Category Archives: Stay At Home Mom

Please baby, let me explain…

Go ahead and say it…I suck. No not you, me. I’ve slacked tremendously on writing blogs lately. Please baby, let me explain. First of all, I’m a mother of 3. Quick rundown…hubby-ADHD, oldest boy-preteen with a teenager’s attitude, middle son-ADHD, and youngest son-3. Secondly, I’m a SAHM and I go to college. So in the mix of everything I’m pushing knowledge into my brain. Here’s the thing, I’m a little OCD with my grades, meaning I must have a 4.0 average.

I’ve recently decide to pursue a lifelong dream of mine. One that I’ve always been petrified to try because well…grammar, spelling, and writing knowledge is a huge weakness for me. Commas, short sentences, run-ons…they are too much sometimes for me to get. I write the way I think. Oh, I got to rambling so much I forgot to tell you. Do you really need to know now? Have you read my previous blogs? Anyways. I’ve written a book. I’m in the process of edit, rewrite, polish, love it, then shoot it out to the publishers. I’m excited! Oh and I’m knee deep in the 2nd book of the series, and I’ve started birthing characters for a 3rd book. Busy, busy, busy.

I tell you all the above stated because I wanted to tell you this: I want to write. I want to write, and I want to write. I want to bring life to someone else’s life with my writing. I ditch my family on beautiful days of playing outside just to seclude myself in the bedroom and write. I run away from the dinner table so I can skim through homework and get to writing, and I stay up really, really, really late to write some more. What do I want out of all this? Not to become rich and famous although that’s always a positive, but to let whoever picks up my book have new people in their lives. I love my 2 main characters of my book. I find myself wondering what their next move is. Are they going to do this, or that? In my own mind they are real people, and I want to share them with the reader. Trust me when I say, you will love them too.

So, please don’t be mad at me for not giving you many blogs right now. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll give you a back massage or something. Don’t ask for a foot rub though. The hell with a foot rub! Hell no. Yuck. I’ll make you a casserole or something…when I have time. 😉

My Novel Writing Level Zero

So I’m trying my hand at writing a novel…must I say Holy shit batman. I have a few things I see wrong that I’m doing. Let me explain.

  1. I write the way my mind thinks. Confused yet? I’m a SAHM with 3 kids under the age of 13, and a husband that made it to 10th grade. Vocabulary in this house is: Do you need to pee-pee in the potty? Stop! Put that back! How many times have I told you to clean your room? Where the hell is Big Britches…oh in his room playing Legos! Baby…can you please pick up after yourself. Have you ever tried to talk big words to kids? Heck today I said lethargic and my husband looked at me like I just did the ho-down in the kitchen. I thought everyone knew what lethargic was. Anywho, when I’m speaking with my 10 & 12 year old, hell, even my 33 year old husband I have to bring it down a notch. Since then…I suck. Words fail me. My brain stops on middle school vocabulary.
  2. I write the way my brain works. Yep about 1,000 words per second all jumbled up into a sentence. You’ve seen my other blogs…if you haven’t go give them a test drive. I am the world’s worse scattered brain person…ever! I’ll start in one direction and end up driving a few blocks, hell even to another city, then end up in the same spot I started. When I re-read it…I confuse the shit out of myself!
  3. I write the way my brain works. No it’s not a repeat from above and yes I meant to repeat it. Have you test drove my other blogs yet? You haven’t…well get to it. You have? Well then did you see all the little sentences or comma splices or run ons that tend to go for miles? Yep. That’s how my brain works. I write/type EXACTLY what my brain processes, spits on the ground, and kicks under the dirt so no one else will see it. Unfortunately, by the time its kick it under the dirt, my dumbass has already typed it and moved on to something else my brain is choking on.
  4. I’m to the point blunt. No not the ones you smoke, good grief I don’t live in Colorado. When I talk to someone I don’t give them every single detail of every single thing that happened during whatever I’m telling them about. That sentence alone was hard to describe. I am to the point. Let me give you a good example: My hubby!

 

My husband: I called mom today while she was at work before she went to lunch. She said she had to do bible study school on Sunday, so she’s studying it tonight after she gets done with her economics homework she has today. She told me her fridge is going out, so she called XYZ Appliances and the woman told mom that her fridge was doing the same thing and that it could be a spring. So to save her money, just keep an eye on it because the spring is going bad. Mom said that she hopes we all have a great day and that she loves you, and all of us.

Me: (If I was my husband): Talked to mom today. Her fridge is on the blitz. XYZ Appliances told her it was a spring. She loves us. (See the difference?)

My husband: (responding to a question I asked) I’m looking at Messy Marvin and both of us are shaking our heads no.

Me: (If I was my husband) No.

Are you seeing it yet? My husband says I have selective hearing and he’s right. I listen to certain things his conversation with thin air includes, then after that I’m back to not caring. I can always answer his question when he asks “Are you even listening to me? (yes) Oh you are? Then “What was I talking about?” (Your mom’s fridge)

I cannot describe things very well because I am blunt. Instead of showing someone is scared, for example:

My heart was racing sweat flooding my pours, my body trembling.

I want to just say, I/he/she/it/they were scared. I know this because I/he/she/it/they shit I/he/she/it/their pants.

My brain tends to process that easier. Didn’t yours? Yes on the first one you could imagine someone standing there visibly scared and on the second one you just see a pile of poop on the floor, but still you got the point. Just saying.

My novel has some very interesting scenes in it, unfortunately the descriptive part I struggle with. Now the high action scenes I’ve got that in a flipping basket. High action first person…who the hell has time to think, so basically I’m just telling you what someone is doing, not how 1st person feels. She don’t have time to feel, it’s too quick. Aced that!

I’m going to dedicate this section to my bestie Bree. Without her my poor novel would be a confusing to the point novel. She is my chief editor..and when I say chief I mean she’s rewriting the whole damn thing using all my words but changing them to sound better. She gives my bluntness detail. She doesn’t stray from my “movie” I played in my head to write the thing, but boy does she add some color! I promise if my book get’s published…no wait…WHEN my book gets published I will pay Bree money. Maybe a few dollars or two but still it’s something for all her hard work. If she complains then I’ll change one of my main characters name (which is after her name) to something more erotic like Natasha or Diamond. 🙂

Love to Hate SAHM

Walls. Four of them. They tend to move at me, closing in. Sometimes I even see them pointing and laughing at me. Other times they move in the middle of the night and when sleep deprived mom wakes up to get the kids up, I’m usually bouncing off them all the way to each boy’s room.

I’m not the typical stay-at-home-mom. I don’t go run errands, go to the park, or just have a fun time. I am the SAHM that has the never ending laundry basket, dishes in the sink, and a dirty house. I constantly clean up after my lil man, and the rest of the family. Laundry is the evil villain in my house. It mocks me as I wash them. It’s like a horror movie! I’m throwing clothes in the washer and the laundry basket is laughing as the clothes are marching in and jumping in the basket. Clothes are also running around the house and running out of energy to just plop where they were. Sounds nightmarish huh?

Then you have toys. The evil villains trusted side kick. They come to life while you have your back turned, like the movie Toy Story.  They live their normal lives amongst us giants that like to throw them in the box. I call them evil mainly because…well have you ever stepped on a toy blindly or even a Lego. I think that’s the equivalency of being shot but only by a toddler.

I am blessed that I am a SAHM but then again I am not. Some people would give their arm to be one, until they realize that it’s not all that fun. SAHM’s have no sick time, no vacation time, and no personal time. When you have the stomach bug, the cold, the flu, or whatever else can sneak in and get you, unfortunately you are the heart of the house and can’t miss a beat. Your youngen doesn’t care that you are sick; they want to play, or pee, or poop, or play choo-choos, or eat. Then you must do all that the little monster summons you to do or you will hear “mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mommie, mommie, mommie, mommie, mom, mom, mom, mom….” I remember when my lil man started to say mom, my heart just melted, not now! Mom is changing her name to El Crazioto.

Vacation time for the family means you still are at work doing the same thing except with some help from the assistant manager (dad) that seems to not do it the right way therefore making you work either twice as hard, or aggravated. Or they say “oh honey, I’ve worked all week, please handle this and I’ll do the next one.” That’s where I want to pull my trusted step stool out, climb those stairs, and smack him in the back of the head and say “oh honey, I’m still at work! At least you are able to leave your work!” Hubby works 3rd in my house and sleeps during the day. These are my hours: 6a-4p I am cleaning and playing with the kids, 4p-10p I have help from assistant, 5p-7p is cooking and eating dinner, 10p-6a I am on-call. This doesn’t include when Hubby is working over-time and going in early or the nights I have school work piled up to the ceiling and I only get 3-4 hours of sleep if I’m lucky. I have to work holidays, bad days, and days where I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Heaven forbid if me and the lil man woke up on the wrong side of the bed on the same day. That spells disaster at its best. Mega-Tornado. On those days I know to keep my mouth shut, and my mind busy or I’m going to snap like a green bean.

Personal time? I laugh at those two words. I go to the bathroom, lil man goes with me. I go take a bubble bath, lil man is playing in my bubbles. As I type this, lil man is sitting right on my left arm making it hard to type as he watches a bus that has to do errands. If you are like me, grocery shopping is personal time but then I’m worried about the kids when I’m gone. Personal time….I can’t stop laughing at those words.

There’s more to a SAHM. I’m a referee, maid, exterminator, short cook, chef, butt wiper, maid, snot wiper, vomit cleaner,  boogie man catcher, nightmare calmer, maid, beating stick for wrestling boys, meal planner, grocery getter, financial advisor, bill payer, boo-boo fixer, teacher, search and rescue of lost toys and other items, maid, and this list could go on, and on.

I know it seems like I’m doing nothing but complaining…nope I’m venting.  I love my life and the time I get to spend with my family. I love being able to see my lil man grow up and learn new things. I love being able to know that he isn’t getting all germed up at a day care and taking us all down with him. I love knowing that my kids are being raised correctly. I like being my own manager.  I love being able to be pulled out of a bad mood by a simple hug and a “love yoo mommie.” I love being able to spend time with my family and not sitting in traffic cussing everyone and wishing I was a SAHM. I love my job regardless of its horrible benefits, and awful pay. I feel over-worked and under-appreciated, but when my boys grow up and get out of the house and have their own families…that’s when the appreciation will kick in. It’s a hard job, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.