Why can't C be for Cookie?

Today's blog post is brought to you by the letter "C".  As in, cleaning, clutter and crap galore.  I have spent the last few hours organizing my closets, washing clothes and purging.  It feels great to be done with my room but it sucks when you are knee deep in pants you'll never wear again and old bills that need to be shredded.  I need to let things go in more ways than one.

Once I finished my room, I decided it was time to venture in to my daughter's room yet again and go through all of her crap.  I swear that little girl is worse than I ever was.  I'm convinced my mother did some sort of motherly magic spell on me when she said, "just wait until you have kids.  You'll see!"  Those be fighting words mixed in with a little voodoo or something.  You better believe I repeated the hell out of that "magic spell" just in case there is a possibility it will work on her later down the road.  How much crap can one child accumulate?  I can only imagine the mountains of mess mom's of multiple children deal with.  My one little hoarder is plenty.  Well technically this house consists of 2 hoarders and a clean freak.  The clean freak would be my poor, germaphobic husband who has surrendered to the fact that he too cast a spell on his child when he complained about the mess I made.  I love to remind him that God is teaching him to love me more because our daughter is JUST like me.  I bet he prayed for patience.  ;)  (BTW, never under any circumstances should you pray for patience.  You will get trials and tribulations to teach you how to be patient.  God is funny that way.)  

Since I love a good plan and making lists, today I thought I'd share my rules on how I'm going to break my child of turning into her mother:

1. If it's on the floor, it's trash.  I've been doing this with her since she was little.  If there is too much junk on the floor, I will immediately grab the broom and sweep it out into the hallway and threaten to throw it away.
   
2. Whatever you decide to keep, you will take with you when you move out.  Ever since she started school, she has wanted to keep every piece of paper she brought home.  EVERYTHING.  I now say, "do you really want to take this piece of paper about the Pilgrims and a turkey with you when you move out?  I'll pack it up if you do."  She usually thinks about it and decides to toss it.   Maybe I'm mean because although I'll keep the homemade mother's day cards and sweet notes, I don't want 1000+ reading logs and math pages for the rest of my life.  I know 2+2 is 4 thank you very much.
    
3. Putting something under your bed is not putting it away.  This summer I did the meanest, funniest thing ever and it worked.  I told her that leaving paper under the bed attracts huge roaches.  While she was under the bed pulling out the above mentioned reading logs, I screamed, "ROACH" and picked up a crayon with a napkin.  LOL  She freaked out and started crying and her bed has been perfectly bare ever since.  Go Mom!!
4. If you haven't worn it in 3 months, you probably won't again so get rid of it.  This is something I don't do but I'm going to now.  Getting rid of things you don't wear is fun because it means you get to get new things.  :)
    
5. Use it or lose it.  This is a life lesson in itself.  Whatever doesn't get used will only start to fade or tighten up.  Take my knees for example.  Those bad boys pop like crazy if I sit still for too long.  Same goes for your talents.  If you don't practice, it could eventually begin to lose it's special.  

Fingers crossed this works and that the cycle will be broken.  Either that or I pray her husband will love her despite her messiness like mine does.   Here's to hoping.  :)

We ain't gonna die today homie!

Sometimes I get in the mood to write privately in a notebook with a pencil.  It's one of the only times I feel like I'm truly myself and in my element.  There is nothing I love more than a blank page and a no. 2 pencil.  It's raw and unfiltered and I can laugh and cry at what comes out of my head.  It's not always good but it's mine and it's true.  I ramble. I rant.  Sometimes I even rhyme.  I swear, when I'm in that zone I feel like Eminem in 8 Mile, frantically writing my heart out in a notebook, sitting in a busted up trailer in the ghetto or on break from my job at the factory.  Queue the base line and drums:  "Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted in one moment, would you capture it?  Or just let it slip?"  (What a great song!)

I think in another life I could have been a rapper.  I'm so inspired by the emotion and beats.  The struggle and the pain.  There is pain in pushing yourself forward to overcome.  That desperate urge for a change, even the curse words.  To me, it's all so beautiful.  It's a secret wish of mine to go to an open mic night somewhere far from home, get up on stage with sweat beading on my forehead and pretend I'm Queen Latifah circa 1993 and "let em know" who I am.  But who am I kidding?  I'm no rapper.  I'm just a mom writing this post in a comfy bed, wearing fluffy aloe vera infused socks while my daughter sits to my right, cutting duct tape for crafts as "The Suite Life on Deck" plays on her internet ready TV.   Now that's straight up gansta.  :) Granted, I do have my headphones on and I'm blasting "U.N.I.T.Y." by Latifah, back when she was the Queen and not the America's New Favorite Daytime TV Host.  She was Dana and she wasn't having it.  I loved her for that.   

I'm obviously inspired by music.  It's part of my life.  I need it, beause it feeds my soul.  If music wasn't on somewhere in the background, I think I'd cry. Seriously.  For others it's quotes or passionate stories from people who have been through the same struggles.  I guess what I'm trying to say is, inspiration can come from anywhere.  It doesn't really matter where you find it, as long as you are constantly looking.  Heck, my play list just went from Latifah to Michael Buble to Nappy Roots for goodness sake.   

I think my new purpose is to find ways to get people to be inspired.  Take a leap of faith and just let things go.  Whatever you are going through is NOT the end of the world.  It's not gonna kill us.  "We ain't gonna die today."  And even if we do, we died trying.  Let me help you light a fire under you ass and do something different with your life even if it's just a something little.  We have to start somewhere.  I can't keep doing this alone, my friends.  I'm selfish.  I want to be inspired by other being inspired.  So let's, you and I, take a look around and see what inspires us to be a better people.  Start by doing it for others because then it can become for ourselves. 





"We're gonna have a good day, and all my homies gonna ride today and all these mommies look fly today and all we wanna do is get by today.  Hey. We gonna have a good day and ain't nobody gotta cry today cause ain't nobody gonna die today just save that drama for another day, hey!" 

:)

Walken away from the cloud

The black cloud that had been following me around was really getting on my last nerve.  It had been there for too damn long so I concocted a simple plan.  Walk faster than the cloud.  Duh, it's a cloud, not a freaking cheetah and forging forward is the only way to actually get to where you're going.

If I could describe how I feel about the direction my life is heading, it would be Fat Boy Slim's Video for "Weapon of Choice."  I'm Christopher Walken and I'm busting a move right out of the old me.  

Who knew 6 months ago when I was complaining about selling "ugly shirts and shit," that quitting my job and search for the "Old Andrea," I'd actually start to find her?  She's been creeping back into me slowly, like a hungry lioness on the prowl.  In fact, every now and then I see a glimpse of HER when I look in the mirror and not my mother.

I really need to update the background with a new picture.  A more grown up, confident version of myself will do.   

Someone was in need of a spanking.  ;)

Knot giving up, I'm getting up

Time to pick up the pieces once again and make peace.  Peace with my choices, peace with myself, and find peace of mind.  Saying goodbye is never easy, especially when there isn't a way to say goodbye in person.  It has happened to me more times than I care to remember, but somehow never seem to forget.

I love nothing more than a fresh start.  There is something inspiring about simply waking up in the morning knowing your whole day is ahead of you.  (Yes, I'm easily inspired.)  It's the sound of  hot coffee hitting the mug, the sun peaking through the window along with your family yelling in the background.  Aww, Heaven.  It's promising to know that every day is a new chance to do something better than I did before.

Honestly, today I sucked.  I didn't exercise, I barely brushed my hair, my left eye makeup was a little heavier than my right eye and I left the house in a semi "People of Walmart" fashion.  But you know what?  I got up.   Yay me!  :)  For me, getting up is the hardest part.  It's easier to hide under the imaginary covers and pretend everything in my world is okay.  Nothing bad can happen when I'm under there.  Right?

I have to remind myself to think about what I'm missing under the blankets?  Not to mention the horrible "bed head" I'd have.  If I hadn't got up today, I would have missed hanging out with my dear old dad, driving him around like he's little Miss Daisy.  I would have missed hearing the story of how he knew this girl when he was in High School who lived on the land where the bank now stands for the 100th time.  I would have missed the crisp, cool wind blow in across my face and lower the temperature by 15 degrees in one hour.  I would have missed hearing a great song on the radio to remind me to carry on and  let the "past be the sound of my feet upon the ground." 

Basically I'm saying this.  I may not be the brightest bulb on the strand and I may be tangled up in a ball on the floor, driving you nuts, but guess what?  I still got a little twinkle left in me.  I just need some TLC.   I have a little knot in my strand that needs to work itself out and once I get untangled I'm going to shine brighter than ever before.  

Goodbye old friend.

I was catfished.  Well not just me.  It happened to me and many others.  Only we didn't fall in love.  We found a friend.  Or so we thought.  

I have been beyond preoccupied over the last few weeks trying to uncover the truth.  It has consumed me.  I not only feel like a fool, but I feel violated.  Who was this person that I trusted and befriended?  Well you know me, I didn't just sit back and let it go.  I found her.

Writing about this is actually quite embarrassing.  How did a 35 year old woman become a catfish victim?  It was innocent really.  In 2004, I joined an Ivillage.com message board for Stay at Home Moms.  I was a new mom who was scared, confused and looking for a safe place to vent and ask questions.  This was it.  Immediately, I felt a connection with the other mom's sharing their daily struggles of staying home with their young children.  We formed real friendships.  We prayed and rooted for each other, laughed and cried.  These connections have been going on since then.  I've met some in real life, talked to others on the phone and some even exchanged Christmas cards and ornaments that I still put on my tree each year.

There was one mom in particular, who seemed to have it all.  A great life, successful husband, and great kids.  The works.  She was a great support to everyone.  Funny, witty, and kind.  An all around great friend.  We became fast friends, shared emails, long chats, secrets and dreams.  Although I had a feeling something wasn't right, I ignored my intuition and continued a friendship with her because how could my friend, friend to everyone, do something so despicable as to lie about her identity?

Cut to three weeks ago and countless episodes of Catfish on MTV, I finally had the courage to trust my instinct and do a reverse image search just like Nev on the show.  Her pics were always too good to be true.  Yes, they were.  As I searched the first one, my heart sank and I felt sick to my stomach.  Fake.  It was stock photography.  I searched the next one.  Fake again, stock photography.  I frantically googled her name and it came up with endless fake online accounts she had created.  Who had I been communicating with for years?  Was she even a woman?  I couldn't believe, I, wife and mother, had been "Manti Te'oed."  Seriously?  I wanted to cry.

I felt ashamed at myself for not following the first rule of the internet.  Hell, it's the first rule you learn as a child practically.  Stranger Danger.  I let someone in and she hurt me.  The next thing I did was pour myself a big ass drink and sat at my computer and made the difficult decision to tell "the others."  Were they fake too?  I took a chance and reached out to my closest "imaginary friends" first.  Surprisingly, every single one of us doubted and voiced our feelings of uncertainty with Sofia but none of us had the balls to ask her.  We just could not fathom the idea of our trusted friend being a big, fat phony.

The next morning, word was spreading faster than the grey hairs on my head and one by one, Sofia's fake accounts were disappearing.  She knew.  She was busted and like a coward she walked away from her computer and left us all hanging.  No goodbyes or apologies.  Just sad little "Sorry, this page isn't available" messages from Facebook.  She was gone and there was nothing I could do about it because I didn't know who she was.  Shit, even Facebook had the decency to apologize.

Now, comes the fun part.  I went catfish hunting and I found her.  I know who she is, where she is, and what she does.  Thank God, my nosy ass knows how to think like a creeper because I used my skills to find her about 4 days.  The only thing I didn't find out was why?  Why would a seemingly nice girl with a nice life and beautiful family trick so many people?  Was it innocent fun that got carried away?  Or was she an evil bitch that just played games with great women.  I guess we will never know.

What I do know is this.  "Sofia", (I know your real name and I'm not going to share it out of respect for you and your family because I was a true friend to you), you NEVER had to be fake with any one of us.  We were all real with you and we all would have loved you just the way you are.  Imperfections and all.  You never had to be the perfect wife or mother, or have hunky husband that adores you.  All you had to be was you.  Now I know you probably will never share your reasons with me and honestly, I don't really want to know (okay, maybe a little), I just hope you learn from this and stop.  Too many people cared for you and are now, sadly mourning the loss of a friend, myself included.  I write this blog today as a way to turn the page on a small little chapter of my story.  I will be okay.  I am going to take the true friendships I made with these lovely women and cherish them.  Don't get me wrong, I do have high hopes for you.  I think deep down, you were the person I was talking to, just caught up in a bunch of unnecessary bullshit.  The "Sofia" I knew was a great person and I'm going to miss her.  

Tonight, when I pour my little glass of something something, I'm going to raise it up in the air then pour just a teeny bit on the ground for my homie Sofia.  May she Rest in Peace.  

Sofia

2004-2013

Lies I tell myself when I'm on my period

1. Chocolate relieves cramps.  I don't know if this is true nor do I care.  I want my chocolate so give it to me then leave me alone.  Granted any studies that have been conducted probably weren't researched using Reese's peanut butter cups or Nutella, but still, chocolate is chocolate. 
   
   
2. I look prettier because my boobs are bigger. Let's face it.  Big boobs distract from bloated bellies and those horrendous 35 year old, woman zits.  These are the zits that have been lying dormant for years underneath the surface of your skin just waiting for the chance to break free.  When they do wake up they usually bubble up like a freaking boil on your face and cause a pain that rivals the worst paper cut with just the slightest touch.  Stupid zit.  
   
   
3. I will be 20 lbs lighter once it's over.  Here's my theory:  Extra water weight = 10 lbs, blood that will discarded = 5 lbs,  tears shed over nothing = 5 lbs.  Therefore 10+5+5=20.  It's not just a theory when there is math involved.  
   
   
4. My uterus is contracting so I have an excuse for being a bitch.  I'm no Dr, but I can't think of another organ that wrings itself out every 28 days.  I swear my uterus was a contortionist in another life.    
   
   
5. I need wed wine to replenish the fluids I am losing.  (*Yes, I drink wed wine lol ) I read somewhere that dehydration causes premature wrinkles.  Not on my watch.  Since I'm forced to lose fluids at a rapid rate every month and I don't want wrinkles, then I better stay hydrated.  See?  It's a win/win. Plus I heard red wine is good for your heart so I have no choice.  It's for my own good.
6. Everyone else is an idiot.  You know that phrase, "The freaks come out at night?"  Well, The idiots come out when I'm menstruating.  It's never me.  It's them.