Uncategorized

You’re a Good Egg Mama, And That’s No Yolk

Okay, readers, all five of you that read here, hear this: I am NOT going to be doing my whole Deceptively Delicious approach to Taurine. Why? Because I’m not Jessica Seinfeld, Taurine is not veggies, and BECAUSE THAT’S INSANE.

Let’s get real: My kid is going to have enough to deal with in Junior High without his mother sneaking around him like the Pink Panther sprinkling amino acids in his hash browns.

Him: What’s this white stuff, Mama?

Me: Fairy, dust, kid. Gluten free fuck-it-all pixie fluff. Wait ’til you see how I hide it in your syrup!

I came to the above conclusion today, while standing in line with my husband at Costco. It was our big lunch out where we get to spend $1.82 each on a hot dog and soda. Only it had been such a horrible day of guilt for me, combined with some bad news from work and some friend drama, that I decided to ditch the dog for both the pizza combo slice AND the vanilla chocolate swirl. (I know, I’m a rebel.)

Standing in line, I had this awful sense of impending doom. Not guilt so much as ominous storm cloud harbingers of doom. What’s that stinky feeling called again? Oh yeah, a CONSCIENCE. And it goes something like this: “You can’t drug your child behind his back, dork.” My husband agreed. He loves our son as much as I do. We show it differently and I happen to show it better but in the end, we arrive at the same conclusion. We want the best for him always.

for blog

I mean, what if my little scheme worked? What if the tics went away, but he took off for college, and suddenly they came back and he had no idea why. That would be awkward.

Me: “Oh, sweetie, those duck quacks are just cause you miss me. Come on home. I’ll serve you up some nice hash browns.”

What if there was a terrible reaction and he ended up in E.R. and I had to come clean with my husband. “Oh, that third testicle? It’s just from giving him Taurine. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be the voice of reason on my mad dash toward nutty thinking.”

No, the CRAZY making had to stop.

I don’t know about you, but I find that my most wonky thinking happens when my self-will is in direct opposition with God’s will. I want what I want, rather than accept what is. I don’t know why God allows tics, or why I can’t seem to drink one glass of red wine without wanting to down three glasses and pretend I’m sexier than a Cosmo model at Caesar’s palace when I’m really just alone on my couch, reading Outlander, wanting to have an affair with a fictional character.

sam-heughan-just-jared-spotlight-04

But the fact is, it’s not a good plan for me to drink – at least not now in my life. And, if I’m going to be honest about what I shouldn’t be ingesting, it’s likely not really a great idea about being dishonest about what my kid is ingesting.

hto blog

Before Costco today I was at Trader Joe’s… avoiding writing… scarfing samples… when the above egg container caught my attention. I had never noticed it before, so why it caught my eye today with my brain spinning more than the stories I tell Stink about amino acids, it just felt safe. “Place Broken Eggs Here” it read. There was no lying. No manipulation. Notice it didn’t read, “Nothing wrong here! Go on with your untarnished egg self!”

No, not only was it admitting to the world that sometimes stuff get cracked, it was offering a safe spot for them to land.

I find that safe place to be here at Happily Ticked Off. I find it with my book (that is truly almost done – third rewrite, folks.) I find it with my girlfriends and meetings and church and my kids and lately, with my spouse. We are really communicating beautifully and it’s lovely.

I know that I’m not always a perfect egg, but I’m loved even with my flaws. And that’s how I want my kids to feel. I want them to know that they have a safe container in their mama to rest. No perfection required.

Thanks for being here for me, people. I know this tics thing isn’t always easy, but I challenge every one of you, like I challenge myself, to remember the intention behind why we do what we do. Are we managing situations for our kids or for us? Sometimes we just don’t know. In my case today I knew it was management for me, because when I decided to put an end to The Sneaky Supplement Tour, 2015 I felt peace.

Plus I spoke to my sponsor. I believe her exact words when I told her about my grand plans were, “That’s crazy.”

Until next time,

May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, change the tics you can, and have the wisdom to know the difference.

Advertisements
Uncategorized

I Found the Cure to What Ails Me!

So, I’m not going to lie to you. I’m in love with another man. His name is Sam Heughan. He plays Jamie in the Starz series, Outlander. Have any of you been watching? Or, prior to the series, have any of you read the series by Diana Gabaldon?

In a nutshell, a world war 2 nurse, Claire Randall, gets reacquainted with her husband, Frank, in a boarding house in England. To pass the time while he works, she falls through some Stone Henge-esque stones and lands in 1748 Scotland during the clash between the Scots and the English. A clan takes her in for her own protection. Soon they realize she has lots of medicinal powers. Is she a witch? An English spy? They don’t know.

But, to keep her safe – and since the lass is useful – they marry her off to a hot highlander to keep her out of the arms of a nasty lieutenant who finds rape, flogging and smacking the crap out men, women and children to be all in a day’s fun. The highlander she is betrothed to is none other than an outlaw – Jamie Fraser – who is six foot four, sassy and manly as the day is long.

blog 3

The problem for her is that while she must accept the reality she is in now, she misses her old one also. And yet, after consummating her marriage to Jamie, she finds that despite less than perfect circumstances, she just might be able to adjust to her new life.

blog 4

Clearly there is only one answer to my tic conundrum this month: To get over my grief of what was a nice, quiet run sans tics, I must simply be engage in sex with a man who makes love with “unflagging joy” and speaks to me in an accent that can make “we need toilet paper” sound like “Your body is a temple of Yuban goodness.” Yes, that would make it all better, do you not agree?

Outlander 2014

Until tomorrow, may God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, change the tics you can, and have the wisdom to know the difference.