This Mother's Day, DITFY

Tweet Let me tell you about my first Mother's Day. I was pretty young, about 22, and I lived in a city where I had no friends or family. Not a one. Everyone I knew (besides my husband) lived 2 hours away. We lived in a little room in a boarding house. Spawn#1 was about a month old. So there I was, lonely and alone and young and hormonal and sleep deprived and my first Mother's Day rolls around. I didn't know what to expect, but I did expect something to happen.

It did. 

My husband woke up bright and early and went outside to wash his car. Which took (literally) about 5 hours. Then he ran to the store and got himself salmon and steak for dinner. And then he cooked it. And the whole house stunk of salmon and I hate salmon and then I cried. 

A lot. 

Subsequent Mother's Days have been better. Or mediocre. One memorable year husband walked into the master disaster playroom, intending to clean it, and walked back out after about 30 seconds. That year wasn't so great. And now, after experiencing 12 years of Mother's Days, I have come to a conclusion. I'm going to share it with you. 

Being a mom is hard work. Really hard work. Like the hardest thing I've ever done. And I think it's lovely and wonderful to spend a day thanking and pampering all mamas to show a little appreciation. A lot of money doesn't have to be spent- but something needs to happen. Something nice. And you know what I say about that? This Mother's Day, DITFY. Do It The Fuck Yourself.

Why sit around waiting for someone to make you happy? Why silently hope someone gets you that purse you've been eyeing? Why just hope you'll have enough quiet to snag a much needed nap? Do It The Fuck Yourself. Get the kids out of the house and enjoy some peace. Order that pair of shoes you've been watching. I've made an appointment for me and my girl to get a mani-pedi this Sunday, then I'm gonna take my boys and stuff my face with pancakes. You need to do whatever's gonna make you happy- you deserve it, and you should make it happen.  

And Happy Fucking Mother's Day!

PLEASE NOTE: This is intended solely as advice for mamas. If you have a mama, do not tell her to DITFY. That would not be appropriate. Tell your mama you want to give her a wonderful day and then do what she asks of you. Thank you. 

I Have A Hello Kitty Kitchen

Tweet I'm going to tell you a story.

Once, there was a girl. (Yes, it was me, obviously.) This girl loved Hello Kitty. She loved going to the Sanrio store and browsing all the shelves of tiny packaged little erasers and notepads and stickers and pencil boxes and gum and everything that was cute and pink in the world. But damn, that Hello Kitty shit was expensive. This girl did not get very much of it. So one day, this girl was having a birthday party. And in this girl's class was another little girl who was kind of mean and unpleasant. BUT this rather unpleasant girl always brought really nice Hello Kitty gifts to birthday parties. So in a moment of weakness, this girl invited the mean girl to her birthday party, just to get a nice Hello Kitty gift. And when this girl opened her gift from the mean girl, there was a box of crayons and a notepad and a small plastic garbage can inside. That were not Hello Kitty.

The moral of the story? Kids are assholes. Also, always buy your kids what they want or they will turn into 34 year old women with Hello Kitty kitchens.

The Hello Kitty kitchen started out with an innocent toaster. My mom bought it for me years ago. Then things just slowly started spiraling out of control. Finally I figured what the hell- this is a Hello Kitty kitchen.

This mug is one of the few HK things I've purchased for myself. My mom has bought most of it. 

Trying to make up for my horribly deprived childhood, I suppose. 

These are the HK appliances I use regularly- toaster, popcorn popper, waffle maker, 

toaster oven and rice cooker. 

I dug these out of storage- cotton candy maker, mixer and another popcorn popper. 

The sandwich maker is missing in action. 

(Oh and I had the cute HK microwave from Target but it didn't work.)

That's a cereal dispenser filled with cat food. It crunched up all the cereal when it dispensed it. 

                                       Bubble gum machine is up on top. 

 My lovely friend Tracy of Bleu Mama Designs made me this adorable fan, featuring my favorite colors. All of the kitty heads are hand painted! She really makes lovely stuff. This is hanging above my back door- way out of reach of the Spawn.

And that's it! My Hello Kitty kitchen. Yes, I may have problems. But at least it's easy to 

buy me a Christmas gift.

I Commissioned A Painting Of My Guinea Pigs

Tweet I love that I can write that- it just feels representative of my life. I Commissioned A Painting Of My Guinea Pigs. I mean, why wouldn't I?

One day I was chatting with my pal It's A Dome Life (I'm sorry Lillian, I always name everyone their Twitter handles. It's a sickness.) and I rather jokingly mentioned that I wanted a painting of my guinea pigs with rainbows and unicorns. Lillian, not realizing what a bumbling fool I was (or maybe she did and considers it endearing), was all HECK YEAH! I decided to tone down my request a little, if we were doing this for reals- I said no unicorns. Which I kind of regret, because I think Lillian could have pulled it off. She's amazing!

After sending some pictures and patiently waiting, I got a big package in the mail. The kids ripped it open like the rabid wild animals they are. And lo and behold- my very first commissioned piece of art!

The kids and I are beyond thrilled with our painting. We have it up on the fireplace, right next to the guinea cage. I hadn't realized how much our baby Rainbow had grown- she's in the middle. She looks so different! Pretty soon she'll be a big fat guinea sausage like her older sisters. 

Lillian paints everything- houses, people, animals, flowers, mermaids! I highly recommend you go check out her website or her Twitter or her Facebook- not only because she's talented and creative, but because she is just a funny, charming, sweet and delightful person. 

This is totally not a sponsored post. Lillian just rocks. 

The First Love Letter I Ever Wrote To A Woman: Dear Brittany Howard

Tweet Dear Brittany,

    Is it okay if I call you Brittany? I assume so, since I am here writing you a love letter and all and I don't see the need for formalities. I have been in love with you and the Alabama Shakes ever since I first heard you on the radio. It was soulful, and real and moving and rockin' and everything you'd ever want in a song (that was the masterpiece that is Hold On). Your voice- it moved me. It reminded me of Janis Joplin, and as a friend once said- Janis was awesome because she was just such a badassmotherfucker.

     A few months ago a friend mentioned that she didn't know what kind of music I liked, so I went searching for a link to send her. I found one, and I saw you for the first time. And I'll tell you- this is kind of weird, I know- but when I saw you, I felt elated.

    Now don't get me wrong here. I don't hate Taylor Swift, or that other Britney, or Carrie Underwood or Call Me Maybe girl or any of those other washboard abbed made-up to perfection musical personas that are popular right now. I really don't hate them- more power to them. But here's what I hate- that's all there is. With the exception of Adele, and isn't there that whole "exception that makes the rule" thing?

     You see Brittany, I have a daughter. A beautiful, healthy, perfect, smart, energetic daughter. She's wonderful. She's got the world at her feet and I'm excited to see where it takes her. And you wanna know the fucked up thing? The most fucked up thing EVER is that she thinks she needs to be on a diet.

     Look at that girl. She couldn't be lovelier. And she's got a strong body that climbs trees and does cartwheels and swings on monkey bars and roller skates and takes her everywhere she wants to go. I mean, she couldn't be any more amazing- and she got this horrid disgusting idea of being on a diet. AT 8 YEARS OLD. It makes me want to tear my hair out and bang on walls and Hulk smash all the electronic devices in our house with a hammer. Because she has not gotten that shitty idea at home. I am a plus sized woman and I make sure to be confident in myself and teach my kids that being a good person is what matters the most. But it doesn't look like it's enough.

     So thank you, Brittany. Thank you for being you. Thank you for being a kick ass woman who isn't a Hollywood cookie cutter stereotype. Thank you for giving my daughter someone she can look up to who won't give her self-esteem issues about not having a 6 pack. And finally, thank you for the music that stirs my soul. I am truly happy you are in this world.