I want to:

SING! listen to music. camp. dance. well. not well. wear bandanas. feel pretty. accept compliments. give compliments to appreciative ears. and hugs to appreciative bodies.and unappreciative bodies in need. and presents to anyone for any reason. drink. get slightly too drunk once in a while. spend time on something someone i care about will enjoy. wear sun dresses always. lay outside in the sunshine. be excited about small victories: a good bargain, flip flop tan lines, a great song on the radio, a call from a friend. call old friends just to tell them I remember their old phone numbers. sing “happy birthday” on voicemails every year. reminisce. listen to new bands. share a new band with someone. listen to live music on a patio. go to a concert and sing a song with a stranger. go swimming in the ocean. surf. be good at surfing. rock climb to see the beauty at the top. think deep with someone who understands deep thinking. stop thinking sometimes. analyze the lyrics to a song. forget the meaning of the song and enjoy the melody. harmonize.in multiple parts. know every part to a song from every genre. make friends. feel good about myself. make my grandparents proud. be a positive influence on people around me. make people comfortable and happy. learn to play the guitar. sing in a band. find someone with the same top five movies as I. travel.out of country. live out of ohio. raise my children to be loving, giving, sympathetic, tolerant, solid, motivated, and humbly confident. learn. teach. light candles. curse cleverly. plant a kick ass garden.

I actually:

subconsciously sing out loud wherever I go. listen to music, but only in my head so it won’t wake the children. remember what a great camper I used to be, then decide that cabin camping with a hot tub is way WAY better. dance not well, except when I’m drinking white wine. wear bandanas to cover my greasy hair when I have forgotten to shower for three days. feel pretty accomplished if I get around to showering in a day. laugh nervously and respond in an inappropriately loud voice when given compliments. give compliments and hugs to confused and slightly creeped out bodies of strangers. give presents to anyone for any reason because I get free shipping through Amazon Prime, so I’m basically saving money. drink. drink a lot. drink a lot and often. get slightly too drunk once in a week. spend too much time on something someone I care about will enjoy then throw away to avoid being pegged a hoarder. wear sun dresses for the month and a half that Cleveland, Ohio weather allows, then move to exclusively yoga pants. am unable, the older that I get, to lay outside in the sunshine if it is too hot without getting dizzy and needing to take a break.  get excited about small victories including:  I have kept the kids alive one more day, I have found a bottle of wine in the back of the wine fridge when I thought I was out, and I remembered to shave my armpits. sing “happy birthday” on voicemails every year… until someone finally calls me back and tells me that I’ve been calling the wrong number. reminisce about the days I could drive on the highway with my windows down and blare Eminem while I am instead listening to “Let It Go” one more friggin’ time and closing up the car to avoid Child Wind Trauma, which I’ve heard is Social Service’s latest craze. listen to whatever keeps the kids quiet. share anecdotal mom pictures with my three friends, adding the subject “it’s funny ’cause its true!”. choose to sit on a restaurant patio so the kids voices won’t be as loud for the other patrons. go to a concert and sing a song with a stranger once a year, then wake up hung over for three days. go swimming in the ocean, but secretly fear what critters are lurking around me. have surfed. am terrible at surfing. climb the rock wall at the park to save my son from jumping to his death. think about how much time it takes to do deep thinking. never stop thinking… even in my sleep… about 17 subjects at once. analyze everything my husband says as if he is a deep thinker. forget what I was talking about in the middle of a sentence. am influenced fairly easily by whoever is around me. make people want to drink. play three songs on the guitar, all of which have four or less chords. sing in a band of toddlers with instruments made of paper plates and beans. haven’t watched my top five movies in 15 years. have zero stamps on my passport. am currently teaching my children to stop riding each other down the stairs and to refrain from eating the bird poop on the patio furniture. learn something new every day. teach the children whatever important life lesson I can while simultaneously cleaning up the dog poop from the carpet. light candles only after the kids are asleep so they don’t dump wax on my floor. accidentally curse out loud in front of the kids a lot. kill every plant I touch, except for weeds.  can’t kill those for the life of me.



Being a mom is a job with such an extensive description which hangs gapingly open for interpretation. This makes the position most susceptible to judgment and ridicule.  We so often get wrapped up in what the internet and naysayers tell us we are doing too much of, not enough of, or just flat out wrong.  It is easy to forget the people that we actually are and that there are many like us out there.

In the game of Life, the Mother is one of many pieces we play across our boards.  She is responsible for overseeing other pieces’ actions, able to mimic certain behaviors of all other pieces when needed (excluding The Self), and able to move in multiple directions all over the board.   Along with The Mother, we have many other pieces in play, including The Friend, The Wife, The Socialite and, the lowest ranked piece that gets the least amount of play, The Self.

When I added The Mother to my game, my Self was pushed aside, able to take a turn only every once in a while.  Starting this blog is my way of dusting The Self off and getting it back in the game.  I love to write and I find so much humor in my children, family, and daily situations.  This is my way to team The Mother and The Self together to create a well-balanced outlet for the crazy that builds up day by day.

It always comforts me to meet a mom who can laugh at her perfectly imperfect life and this blog’s purpose is to share that comfort with you. When you find yourself in desperate need of a break from your mom life, this is a safe place.  When you feel like you’re taking crazy pills, White Wine Zombie Mom will remind you that you’re not (and there are way more fun pills to take!).  CRAZY PILLSWhen Mom Guilt rears its ugly head, making you feel like you’re the worst mom ever and you have no friggin’ idea what you’re doing, I will tell you real life accounts of my daily screw ups that will make you feel better by comparison!  Just like that filthy guilty pleasure reality TV show that we all watch.

Think of this blog as your few minutes of therapy, like your time to sit with a friend and a glass, er, bottle…s… of wine and remember to laugh at the circus that is your life.  I got your back!  You don’t even have to remember my birthday or tell me I don’t look fat!



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