Did Someone Say Vacation?

If you are like me, your love language is vacation. And I don’t mean just going, but the planning and the research and all of the components that go into the vacation experience. And depending on your age, there are different stages of vacationing in our lives.

Often your first vacation experiences are as a child, embarking on those memory building family vacations. These are probably the best kind because you don’t have to pay, you don’t have to pack, you don’t have to drive…you just go along for the ride. (Although, let’s be honest, once we reached adulthood and found it to be a one-star experience that we 100% do not recommend, who didn’t want to revert to the carefree days of their childhood immediately?) I did not do a lot of family vacations as a child, and my mother loved camping (which I am even less of a fan of than adulting), but I did get those core memories I mentioned. Even if getting rained out of a campsite or seeing dead jellyfish were not exactly the things that my parents hoped I remember.

The honeymoon is basically a vacation for surviving planning and dealing with all that family for multiple hours on your wedding day. It’s a nice way to start your life off together. A trip that says “Thank God we made it through to this part”. Maybe it’s tropical, maybe its (shudder) camping, but either way, it’s a vacation that has been promoting family expansion for generations. I mean, growing as a newly unified couple. Yeah, that sounds better.

Once you’ve made a person or two of your own, these getaways turn into “family vacations”. At least they do if you bring them, which we always think is a good idea, seemingly never learning from our past experiences. Now you get to be on the other end of this experience, albeit the less fun one, where you DO have to plan and pack and pay. And family vacations when your kid is under 5 is going to be a lot like herding cats and baby octopi at the same time, with sticky arms grabbing something they aren’t supposed to have and someone loudly mewling and knocking over their drink. When they’re young, you always think it’s “bonding time” for your family, but all you are doing is moving your crazy chaos to a new city or state. Now strangers get to watch the horror story of your circus life unfold, instead of your normal group of family and friends. Isn’t it refreshing being judged by fresh eyes instead of familiar ones? On the upside, eventually the kids grow older and family vacations are less chaotic. (The teenage angst stages bring a whole new level of fresh hell to family vacations but that’s another story large chapter book all in itself.) These trips definitely leave you needing a vacation from your vacation.

If you’re truly crazy, you involve multiple families on your vacations. Nothing says “Xanax” like too many opinionated family members, probably ones you’re related to, all trying to decide where to go for dinner or multiplying the mewling, sticky fingered offspring by inviting their equally sticky cousins. Although, having done this a few times, I will say that it was more of that “core memory” mambo jambo that I was talking about earlier. My kids have fond memories of beach vacations with aunts and uncles, grandparents and cousins. Plus, many hands make light work…or give you the ability to have someone else watch your heathens long enough to escape for 5 minutes of non-screeching peace.

Maybe once the children are older, or once you and the old ball and chain are empty nesters, you will be able to do couples vacations again. These trips are rewards for surviving your own offspring and, in the case of empty nesters, celebrating that you got them to adulthood alive. Because let’s be honest, there are some years in the middle there that are touch and go. I am not sure why the child models come with an unusually large amount of curiosity and an innate need to stick metal objects into electrical currents but raising them to be their own problem now seems to be our benchmark. It’s probably going to be weird during that first dinner that you don’t need to check what’s on the kid’s menu because you have a picky eater, but the freedom will be addictive. You may want to temper yourself if you’re not fully transitioned into empty nesting and only borrowing it temporarily. It may make it difficult to go back to those bonding and character building family gigs. So use with caution if you’re not at the “fend for yourselves” stage.

                 No matter which stage of vacatoning you are at, I hope you are able to find some fun, make some memories, and escape the boring mundane life you lead for a few days. And if all that isn't happening, maybe you can just plan to vacation at a place that serves really good cocktails.

 

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Lest Ye Not Judge First (But Definitely Second)

June is Pride Month, a time when we celebrate the LGBTQIA+ community and all of their accomplishments. Although this month is a time that makes many people, especially certain political factions, extremely uncomfortable, I can promise you that I would never judge anyone based on their gender or sexual orientation.

Don’t nominate me for Sainthood just yet. I can promise you that I am not even close to that bar. While I won’t judge you for being a member of the LGBTQIA alphabet, here are some things I WILL judge you for. Apologies in advance for anyone lacking the thick skin of the Gen X generation….NOT!

1.) Being a shitty person in general. This is probably not specific to just me. I am sure that pretty much any decent human would despise someone for their overall shittiness factor. If your main personality is jerk, then I’m judging you pretty harshly. Also, I’m praying fervently that karma kicks your ass sooner rather than later. Sometimes she really needs to up her timetable on serving those just desserts.

2.) The music that you listen to. Yeah, I get it, we all have different tastes in music. That doesn’t mean that I am not mentally rolling my eyes at anyone who listens to country music. I question everyday why y’all might like that twangy stuff, because the extent of my Southern living is the use of the word y’all. Oh, and a lot of their food. Their music might not agree with me but their food sure does. Additionally, the groupies for the Super popular music groups are also a “no thank you”. If you tell me that your favorite artist is T-Swift, Jelly Roll, or Sleep Token, I am going to assume that you’ve made many other questionable life choices. If you tell me that your favorite band is some obscure Indie band that I’ve never heard of, I’m going to give you props for being comfortable in your strangeness to love what you love without apologies.

3.) The clothes that you wear. This seems superficial and shitty of me and brings me close to breaking #1 listed above, I know. But to be honest, I don’t want to hang out with someone who wears next to nothing and has something (top or bottom) close to falling out. If you aren’t comfortable in loose clothing or band tees, who hurt you and were they wearing sequins or shoulder pads? And while we are on the subject of band tees…. If you don’t listen to the band, why do you have the shirt? This should be prohibited post haste. The fashion police should arrest you immediately if you are wearing a band’s shirt if you don’t have at least a dozen songs of theirs cycling through your playlist.

4.) If you think your children haven’t secretly formed a cult with other children and their goal is to make you insane. Yeah, I know, I sound like I’m ready for a tinfoil hat, right? But there are some people who think that their children can do no wrong, ever! I call bullshit on this because if you have never whispered “jerk” behind your kid’s back when they’re in their mean era or asked your partner why your kid is such an asshole, are you even a parent? If you’ve never rolled your eyes at them when they’ve activated super brat mode, how do you know you’re doing it right? And I don’t care what people say, but kids are feral little heathens. We are allowed to both love and dislike them at the same time. If you’ve ever had a teenager (or even a pre-teen “tween”), then you know how you can want to hug them one second and throttle them the next. I am convinced that these kids are given courses somewhere, from toddler tantrums to teenage eyerolls, because no one can push our buttons faster. I am pretty sure that yoga and meditation were invented by an overstressed, on the edge mom somewhere. Also, and I can’t stress this enough, parents can call their own children jerks, but if anyone else does it, you are allowed to throat-punch them. (Please double check that though, I am not sure it’s entirely legal in your state. In fact, I might have to double check my own state now that I think about it.) The only exception to this is if you got a miracle kid who really was the best child ever. Please be aware though, that I have only known less than a handful of these children in all of my forty plus years on this earth. They are rare like unicorns and movies based on books that nail the casting in real life.

5.) If your phone is not on silent. This one should be self-explanatory but I will explanatory anyway. I don’t want to hear your tikka tikka taps of your texting. I don’t want to hear the dings of received emails. For the love of all that’s holy, turn your phone sound off like the rest of us. While we are at it, take your damn conversation of speaker phone. We don’t care what you are planning for dinner. The only exception to this is if you have good tea to spill. Like your neighbor is suspected of murder and you have a juicy story that’s corroborating that. Then, by all means, please continue.

6.) If you don’t drink coffee. Yes, I will probably chuckle like this is super normal but know that inside I think you’re a flipping weirdo. No way around it. Coffee is heaven and earth and life itself and the fact that you don’t want or need it in your life is flabbergasting. (My best friend does not drink coffee and I have wondered every day of the last 20 years how she manages life in general.) And no, iced coffee doesn’t count. I don’t care if it’s 90 degrees out, drink your hot coffee like a man, dammit! (Or like a caffeine slave with a love of hot beverages. Same thing.)

I know you’re probably thinking that I should be less judgmental. And I would agree with you except that, every five years or so, I audition for the role of crotchety old lady. And every time, they say I'm not quite right for the role but give me pointers on  how to play the part better next time. I’m not seasoned enough quite yet but I know if I keep believing in my persnickety crankiness, that I will land that roll in like 15-20 years tops.

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Can Someone Just Pop NY into the Dryer Real Quick?

             Tomorrow will be the first day of June. Now, when you think of June, you think summer, right? Sunny days, warm weather, beautiful breezes. It poured buckets today and was a measly 55 degrees. (Upstate NY has gotten wet weather every weekend since 2024. Aren't we special?) Do you know what the high temperature is for my little slice of New York tomorrow?

            That' right folks, a balmy 58 for tomorrow's high temperature. Tomorrow may be June first but we are having flashbacks of April. Side note, whomever is doing the rain dance every weekend? I'm going to find you and I'm going to hogtie you and make you sit in a puddle ALL DAY. When it's under 60 degrees. With WET SOCKS.

            When you live in a place where there's 7 months of winter, you really look forward to the few months when the weather is decent. (And by decent I mean that the temperature is moderate enough to expose a lot more skin for the mosquitoes to target.) Someone needs to tell Mother Nature to put us in the dryer for a few months before we start to get mildew stains from sitting in this murky moisture too long.

            I don't know if I have mentioned it 45 times or not, but I am built for beaches, not this pervasive damp chill that's settled over the state. My only consolation is that most of New England is suffering the same fate. That's right, I'm petty enough to enjoy that others can commiserate with my woeful weather worries. If you haven't heard, misery loves company! 

            The older I get, the more annoyed I am that I couldn't have been born to a family in the South. Or even the West. Anywhere that sees sunshine for longer than 5 minutes at a time. Somewhere where the rain isn't the protagonist in a Survivor episode trying to drown the Eastern Seaboard residents to gain immunity against elimination. 

            Because that's what this has to be right? A big ole prank by Mother Nature? A build your own reality television show starring those dumb humans populating the planet? If you needed any further proof that we are cast in a sad reality tv show, please know that the same weather forecasting 58 for tomorrow has reversed those figures for Wednesday. That's right, it's going to be 85 and sunny. Because of course, it's a work day in the middle of the week. Why would it rain then? That would just be convenient.

            The biggest irritation in all of this is that I am old enough to now complain about the weather. That used to be an old lady's job and I would just shake my head about anyone getting their knickers in a twist over something that they have no control over. But now I'm the one with aforementioned twisted knickers and an arthritic shoulder that can tell when the rain is about to start. (It hasn't stopped forecasting since November 2024.)

            I guess all I am asking for is this: If anyone has an in with Mother Nature, please put in a good word for NY. We aren't sure how much more of this we can take without turning into ducks.

If you need MORE mayhem, you can find me on the various socials from time to time under the same name (Modern mom Mayhem). If you'd like to drop me a line about your own arthritic weather predicting joints, or something more interesting, drop me a line at modernmommayhem@gmail.com. 

Adulting is the Worst

            Have you ever seen the meme that says, “Adult hood is the worst hood I’ve ever lived in. 10/10 don’t recommend”? I think what makes it so funny is that it’s true. Adulthood is way more overrated than we thought it would be when we were looking forward to it.

Remember being a kid and being excited for birthdays that made you another year older? Another year closer to becoming a bone fide grownup? Little did we know that birthdays come faster the older we get and that one day we would look back fondly on those carefree kid days, wishing we could go relive those glory days. Maybe as a species we are just never happy with what stage of life we are currently in. Whoa, sorry about that. I left the window cracked and a teensy bit of philosophical musing made its way in. Here, let me close that real quick.

I’m not sure which part of adulthood that I was excited for. Was it the no set bedtime? Most nights I’m struggling to stay up late enough to put the 11-year-old to bed. My DVR is going to go on strike soon if I can’t manage to stay awake to watch some of these accumulated shows.

Was it all the spending money that I would have from having a job? Hold on, the mortgage, grocery bill, utilities and children have come to take their share first. Oh look, I’m left with $41.97. Boy, I sure hope I don’t spend it all in one place!

Oh, I know, maybe it was owning my very own house one day, something that was exciting to me since we rented most of my childhood. What do you mean the washer broke, the clutter always need to be sorted and the project list is never ending? Hold on, I’m the one who has to clean it too? Doesn’t it come with its own cleaning service? It’s not self cleaning? This is a load of straight BS.

It may have been that I could one day be able to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I probably didn’t account for a shitty metabolism that makes it so I have to watch my caloric intake stricter than a Catholic nun running a convent. Or that acid reflux would dictate specific foods it will allow without Tums to needing to run interference. Or that I find myself saying things like, “Oh, I can’t eat that anymore. Goes straight through me.”

Ah, I bet it was having my own family one day. Being a mother will be magical and amazing, right? Sure, for a total accumulation of 12 days over the course of 18 years. You’re either too tired  or too stressed to appreciate motherhood. You’re being parent shamed, being given unsolicited parenting advice or too busy running from karate to baseball to soccer to know which end is up. By the time hormones enter the picture and the teen years hit, you’re just some sort of perpetually exhausted mombie with the memory and attention span of Dory in Finding Nemo.

Oh, I know, it was getting to create magical memories on family vacations, wasn’t it? Have you ever gone on vacations with your family? Sure, you love the crap out of them but they are also the ones who push your buttons in 3.2 seconds flat. Now cram all of you together, all day and all night, for a 10 day time period. Stir together and then bam! Like a can of shaken soda, watch as someone will lose their shit. Usually the mom since we always seem to get a bad rap in all the movies and tv shows. But in our defense, who is the one that 85% of the time has planned the vacation, packed the vacation, budgeted for vacation and made sure everyone had what they needed only to spend some very not-the-least-bit-relaxing relaxing time off with bickering children in various states of sandy half naked state of undress? (Because ours were usually a beach vacation of some type.)

I think they should raise the age of adulthood to 25. It’s not fair that we only get 18 years of being a kid before we are expected to choose a career and become functioning members of society. Hell, I know a lot of mid-forties aged people who haven’t been able to reach functioning level yet and that’s A LOT of years older than 18. Plus, how lopsided is it that we only get to enjoy 18 blissful child years before society gives us the stressed mess starter pack and a pat on the back?

I think I'd like a do over.

Need more mayhem in your life? You can find me on FaceBook (modern mom mayhem) or Instagram (@modernmommayhem). Feel free to share your own mayhem and drop me a line at modernmommayhem@gmail.com.

Taking a Leisurely Socials Scroll

               With the many streaming platforms available to us, whether it’s reels or Instagram or TikTok, there are plenty of options when it comes to how to waste our waking hours scrolling the Interwebs.

                My personal favorite is TikTok since the algorithm will learn my preferences and show me more of my specific brand of brain rot. (I have standards on how I waste my time, thank you very much.)

                If I had to guess how many people are guilty of this same type of mindless scrolling, I’d have to point the finger at pretty much everyone alive on the planet. (Not the un-alive ones though. Probably difficult to rot a brain that’s already, uh, rotting. Too dark? Sorry.) I’d also have to include myself in that list.

                That’s right. Not only am I pointing the finger, but I am also pointing the thumb. If you want to find someone who excels at getting caught up in weird video vortexes, I’m your gal. (Vortexi? Neither plural seems right to be honest.)

                It started off pretty innocuous. Comedians, funny animals, cute and sassy kids, generation X call outs. Then I found myself falling into some very specific, and sometimes odd, rabbit holes. Has anyone seen the rug cleaning videos that were all the rage a while back? (Say yes. I’ll feel better.) Basically, they took a nasty, filthy rug that was completely black and proceeded to clean it 400 times until it was restored to its former glory. Now, I have previous experience being mesmerized by cleaning videos (see the oxy clean informercial) so it stands to reason that sometimes my OCD demands entertainment too. I did eventually start scrolling to the end just to see the finished product because there is only so much dirty water and squeegeeing one person can handle. The algorithm either took the hint or they stopped cleaning rugs, not sure which.

                One trend that I fell deeply into was the gender reveal videos. I don’t need to know the people to enjoy them finding out the gender of their baby, right? RIGHT??? They even started making compilations of them so that I could just binge like a dozen of them right in a row without even having to lift a scrolling finger. (Handy!) I think part of my fascination with these is the creative ways people have come up with to find out. It used to just be colored filling in cake and now we have sumo babies fighting, fountains that turn pink or blue, and one I even saw that involved a jet dropping colored powder. Bonus points if it’s a reveal of multiples because it really does make me appreciate that all of my zygotes decided to put the other competitors in a headlock to win sole fetushood.

                Another trend that I will never get tired of is the practice of giving voices to things that ordinarily do not have one. (Like pets, newborn babies, seasons etc.) If this is your jam, I encourage you to find Elle Cordova whose personification of fonts and plate tectonics never fail to crack me up with her clever banter and witty repartee. If you prefer something a little more down to Earth, check out Matt Mitchell’s accurate depictions of most things Southern or B Mo The Prince’s take on religious figures, generations, politics, and pretty much anything else that strikes his imagination. RxCKSTXR will add a voiceover to cute pet videos that will make you swear that those pets wrote the script and performed it all on their own. This is probably one rabbit hole that I fall into daily, but honestly, I’m not mad about it. I love to find creative entertainers and creators, especially in these days of chaos and sadness when we could all use a good laugh.

                There was one very strange period where I got on the ghosty side of Tik Tok though. I don’t even know how it happened. I mean, I just told you the type of things I binge during my self-appointed scroll time. And I’m not talking about the cute Casper type ghost stories either. Nope, I’m talking about the ones that people use to prove that poltergeists are real and that documentaries are based on. The kind that make you sleep with the lights on and buy sage to cleanse your own home. You know, just in case. (Crosses my fingers, throws a pinch of salt over my shoulder, makes the sign of the cross.) I am not sure what broke that spell but I am just happy that I can go back to sleeping in the dark without fear of an 80 year old ghost hovering over me in my sleep. (Well actually, now that I’m thinking about it again….)

                So, if you’re feeling bad about “doom scrolling”, don’t. We all do it. Or most of us. Some of us will even admit it out loud. Just do yourself a favor and stay off haunted Tok. It’s not for the faint of heart. (Or scaredy cats like me.)

               

 

              

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Try to Avoid Having a Stubborn Child

                Son number 2 is heading off to college in the fall. This is the child who has always been laid back and chill, sometimes to the point of not making a decision because he doesn’t have an opinion either way. Having a laid-back child means less conflict, right?

                So, tell me why this whole college experience has been a trial?

                Last fall, when I was trying to set up college visits for him, he didn’t even know what subject he wanted to study other than “Math or Science”. When I set up some college tours so that he could get a feel for campus life and maybe explore what topics might interest him, he didn’t understand why I was interrupting his social life for this.

                (Cue parental pinch of the bridge of the nose, universal sign for “God grant me the patience”.)

                The first college tour gave me a false sense of hope. He seemed engaged and interested, he liked that the classes and campus were on the smaller side because he didn’t want to go to a large college and even found a field of study that had potential.

(Well, I did say FALSE hope.)

                After that first college visit, now that he found an area of interest and narrowed his degree to an actual specific option, he didn’t know why I was still making him go to college visits that didn’t have his degree program. You know, the ones that I set up when he had no clue what he wanted to do?

                (Quick meditative chant of “I love this child” until irritation levels reach normal again.)

                So, I cancelled those tours and set up college visits that did have his field of interest and again, I was interrupting his social life because he didn’t have to see a college to go to it. You read that right. He doesn’t have to see a college in order to attend. Excuse me, what now?

(Deep breath in, trying not to scream in parental frustration)

When he ruled out a college tour because he didn’t want to go see it, I agreed. There were a few reasons he cited for his decision, and they were very sensible. Not to mention, at this point I’m trying not to pull all of my hair out and it seemed like a break was exactly what both of us needed.

Until that college became his number one choice. Yup, the one that he said he probably wouldn’t go to, the one that was the farthest away from home, the one that was “too big”, the one that only has the most basic of degrees for his field of study…that one. Why? Well because his friends are going there of course. Duh.

(Okay, permission to scream in parental frustration granted in three, two, one….)

AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!

Apparently, I am crazy for expecting my child to go to a university that has his degree program when clearly, it’s a matter of socialization. Adding to this problem is that my husband, who was the popular sports jock extraordinaire during his academic years, doesn’t see the problem with this. I am alone on my island of disbelief. A sad sack island with a party of one nerd with her logic and lists and pros and cons.

Said son, who is a Taurus by the way, has dug his heels in about going to this college sight unseen. All attempts to persuade him to consider one of the colleges that have his actual degree (and one that he has actually laid eyes on) have fallen on deaf ears. I have become the unreasonable one since it’s completely normal to follow your friends, like lemmings jumping off a cliff, without regard for practicalities. Basing your college pick on such things as logic and class selection are so yesterday's generation, I guess.

After this experience, I am convinced that teenagers are the reason that so many parents have a mid-life crisis. There’s no way that getting your teenager through this process doesn’t cause some sort of psychological scarring. And if you are a parent that managed to skate through this process unscathed, I have some pretty colorful language to share with you on how I feel about that. Misery loves company and I expect you to have suffered along with the rest of us parents of maddeningly frustrating Gen Z children.

At the very least, you can keep your gloating to yourself.

 

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Applications Being Rejected in 2025

This year seems to already be a lot, and it’s only January. In order to make it through the rest of the year with my sanity intact, what little is left anyway, here are some things that I’m not accepting for the 2025 season.

1. Workplace drama. Is it just me or did the adults used to be adultier? Maybe it was my childish perspective of looking up to the grown-ups in my life that made them seem so mature and well put together, but those people do not seem to exist anymore. At least in office culture. I used to believe that I was just unfortunate to work in a place that made me feel like I was living in an episode of Degrassi or Beverly Hills 90210. After consultations with other friends and family members, however, I have come to realize that it is the norm for many places of business. Listen, I graduated high school a long time ago. (Ok, ok, a looooong time ago.) I have no desire to be embroiled in the clique wars anymore. I do not get paid enough to do my job AND put up with teenage antics.

                2.  All the “isms”. Sexism, racism, homophobia-ism…I’m not tolerating any of them. In this day and age, you should be accepting of all the types of people that make the world go round. Yes, even the weirdos. Those are the best ones. They add interesting spice to the hum drum boringness of everyday life. If you are a repressed weirdo, stop hiding it. Let that freak flag fly. Only small minded people cannot fathom that your sparkle doesn’t have to dim because they said so. I myself am a Class B weirdo. No really, that’s the official designation. Hopefully I can work my way up to the Class A belt soon. (Keep your fingers crossed for me!)

                3. Internet trolls. You know that expression? “Opinions are like assholes; everyone has one and sometimes they stink.” I am seeing an uptick in the number of keyboard warriors who make it their job to be as cruel and/or as dumb as possible to anyone who has a differing opinion. In case no one ever told you, people CAN have different viewpoints. But people have to people so I end up super annoyed reading dumb ass comments like “You can change the channel” or “You don’t have to listen to that song if you hate it so much”. Thank you, Internet Iris. I never would have known that if you hadn’t so snottily pointed it out. You know what else Iris? People have managed to scroll on without feeling the need to convey every loose thought that pops into their heads. It’s called “self-control”. You should try it sometime.

                4. Cold weather. Enough is enough winter. Like snow and overcast skies aren’t enough to make us all melancholy and dream of the glory days of summer, now you want single digit temperatures and windchill factors? I can only add so many layers until I look like Ralphy’s little brother and while I am not tempted to stick my tongue to any flagpoles, I am beginning to covertly research real estate in warmer climes. And for those Southern regions who recently got snow where they normally don’t: knock it off. Where am I going to run to when it’s teeth chatteringly cold up North if you’re copying our weather?

                5. Idiot drivers. Have you ever been having a pleasant day and then get stuck behind someone who looks like they’re auditioning for the role of the driver in “driving Miss Daisy”? Or behind someone who drives 5 miles under the speed limit, then speeds up, then slows down again, swerves over the middle line for a second, straightens out, speeds up, brakes hard around the teeniest corner, and then has their turn signal on for just shy of 12 city blocks before turning? I think we can all agree on this. If you can’t drive the speed limit or never learned what the stick on the side of the steering column does, you need to just stay home. Or hire yourself a driver who isn’t scared of turn signals and passed the signs portion of the driving test on the first try.

                I am sure I could write a short novel on all of the applications I plan on denying for 2025, but what if I need another idea in the next 11 months? 

                Tell me, what are you throwing out the window for 2025? (Other than sanity, hope and faith in humanity?)

 

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Technically Techy and Most Definitely Gadget-y

           I have always been a fan of cool tech innovations and neat little gadgets. If it combines both, and becomes a techy gadget, I pretty much lose my mind. Unfortunately, I’ve always been susceptible to a good sales pitch, which is probably why I’m banned from infomercials in my house. But who doesn’t like products designed to make things easier, faster, or more convenient? You’d have to be a simpleton not to appreciate a time saver, and hey, if you are that’s perfectly fine. I’m just saying that my mama didn’t raise no fools. (At least none that I will admit to on a public forum!)

For instance, the lights in my bedroom are hooked up to a smart plug. This genius invention allows me to boss Alexa around and she will turn the light off at night so I don’t have to get out of the cozy blankets. (NY in winter can be pretty chilly.) I mean, lazy sure, but also a modern technological miracle. There’s no limit to what I could hook up to that smart plug. Well, I mean, that specific one only has a single receptacle, but there are more that could be purchased.

Which leads me to the real problem.  I have my own disposable income now. When we were younger, just staring out, and living paycheck to paycheck, I didn’t buy these nifty gizmos because they were not in the budget. Now that my husband and I make a healthy wage, there is extra money that can be thrown at these companies who take ingenuity and pair it with a dream, a patent, and a product. I am basically Shark Tank’s target market. I’m the sucker that would buy what those imaginations have concocted that they try to sell to the investors.

Actually, now that I think about it, there’s a second part of the problem and it is my unfettered access to the internet. That’s right folks, I carry the internet with me wherever I go, right in my pocket. Uh, purse. It’s a real problem to have such easy access to all my shopping apps. And because I am compulsively organized, of course I have a handy dandy folder conveniently labeled “Shopping”. Who doesn’t do that? Besides 89% of the entire world that is.

If you check my Amazon cart’s “Saved for later” section, you’ll find an entire hodge podge of things that I want, gifts to get for family so I don’t forget, or things that I can’t talk myself into just yet. (Usually due to the price because I am a cheap bitch.) I am just one Birthday/Christmas/Anniversary gift card away from a surprise gift to myself that I have squirreled away in a digital cart somewhere.

So, if your guilty pleasure is also tech gadgets, just know that you are not alone. Also know that I always want to know if you found something cool. Like always. Anytime. Day or night. Shoot me a message. A paper airplane. A smoke signal. Just TELL ME.

 

 

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Brushing Up on My Map Making Skills

               As a proud Generation X, I admit that I don’t always understand or agree with these younger generation’s methods and madness. Like the whole work life balance thing? Where they refuse to kill themselves at a job in order to maintain a healthy balance between work and play…um, excuse me?? Where is the part where you kill yourself for years at this job, barely appreciated, until you one day make a comfortable wage and have outlasted all the curmudgeons who finally retired so that your office environment isn’t a pit of vipers anymore? As born and bred workaholics, we find the concept of a work life balance as a novelty idea that clearly doesn’t apply to us. There is just too much work to be done.

                One area where they do excel is, and I have a lot of admiration for, is their ability to draw hard lines in the sand. They are really out here drawing up boundaries like Rand McNally mapping out the road atlas. This new generation is forcing people to respect their limits and they have no qualms about cutting off toxicity at the root, even if it’s family. This is where Gen X, and many Millennials even, struggle. See, we were raised with the saying that “blood is thicker than water”, which loosely translates to “Of course you have to deal with their shit, they’re blood.” I’m not talking about “Aunt Cathy has a creepy precious moments porcelain doll collection but we look the other way because it’s a quirk”. No, I’m talking about “Of course your relatives will guilt, gaslight, and emotionally abuse you, but you will deal with it because we aren’t raising no sissies in this house.”

(Seriously, sometimes I wonder what the hell our parents were thinking when they were raising us. But that’s another blog for another day.)

                A few years ago I started to channel that boundary energy, although it came with a truckload of guilt. (Another generational trip wire that us X’ers get hung up on.) After decades of being a people pleasing doormat, I started to get a little bit of a backbone. It was slow growing though, so it looked funny for a few years. Misshapen and bent, a little sad and stunted, but I kept plugging along and holding my ground like these younger groups are teaching us.

                And then my daughter passed away.

                I have found a lot of perspective since her death. I find myself matching energies now. I don’t go out of my way anymore, trying to mend fractured relationships and friendships when they are floundering. Because there was one very important thing that I learned these last few months and it’s this: Those who want to be in your life will find a way to connect. It won’t be a one-sided relationship where you are the only one making the effort or making the contact. If they care about you, and they haven’t heard from you, they’ll reach out and make sure everything is ok. If you’re lucky, you’ll ave a few people who refuse to let you go into that dark night without a fight.

Another important thing that I have learned is that the family you surround yourself with might not be blood, but the family that you’ve chosen for yourself. And that is ok too. I spent many years trying to have relationships with people out of familial obligation. It was exhausting trying to convince myself that a relationship with these people, who didn’t care about me at all, was worth the time and effort. Once I gave myself permission to let them go and not feel guilty about it, it was extremely satisfying and freeing. (Ok, ok, not so much on the not feeling guilty thing. That’s still a work in progress. But the guilt is not crippling now, just slightly suffocating. See? Progress.)

We only have a finite amount of time on the planet. (Unless the ocean aliens are here to provide us with the formula for immortality?? No? Eh, it was worth a shot.) I am not going to apologize for choosing to spend that finite time with people who love me unconditionally, those who make time for me, and those who have the same sarcastic snark humor as I do. And vice versa because I’m not reverse typing that whole thing out again.

Also, I am done apologizing for not liking tacos. I’m sorry but it’s just not my thing. Get over it. Aw dang it, that was an apology. I take it back. I'm not sorry it's not my thing. So there.

 

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I Can't Find the Off Switch

I’ve been a mom for (indistinct mumbling) years now and it’s gotten to the point where I am not sure I can turn it off. Sure, I still have kids at home that need all the mothering, but what about when it spills over into other areas of your life?

Got a problem? Like Vanilla Ice, Yo I’ll solve it! Need a random parenting tip that I’ve learned in my (indistinct mumbling) of experienced parenting years? Gotcha covered. Need a recipe for a picky eater? No, seriously, anyone got one? This kid is killing me here. Oh wait, are you hungry? I’ll just whip up something really quick for you. No, no, it’s no trouble at all.

Women are always worried about having that maternal instinct when they have children. We worry that we won’t have it, that we won’t bond with our child, or that we won’t know what’s best for our children. No one ever talks about what to do when you’ve developed too much maternal instinct though. Is there an off switch? Can I reset to the default settings if I unplug it and plug it back in? Is there an upgraded model that maybe doesn’t run on such a high setting?

You'd think that knowing the fact that I am a “nurturer” would help. Yet it’s like someone turned the settings to autopilot and the switch is stuck there. There’s just something about the oldest daughter/over achieving/Taurus combination that makes it a permanent feature. The switch has on and onner. (More on? Mostest on?)

Sadly, it’s not even reserved for just the people I know. Are we in a grocery store and you can’t reach something on that higher shelf? Here, let me get that for you. Are you older and struggling to bring your shopping cart back? I’ll take that, you have a nice day now. Do you need directions to a restaurant in town? You just take a left at the light and go three blocks until you see the Walmart sign and it’s on the right.

There have been times when I am convinced that I should have been born in the Midwest, doncha know. That’s the level of helpfulness that I am attaining some days. And if it’s not trying to be helpful that’s killing me, it’s the inability to say no that might. What's that? You need volunteers for that committee? Sure, I can help. You need donors for that fundraiser? Let me get my wallet. Need 8 dozen cookies made for a school function during the week when I already have no time? Absolutely hon, not a problem at all. I can sleep when I die. You need a kidney? Well, I do have an extra one that I'm not using (much).

Is there a support group for this? And if not, should I form one?

"Hello all. Welcome to our weekly meeting of OMM Anonymous. We have a new member tonight. Would you like to introduce yourself to the group?"

"Hi, I'm Kathleen and I'm an overmothering mom."

(group greeting) "Hi Kathleen."

"It all started on D day...Delivery day..."

Wait a minute, what was I thinking? I don't have time to form a support group. I have too much achieving to, er, achieve. Maybe next week then. Right now I have to add over committing and under sleeping to this life's to-do list.

 

 

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