What Keeps Me Awake At Night-- besides DBD.

Of all the things in the world that give me extreme mental issues, AND THERE ARE A PLETHORA --- Ice  FOTHER MUCKING Tsunami did not appear on the list.

"This is what happened when the ice started attacking."
reported Good Morning America reporter reporting about the report.

Say WHUT?!

 A-TTACK-ING

Did I space that correctly for proper emphasis?
Of course not.


Wait, maybe I've been too hasty.  Perhaps this has occurred before in my 37( I think) years.

How old am I again?

I rush to my list of issues that keep me awake at night separate of DBD's rapid, bed shaking snoring.

my laundry
kidnappers
deers jumping out and making me wreck
the Mondale /Reagan presidential race of 1980 something.
did I include all kids in the yearbook I was SOLELY in charge of for 2013

no..no Ice Tsunami

my kids riding bicycles without helmets
what I SHOULD have said to that idiot once
what if I wake up late for KDKA segment
what happens when you swallow gum
loose dogs that might attack
rabid raccoons that might attack, or eat my garbage that I'll then have to clean -GROSS.
the REALISTIC finances required to buy a house
mice, vermin and other vermin like creatures - Dear God please don't let them appear in my new home.
are restaurants really clean
no..no Ice Tsunami

kidnappers who steal and hurt children for 10 years-- thanks Ohio for that one. *God love those women.*
roaches and praying mantis things
WHY do I KEEP buying the HUGE square containers of strawberries?
burritos- but that keeps me awake for a whole nother reason
damage to this ( NOW SOLD) house with sharpie markers by my children when I'm not looking
Duck Dynasty peeps eats squirrel brains & have bad extensions
( TOP SECRET THOUGHT GOES HERE)

no..no Ice Tsunami
running on trails and all the bad things that can happen doing so
what's truly in chicken McNuggets & was it bad I ate them daily pregnant with Mady.
hormones in milk
and meat
and other stuff
Jodi Arias

Nope...no Ice Tsunami


An Ice Tsunami?
Seriously?

Did you not see it?

http://minnesota.cbslocal.com/2013/05/11/high-winds-send-ice-surging-on-to-shore-of-mille-lacs-lake/



JUST TRY to sleep.

What's next?
Death by hula hoop?

Oh wait... THIS just in.
Subdivision slowly swallowed by a landslide followed by Barbara Walters retires... but not just yet.

GAH!

Expecting? I'm not but Macaroni Stork is for you!

Introducing Macaroni Kid's newest national installment Macaroni Stork!  If you're expecting or have wee little ones then this publication is for you!  A go-to guide for pregnant families and babies under one year!  My friend Dana is the national editor and it's a great publication just waiting for you!  Subscribe today!  It's free!

Tell them I sent you! 

Click here to check it out!  

Are you a Van, SUV, Car or Crossover Momma? I want to know!

Tell me what you drive.  What you wish you could drive.
What you love, don't love about your vehicle.
What's the clincher when buying a car for you?

Is it the look of the car?  The pricing?
How it fits your family?


Ready...set... GO!

Minor Inconveniences- The Connecticut Shootings

I was intensely grateful for children's channels today.   My 3 year old's request for the same show DVR'd over and over is normally a minor inconvenience but today-- was welcomed.

Something certainly I never thought I'd say about The Cat in the Hat or Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.   Yet I find myself thanking God for their incessant mind numbing re-play today.

 I'll take it any day of the week.

 I'll endure Meeska- Mooska- Mickey Mouse and shout out "Oh Toodles!" with faux enthusiasm 100 times because I am BLESSED to be here on this Earth with my children near to me.

 I am BLESSED to be fighting this stomach virus for the 4th time in our house as it dominoes in our home.


A minor inconvenience.

 I am BLESSED to have my children home from school recovering while I wash load after load of puked on sheets.

A minor inconvenience.  

BLESSED that my house smells like puke and perhaps even poop, though I ask you not to tell me this.

A minor inconvenience.


BLESSED

 While those in Connecticut have had the very essence of their lives, ripped away from them.

 In bulk.

So very blessed.

The televisions in my home never moved the "dial" today.
I wouldn't allow it.

I knew what lye in wait on every other channel and I guarded the remote control with every fiber of my being.

I  watched my iPhone in horror with my heart yet again in my throat gasping for air and screaming inside "Why!?"   

Welling up at every single "count" that was adjusted.    Every single adjustment of the "death toll" took another loved one from some one's life.  Some sweet baby whose life ended before it even began. 

  I couldn't let them see any notion of what was happening in the news because there just is no explaining to anyone, let alone the innocent hazel eyes of my 6 year old.

A 6 year old who skips through the world in search of butterflies and who is afraid of the Elf on the Shelf.  How do I  tell her that a fake Elf and his antics are not the evil in the world to be afraid of baby girl.

That the world is full of harm waiting at every corner including the "supposed" safest parts of their little worlds?   How do I tell them that?

I don't.

For now.

Until I must lift the filter and grasp for unreachable words.

 Words that will form lies when I tell them that despite what happened they are perfectly safe. 


I will lie to them.
A minor inconvenience.


 This keyboard has no text, no letters nor symbols to adequately describe the sorrow we feel as Americans, as parents, as former educators.

I am no psychologist but this I know.  My children do not need to know the details.
For now we must go on filtering our children as best we can from the all of it and instilling a sense of hope in the world.

If that involves blatant lies then so be it.

 Our thoughts and prayers are with this community and every single person touched by this.

In a world displaying the senseless horror of today: for minor inconveniences-- we are so grateful.


How To Talk To Your Children After Tragedies
http://pittsburgh.cbslocal.com/2012/12/14/how-to-talk-to-children

Debby Perry is a freelance writer in the Pittsburgh area and a regular contributor to KDKA Pittsburgh Today Live along with her publishing team from Macaroni Kid. 

Macaroni Kid - Wanna Try It?

I'm the publisher of the year for 2012.
I make great money with my team.
We are an incredible community resource.
I meet celebrities.
I am a regular contributor to Pittsburgh's only live television show.
I am a contributor to our local Radio Disney Backyard Show.


All because of Macaroni Kid.


Were you on the fence the last.... um... 3 years?

Time to hop off.
If your area is still open and available for you to start up a publication email me.  ( I can help you check.)

  I can offer you 2 months free to begin.

* This offer ends December 31st.  You must contact me at the email below to take advantage of this offer.

supahmommy@gmail.com

WHAT are you waiting for!?

Relax Turkey-- Just Relax Little Fella

"They offer STRESS FREE turkeys."  says Nenny as we look up on Giant Eagle Market District-- how to get out of cooking a turkey dinner.


"What the duck fid you say?" says me.

"Did you say STRESS FREE?" says me.


"Yes.  STRESS FREE." says Nenny.


"Wait… what do you mean STRESS FREE? … Like… they're relaxed and shit?"  says me.


* I wait for her to laugh and say NOOOO…. I meant ABC..IDONTCARE.  *


"Yes.  ST. RE. SS.  FA.  REEEEE." repeats she.

"SAY WHAAAAAAAT?" says uneducated moi.


She sighs exasperated yet calm like a snowflake (Or turkey I guess)  answers.

"Yes. THE TURKEY'S are given a CALM open, STRESS FREE, environment in which to grow and thrive so that when they are MURDERED UP DEAD AND WE EAT THEIR CARCASS COOKED WITH A SIDE OF TATERS  packaged they have less hormones in them that are dangerous."

OH… OH… OH.  I see now.

I get it.


My bird shouldn't be stressed during the holidays BEFORE I kill it up good.  Only I get to stress out about whether or not I'm eating a bird that had a fuckin spa treatment before going to the feather plucker or not.

TOUCHE LITTLE BIRDY TOUCHE!

GOT IT.

Wild Wild Facebook™

What was once Conestoga circled campfires, is now our modern day online friend, Facebook. 

The new frontier.  

All of the facebook naysayers--- have puckered butts right now.

*nasal pucker butt voice*  Facebook is the root of all evil.  

It has all the elements of the early  burgeoning America.   

Tales of conquest, survival, merging of minds, building,  dreams defined, hopes dashed, evil villains, rivalry played out and goodness achieved.

 On facebook. 

I'm publicly declaring and trademarking wisely that 2012 Facebooking is the Wild Wild West of the modern world.  T and M'd -- done.  Wild Wild Facebook™.




Instead of wiry tumbleweeds a 'rollin down a dusty road with some banjo slow mo music playing ... we now have status updates floating in the wind taking up the slack that those burly useless weeds left on the plains of the "second half of the 19th century."

I have absolutely no idea when that was.   I think 2010.


Drama!  Intrigue! VAGUE BOOKING!

Tumbleweeds drift across the face book plains daily.

Sarah just baked 3 dozen handmade cookies,  rolled with love and smothered with gluten free icing for her kid's class party that she would NEVER forget to go to not once, but twice---WAIT FOR IT. 

USING A PINTEREST RECIPE!
ISN'T SHE THE BEST MOM EV. ER?

Where is the slimy elixir sellin guy when I need one.   Wild West had ALL the answers! 


Lexi called her BFF a biznotch outloud but said "JK" next to it.
  Well played Lexi. 

Sam asked if everyone believed in the Great Pumpkin like him.
He has no friends left. 


It is when you step into a tumble weed ... that the Wild Wild West really appears.

Disagree with a tumbleweed and  the guns come out.

Back to back you stand.

3 steps out.

Tuuuurn around and SHOOT.

Who can say the most offensive thing in the next 3 minutes of  keyboard clickety clack.
I've watched families GO AT IT!

Aunt Velma's pissing of their nieces!

ABOUT POLITICAL AFFILIATION!

Dirty Rotten Facebook!  I LUV IT!

* I pop popcorn when I see this stuff!  Then wish I could DVR it.*


My sister is watching Revenge and I am saying" OMG you gotta see this!"

"What?" she says.

The SmithClarneys are FREAKING BASHING EACH OTHER on FB!
*stuffing mouth with popcorn*'
Ifs frickan *popcorn flying out* farbulous.


Don't you judge me.


Some tumbleweeds you catch... some roll right past... some snare you in their barbed wire weeds.  Until you're thinking--wait.... I was just commenting on where to have Thanksgiving dinner....

Now my family has disfacebooked me.

GASP!

VAGUEBOOK. 

Ughh. 

Stab me. 

I'm so super thankful for the new format of Facebook!
I have NO idea how to use it.
I just know that it's a virtual remote control.
I can turn off Vague Bookers.

Did you ever have a paranoid VagueBook Moment?


O
M
G

Did HE just vaguebook about ME?
Sound the horn!
You call in the Calvary.

Your troops "survey" the situation.

You draw your guns.
You spit.


You find your mark.
anndddd... 3...2..1.......
UN SUB.


*blows pistol*


Wild Wild Facebook™

the under-fugly

The unfolding scandal in Washington DC sparked a fantastic conversation between a few of my close friends and I.  CIA DIRECTOR PHIL PHILANDERER AND GENERAL GIMME SOME.

"Fer Shame. Fer Shame." said Gomer. 

So do I. 

We were talking about the gray haired military wife of the CIA Director.  The one pictured on all the news casts.   A character in this sad affair that will only get the crap end of the deal no matter what.

Its obvious that not many will want to write her book.
 She won't go on a press tour defending her name.
Press releases won't be crafted to save her career.

She's "just the chubby grey haired wife."

She has to pick up the pieces of the family life I'm certain.
She has to dole out the hugs and will be FAR TOO BUSY shielding them to garnish money off of her husband's "tail."  (chasing)

Is this what happens in marriages of THAT many years? 
When FUGLY knocks on the door? 

The leather gets a little worn.
The seats stained.
The window doesn't roll down anymore without pushing it with your hand.
The electrical system is malfunctioning.
The tires are bald.

We're freaking FUGLY.

 It's the natural flow of things.

Fugly is coming for all of us-- I get this. 

What I DON'T GET.

 FUGLY gets traded. *hissing*

Tsk. Tsk. 

Isn't a marriage REALLY about the UNDER-FUGLY anyways?
This dude missed that memo.

BRING BACK THE  UNDER-FUGLY 2012…and on..  

My  new campaign. 

You're Cordially Invited-- To A Cliche.

When we were married 11 years ago we celebrated at the wise age of 26 with a fairly decent-lavish Pittsburgh Pirogi style affair.

 It was fantastic in all it's cookie table glory.   I bellied up.


I dug in.


So concerned was I with the color of the bows on the cake, the poofiness of my dress, whether or not my arms looked flabby and what gift I'd give my bridesmaids that I never considered the relationship I was about to embark on nor the supposed commitment I was making.

You are cordially invited to the cliche of Debby and Steve. 

"Look around…" said a family member "remember this day forever." 

Ohh that's SO sweet of him. 

Hook line and sinker… I dug in. 

I didn't realize how little footing I truly had until years later when the ground beneath me revealed that the very foundation I was digging into… was cement.  

And sometimes bitter ice.

 It wasn't mean for roots. 

 Wasn't primed for growth.

It wasn't grass we watered. 

So I  covered it with turf.  For 11 years until this past summer.

Since July of this year my husband and I have experienced a heartbreaking separation. A difficult marriage of 11 years... crumbled into final pieces while our sweet children watched. 

It's been the most exhausting 4 months of my life and the turf has been pulled back to reveal the true situation. 

I wrote this post during one of the days I was struggling. 

  

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Each morning brings the slow blinking wake up.

It's become routine for me.  I'm a real  sloth "go getter" these days.

I wonder if  anyone on match.com will be searching for a sloth.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

The light in the room is always piercing.

Retina Burn Def Con 1.

In 6 plus years I STILL have not replaced those mother lovin' curtains with black ghetto spray paint on my windows.  It would be so much more effective for wallowing in my "I should be in a black hole--but I'm too busy to wallow--- depression?"

Stupid morning light.  Stupid curtains.

I must add this to my "100 house changes I'm making in 10 days" list.  I seem determined to fulfill every house project that ever was, and never came to be.

House Project #345

Buy black spray paint and mace his sorry ass ghetto paint the bedroom windows. 

My head cinder blocks on my pillow while I  muster the inner strength to propel myself into the day.

People are waiting.

I have joy to sew on the world.

Things need done.

I think the kids need food.

By the sound of it as I hold my breath listening....

They've found the food.

They've also spilled the milk.

Sigh...

Don't cry kids.  *weeping* 

It's just milk.

 Get a bounty and wipe it up or call the dog in.

Just don't call me.

I'll clean up her milk shitz later.

I return to my thoughts of potentially lying in bed for 567 effing years 5 more minutes but instead find some sense of responsibility to the world knocking at my door.

I hate door knockers.

I roll with it though and instead try to visualize myself skipping through the day.

Happy and productive.

Glad to be me.

Like some loon not going through the pits of emotional hell only to find yourself tarred and on route to extinction.

Oh it isn't THAT bad.

I'm just dramamamamatic.

I blink a few more times, adjusting to the shiv of light and open my eyes fully.

I gaze across the bed to the sight of well.... not a thing. 

An instant reminder....

That I am alone.

Somewhat Sigh.

Maybe today I can decide if this is a good thing or not.

Until then-- where's that fucking black spray paint.

___________________________________________________

It's hard for me to read even now. 

This is what I remember of my life.  Overwhelming heaviness. 

A reeling sensation…hidden for 4 months while I tried to keep it all together. 

All the while  leaning on God,  family members and friends.   

Falling  into them during a time when there was not even a cement block beneath me. 

Fast forward to today," tears" later….  my husband and I have finally crumpled up the cliche and are  attempting to figure out a path to fertile ground, together. 

 For the first time in 11 years.  I am hopeful. 

What I've learned during this entire process...

Marriage isn't the 350 person guest list. 

It isn't the grooms cake vs the wedding cake. 

It isn't what the flower girl will wear. 

Those pretty little cliches are sold pacakged beautifully with a 24 carat ring.

When the rings come off, when the cliche withers… what is left staring at you? 

All that's truly left… ….are the two of you and the ground your standing on. 

Make sure it's rich and then dig in.  

Skip the cake and the hoopla newlyweds. 

 Don't ask for turf on your registry. 

Dig each other and then dig in-- deep.  

You'll need it. 

xo 

I Dare You--- Pittsburgh Zoo and PPG Aquarium Tragedy

As I put my 3 year old to bed for the 6th time last night, my exasperation was seeping from every pore and I was wilting as a parent.   Poor me.  Poor, poor me. How hard my life is.

How dare I.  

While I sat on the stairs waiting for her to finally be glued to her bed in sleep I sat with my laptop reading,  yet again, about the horrible Pittsburgh Zoo tragedy.  My jaw slacked.  My heart seized. 

Two year old Maddox Derkosh, fell into the Painted Dog enclosure and was mauled to death. 
Mauled, to death by a pack of Painted Dogs. 

Things you only read about or see on the "news."  Things that happen to OTHER towns. 

Yet today, a local Whitehall family, just towns over from our publication's scope fell into the madness of this situation.

Right here.

 In Pittsburgh.


Yet, I sat on my stairs wishing my child would, "JUST GO TO SLEEP."

How dare I. 

 That poor family.  That sweet little baby.   An unimaginable fate that played in my mind over and over while MY little 3 year old finally succumbed to sleep. Safe, in her bed.

Alive.


How dare I.  

Worse yet.  The mauling continued.  The sickening comments made by some who find instances like these-- a time to attack a family that might never recover.  They are worse than the dogs.  Social media becomes the pack mentality.  They  mauled the mother alongside her son for lifting the child up on the railing.

We don't even know all the details, yet the pack has formed.


How dare they. 

As a mother, this I know.
Whatever happened yesterday…call off the pack.

There are no words or comments that will be a worse punishment than witnessing the death of your child, let alone by such a fate as this.

She will crucify herself harsher and more intense than any comment ever could.  She will drive nails into her skin until she can feel no more. 

Every inhale will remind her of "what she could have done differently" from this day forward.

We mothers endlessly crucify ourselves daily for even the tiniest things, can you imagine something such as this on trial in your heart?

We are the worst judge and jury assembled, most assuredly.


Leave her alone and use this time to show the nation "The Pittsburgh Way."

Mothers, come together for this woman who may or may not have made one split second bad decision …like we all have.

Our thoughts continue to be with this Pittsburgh family --yesterday, today and all tomorrows.

This is a facebook group set up to collect funds for the Derkosh Family.