Why My Job And My Facebook Account Are Equally Important

Today is day seven in a row of BABY.  During the week, I am a stay-at-home mom, but most weekends, I work.  I work for a few reasons.  One, we can use the money.   Two, I need to get out of this house and away from my angel nugget at least once a week.  Jack is my joy.  The moment I leave him, I miss him.  The second I put him to bed, I want to pick him back up and hold him watch him sleep.  When I hear him in the morning, I love walking into his room and seeing his smile as we start our day together.  That being said, as most parents know, I NEED A BREAK. Continue reading

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My Mom Is The Worst

If your mother is anything like mine, it can freak you out when you find yourself saying or doing something the way she does.  My mother is truly saddened when she sees a young lady (like myself) who chooses not to wear make up or fix her hair.  It drove me nuts growing up.  I was a tshirt and jeans kind of kid.  I don’t think I ever actually fixed my hair until….well….11th grade?  Seriously.  And that was only occasionally.  I refused to wear contacts until then, too.  In hind sight, it is hilarious to me that these things bothered her.  She is the one who taught me to never pay full price for anything.  Abercrombie and Fitch was robbing people if they thought she was going to pay $50 for a tshirt.  SHE WAS RIGHT.  That is insane.  It’s a piece of cotton that has A and F on it.  YOU are PAYING Abercrombie to walk around and advertise for them.  When I was very little, I’m sure she fixed my hair, but once I got old enough to dress myself and whatnot, she never really said, “Okay, Becca.  This is how you fix your hair.”  She didn’t pick out my outfits.  I did.  I had the opportunity to make my own decisions and I chose to do what required the least amount of effort possible.  Which drove her nuts.  Which drove ME nuts.  We were very different people.  I was an early teen who hated school, girls who care about A and F, and most of all, my mother.  She. Was. The. Worst.  She wanted me to study.  She wanted me to do my homework.  She wanted me to SWEEP THE DINING ROOM LIKE I WAS SOME SORT OF HOUSE ELF.  What was wrong with her?  She was upset with me when my teacher called her and said that it looked like I may have forged her signature on my report card.  WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO, MOM?!  I GOT A C IN HISTORY!  She even made me call and apologize to my evil teacher like it was MY fault that she noticed that my mother’s handwriting looked different.  Then, when I decided I wanted to join a softball team because my best friend was doing it, she wouldn’t let me quit.  IT WAS HOT!  I was an awful softball player and she still made me stick with it until the end of the season.  She came to every game just to make sure I went.  Or to root me on.  I don’t know.  Moms, right?  Ugh!  Now, as an adult, I find myself doing things the way she did and it just totally freaks me out.  Here are some things I have to blame on my mother: Continue reading