I Haz Ballz?

I realized a funny thing recently: I have balls. Maybe they grew after I had Mason? Maybe they are some sort of post-partum side-effect? Somewhere in the last year I became a hard ass. Somewhere between THE CRAZY and my wonderful little boy, I became a bad ass that helps my husband be a stronger woman  man. I mean, isn't it the nuturing, loving mothers that are supposed to jump in the car and circle the block while the fathers endure the nap-time protests? Aren't I supposed to curl up in a ball in the corner and rock back and forth while muttering something about Protective Services?

"What are you doing? Why did you just bring him back downstairs? IT IS NAP TIME."
"But he's crying, he doesn't want to take a nap now..."
"Too bad. Put him in his crib and shut the door. He needs a nap. He will go to sleep."

Yeah. That's me. The one without the italics.

Where Being Nice Gets You.

There is this particular strech of road in our town where I used to get extremely feisty and all race car driver on everyone's ass (of course this was pre-Mason and pre-crazy person meds). There are also a couple other "hot spots" around this great state that I have learned you have to be extra-defensive in your driving skillz. Like, for instance, let's say there are currently two lanes and there is a BIG YELLOW SIGN that shows the two lanes becoming one. Let's also pretend that you are already in the good lane, the one that isn't disappearing. Then, here comes asshole in his Mustang (I hate them BTW, sorry dad) and he soooo thinks he is going to beat you to the punch. Insert blood pressure spike, also insert my foot hitting the gas at warped speeds.

Oh OH OH and what about when you desperately need to change lanes because you don't want to be THAT PERSON? You know, the one I discussed above? Yeah, and NO ONE, not even the POPE will let you over? That's where the universe kills me, and buries me alive. Okay, that made no sense. This is where I make mental notes and keep them in my "EVIL BITCH" file for later. Fast forward to now, in the car with Paul. Someone needs to change lanes to avoid being "THAT PERSON" and I am refusing to let them in. Paul always asks why I don't just let them in. I say, "Because I am an evil, evil car-driving bitch and the universe hates me, so I am hating it back."

I have become much nicer when it comes to car driving since having Mason. I mean really, where do I have to go? Occasionally I even let someone pull out in front of me. I am THAT nice. I have been doing a lot of nice things lately - I am proud of this. Guess what though? The universe is shatting on me again. It seems every time I am pleased with my nice-ness, someone grabs a big handful of poo and slings it my way. I keep my mouth shut, I do my job as a human-being, I obey the rules and all that but then BAM! someone or something (usually someone) decides that maybe I am being a little too nice I need to remember to dust off my evil bitch file once and a while.

I have decided that perhaps I should take tomorrow and just be thankful for the important things ::insert them here:: and screw the universe and I urge you to do the same.

My job is done.

I am not ashamed to admit my love of cleanliness. Neither is my husband. You can imagine our surprise when  GASP we had a baby and he made messes. BIG ONES. And when he started walking? I cried for days about the constant state of mess my house was in. Then I got an idea:

He did this all on his own. I swear to gawd and stuff.

Hold on to that Feeling.

I know I haven't been around for hmmm a while. I promise I am going to make a good effort to update this little blog more often now that things have quieted down. I guess this might be a stupid statement since the holidays are coming up, but oh well.

I recently got back from a girls trip to Las Vegas. I would tell you more, but you know, there's that whole "what happens in Vegas" thing. I will say that it was legendary. I had so much fun and if anything, it made me realize I am so lucky to have what I have. It also made me realize that I am lucky to not be some geriatric corral member that goes by the name "Uncle Johnny" and is forced to shell out hundreds - if not thousands of dollars to get girls to hang out with him in the club.

I am a strong believer of staying true to who you are. Yes, I have a son now, but that does not mean that I should deprive myself of good times with best friends. I am still Tiff. I still like to dance, sing and have a drink or twelve. I think that it is very pathetic when people, especially mothers and fathers, lose themselves and become a slave to their husbands/wives and children. I am a great mom and the fact that I still live a smidge of my former life makes me a better mom. I missed Mason and Paul greatly and honestly could not wait to get back home to them. I can say that I have never been at the grocery store by myself after a year of the same routine and thought "Damn, self. I can't wait to see them when I get home."

Sometimes it takes a trip, no matter the length, to make you realize how lucky and how great a mom you are for taking this time for yourself. It will not make you a bad mom. It will make you a better mom. You will hang on to who you are inside. You will be rewarded. Yes, becoming a mother changes you - I cannot argue with that. BUT it does not COMPLETELY change you. If it does, I recommend you seek help. With that said, I am not going to let people who try to make me feel guilty bother me. Doneskis.

VIVA LAS VEGAS!

Stay tuned for my first ever giveaway featuring Monkey Butt Bows!