Friday, June 14, 2013

The never ending Pity-Party...

I'm a VERY empathetic person. I swear it. I can hardly watch the news anymore because it's always sad stuff and my heart just breaks for people, and then I'm up half the night boring my poor husband with all these stories I saw of tragedy and it's just ...REALLY emotionally draining for me.

That said.


There are a few choice people I've had to hide their updates. Because it was and is just CONSTANT.

"No one is ever there for me" (insert comments from the 200 plus people on their friends list that vary from "Hey, didn't we just hang out yesterday?!" to "Well I called but you didn't answer" to "What's going on sweetie?! I love you!")

"I have no true friends." (insert comments from the 200 plus people on their friends list professing their friendship and love for said person)

"I need prayers. Life is so hard right now."

"Nothing ever goes my way."

blahblahblahblah mother-bleeping- BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry they feel alone, and I'm sorry they apparently have more on their plates than they feel capable of dealing with. I'm sure, deep down, they may actually feel this way...but it's obviously nothing more than a cry for attention or that they are in need of some false validation that they are, indeed, worth something.

Stop that. You're grown ass women. (Men don't do this. At least not in my experience.)

I'm not saying you shouldn't ask for prayers if you feel you need them. I do that. Something like "Silent prayer request please." and most people? Are respectful enough not to ask what for. Because I indicated by the word SILENT that it is not something that needs discussion in public mass, just need a few extra folks to keep me in their thoughts. And it is certainly not a daily occurrence. (I've been on FB close to ten years. Done this TWICE. for real.) 

But the constant "woe is me?" crap. For real. Unless you are homeless and starving to death and suffering from an incurable disease to top ALL that?

Your life rocks, at least by comparison. 

For the love of pete if you feel THAT strongly about how horrible your life is? Take some advice from my Daddy.

The only person responsible for YOUR happiness? Is YOU.

You aren't going to get it from likes on FB, you aren't going to get it from a bunch of near strangers who are genuinely concerned you are possibly going to cut yourself if they don't post the damn near obligatory "hey , What's up?" on your newest sad post. 

It's absurd. Be a do-er. Get off your ass and change your situation but in the name of all that is sane please quit vague-booking. You are not a 12 year old hormone ridden child anymore. 

Yea. I'm done. I wish I had some clever way to end this but, sadly, I don't. It's enough to make me want to quit FB for awhile. If I didn't enjoy seeing what my HAPPY friends and family are up to so much I would gladly take my annual hiatus early. (It's scheduled for July, just a heads up.)

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Thoughts on turning 31...

I just turned 31

Last month. wow.


On the OTHER hand?

30 has been awesome. Really awesome. Like, I kinda wish I could have just stayed 30 because it's for sure been my favorite age.

I've learned a lot since my 21st birthday, probably too much to recount here, but I can tell you a few things I've learned in just the last YEAR that I think will be pivotal in my continued 30's.

Numero Uno:

My natural hair color? Is pretty bad ass.

I've had highlights, low lights, a BLEACHING NIGHTMARE FROM hell this past summer where my love for my husband was truly tested when I let him highlight my hair, and his love for me was tested when I spent a few hundred bucks (multiple dye jobs, multiple hair cuts) trying to fix it. (don't ever do that. let your husband color your hair I mean. If you do make that mistake, feel free to spend whatever it takes to fix it. Short of shaving your head, and even then, hell...go for it. Britney rocked it and came back, why can't you?)

What has grown back after I chopped off over 8 inches of my locks? Is a really pretty brown with natural red highlights. Just like My Tid Bit's.

No desire to ever color it again. I keep seeing friends and family lightening up for the summer and the urge hits but then I think, I'm gonna be the hot BRUNETTE on the beach this summer :-) Not the bottle blonde.

I'm diggin it. My baby likes my brown hair anyway :-)

Numero Two:

Speaking of Beaches? Sunscreen is important. I take so much better care of my skin now than I used to. I will say this, I often worry about my wrinkles and freckles but I look at a lot of other people in my age group and go "THANK YOU OIL OF OLAY!" (And Garnier BB Cream. Buy it. It's the shiz)

Numero Tres:

The scale means nothing. It's all about inches. :-) That was a seriously hard lesson for me to learn. Being skinny does NOT equate to healthy, and eating better means feeling better not being skinnier.

Numero Quatro:

I'm fricking LACTOSE INTOLERANT. I mean, what the heck? I go 28 years without a problem, have bitty bit, and then BAM, ice cream makes my tummy hurt and it took me ALMOST TWO YEARS to figure it out. Made losing weight a lot easier though!

Le sigh. I need to take Ginko.

Numero Quince:

I am enough.

That one took a full 30 years to get. Think on that ...

So far 31 has been good. Much better than 21 :-) I even LIKE getting carded for alcohol now. Makes me feel all young and stuff ( again...THANK YOU OIL OF OLAY!)

Thanking your Mama....

Over the many years of my life, my relationship with my mother has had it's ups and downs.

I never fully, and I can admit this, appreciated her. I for a very long time, considered her an overly neurotic thorn in my side that was sent here simply to nag me about everything. I'm pretty ashamed to admit that now. However, since becoming a mother myself it has opened the doors for us to communicate, and LOVE more openly.

Because I get it now. Or, at least I thought I did.

Dance recitals change everything. 

That's right. Lil Bit has her FIRST dance recital. Next weekend. I'm more nervous and excited than she is!

So about a month ago, we had our big "recital" meeting at the dance studio. We covered all sorts of details, from lining up, to rehearsal schedules, to costumes and makeup and recital cover ups (they can't show their costumes in the theatre unless they are on stage...)

I came home from that meeting near tears. It was so...stressful. More money, more things to buy, find, having to take a half day off work for a dress rehearsal, find babysitting for the other kids while I'm THERE, buying tickets... Rhinestones and sequins and bling OH MY.

My husband was pretty irritated. "MORE MONEY?!" (Insert manly rant about all things girly being stupid and expensive here) "GUNS ARE CHEAPER! LEMME TEACH THEM TO HUNT!"

Sigh. Men.

Anyway. I got over the stress and jumped right in. She's only in the one number, it's early in the evening. We should be cool.

About the time I started assembling and putting all the rhinestones (over 50) and sequins (several hundred) on her costume, I called my Mommy.

"I don't remember this being this hard when we were kids mom. Why was it easier?"

And she laughed. And laughed and laughed some more. I was kinda annoyed! "WHY are you laughing at me! It wasn't like this when we were kids!"

She was kind, reminded me that at one point my sister and I were in 4-5 dances, EACH, with my sister often being chosen for company numbers so that added 2 more for her, so 7... She and my daddy spent THOUSANDS on dance recital.

We weren't rich y'all. So I don't even know how they made that happen.

That night the memories started to come back. My mom and her best friend/cousin, patiently sewing and gluing while my sister and my cousin and I stood on chairs in our dining room. Bitching about how we were hungry, you stuck me with that needle, my legs are TIRED, it's LATE, I don't wanna do this anymore...etc etc. Costume after costume every weekend for weeks. Music playing softly in the back while they sipped on diet coke and chatted, enjoying every minute of it. I don't remember getting in trouble for being a brat. I remember my Mommy smiling, telling me how pretty I looked, occasionally swearing when she stuck herself with a needle or burned herself with hot glue...but no complaints, no VISIBLE stress.

I remember one recital, my brother got hurt at a friends and had to go to the ER. My mom's best friend got us to the theater, got us dressed, other friends moms helped with make up.And I remember vividly hating my brother for a few minutes and being VERY angry with my Mom and (hey, I was like...7 okay?) And just being pissed beyond all reason because how DARE she not be here. Stupid brother.

And I remember pouting my way through the entrance of that dance, finding my dot on the stage, looking out...and there was my mom. Standing off to the side by an entrance where she had snuck in, camera in hand...the biggest possible smile on her face, and pride...lots of pride.

I was a lucky girl.

I sent my mom a text in the middle of the night. Thanking her, for never complaining, for smiling, for putting undue financial stress on her and daddy that was not necessary and obviously unappreciated, for being there even though it meant dragging my brother to two separate ER's because the wait was too long at the first one because she "couldn't miss her girls recital..."

My husband will never get it. I don't expect him too. The only thing I likened it to that made any sense to him was "How would you feel if you missed Lil Man getting a deer?"

I'm excited to start this journey with my girls. I can honestly say I can't wait until all three of them are up there one day... wearing gaudy red lipstick and dancing their hearts out because they want to see mommy's smile from the stage.

Our seats are in the balcony, but I'm going to park myself by an entrance door closer to the stage.

I know just the view I want her to see when she's up there.

(Love you mom)

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Tell All Tuesdays...


I'm socially awkward. 

BUT, not in the typical sense of the condition. I'm not by any means shy. I'm actually quite outgoing, friendly, rather silly, and extroverted in just about every sense.

However, I'm pretty much incapable of being "Fake." 

Being put in awkward situations, such as ya know, dealing with people I don't care for. Particularly if these people have a history of being assholes to folks I care about.

Now, society dictates I must be polite and kind to people, particularly in public settings such as work, church, Walmart etc. 

But damned if people don't make it hard for me. 

People who mess with my kids are the worst. There was this kid messing with my son, several witnesses to the bullying that took place, and the mom of said bully blamed my kid.

I want her to suffer. But alas, she has better "public standing" than lowly ole Mama AGU, so I'm resigned by my "status" as a nobody to behave myself unless I want to make things worse for my kid.

This doesn't fly with me. Every time I've seen this woman since I just turn around and walk off. Why? 

My face, apparently, tells on me a lot.

My husband is known to whisper "Baby, fix your face" when I'm confronted with people I'd rather like to hurt, or at least give a good and well deserved tongue lashing. 

My voice gets all high pitched and weird as I force a smile to my face and exchange the customary "pleasantries" (aka bullshit southern girl small talk "How's your mama an them!!!???") and I pretend to be just THRILLED to see this person who in my honest opinion should be gator bait. I say all the right things apparently.

But my face and eyes apparently tell the person exactly what I think of them.

I've only recently been made aware that this was going to cause a problem for me when an incident with someone I don't care for happened at work. My boss and coworkers started giggling when said person walked off and I said "WHAT?! I wasn't rude was I?! I was firm, but polite!?" 

A dear friend said..."Well....your words weren't rude... but if you'd looked at me like that? I'd have backed out of the room too."

Damn. Cover blown. 

I just suck at it folks. I have a really really difficult time making my face match my words when placed in these situations. I think it's going to be even harder for me as the kids get older and I'm introduced to more people who suck at life! 

Mr. AGU finds this amusing "I thought you were a trained actress sweetie, how were you ever any good at that?" 

1) I never said I was any good. Not being able to make direct eye contact with people cost me more than one part. Especially if it was an intense audition opposite someone I didn't like. Amplified the drama for sure but the REAL mama AGU had a tendency to look a lot angry during "happy" scenes when I didn't like the bitch I was reading with. 

2) Since when is being "REAL" a bad thing?

It's going to get worse, I'm told. I'm going to have to tame my inner mama bear as the kids, especially the girls, get older and start developing their friendships with other kids and I'm forced to deal with parents who can't seem to let their children handle their own social issues. (Intervention in a kid's friend problem should be the last resort y'all, not undertaken lightly, and only if there is going to be harm to your child if an adult doesn't step in. They have to learn to handle peers. End of rant.) 

I expect I'm going to have to take some more acting classes or something just so I don't make an ass out of myself. I don't like being fake. It makes my tummy hurt, to quote Tid Bit. I'm not that person that thinks of all that clever crap I could have or should have said after the fact. I tend to let it fly. I spent too much time worrying about what other folks thought of me in my early twenties and late teens. I'm too old for games. I don't see why I should have to pretend to like people who by all accounts never grew up. 

Another thing I tend to do if I don't like folks? Or if I'm uncomfortable with the conversation. is pretty much cut them off and end the conversation. It's rude. I know it. I'm having trouble caring. Bad Mama AGU.

I have a bad habit of interrupting folks when I DO like them too. But it's harder to explain that. I may have a bit of ADD. A good friend of mine calls it my "JUMP THINKS." When having a conversation or, ya know, not, my mind races. I'm listening, but my brain goes off into random tangents based on the original conversation. 

Ex. " It's a beautiful day, we should go to the beach!" (Insert them talking more about weather and beaches here, they go on to make plans and set times and all that... I'm listening but here is what's going on in my brain."


Them: They just had the beach clean up so the seaweed should be gone! It'll be great!

ME: "Let's go to dairy queen. I like their steak fingers"

(Insert what.the.hell.look. from friend/family member/husband HERE)

Needless to say I have a reputation for being random. O:) 

Obviously, my intent was not to be rude :-( At all!!! I'm just a little insane I think... 

Suggestions on ways to get the "I wanna cut you" look off my face when confronted with assholes? I can try and work on the rest I swear! :-)