Motherhood Uncensored

BlogHer, School, Meds, and My Mom: Because I'm all out of exciting titles

This will be the first year in seven years that I won't be at BlogHer, but the first weekend of any month is killer for a family with a spouse in the Reserves (mandatory UTA weekend - don't ask me what that stands for other than "I can't get out of this, honey, unless I'm dead") and if you have kids in the South going to school since they start on August 6. 

Take that in for a moment, especially if you grew up in the Northeast like me and are all like "WTF are you kidding me?" 

And no, it's not because of the weather at the end of the school year because have you been to the south in August? 

{Apparently it's based on old farming schedules where kids used to have to help and they decided that it didn't need to be changed since kids are still farming and all. Uh.}

But yes, this means my kids are going to school, a nice little Montessori school that's a bit of a drive (25 minutes each way on sort of slow back roads) and a bit expensive (anyone looking to hire a blogger?) and I still need to have a babysitter for Bridget so it's boxed macaroni and cheese around here for awhile. 

The public schools near us aren't for us, which is code for "they suck," but that sounds judgy  of other parents in our neighborhood who I know (and like) who send their kids there so we all say "they're not for us." 

But if I can get past the long drives and the crazy schedules, I think I'll get a little more of my sanity back, which was something that was questionable trying to work and homeschool the kids while my husband was gone all the time.

And as much as I was hoping the Viibryd would perform miracles and make me a cheery domestic goddess, all they did was fuck my stomach up so hard that I had to stop taking them. 

I tried with food without food not eating food at all eating lots of food and I couldn't hack it, guys.

And after reading all the bad side effects of the meds (Yay Google!), I decided that I wanted to go see my midwife who wouldn't just give me free samples of some new drug because the hot pharm sales girl dropped them off that morning. 

I was feeling all proud of my non-meds coping skills with all the crap that was going on with my mom's surgery but then my husband chimed in about how much better I was on the meds. 

I just nodded and smiled but inside I kind of wanted to say "better how, like dealing with your crap?" but I didn't until just now and that felt pretty good. 

Are there meds that help you take ALL the recycling out and not just some of it even though it's right near the actual recycling bin because then I would like you to take some of those, dear. 

Yeah. I should probably get back on the meds. 

Thankfully, my mom's big house reveal went over famously, mostly due to the paint and not the actual MAJOR ASS cleaning we all did. 

Note to self: Show parent your awesome work before you have the house painted because that is all she will notice. That and the big television my brother brought her BUT LOOK AT YOUR CLOSET IT'S SO AWESOME MOM!  

I'm just telling myself she was so shocked and overwhelmed that she couldn't sob thanks while clutching me in her arms like I imagined and instead obsessed about how that she could now watch Thornbirds on YouTube all on her big new television. 

Did I mention I cleaned out her entire house? 

Every time she asked me where something important was, like her credit cards or her Spanx or her Brooks Brothers ballet flats and I knew where they were she would let out this "OH PHEW!" And I couldn't help but feel judged like I'm just some asshole who went through all her things and tossed them in the dumpster. 

Your 20-year old underpants? Yes mom. They are gone. Your vintage coach bags? Give me some freaking credit. 

Of course, after I arrived home, I got the obligatory "Where is that book that was on my nightstand?" which led to a whole freaking "I'm feeling like you threw me out in the dumpster" and "Maybe it's because you hate this house!" '

Ah family dysfunction. The reason why people move far away. And drink. 

So while everyone else will be whooping it up in NYC, I'll be avoiding all contact with my mother, staying up until the crack of dawn watching the Olympics, tweeting about the embarrasingly awful coverage by NBC, and trying to figure out how in the hell I have three children that will be in school in a week. 

Oh and counting down the days I head to Mexico for four days all by myself.

What's going on with you?

I've been writing. In my head.

My head is filled with all sorts of things I want to tell you, but none of them are anything I want memorialized in print, cached on Google forever. 

I think about it at the early hours of the morning when I can't sleep. When half the kids are napping and the others are staring blankly at computer screens like me. When I should be running and instead I'm stuffing my face with more birthday cake. 

I wonder if I could pretend to write what I want say like it's someone else's story. And then I tell myself that's stupid and why bother writing it anyway. 

But at least I'd get it out. And I wouldn't feel so alone. 

{Yeah, I know. Cue violins and cliches.}

The stuff I need to write isn't anything I want my kids to read. All the crappy stuff about my relationship that I ended up saving personally then deleting publicy. All the shit about my in-laws that I leave completely in tact. They can read all that. 

The vaginas, the buttholes, the all-the-other-stuff that's seemingly embarrassing but I'd actually much prefer talking about than anything that's been going on these last few weeks is all fine for them. 

Since my mom was hospitalized (and if you're wondering, should be on her way to a pretty, shiny, ridiculously clean home this week), it's been tough goings around my place. In my head. In my heart. 

And so until I can jump out of the funk and figure out a way to write it out that I'm willing to let my children read, I'll just send you to other stuff I have actually written down. 

Like how it feels to be a daughter again after being a mom for so long;

Like what stuff of your kids you should save and what you should toss so your kids don't have to do what I did to my own mom's house; 

And like how we're supposed to put our mask on first before putting on everyone else's but it's easier said than done. 

Tell me some awesome news. I need to hear about happy things! 

Why I'll never be an extra in The Internship with Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn

Today I got an email for an open casting call for extras for "The Internship," a movie with Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn being filmed here in Atlanta. And while I had missed the actual in-person call, since they were taking email submissions, I figured it couldn't hurt to send a few pics, adjust my weight (ahem), and see what happened. 

Now they were casting for geeky/nerdy types, which basically means they toss a pair of dark glasses on the people, put a pocket protector in their pocket, and take a couple of pictures. Then if they need a warm body, they call them a few hours before they need them, at which point they stand around for most of the day, hoping to brush shoulders with a famous person and not end up on the cutting room floor, all while getting paid minimum wage. 

So basically, I'd be paying to be in the movie since I pay my babysitter triple that.

The life of an extra is not glamorous, y'all. 

But hey I would be in a movie for a milisecond "LOOK RIGHT THERE THAT'S MY FINGERNAIL!" and it was enough to make me send a couple of photos: A headshot and a full length shot as instructed. 

I almost instantly got this reply: 

"I need pics of you that are more cubicle drone nerdy awkward"

Which I totally get. I've done enough castings to know this. But I don't have a photo of myself looking like a cubicle drone nerdy awkward and I don't have dark glasses and pocket protectors laying around my house to put on and be photographed with an iPhone to send. 

So I wrote back  a funny "Okay cool, no worries, my life will go on. Thanks anyway." 

"Ha! Well, I run a tech site, but I don't think I actually dress the part while I do it, sorry!"

But then someone got all snarky on my ass. 

"Most people that audition to be whores in film, don't usually look the part in real life. I'm asking for you to send me better pics of what I need to submit you for this movie. Your pics are too pretty to be considered."

Which hey, my pictures are pretty. Thanks! But also, whores? So I wrote back: 

Well, too bad you're not casting for whores. I totally dress like THAT every day. 
 
And well, it turns out Casting Director Lowly Intern has a sense of humor. 

Bwahahahahahaha. 

Alas, I won't be cast in a movie anytime soon but I WIN AT FUNNY ON EMAIL. 

Updates from the land of bed pans and IVs

Greetings from South Jersey, where for the past few days where I've been planted in various hospital rooms and waiting areas. 

I haven't even been to a Wawa yet, people. 

It's amazing how exhausting just standing around, doing essentially nothing except worry is. 

The good news is that my mom is doing well, and the tests have shown what the issues were and how to solve them. 

The downside is that solving them will involve surgery, which isn't really a downside in the long run, however when your mom is in New Jersey and you're in Atlanta, it's a bummer. 

But hey, that's why you marry a pilot!

As of tonight, my kids are in town, though I haven't seen them just yet; I get one more night of quiet sleep before adding my "mom" hat back onto my head on top of "daughter," "bouncer," "personal assistant," and "doctor interrogator." 

But hey, at least I didn't have to fly up with all of them. I left that pleasure to my husband and mother-in-law. 

I'll be undoing that damage for years. (Ha). 

I will say it's been wonderful catching up with family and old friends, even if it's with one of us dressed in a backlass gown with a bunch of IVs hanging out of her arm. 

(No, I'm not talking about me. As tempting as those sexy gowns are, I stuck with my jeans that could probably walk on their own since I've worn them so much).

Thanks for all your thoughts and well wishes! Off to smuggle my mom some Chick-Fil-A waffle fries. 

When I'm not here, I'm there

Can you believe that's Bridget? 

{Taken with Instagram - I'm @thatkristen}

- On letting dad take over. And how having four kids made me and my husband better parents. 

- My sometimes single parent survival tips. 

- 6 ways my family uses the iPad. Or really, 4 ways my kids use the iPad and 2 ways that I use it. Sometimes. When I can get my hands on it. 

- The update on my medication situation made it to the AOL homepage, which is only to say that the crazy commenters came out to play. {It always amazes me that people have time to say such nasty things!}

- Our awesome Father's Day gift guide over on Cool Mom Picks, with new gift ideas rolling out daily. 

And my favorite tweet of the week: