Tag Archives: kids

Smells like Dreft

Used up and sucked dry,

my inhibitions discarded along with my placenta.

Who is this shirtless woman, carelessly loading a washing machine,

no consideration for mismatched colors.

Fabrics in need of special care must now fend for themselves.

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, I am a Mother

Shamu sneaks into my bed

I have been writing for 8 hours, my back aches and my head is pounding. A pot and a half of coffee has kept the kid active all day. I feel like he is keeping me company, his kicks almost as rhythmic as my typing. I look back on what I have accomplished. Only 10 fucking pages. Seriously? I have been writing my entire life but I never really sat down and took it this seriously with a  goal in mind.

I am committed to finishing my novel before I give birth because I certainly won’t have the time to write for 8 hours straight once he pops out and demands every ounce of energy from me. My days will be consumed with breast-feeding and changing diapers and not much else. Any writing I do will most likely be a sleep deprived mess of words, lacking much sense or creativity. Or maybe I will be so inspired by my new role in life that I will start writing fuzzy childrens books with mice that wear purple underwear and ride bicycles while knitting hats for friendly whales.

Speaking of whales, I am going to have to face my all time biggest fear; motherfucking orca whales. Yep, Shamu is the absolute scariest thing in the entire world. I can’t even look at them on television without screaming and throwing my hands over my face. Those damn Sea World commercials get me every time. They show the fucking things flying, literally flying through the sky and I am supposed to act normal?

Well, I am going to have to start acting normal because I don’t want the kid to be afraid of something as stupid as a whale. I mean, in what situation am I ever going to find myself alone in the open water surrounded by killer whales? Which actually is not my real fear. I have dreams where killer whales are no longer confined to the sea or swimming pools at theme parks. They slither up and down city streets and make their way into my home, their giant black and white slimy bodies hovering above my bed, that giant eyeball staring right at me. Oh god, they are so fucking disgusting. But, I have to get over it. I cannot react to a Sea World commercial with a hysterical yelp once the kid is here, only encouraging other such irrational fears in him.

I’m not saying that I ever intend on going to Sea World with the kid. His Father can take him and they will have a lovely time while I stay home, far away from that big eye pressed up against the glass. If he brings home a giant stuffed Shamu I must smile pleasantly even if I am screaming on the inside. So, I guess this is just one more sacrifice I am going to have to make for the sake of a healthy, happy child. Pretending to like Shamu, I can handle that one.

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Filed under I am Pregnant, I dreamed..., Something that happened

Cell phones and Cigarettes

As I sit with my coffee this morning I mourn for a friend, a companion of 18 years. Oh, cigarettes, I miss you so. I long for the ritual as much as the sweet smoke inhaled deep into my lungs, blanketing my insides with comfort, lovely poisonous comfort. Even the packing of the box against the palm of my hand, the swift tear of cellophane and pull of silver paper, crumpled together and shoved into my pocket gave me a sense of satisfaction and enjoyment. When both my hands were busy I would pull the cigarette from the pack with my front teeth, I don’t why I loved this little ritual but I did. I was a multi-tasking smoker, able to smoke an entire cigarette without the use of my hands. Does this count as a talent?

I remember my first cigarette at 13, walking home from school with my good friend Chelsea. She lit a Marlboro Light and handed it to me. I was in love with the very first drag and bought my first pack later that day. When I couldn’t afford my own smokes I stole my Dad’s GPC Menthol’s. I later switched to Camel 99’s and finally to Winston Lights for the additive free aspect. I always assumed my Parents knew I smoked and never really tried to hide it but they still pretended to be shocked the first time I lit up right in front of them.

Most of all I miss my mornings spent with coffee and cigarettes. I actually find myself having a hard time getting out of bed lately. I used to awaken with a smile upon my face and anticipation bubbling in my lungs. I smoked as the coffee percolated and smoked as I took my first sip of caffeinated motivation and smoked as I finished my third cup. Now what? I wake up and make one cup of weak ass coffee and sit, awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. How does a day begin without a smoke? I am really trying to figure this one out.

This morning I began think about how I will approach the topic of smoking with my Son. I truly hope that he never smokes that first cigarette because if he gets even a fraction of my fucked up addiction riddled genes he will fall in love just as I did. Then I realized that I don’t see nearly as many kids smoking these days as I once did. I attribute this due to fancy cellphones with all the email, texting and internet whatnots. When I was a teenager I relied very heavily on the distraction of smoking when I found myself in social situations. When I was uncomfortable I lit a cigarette, when I was embarrassed I hid behind a cloud of smoke, when I wanted to look like I didn’t give a shit I flicked my butt into the street. Now kids have cell phones in their pockets to fiddle with and appear distracted by. No more staring at the floor during an uncomfortable silence, just pull out the phone and pretend to check email. Cell phones have saved kids from cigarettes!

With my luck not only will my kid smoke but I will find pictures on his phone of him smoking while naked in public with a stolen stereo on his shoulder. I quite like the entertainment having a Son will bring to my life, even the uncomfortable shit like telling him not to smoke while I will probably still be secretly longing for my long-lost love Winston.

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Filed under Alcoholism and other Assholes, I am Pregnant, I remember