Author Archives: Steph

About Steph

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I like words. I suspect I would like sanity, but I really have no way of knowing. I can be reasonable, but not often.

People of Walmart Fight Back

Today has been overly eventful. I feel like a fretful child who has just come from a birthday party (with clowns) where she ate too much cake and is now crying because she is tired and sticky and has to bathe.

Except I didn’t go to a party, I’m not a child, and I’m not planning on bathing.

My day started with a two hour drive to see an allergist who actually knows her ass from a hole in the ground. It was refreshing. The actual allergy testing, not so much.

And I did this voluntarily. I told you I was crazy.

Believe it or not, I actually have a normal-sized arm. Pictures can be deceiving.

I was early for my appointment because I underestimated how awesome I am at directions, so I ended up with some free time to explore the town. I deduced that the citizens of this place would be fancier and in better shape than my unkempt self, basing this solely on the ungodly amount of gyms and hair, nail, and tanning salons.

This would later prove to be an utterly false assumption.

I’m sure you’ve all seen People of Walmart. If not, you better go take a peek. I’ll wait.

walmart

And you thought I was weird.

Anyway, I was super tired by the time I got to the store. I gathered up my few purchases after searching all over that motherfucker for mothballs just like I do every single time (they are by the ironing boards, just like always), and went to the checkout.

I chose Express Checkout 20 Items or Less based on the cashier. Not too old, not too young. The old ones are slow and follow every single rule. I don’t have time for that price check bullshit. I’ll give you a dollar for it. The really young ones are the same way. What you want is a checker who has been there long enough that the brainwashing has worn off, or one who just loves people so much that they will do anything in their power to make your shopping experience end well.

There was a group of three shoppers in front of me; Dad in an electric cart, and a grown man and woman who in my mind became brother and sister, but in reality I have no idea.  Anyway. I knew we were all fucked when my perfect cashier up and left. The young man who replaced her was one of those guys who you know just loved telling people, “I’m sorry. It’s store policy.” while staring at you blankly even though you have a binder and obviously know how to fucking coupon, dude!

The lady in front of me didn’t like it either. He was screwing up her coupons, the line was getting all long and shit, and her face was getting red and blotchy.  Next thing, Checker-Guy walks off with a coupon, presumably to verify something, but I think he was just gassy.

At this point, my legs were killing me. My cart happened to be next to the empty checkout which, had it held another cashier, could have saved us all some grief, Walmart. So I took a seat on the bagging carousel and opened my Coke. The cashier finally returned and never said a word about the delay. Let me remind you that we were in the Express Lane. He finally gets all the lady’s coupons in and…she thinks he messed up. She requires a printout and then verifies each and every coupon, I assume for each of her 20 items BECAUSE THE SIGN CLEARLY SAID 20 ITEMS OR LESS. She was obviously very flustered and I felt for her, I really did. It wasn’t her fault she was trying to save money and her dad is disabled and her brother wears funny pants. Goddamn it, life.

She goes to pay (finally) and drops her debit card. Of course, since this is a fucking comedy of errors, it falls between the motorized cart and the counter. She can’t reach it and Dad seems oblivious, or maybe he just wasn’t moving fast enough for her. Next thing I know, she grabs the basket of the motorized cart with both hands and shoves it backwards, Dad and all, directly into my shopping cart, which slams into me, knocking me off my perch in the bagging area and into the wall of the checkout behind me. All this happened so fast, I didn’t even have time to curse. It was like a row of dominoes, and I was the last one.

Or get your ass kicked; either way.

Or get your ass kicked; either way.

Doesn’t-Give-A-Shit-Cashier didn’t even look at me. Violent Coupon Lady paid for her stuff and stomped away.  Silly-Pants Brother laughed at me (I laughed back) and asked if I was okay, and Dad In the Cart said “Whoa. This thing has reverse?”

I was over my limit on interacting with people before I even went in the store.  Then I got assaulted. With a shopping cart. Today I have been poked, scratched, told my nose is crooked and has a crease in it and that I have dark circles under my eyes, was covered in itch dots, had blood drawn, talked to 11 strangers, and been knocked ass over teakettle in a grocery store.

fort


Because Good Decisions Are My Specialty

Well, the new perspective lasted for about two days.  Friday I was feeling especially useless, so of course I got into some things I shouldn’t have, and now I feel like microwaved death.

Things I Accomplished on Friday, otherwise known as Didn’t I Used to be Smarter Than This?

  • Drank 3 cups of coffee and topped it off with an extra-strength 5-hour energy drink.  I was shaking so badly that when my neighbor came over, she used an app on her phone to check my heart rate.  Also, I accused her of taking pictures of my feet without asking.  I was just a little wound up.  I’m not sure she’ll ever come back.

 

Bing Images

Bing Images

                                                                                   

  • Attempted to weed around my rose bush.  Forgot that roses have thorns.  (Of course I know that every rose has its thorn.  Just like every night has its dawn.)

 

  • Took a bath to calm down and meditate, but took a non-fiction medical textbook and highlighter with me.  Did not bathe, meditate, or relax, but did drop blue highlighter in bath water.  A blue tint is not a good look for me.

 

mysmurfvillage.com

mysmurfvillage.com

  • Cleaned off the porch and picked up the yard.  This was only stupid because I had plans Saturday and I was supposed to be taking it easy.  Husband:  I thought I specifically told you not to do that.  Me:  See what happens?

 

  • Husband called and asked me a question.  I responded with, “What day is it?”  He said, “Friday, why?”  Me: “I have no idea.   But thanks.”  From now on, I’m just going to answer all questions with “what day is it” because it confuses people while making me briefly sound as if I have a plan and/or know the answer to their question.

 

  • Told my oldest child that he could dye his hair black and build a meth lab in his room.  These people around here are always giving me a hard time, and one of the things they say is that I “stifle their creativity.”  This is usually said after I’ve vetoed the purchase of a mobile waffle wagon or asked someone to stop singing and playing guitar at 3 am.  So when he said he was going to build a lab in his room (thank you, Walter White) I said, “Well, you do need to make some money.”  I maybe should’ve just asked what day it was.  Thing 3:  You really need to work on your parenting skills.  Maybe take a class…something.

 

Since I obviously know all about making good decisions, parenting, and general success at life, this week I am going to:

  1. Attempt to finish a blog post that I’ve been putting off and off and off.  (Yes, Aussa, that one.)
  2. Write the 17 articles that I should have started working on last week.
  3.  Attend one parent teacher conference.
  4.  Try to survive a field trip to a drive-through safari with approximately 20 children under five years old.

I also intend to:

  1. Shower at least three times twice.  (No need to go overboard here.)
  2. Wear clothes that match when I leave the house.
  3. Pet my cat and hopefully a kangaroo.
  4. Drink more water and zero energy drinks.
  5. Sit on my porch.
  6. Color.

I’m all about attainable goals these days and, I hate to brag, but I’m pretty sure I can do at least 3 of those things.

 

 

 


Deep Thoughts, Brought to You by the Easter Bunny

Have you ever heard of Behavioral Therapy?  Well, in a nutshell, it’s supposed to teach you to think happier so you will be happier.

However, I am an asshole, and as such, I usually think not-nice comments in my head when people suggest that I should “think happy thoughts.”

But.

source:  sodahead.com

source: sodahead.com

I just had something of a breakthrough here, sitting on my couch in my second day of the same pajamas, eating leftover Easter candy, and hurting so badly that I curse at myself when the phone rings or I have to pee because then I have to hobble around and that hurts even worse than typing, which is really quite painful since my hands, wrists, elbows, and shoulders are all screaming.

Makes me wonder why I’ve spent so much money on therapy, if I can just come up with this shit on my own and not have to shower or drive.  Anyway, I presume you are on the edge of your seat?  Dying to know what I’ve discovered?

Okay, okay, calm down.

I was sitting here, as mentioned above, and I was feeling really, really shitty about not getting anything accomplished today.  By that I mean I’ve done a load of laundry and made a couple business calls and that’s it.  Oh, and I closed the dishwasher so the kitchen would look cleaner.

So I was basically giving myself a silent talking to and just, you know, berating myself because I’m not able to do all the things that I could do before.  I was thinking about all the time that is just gone, disappeared, because of the chronic migraines.  All the time that I will never get back, spent recovering from an allergic reaction or a migraine or from a trip to the store.  And I was thinking about all the time lost, spent just staring at the wall because I was so depressed that doing anything but that was just impossible.  And about all the time I’ve wasted crying, and how feeling so bad today (physically) makes me want to cry more because it makes me feel worthless and like a failure when I’m not able, either physically or mentally, to do what I’ve decided needs to be done.

Then today I thought, hey, at least I’m not in bed with a migraine.  If I had a migraine right now, or an allergic reaction, I’d be throwing up and maybe even have to go to the emergency room.  I wouldn’t be able to talk to the kids when they get home, or see my husband, or write anything, or watch t.v. or anything except throw up, try to breathe, hold my head, and cry.

So, really, today is not so bad.  I mean, I’m still in a lot of pain and I’m not going to get any housework done, make dinner, or do anything that means I have to get out of this heated chair, but…at least I’m able to be in this heated chair.  My kids can come snuggle me here and their voices won’t make my head explode.  I’m writing this, and although it’s no masterpiece, I’m pretty sure I’m making sentences, which is more than I’m capable of some days.

So that was my breakthrough.  On days like today when I’m feeling bad and feeling guilty for feeling bad and for what I’m not doing, maybe I should instead think about what I can do.

This is weird and I kind of feel like smacking myself.  I think I just gave myself permission to relax.  Or, maybe I’m high on sugar and chocolate.  I don’t know, and I don’t know how long this strange phenomenon is going to last, but I am glad it’s here for now.


5 Things I Should Stop Saying, According to My Children

My kids are super smart and funny.  This is generally an asset, because it makes it easier to get a babysitter.  But when they turn their wits against me…well, sometimes it gets ugly.  According to Them, I say some things in the heat of the moment that are not Kid Approved.

Please note:  I am not going to stop saying these things, because these kids are not the boss of me.

1.  You’re not the boss of me.  (They aren’t.)

2.  Whack, as in, “Yo, dude, that’s whack!” (With hand motions.)

3.  Laying the mack down.  (Apparently this isn’t even a thing?  They claim I’ve confused my hammer pants with my wrestlers.)

(Okay, so they might have a point on this one.)

 

4.  Groovy, right on, and what what!  (This is called positive reinforcement.  I’m boosting their ungrateful little egos.  I don’t see a problem here.)

5.  Your mom!  (Because I’m their mom.) (I guess.)

your mom

 

I have also compiled a list of things I’m going to start saying because that’s just how I roll.  (What what!)

1.  You better check yo self before you wreck yo self!

2.  Bombdiggity.  (I don’t even know what this means, I’m just going to insert it randomly into conversations and see what happens.)

3.  Stop judging me!  I gave you life!

4.  Fo shizzle.

5.  No, you can’t have any money.  (This one is my favorite.)

 

Of course, I also have to include a list of things I have actually said to or about my kids in the past.  If you’ve ever tried to raise wild goats or feral pigs, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.

Source:  Pinterest

Source: Pinterest

1.  Did you eat poop?!?  Tell me!  OH MY GOD, I THINK SHE ATE POOP!

2.  Stop hitting your brother with that hot dog!  No, don’t eat–okay, eat it.

3.  Don’t forget to comb your teeth and brush your hands!

4.  This is a blanket and it is warm.  No, it’s not the unicorn blanket.  No.  It doesn’t matter.  This one is purple.  *stomping down hallway in the middle of the night, grumble-cursing-whispering goddamn unicorn fucking blanket anyway*  Here!  Unicorn blanket.  Now we sleep, okay?

5.  You need to get your priorities straight. (How did this happen?  Am I…responsible?  *shudders*)

 


I Won’t Run From a Six-Year-Old. (Cause they are fast as hell.)

Confession time:  Little kids freak me out.

Not my own kids!  My kids are not freaky at all.  But scary kids, like in movies?  I can’t stand them.  I don’t know why, but a creepy little person is 100 times scarier to me than a zombie, a serial killer, a ghost, or even a snake.

It might be the whole can’t-defend-yourself-because-you-don’t-want-to-hurt-a-kid thing.  I’m not sure.  (Also, I could totally kick a kid’s ass if I had to.  Don’t test me.)

Anyway, it’s rainy and yucky outside and some little shits have been prank calling me all day.

I’ve tried to laugh it off.  Ha ha!  Little bastards.

Me:  Hello?

Them:  What do you call a scary dream about a horse?

Me:  *confused*  What?

Them:  A NIGHTMARE!  HAhahahaha, heehehehehe, hahahaha.  (Maniacal child laughter.  There had to be at least 10 of them.)

Me:  *still a bit confused*  WHAT??

Them:  *Click.*

Me:  *shakes head*  Ha, silly kids, just having fun, ha ha ha.

*staring at phone*  OH MY GOD THEY SAID NIGHTMARE. 

*still staring at phone*  Don’t be silly, just kids, ha-ha. 

 *looking for weapon*  ARE THE DOORS LOCKED?  OH, SHIT.  I hate kids.*

A little later…

*ring, ring*

Me:  H…hello?

THEM:  *In a freakishly terrifying and childish voice*  Can I sing you a song?

Me:  What?  No.  NO.  Who. Is. This?!

Them:  We just want to make your day!  Wanna hear a song?

Me:  *CLICK*

So there you have it.  I have barricaded us in the house and no one is allowed to answer the phone.  The only way this could get worse is if they called and asked if I was in the house alone.  WHICH I’M NOT.

And now I’ve scared myself.  Awesome.