So F*cking Fabulous I Piss Glitter: Don't Put the Baby in The Microwave

Not to say I told you so or anything, but I told you all I would completely slack off and screw this whole challenge thing up, only took until Day 3. I'm a rebel.

In my own defense, I was off work from the afternoon of the 3rd until Monday and don't have a computer at home because I'm ghetto, and really who wants to sit and attempt to write a big long crazy blog post with your pokey little finger on your cell phone? I know it's smart and all, but that would have been entirely too much effort. Besides, I was too busy, you know, melting into my couch night after night while my child was away on vacation having fun and I had a few stellar dates with my DVR.

So, back to the matter at hand. Time to play catch-up and go through the past few days of the 31 day challenge. Why would I ever think of doing it in the orthodox way? Sheesh, you people don't know me at all.

Day 4:
5 Favorite Blogs

Well, considering I have overall slacked in the blogging department as a whole, I unfortunately have a lot of reading my dear friends to catch up on as well. However, In my years of blogging I have come to love and appreciate some of my fellow cyberspace writers and I will absolutely share them with you. And naturally, you should race right over to their pages and read until your eyes cross, or um get inspired or something. Yeah. That's the ticket!

First of all, you should head over to read Lauren's blog over at [hip-ster-krit] because she's awesome. She writes with thought and craft and her outlook on her life is amazing. She has lived a truly cool life and resides in the uber cool city of Austin, Texas. She has a fascination with Jeff Goldblum and mustaches and that's reason enough to go read her.

Second, you should head over to my dear friend Cath at I Started at the C-Prompt. Her and I have a special story that began a few years back and we have since realized our lives were mirrored. Not just by hemisphere and continent but by life's quirky circumstances and I adore her. She writes a blog, she writes for Parent 24 and she does a little bit of everything in South Africa and that's just pretty damn cool.

Third, You should read I Shouda Been a Stripper because she's hilarious.

Fourth, My friend Christine and I have known each other since like junior high. We even ended up working together for a while. She's smart, quick witted and a mom of 3 great kids. I miss her to pieces now that we don't see each other (aside from everyone's daily reunion on Facebook, obviously) but her blog is still a great outlet for her and definitely worth a read! Head over to The Foley File: Random Musings of a Married Mother of Three and see for yourself.

Fifth, Um I am sort of petering out on this one. I can cheat and say that I have a list of fabulous blogs you can link to from my blog and you can make up your own damn mind. Humphf.

Day 5:
Share: The Best Advice You've Ever Gotten

"Don't eat yellow snow."

I seriously have no idea about this one, I feel as though if I had really gotten the best advice of my life I would have not been in as many pickles as I have been in my 34 (*gasp I'm old) years.

Ok so there have been people who have said to "follow your heart" and every other cliche that can be thought of to cover just about any situation I found myself needing advice about. Some of it was helpful, some of the time I wanted to shove those words back into the person's mouth because I obviously knew that already, duh. It's a hard thing to do to figure out the best advice you've ever been given.

I had a little game at my baby shower where all the guests and supposed seasoned parents would write down a piece of advice for me as a new mother. The only one that really stuck out I believe was from my sister, who coincidentally is anti-children and didn't see my son until he was 6 months old and that was only because it was Easter and my Aunt chased her around a pool table at my cousin's house shouting "Look at your nephew! Look at your nephew!" as my sister ran away in fear. In any event, the little card simply read "Don't put the baby in the microwave". Life lesson learned.

Day 6:
Something for your kids to know

I want my son to know I love him more than life itself. That I would take every line of Bruno Mars "Grenade" song to heart and sacrifice everything I have for him. I know that song is about an unappreciative douche bag and all, but I think the whole I would catch a grenade for you thing works in protecting your children.

I want him to know that I am not perfect, but I try. That people always make mistakes and that it's human nature to do so. The key is to learn from those mistakes. The key is to try to never make the same one twice. The key is to not beat yourself up about them and to certainly not allow anyone else to do that for you either. (and I certainly need to learn to heed my own advice on this one for sure)

I want him to know that he is smart and funny and handsome and goofy and to stay that way forever. That he is amazingly talented and that he needs to always surround himself with people who lift him up and not bring him down. That he has a voice and he should always use it. That he should stand up for himself but never be a bully. That he should not allow anyone else to judge him and that he should do his best never to judge others because being different is what makes the world great. If we all walked around like drones and conformed to everything we may as well walk off the cliff into the meat grinder like Pink Floyd envisioned in The Wall.

I want him to never be afraid to try new things. To not decide he doesn't like something before he tried it. I've tried to work this motto in with food and so far so good. I don't have a super picky eater and I hope it translate into everything for him as he grows up.

I want him to laugh. To never be afraid to be happy, but to never be happy at someone else's expense. I want him to strive for greatness and to never give up on something he loves, no matter what anyone else's opinion is about it, because we all know what opinions are like.

I want him to be healthy. To not just hole himself up in a room in front of a television or video game for days at a time (ok so he does have days like this now, but I try to squash it) and then grow up to never leave my basement and have zero grasp of reality or how to interact with real people. No. I want him to still love to play outside. To run to dance to play to explore. To allow his imagination to continue to thrive and to push him to believe that anything he can dream is possible.

I want him to keep doing well in school. To use his gifts to carry him through life and go to college. I want him to accomplish more in his life than I ever did. I want him to be successful and happy and loved by everyone who he meets.

I want him to respect adults and women. I want him to treat people as he wants to be treated and to grow up holding doors and paying people compliments. People may forget things you did but never how you made them feel. I want him to make people feel he is a good egg, even if he's slightly cracked.

I want him to appreciate what he has and has been given and never expect things to be handed to him. I never want him to expect things for no reason. I want to earn his accolades and not to expect something just for showing up. Life doesn't work that way. You earn awards and promotions. You have to try hard to accomplish things in life, not just get something for participating. You HAVE to participate in life, you shouldn't get rewarded for it.

I want him to know he is my whole world and that he changed me. He taught be to be selfless and how to love harder and fiercer than I ever thought humanly possible. And for that I want him to know I am grateful to him and will be for the rest of my life.

(end sap)

Day 7:
Memories: What's your earliest one?

I have the world's worst memory. My brother actually makes fun of me for it all the time. In my hypochondriac mind I believe it's a sign of early onset Alzheimer's or something, but I am probably just neurotic. Or I read it on WebMD and along with a bevy of other ailments I am likely to self-diagnose myself with as my ultimate demise.

I grew up on a make-shift farm. Not a working farm mind you, but you see my family is well, odd. (If you've ever met them or read anything I've ever written about them you are nodding your head in agreement as we speak)

It all started because my brother was born a pain in the ass. Literally. He wouldn't stop crying. He was colicky and was constantly throwing everything up. So, in an exhausted state my father was working for an old woman in Boston somewhere. She was either Haitian or Jamaican or of some other island origin I can't exactly recall.

My dad must have been taking to her about my brother's lack of sleep and eating therefore causing my parents lack of sleep and moodiness. In any event, this mystery woman emerged and handed my father a container and told him to give it to the baby. Because it was 1980 and the world wasn't nearly as fucked up as it apparently is now, my dad said sure why the hell not.

So he took the container home and gave it to my brother as instructed. Like magic he slept, stopped crying and didn't projective vomit whatever this miracle liquid was. Of course my father tells the woman it worked and asked what it was. Goats milk.

So naturally being a level-headed man, my father went out and bought goats. And the rest of our hodge podge menagerie grew from there.

Anyway, back to the point. We had a farm. We also had a turkey. My dad, again in all his brilliance, got the turkey to plump up and then slaughter for Thanksgiving dinner in good old fashioned New England tradition.

The turkey had other plans. She was a character all her own and every time we would have music playing on the "yard" side of the property she would mosey over to the fence as close as she could and start dancing. Well we obviously couldn't eat her so we named her Theresa. She quickly moved into our dog Chachi's house and then poor dog was forced to sleep on the roof, like snoopy.

Again, Theresa in all her glory laid eggs as female birds do. She however left them unattended. And my 3 year old self thought eggs had to be sat on in order to hatch. I did watch Looney Toons and that happened all the time. So, not realizing that unfertilized turkey eggs would not hatch, I sat on the eggs, in the blazing heat of summer. And as eggs do when left out in the blistering sun, they had let's say fermented.

So I sat on a nest of rotten eggs on a ghetto farm in the middle of suburbia at 3 years old.

Day 8:
Tell Me: Currently reading anything?

Sadly no. I have a library book that is so overdue that it's been close to a year out I think and I never got myself into it. I also have a buttload on my Kindle but haven't had time to peruse even the slightest magazine. I've been a sucker for the TV. May need to work on that.

Day 9:
Women: What's in your purse?

Well that's opening a Pandora's box in and of itself. My purse is sort of like Mary Poppins bag, I never have any idea what I could pull out of it. Mostly it's just a straight up mess. 900 shades of lip gloss, my wallet, a bunch of random receipts. I did have pepper spray but I took it out when I flew last month so now it's sitting on my coffee table. Safe I know. My car keys, sunglasses, a couple inhalers. It's a mess. See?