From a Sweet Ass Hole

Good morning! I hope you’re not waking up to a terrible mess-over. A mess-over is like a hangover. It’s what moms feel the day after Mother’s Day, when if they celebrated properly, they took the day off from doing household chores and their typical Sunday routine only to wake up on Monday morning to a sink full of dishes, a pile of laundry to be folded, bills to paid, and groceries to be bought.

My mess-over isn’t so bad. I actually did a lot of chores yesterday, but it was my choice. Cleaning the kitchen and going to the grocery store calmed my anxiety. I even baked chocolate chip muffins and slow cooked chicken for the week ahead!

Don’t worry. My husband and kids were wonderful. They showered me with cards and pictures, and my husband made me an amazing dinner while I caught up on my favorite shows.

Speaking of cards, the homemade notes and personal messages were the best! My nine-year-old wrote me a story about being a superhero mom. He said I was as smart as Albert Einstein and as brave as a chicken in the oven.  He also mentioned several times that I cook the best pancakes. 

My eleven-year-old skipped the Mother’s Day project at school. Apparently, they wanted the kids to write a thoughtful poem and draw pretty flowers. My son walked right up to his teacher and said, “This is not how we do Mother’s Day. In our family, we go to the store and buy the most inappropriate cards we can find.”

He’s right. In our family, we go straight for the fart and poop jokes. It’s humor or bust in our brood, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I hope your family showered you with love and appreciation on Mother’s Day… just like my “sweet ass holes” did for me.

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A tricky, mother forking friend

Oh, Anxiety. You tricky, mother forking friend!

You don’t just rear your ugly head when things are bad. Nope. You also ring the doorbell—unannounced, I might add—when things are flipping fantastic!

You came when I lost the 1st grade spelling bee and when I got into my first choice college. You came when I needed a colonoscopy and when I crossed the finish line at my first 10K. You came when my dog died and when I became a mom. You show up at every IEP meeting (thank you very much) and you clapped the loudest at my “Listen To Your Mother” performance this weekend.

Screw you!

I know your foolish games, and I’ve got two words for you: You win.

You win because you always show up… but I prepare for your arrival.

You win because you’re predictable… and I’m one step ahead every time.

You win because you’re trite… and I know every trick up your sleeve.

You win because you stare me down… but I look you in the eye.

You win because you’re loud and chaotic… but I’m focused.

You win because you doubt me… but I persevere.

You win because you drain me… but I know how to recharge.

The benefit of having anxiety as a bestie is that I’m always rooting my feet into the Earth, paying attention to my breath, and reminding myself to be present, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

As I approached the microphone at “Listen To Your Mother,” I did so with steady hands, a full and grateful heart, and the poise to connect with and respond to the audience.

You, my toxic friend, might’ve clapped the loudest at the end of the night, but my resolve drowned you out. And it was mother forking amazing.

You’re the best, Anxiety. See ya soon.

Photo credit: My mom ❤

 

 

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