Ugh sappy mommy types.


I am constantly surprised by my reactions these days.  For instance, I cried when the boys got their first shots.  Why did I cry?  The “sappy mommy type” will say it was because it hurt me to hear them in pain.  Maybe, or maybe it was because they put us in a closet and called it an exam room.  Have you ever heard two, 2 month olds getting their shots at the same time in a closet?  Well it makes your ears bleed.  Then there was the reaction to strangers touching them.  I could possibly channel the Hulk and rip their hands off.  The “sappy mommy type” would say that’s my momma bear instinct coming out.  Maybe, or it is self preservation.  Germy hands equal sick babies.  Sick babies equal no sleep.  No sleep equals death to anyone who angers me.  Finally, there was the reaction today.  I finally returned to work.  When I returned home after a whopping seven hours away, I was so disappointed that my beautiful little boys were napping.  All I wanted to do was kiss them and hug them and do all those “sappy mommy type” things.  I have no other explanation; I am that sappy mommy that missed her little boys today.

Love the one you’re with.

As another Christmas season is upon us, I can’t help but to remember the great people that I can no longer share it with.  I think they would be proud of me.  I hope they would be proud of me.  Memories are a funny thing.  They can make you cry and make laugh, then make you wish it could all have been a little different.  If I still had those people in my life, how different would my life be?  Would I be married with twins?  What adventures would have been?  What advice would they give me?  How would they have shaped my life, my thoughts, my world?  All of these people left us too soon. Left me too soon.

But I think I’ve done them proud.  I miss them.  I often wonder what great things they would have done.  And then there are the questionable things….those I think I probably miss the most.  Nothing makes me laugh harder then stupidity.  I don’t mean that in a bad way, rather a hilarious “jackass” kind of way. 

I hope that where ever they are, they are well, happy, and in peace. I hope one day I won’t cry and only laugh at their memories.

I love you, I hope you always knew that.

How ’bout You Occupy My House.

With the Occupy Movement being dismantled around the country, I thought, if they really want to occupy something, they can come to my house.  I realize that most of the occupiers are jobless.  I have the solution: come to my house and hold a baby.  If that’s not your thing, I’ve got plenty of yard work to be done.  How ’bout laundry?  No?  Bathrooms?  feeding babies?
Of course, you will do this for free because, well what less do you have to do?  You can’t occupy (read, camp out in the elements with an assortment of bums, drug addicts and crazies) in your respective cities anymore.  It seems that your movement lacks a voice and a mission.  I can solve that.  Here are my rules though

1. you must bathe.

2. I don’t want to here about your politics (I really don’t care about you)

3. you must work.  It’s less occupy and more free labor

4. you must bathe

5. women please shave.

6. You will still be camping in the elements. (I really don’t want you sleeping in my house)

7. If you are white and have dreads, you clearly aren’t bathing enough, so you are not allowed in. I know enough about white hair to know our hair isn’t supposed to do dreadlocks.  If you are black, you’re fine.  (mainly because I’m quite ignorant to black hair styles)

8. you must bathe.

I really don’t have anything against the movement, I just see an opportunity to get free help.I assume that you are still unemployed and I have a backyard that you can occupy.  It’s really a win/win.  And if I can get you bathe, it’s a win for society too!  I appreciate your passion and think it could be put to good use, cleaning up dog poop in my backyard.  I am also assuming that you don’t have a problem with poop, considering I hear you guys were pooping in buckets anyway.  So, talk it over, do your finger thing and let me know.

peace, love and death to wall street.