog to help relate to my parent-friends. Thankfully, most of my parent friends were once pet-obsessed singles, and my stories often wafted into open, inviting ears. As someone who once slept on a couch pallet on the floor for two weeks while my chihuahua was recovering from a sprained back, injections, and arthritis, I feel that I have at least earned a spot in the "Oh the THINGS we do for our BABIES!!!" conversation.

Secondly, one area of the list made me giggle, cringe, tear up, and shake a proverbial fist at my screen. #3 tends to resonate with me as a step-whatsit in a very direct manner. It was already insulting [and very, very annoying] when people would tell me "don't worry, you'll understand when you have kids someday." My immediate horrible, judgmental response (in my head, of course, never aloud...) was, "I won't worry! I'm sorry that I want to go to college, date, and then get married and settled into a career before I start popping out babies when I'm not even old enough to legally drink!" Of course, that was part immaturity and part defense mechanism; and only about 5% of the time did I actually believe what I was saying. Shame on me!

In any case, as a step-whatsit, I find that to be the most insulting comment of all. True, maybe some day when I birth babies I will understand what it's like..... to birth babies. But to tell me that I'll know what tired/stress/financial/emotional/parenting pains are when I have my own children - well, to this I say, kiss my grits. Perhaps I didn't grow our kids in the womb, but they certainly grew in my heart. And just because we will never share DNA, does not mean that I am not a parent.

I don't share DNA with my dog either, but that doesn't stop me from being his mom.

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5 Things Parents Need to Stop Saying to Non-Parents     

John Kinnear

Author of AskYourDadBlog.com

First, I should say that I am 100 percent guilty of all of these. I know this reads as an advice list, but really it's advice I'm giving myself. The "you" I am addressing in this piece is me... unless it applies to you; then it is you.

I ran headfirst into this parenting thing, and have gladly and gratefully let it redefine me as a person. One unforeseen side-effect has been that I view everything through the lens of parenting. Sometimes that is a good thing. For instance, I don't leave steak knives lying around as much as I used to. Sometimes -- and this is what I've recently learned -- it can alienate my non-kid-having friends. Here are some things that are better left unsaid.

1. "Dogs are not kids."
It usually goes like this. "Ugh. You know what really bugs me? When so-and-so compares her dog to my kid. Or when so-and-so refers to his or her dog as his or her kid. Dogs are not kids! She has NO IDEA!"

You know what? Unless "so-and-so" needs professional help, I guarantee "so-and-so" knows that her dog is not a human child. She also knows that having a dog is nothing like having a kid. What she's really saying is "Oh! Yes. I also have something in my life that poops AND brings me joy."
She is trying to relate to you and be a part of your life -- the life where all you do is talk about your kids. I know that it's hard to relate when you have kids and your friends don't. What were once close relationships can become sporadic meet-ups where you do your best to try and catch up with someone with whom you have very little in common anymore. Sure, you two were best buds in college, but now you have very different lives. So, when "so-and-so" offhandedly, and perhaps awkwardly, tries to relate to your story about picking poo out of your bangs by comparing it to scraping dog shit out of the carpet, cut her some slack. She's just trying to be nice. And she misses you.

2. "You think you're [insert anything here]? Try having kids!"
Tired, stressed, in pain, covered in urine, it doesn't matter. They all apply. Too often, we parents downplay non-parents' concerns by pulling ours out and tossing them on the table. "Oh man! You worked 50 hours this week? Try doing that with kids!" "Oh man, you think your feet hurt from working outside all day! I've been chasing my toddler blah blah blah punch me in the face, please."
It's not a competition. If, on a scale of 1 to Passing Out Awkwardly in the Shower and Waking Up When the Hot Water Runs Out, your friend is at a 7, and three weeks into your first newborn you were at a 9, that DOESN'T MAKE YOUR FRIEND ANY LESS TIRED.
It isn't that your experiences can't be a valid contribution to the conversation, but instead of a "my pain is more painful than your pain" approach, instead, try sympathizing. Why not try using your experience as a new parent to help instead of compete? Say something like, "Whoa! I bet you're tired. When I was tired after my daughter was born, I found that pouring coffee directly into my eyeballs was incredibly useful."

3. "Don't worry, when you have kids you'll..."
... not be grossed out by boogers, know who Dora the Explorer is, be happy... UGH. We've got to quit assuming that everyone is going to have kids. Some people don't want kids and choose not to have them. Some people really want kids and are trying incredibly hard to have them. Indicating to these people that having kids is the only way they will reach some higher level of understanding is both inconsiderate and rude. I don't know what the alternatives to these statements are. Maybe just cut anything that starts with "When you have kids..." out of your repertoire all together. It makes you sound like someone's mom, anyway.

4. "Is the party kid-friendly?"
Unless you and your friend have some previous communication on this topic about how your little one is always welcome, assume the party is not kid-friendly. Don't ask. If it were "kid-friendly" they would have invited you AND your kids, and mentioned the awesome playroom that they will have set up in the basement. By asking your non-kid-having friends if their party is kid friendly you are putting them in the really awkward position of either MAKING their party kid-friendly on the fly, or telling you that the party is NOT kid-friendly which, then, no matter how low-key the party was intended to be in the first place, pretty much requires that they now provide a steady supply of hookers and blow. Don't make your friends set up a kids' room, and definitely don't make them buy hookers and blow.

5. "My life didn't have meaning before I had kids!"
Another way to say this: My life was meaningless before I had kids. Another way: Life without kids is meaningless.
Look, I know this feeling. Sometimes it feels like all the worries I had before my kids were trivial. I understand the urge to convey that feeling into words. Don't do it. Your life may have a different purpose now, but your pre-kid life was an important part of your story, and your non-kid-having friends are a part of that. Don't dismiss that part of your life the way most people skip the foreword to a novel they really want to read. By dismissing the "before" as just a buildup to your kids, you are not only dismissing your friends, but you're also implying that their story has not started yet.
Lastly, if you have done or said any of these things, you don't need to apologize. Just stop saying them. Apologizing will make it worse. I apologized for one of these things, and it came out poorly. It basically sounded like "Oh, you poor, delicate, non-kid-having flower. I am sorry that I was so consumed in my awesome parenting that I was neglectful and dismissive of our friendship. Please forgive me."
There was no forgiveness needed. I hadn't harmed anyone, I'd just annoyed them. Forgiving me would have been like forgiving a fly for landing on you. So, I promise to try and be more aware of how I say things, a better friend and less of a fly. And by less of a fly, I mean that I will not land on you, vomit on you and then try to eat you. College is over. I don't do that stuff anymore.
 
An earlier version of this piece appeared on John Kinnear's personal blog, Ask Your Dad. You can also find him on Facebook.
Follow John Kinnear on Twitter: www.twitter.com/AskDadBlog

Jamaica-Me-Crazy

The last month has been a lot of fun, a little trying, and a whole giant pile of CRAZY.

Chris and I spent 7 days in . b e a u t i f u l . Jamaica, where - if possible - I fell even further in love with him. We traveled there for a wedding/vacation combination with a few of our closest friends, and I dare say we spent more time "honeymooning" than the bride and groom. NO, not that kind of honeymooning. The gross lovey-dovey "let's hold hands and walk on the beach and lay in a hammock and snorkel and spend an entire day in bed with the windows open so we can hear the ocean" honeymooning. It was fantastic. And not once did I get tired of his sweet, sweet face.

Since returning home, we've had his babies kiddos for almost 3 full weeks :) I will be the first to admit that I was not ready to leave the happy bubble of the islands, but I sure did miss those goobers! This is the most time I've been able to spend with them day in and day out, and I'm happy to report that I've only had one crushing YoureNotMyMom-style comment. However, it was the first one I'd ever received, so don't be shocked when I say there were tears on my end. On the bright side, it has lead to something that may have been lacking before: trust. For the first time, I think our oldest child has realized that if I am forced to tell her what to do, it's not because I'm a mean ol' step-whatsit; but it's because I love her. This is probably one of those daunting, annoying, necessary evils for a 10 year old girl. I know that when I was ten, I wasn't much into affection, love, or kind words from anyone except cute boys and my mom. Imagine my joy and surprise when, post argument, I got my first ten year old hug, my first ten year old kiss on the cheek, and my first ten year old, "Can't you just live with us? We miss you when you're gone at night" moments. They were pretty special, to say the least.

Step-parenting (co-parenting? girlfriend-parenting? Have we decided on a term for this yet?) is hard. It's a little touch and go. It's a lot of trial and error. But I say again, it is the most rewarding thing I have yet to experience. I will never be able to fully appreciate all of the hard work Chris has done in raising these little firecrackers, and I don't think I will ever be able to thank him enough for it. But I have been reading "The Five Love Languages," and I plan to speak his language every chance I get.

This weekend we are supposed to be taking our first family trip to my family's lake house, 3 hours away, with limited video game capabilities, no cable, and 20 crazy strangers (I love my family more than you will ever know - but trust me, we are insane). I'm both terrified and immensley looking forward to some amazing memories.

And fireworks, for our little firecrackers.

 

 

 

 

wait, i'm a step-what?

Do I have any blogger step-parents (or soon-to-be steps) hanging around here?

My boyfriend has two little sweet peas, 4 and 10 (N and P), and I am never sure what to call them during conversations with other people. Referring to them as "my boyfriend's kids" sort of swallows up any role that I play in in their lives (and, though I may be biased, I think that role is pretty pivotal). But they aren't my step-kids yet, so I feel a little strange referring to them as such. Does anyone else have this argument with themselves?

Am I sort of like their step-friend?

Not that the title really matters. What matters is that I have a 4 year old boy who tells me every day how much he loves me (awwww!), and a 10 year old girl who just told me last weekend, "Sometimes, when I'm not with my mom and when you're here with my dad, I kind of like to think that you're my mom, too. Is that weird?" After hearing that from a little girl who believes (as every little girl should) that her mom hangs the moon, my heart never felt so happy and fulfilled.

It is certainly wonderful to have these two little blessings in my life as often as I do. You hear so many stories of step-parents (or... step-girlfriends or step-somethings or whatever we are) who want to send "the little brats" off to boarding school, or treat them differently from the rest of their children, like red headed step children. I just cannot fathom it. I couldn't love his little sillies any more if they were my very own.

This step-something thing is rather confusing and really, really hard - especially for someone who has spent very little time around children. But it is already the most rewarding job I've ever had. Who knew I'd enjoy Spongebob marathons, spending 60 minutes a night drawing pictures of stick figures, watching Disney channel shows, and writing Christmas lists in April? It's all pretty heart-warming.

........and I just received a text message from their daddy. P just asked him if he's going to marry me.

Adventures in step-something to be continued.