Stepping outside of the Box

It all started with this. I happen to come across a picture of the beautiful Christina Hendricks, along with several other pictures of “real size” models floating around the internet, and became enamored. As an artist, I found this picture of Christina absolutely stunning. As a woman, seeing a voluptuous woman represented on a major magazine cover was empowering. Finally, someone who looks like…me! The skinny models that grace the cover of most fashion magazines hold no value to me. As a size 12/14, I can’t relate. And I feel that it sends out a negative message to young girls, as if to say only if you are young, skinny and pretty, the world could be yours. I spent a majority of my teens and early 20’s trying to fit into the “proper” mold the media and society forced down my throat. Crazy diets, ill-fitting clothes, pills, powders and deprivation were the norm. And of course, me choosing to work in an industry where superficialities are celebrated and encouraged didn’t help much either.

Ever since I became a mother, especially now that Little Woman is entering her pre-teen years, the game has changed. I want to protect her from any insecurities that plagued me during my own youth. I want her to take comfort with herself as the beautiful, intelligent, funny, sensitive, compassionate person she is. She’s not the thinnest of her friends, she already knows this, and is the first to point out parts of her body still covered in baby fat. I am equally quick to throw back that IT’S OK! Continually reiterating the fact that her body is still a work in progress, and knowing she comes from a family of well-endowed women, she’s destined to have curves. And IT’S OK!

So as a writer, rather than just put words on paper (or the entire world wide fucking web) I thought I should make an example of myself by doing something that actually scares the hell out of me, something completely uncharacteristic and so radical, just to prove a point. Not only to myself, but also primarily to my daughter. I expose so much of myself each week with my writing, so why not this?

This is me, in the raw. No Photoshop, no body makeup, nothing. This body has taken me on adventures all over the country. This healthy body has allowed me to breathe, walk, talk and think. This body has given life. This body has given pleasure without complaint. This body has survived more heartache and unparalleled happiness than I care to count. And for that I’m thankful.

Finally, after 40 years, I’ve decided to stop fighting the unbeatable fight between my head and my body. I’ve slowly come to accept my body for what it was meant to be, and am always reminding myself of the wonderful things it has done. It’s been a slow process, never easy. I take it day by day, every single time I look in the mirror. It is what it is. And IT’S OK.

10 White Lies we try to pass off as Truths

As I’m sitting here suffering from my first major cold of the winter season, it suddenly dawns on me that maybe a glass of Riesling would help open my nasal passages. I’ve been swallowing cold pills and drinking hot liquids all day with no relief. Standing vertical or laying horizontal makes no difference. Steam shower only made my hair frizz. Whether wrapped in 10 layers of clothes due to the chills then stripping naked from a heat flash, this whole experience sucks.  So I’m trying the whole wine theory.

But then the old marbles started rolling and got me thinking; what other silly little White Lies do we tell ourselves or our family to justify the ridiculous? Oh let me count the ways…

1.     Alcohol can cure anything – Back in the ‘old days’ parents believed that a little whisky on a baby’s gums will help sooth teething pain. I know from personal experience that nothing can (temporarily) help heal heartache like a Grey Goose martini. Or three. So why couldn’t my whole wine theory work to cure the common cold?

2.     Yes,  I have lost weight – On the outside, people may be checking you out and complimenting your figure, asking if you’ve shed a few pounds recently. But on the inside you know it took a minimizer bra and two layers of Spanks to look this way. Just smile and nod….smile and nod.

3.     Sweetheart, last night when you came into our room at 2 in the morning, daddy and I were just wrestling – ‘nuff said.

4.     These heels make me feel tall – I’m only 5’2. With heels, I may be 5’3-5’4 at the most. I’m still short. So give it up bitch.

5.     Facebook is not a way of life, it’s a hobby– For those work-at-home slags like myself, social media is usually our only way of interacting with the outside world. Sorta. I guess we occasionally could put on pants and leave the house to see our local FB buddies, but that rarely happens. I have friends all over the country. The whole idea of jumping in the car and driving to LA to see my friend Katie is just not going to happen. Sorry Katie! So I’m left back at square one. If I want to be a regular part of someone’s life, the Internet may be the only option.

6.     It’s not you, it’s me – Oh hell yes it’s you. I’ve got my shit together, but you are a walking train wreck that drains me of all necessary energy, and whose neurosis are such a huge time suck to listen to that I usually want to bitch slap you within 10 minutes of us hugging hello. I need to cancel my subscription, I can’t handle your issues.

7.     I’m never going to drink again – until next weekend.

8.     Mommy, how is a baby made? – When I asked my mom that question at the ripe age of 5, she responded with “when a man and woman love each other, they get married and kiss. 9 months later, a baby is born.”  What a crock of shit! When Little Woman comes to me with questions like this, I tell her the truth, to a certain extent. She doesn’t need to know of the politics and logistics of everything. I think the whole penis/vagina sex thing would completely confuse her. But she knows that the mama carries the baby in her belly for 9 months, then pushes it out of her vajayjay (or cut from her belly, like her brother was.) Either way, she knows the basics. The rest I’ll fill her in on when I can buy her a pack of smokes and a glass of wine.

9.     I only spent $100 at the grocery store today honey – any well-trained husband who hears this will quickly raise his red flag. As a highly educated and thrifty woman, I try to stick within the grocery budget each month. But men forget that we, as women, are emotional shoppers. Depending on our mood, we may come home with $50 in liquor and chocolate. If we’re craving red meat that day, be prepared to eat meatloaf and hamburgers for the next week. I’m not sure exactly how the intention of only spending $100 turns into a $200 excursion, but it is what it is. Learn it ~ live it ~ love it!

10.  I can still party like a rock star – Sure, I’d like to think that. But in reality, I need to realize that I do not have the metabolism nor the capacity to filter booze like I did in my 20’s. My body has been through quite a bit at this point, especially the whole ‘birthing children’ thing, so everything is moving a bit slower these days. And the greasy fast foods I use to quell my tender stomach now gives me raging heartburn. Blah! This whole getting old thing sucks.

So what are some little White Lies you’ve told in the past? 

Mama’s Gone Bi-Polar

As if I don’t have enough on my plate already, I’ve decided to add another hat on my head and throw in another ball to juggle. Why? Perhaps I think too highly of abilities. Perhaps because I imagine myself a rock star. Perhaps I had a weak moment while in a drunken stupor. Or perhaps I’m just completely crazy.

Meh. But that’s why you love me, right? Right?!

I was presented with an offer I couldn’t refuse. The opportunity to take my show on the road, allowing not only my readership to grow, but my abilities as a writer and blogger.

I am now an official blogger with ChicagoNow, an amazing website that features bloggers from all over the Chicagoland area. I’m so honored to be a part of such a huge pool of talent, and hope to entertain the masses with my sexy, exotic, compelling, enthralling tales as a WAHM. (Insert sarcasm here.)

I go by a different name on that site, Red & Company, but it’s the same raw, snarky, honest writing you’ve come to expect from me. And yes, I will continue to write as Lotus Blu Mama, cuz this is my heart, my first home, my first love. And I promise to continue to be everything you’ve come to love about me. 2 blogs, more potential, more of me to embrace!

Mama’s gone bi-polar….will you join me in my journey??

Leaving On A Jet Plane

…..well, not really. Actually in a Ford Explorer, and really only 75 miles away, whatever. Tomato, tomaaaado. But yes, I’m actually leaving town tomorrow morning, alone. For the first time in 10 years ~ no kids, no husband, no damn dog, no responsibilities, no drama, no nothing. Just me, my thoughts, and time. Valuable time to review exactly who the hell I am and what the hell I’m doing with this life.

As a daughter, sister, mother, aunt, wife, In-law, friend and freelance employee, it’s a noble concept to be everything to everyone. But to be honest, it’s fucking exhausting. When being pulled in a million different directions at once, eventually there’s so little of 'me' left. In time, I’m spread so thin that I inevitably….snap!

I’ve officially hit the big red buzzer, broke the straw, and threw in the towel. Stick a fork in me ~ I’m done. So I have chosen to remove myself from the situation for a short period of time, leaving the kids and hubby to fend for themselves for 48 hours. And this fact scares the shit out of me more than anything.

I fear that when I return on Sunday, I will find;

*The house will be completely trashed. As in, whole house will be nothing but a carpet of toys, dirty clothes, toilet paper and trash.

*A sink full of dirty, smelly dishes left to rot. The thought alone makes me throw up in my mouth already.

*The kids dressed in the same clothes I left them in. Really?!

*Fast food bags everywhere. If I don’t cook, it doesn’t happen. So the children’s diets may consist of Hooters wings and McDonald’s happy meals. Ugh.

*The kids’ entertainment for the weekend will be a viewing of Apocalypse Now and shoving the dog’s mouth full of peanut butter. GHAAAAAA!

I’m sure my imagination is much worse than reality, but I fear. A lot. Not to say hubby is inept, he's not. He really is a great father. I'm not doubting his abilities, but we have different opinions about parenting. What he allows most times is a huge no-no in my world, and vice versa. I’m praying for the best but expecting the worst.

I see a train wreck about to occur. But whatever happens. happens, right?!

Follow-up blog to come when I return. This shit should be interesting……

Slave to the Machine

It’s funny how that damn trait all us girls own called 'Hormones' tends to overtake ever aspect of our lives. Not funny “haha”, but more like funny “are you fucking kidding me?!”

It starts early in life, around 9 or 10. Then comes the boobs and the hips and the zits…next thing you know your mom is telling you to stay away from anything that has a penis and throws you a maxi pad as thick as a novel. Um….hello! What the hell is going on here?!

Eventually things start happening that are out of your control, things that are so beyond your comprehension you don’t question it, it just…happens.  But now you find yourself angry, hungry, depressed, unsatisfied and homicidal, all at the same time. Your tits hurt, you’re crying every two seconds and you’re having weird dreams of Boy George and peanut butter. Again, what the hell is going on here?

In your 20’s, you have a better understanding of how all your junk works. The anticipation of what to expect each month reaches a tolerable level. Mother Nature is doing her thing and you’re just along for the ride. Stock up on some Tampax and Midol and hang on. Oh, and condoms. Lots and lots of condoms. WEEEEEEEEE!

In your early 30’s, the party is still going strong, however, there’s a slow in your roll you can’t quite explain. Suddenly the highs become more ‘high’ and the lows start to really suck; but it’s still manageable. The reality of popping kids out of your vagina is a huge distraction (won’t go into the thrill of a pregnant body, that’s a whole separate blog.) But during the procreation phase, things start to…..change.

Suddenly the inexplicable emotions become more pronounced. They take over a small portion of your month and trump everyone in the house. Crampy, irritable and bloaty; It’s the perfect storm. And yes, if you look at me the wrong way or say something stupid, there is a strong possibility of getting beat down with a sippy cup. So approach with caution.

Now that I’m 40, I’m back to basics. I’ve given up trying to figure out what the hell is going on in my now perimenopausal body.  I just let it do it’s thing and accept the fact that I really have no control. My metabolism is quickly sinking, my stress levels are rising and my merlot levels are on a serious upswing. I’m just going with the flow and expressing every goddamn random emotion every moment I have them.

My family is awesome. They’ve learned to deal with me this way. I think I’m a huge source of entertainment for them. Hey, keeps them on their toes. Never a dull moment in Mama’s house!

Now if you’ll excuse me, Imma eat an entire box of chocolates then cry myself to sleep. Namaste. 

When was the last time you...

Dear Mama,

I know you’ve been bogged down with responsibilities of kids, home, hubby and work ~ all important things, no doubt ~ but I miss the crazy, uninhibited you. I KNOW YOU! I know who you use to be, what made you who you are today….and sometimes I worry that you have forgotten the free spirit you once were. For example:

*When was the last time you sang Karaoke style?

*When was the last time you danced at a club?

*When was the last time you did something spontaneous?

*When was the last time you spent talking to a girlfriend on the phone for endless hours?

*When was the last time you passionately kissed a boy in public without reservation?

*When was the last time you bought something because it made you feel sexy?

*When was the last time you threw caution to the wind and said ‘Fuck it!’?
*When was the last time you were confronted with something that scared the crap out of you and punched Fear in the face?!

I guess the big question is; when was the last time you did something, aside from having your kids, that filled your heart and soul with raw passion? You've been playing it too close to the chest honey, too much time on the safe sidelines instead of on the playing field.

Yea, I know you well T, my redhead minx, my rock n’ roll star. That spark in you will never die. It’s still there, just a bit…..preoccupied. So take a deep breath, shed the layers weighing you down. Get back to basics. Scream! Challenge! Dance! Love!



I’ll be here when you’re ready to come out and play.

Miss and love you,

Me

Melancholy Mama

Most days, I wake up each morning with a positive, energetic step in my spirit. My mornings are filled with sending a hubby off to work at the crack of dawn and two babies who need the hell out of me. Lunches need to be made, backpacks need to be filled with completed homework, kisses and hugs dispersed equally, sippy cups filled with milk, Curious George thrown on the TV as Dude and I slowly wake from our slumber……Oh, and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee brewing. Mama doesn’t survive off of sheer will after all. Chink in my armor.

Most days, life carries on in the usual comfortable pattern. And it’s good. Real good.

I always joke that I’ve lived several lifetimes in one. I’m like that fucking cat that just won’t die. Despite all the heartbreak and every drama I’ve been through in life, I always tend to find the good in every situation. I’ll always be a hopeless romantic. It’s in my nature, it’s who I am. And it’s gotten me hurt – a lot. Another chink in the armor. Crap!

I love Love. I love Hope. I love possibilities of the unknown. And now that I have children, I live to imagine their lives filled with the same disgusting reality of Love, Hopes and Dreams. When anything is possible, and with sheer determination, hard work, thick skin and a pure soul, anything they want is obtainable. Blahblahblah.

I know, you’re ready to punch me in the face at this point, right?!

But honestly, to continue this level of exuberance every single day can be completely exhausting; mind, body and spirit. Every once in a blue moon, life can creep up on me and smack me directly in the face - without warning, without preparation - leaving me there on the floor, with the choice to either wallow in my own feces or get up to fight the good fight.

There are moments when I’m down and out. When I can’t muster the strength to be a functional human and fall into a full blown depression. When time is needed to re-evaluate life and decide where I choose to stand amongst all the anarchy. A time when I just need to shut down and just....be. 

A dreamer can’t always dream, for fear of burning out that light. A comedian can’t always tell jokes, for fear of no longer being funny. 

If I ever disappear from social media sites, or from blogging in general, it’s for a good reason. It’s because Mama needs to regroup and get back to some semblance of myself. Shit happens. And over the years, I’ve learned that it’s not what happens that matters, but how we deal with it. Sometimes it takes longer to roll these ridiculous marbles around my crazy head, cry myself to sleep and lick the wounds.

Life tends to creep up and smack me in the face every once in a while, but no worries ~ I’ll eventually get up to fight the good fight. GAME ON!