I Need A Little Sarah Connor In Me

   Well, it's May 23rd, 2011.  The world didn't end on Saturday and even though I didn't think it would, I'm really relieved it didn't.  I am not a survivalist,  I don't plan ahead for anything.  I take life as it comes and I don't have enough food in my house to last my family to the end of the week, much less any put away in a box marked "emergency".  A friend of mine reminded me of one of the shows I used to watch with my husband back before Playstation came out with Call of Duty.  It was called the Dollhouse and the brunette slayer from Buffy was the lead character Echo.  A human "doll" who could be given a "treatment" of downloadable personality traits to make her into what ever the customer wantesd her to be.
   How fucking great would it be for me if someone could just inject me with a little Sarah Connor before the world ends or the zombies come swarming through my quaint mountain town to chew on all the babies?  I would be a post apocalypse ass kicker.  I would have the girl-balls to take on cyborgs if need be (even though its the zombies that worry me) and I would be smart and know how to make Molotov cocktails and take apart and reassemble a weapon with my eyes closed.  Maybe I wouldn't teach my girls to count by twos and tie their fucking shoes, but they would know how to take out a T-1000 or a zombie without messing up their little pigtails.  I'd raise little Amazon warrior beasts, cutthroat committee cuties!
   You probably think wow, what kind of woman would want little girls like that?!?  Me motherfuckers.  Me.  I am not ready for shit.  Luckily for my family, the biggest natural disaster that we have to worry about is this volcano that we live on the base of.  But it hasn't erupted in like 200 someshit years and after watching Dante's Peak (it fucking has Sarah Connor in it too!)  I feel confident that I know the warning signs of a volcanic eruption, and would be able to have some notice that I needed to get the fuck out of dodge with my kids, my man, my dogs, (fuck the fish), and my nookcolor.  
   But just the thought of "pack what you need and go" scares me.  How will I know what I need?  What do I prioritize?  I should've read a fucking manual on this shit ages ago instead of reading cheap romances all day. I AM NOT PREPARED!  When the earthquakes and then tsunamis devastated  Japan, and the tornadoes swept through middle America, I realized I had no clue what I would need to do.   Zombies are just the #1 name I have to put on this fear in my heart of not being ready for a disaster.  I know I can fight.  I can physically endure a tussle, but what about having the things I need to defend, feed and clothe my family.  How do I get all that shit together and into a compact-ready-to-go-container?  I've studied the lists and I know the things that I should do, but I lack the drive to put it all in one place as if that is just asking for something to happen.
   So when I turned on my computer last Tuesday and found out quite by accident through one of Aunt Becky's blog posts that the Rapture was Saturday I felt like a dumbass.  Here it was like 4 days out, and I'm just hearing about it?  Good one, fick.  I didn't believe, and I'm glad it didn't come but it made me think.
   Of zombies of course, and volcanic eruptions.  Of Stephen King's The Stand, 28 Days Later, The Book of Eli, The Happening, oh I could go on and on.  It also made me think about what I wished I had done differently if the end had really come.  The first thing I though about was a survival kit, which I wished I had had ready in case I was around for the Post Rapture Looting Party and the hordes of zombies.  So I'm gonna try and channel a little Sarah Connor into myself, just in case.
   Mostly though and  most importantly to me, it really made me think of all the shit I wished I had've done.  I even made a list.  This was shit like I wished I had kept up on my dishes and laundry so that those aspects of my world weren't always piling up and pissing me off.  I wished I had spent more time for myself, making me happy.  I wished I hadn't resented so much the aspects of motherhood that will really only last for a few short years.  One day they will grow up and not need me but until then I have to do it all for them.  I wouldn't resent having to keep them alive if zombies were after us all, so I shouldn't resent having to feed them 3 times a day not counting snacks.  It only costs me a dirty kitchen.  
   I realized I needed to stop petting the sweaty stuff.  I mean stop sweating the petty stuff and live my life in a way that would cause me less stress and resentfulness.  So I kind of made me a new I survived the non-Rapture bucket list.

• Do the fucking dishes already! Small doses are easier to swallow.
• Same goes for the laundry, fold that shit as it comes out of the dryer!
• I'm not just someone's mama, I am me, and I need to take care of me.  What did selflessness ever do for ME?  Nothing!  That's what, so I need to think more about ways to make me happy.   I can't look to anyone else to do it for me.  I don't want to lose myself anymore.  I want to be a better me for me and then for my kids.
• Dinner comes at the same time every fucking day, so does breakfast and lunch.  I bet if I keep up on the dishes better I wont mind so much having to cook all the time because the kitchen wont be dirty.  I cant cook in a dirty kitchen.
• Don't fight the domesticity.  It's only a wrinkle in time and will be over before I know it or want it to.  I got myself into this motherhood thing and I'm in it hardcore style until they are 18.  
         Any time I ask my mom or any other older woman if she would like to trade evenly or even get a deal of a lifetime on two slightly used little girls, they say no, they did their time already.  This is what leads me to understand why women can only have kids up to a certain age, while men shoot sperm forever. Because we would go fucking crazy if we had to deal with babies for fucking ever.  Men for some fucking reason have the father role way easier than mothers get.  They can have kids forever because they never really have them like we really have them.  From birth to earth.  It doesn't cause a man any pain to have a child, it doesn't affect their body or their emotions, their souls.  We can only give birth to so many, growing them within us, nurturing them for so long.  Not so with men, it never phases them like it does us.  They don't have to lose their selves like we do. So I'm really trying to understand that and not fight it anymore, while also trying to find new ways to find myself in all of this.
• Be a phenomenal woman.  I made a list of all the phenomenal women I wish I could download into my body.  I want a little Sarah Connor,  a little Lara Croft, some Beatrice Kiddo, and I want a little bit of Michelle Pheifer in One Fine Day where she has that wonderfully stylish hobo bag filled with everything her kid and she needs for the day.  I want some Mrs. Tuee or whatever the fuck her name was that Sandra Bullock played in The Blindside.  And I want more Samantha, Carrie, Charlotte, and Miranda from Sex and the City.  All four of those bitches had some bad ass in them.  And I can't forget the Mighty Ya Ya Sisterhood.  These are all fictional characters yes, and there are some real life bad ass bitches I know.  Real Phenomenal Women, but ya'll don't know them so I'm sticking with icons.

  So since the world is still spinning and my lungs are still pulling air, I had better get my shit together and start channeling my inner bad bitch so I have  my disaster kit ready for the next big scare.  We still gotta make it through 2012 before I will really breathe easily......

Beautiful Mother

    So a couple weeks ago on facebook, there was one of those Beautiful Mother Award chain postings going around.  It said the usual send to 8 others but I did it to many more than that.  I got lots back and some were from some people who have never even seen my kids or seen me in action (at least that I can recall).  I was flattered at that since sometimes I doubt my momming, but that's not what this is about.  As we near Mother's Day, I feel more and more like writing something about my momming; but that's what this whole blog is about anyways.  My momming.  

     I toyed with the idea of writing a post calling myself out on what I feel I do wrong or at least not right as a mom and  I will get to that post someday I'm sure, but this post came to my mind a little while ago and I think it's 'the one' for tonight.  Tonight, I'm going to try in as many ways as I can to tell you what a beautiful mother is to me.  I started thinking about this because when I went back and read the you're a beautiful mother award again, I realized it said NOTHING as to why we thought so and so was a beautiful mother.  Keep in mind that I am not trying to describe myself as a beautiful mother because I'm not near that cocky or self deluded to think I am, even though others do (but hey that's them).  I know I'm a good mama and I know that some of these traits or descriptions may apply to me (in someone else's opinion) but this is not a tip my fucking mama hat post.  It's a hat tip to all the mamas out there who are beautiful in my own estimations.  Okay, so here goes somethin' I hope..

• A beautiful mother is a woman who recognizes from the moment of the thought of conception of her children that she is no longer the most important thing in her life.  Her child is.  And from the day she accepts and decides to mother a child, to the day she dies; her child comes first.
• A beautiful mother realizes that she is but the bow.  Her job is to raise her children as her arrows.  Her goal in life is sharpening and honing them into the straightest and truest flying little beings that she can aim as she lets them go out into the world. She does her best in life keep on target, and keep her children on the right path.
• A beautiful mother is a woman who, even when unable to stay on target  for what ever reasons the world may hold,  or keep her little arrows from flying off course; still loves and supports her children.
• That is to say that a beautiful mother's love is undying.  A powerful force to be reckoned with indeed, she'd move heaven and hell for her children.  Her love is a beautiful thing. It is unconditional.  Awe inspiring.  She is the sun in which a child's universe revolves around.
• A beautiful mother says to God, "Thankyou Lord for the blessings you have given me in my children, and please help me to be worthy of them."  Motherhood is sacred.   Pregnancy is the only chance in life many of us get to assist God in creating a miracle, and motherhood is the journey we take to share that miracle with the world and share the world with our child.
• A beautiful mother's guilt unfortunately, knows no end.  She may be superwoman and wonder mommy all in one beautiful mother package, but still she will fault herself for something.  Such is the life of a beautiful mother.  She worries herself with her child's emotional, physical, spiritual, and social well being constantly.  She doesn't want to fuck up.  I don't think anyone's mama ever really intentionally set out to fuck up.  Shit just happens.  Life happens.  We just do our best.
• A beautiful mother makes the hard choices, the difficult decisions for the best of her child no matter how those choices may affect her.  She provides for and protects her children no matter what.
• A beautiful mother may even choose to give her child up for adoption because she doesn't think she can do it the right way, a tough but beautiful choice some mothers make for the best for their child.  A beautiful mother may be a woman who thinks of other women out there in the world unable to become mothers on their own and allows her body to be used for the growing of someone else's child, blessing someone else with motherhood.

A beautiful mother is the greatest gift God ever gave the world.  And this coming Mother's Day, I want us all to remember that it isn't what a mother looks like on the outside that makes her beautiful.  They come in all shapes and sizes and all walks of life.  A beautiful mother is a woman like you or me or her.