Womb and Bored

Womb and Bored

Monday, December 26, 2016

'Twas the Night After Christmas---Mom's Edition

'Twas the Night After Christmas, and all through the houses...
The women all sat, resenting their spouses.
The stockings were thrown on the floor without care.
In hopes that the relatives weren't all still there.
The children were high from the candy and crap.
While everyone feared that last gift they must wrap.
And daddy, hungover, and mommy still drunk.
Were trying to find a place for the junk.
When from the next room there arouse such a clatter.
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the kitchen, I crawled like a turtle.
Stepping on legos, and toys I did hurdle.
The filth in the kitchen from the food I did bake.
Stood as clear evidence of bad choices I make.
When, what to my puffy, tired  eyes should appear
But the realization that there was no more beer.
And if that wasn't enough to make me upset.
There was also the Hatchimal that put me in debt.
And lots of other shit I had no place to store.
Were fucking up my French-cafe' kitchen decor.
The Pokemon, the Barbies, the Games, and puzzles.
The dolls and the clothing---unfortunately no muzzles.
Toys to the window, and toys to the wall.
Toys in the family room and even the hall!
As my paper cuts burned from the cheap Christmas wrapping.
My hibernating husband, in his man cave a-napping.
While I tried so hard and with all of my might.
To sell all our old shit on the Swap and Sell site.
Looking like a show, for people who hoard.
As my oldest then says, "Hey mommy, I'm bored".
A bundle of toys he had piled by his feet,
"Mom, I'm hungry.  Can I have a treat?"
His breath---how it smelled.  His fingers, so sticky.
How can someone so gross, be so fucking picky?
Not a vegetable all season, did anyone eat.
Only two food groups consumed...sugary and sweet.
Which probably explains my new rounded shape.
How many times can one fucking lose tape?
And in my many attempts to be so discreet,
I can't seem to find that one fucking receipt.
I've looked in the bags, I've looked on the shelf,
You know who probably took it?  That bastard, the elf.
But the good news is, he's gone till next year.
That immobile red fuck and his holiday cheer.
This two week break, leaves a truth that's well-known
I can't wait to use the bathroom alone.
And escape from the toys that are missing a piece.
While the family doth watch my patience decrease.
The laundry still piled, and the dishes still dirty.
And it's only 2 mother-fucking 30.
So I ain't going to whisper, instead I will shout.
Happy Christmas to all, mom's going out.



























Sunday, October 9, 2016

If Love Trumps Hate...

It's been a while.  I'm sure you missed me.  I've been incredibly busy deleting people off my social media sites for being a-holes.  There, I said it.  But if you're reading this, it's likely you made the cut.  So...I don't know whether to congratulate you or tell you how truly sorry I am.

I am not political.  This I will tell you.  Honestly, I wish I was.  But my interest in politics is almost equivalent to my interest in my boys' coach-pitched baseball games.  If you've seen me at one, you know I'm the one losing my other children on purpose so I don't have to endure the pain of seeing that one kid they have to bring the tee out for.  I hate that.  It's like the Scarlett Letter of little league.

I digress.

However, I can't help but watch the fucking disaster we call an election taking place before me.  I'm not a huge or yuuuuge fan of any of the current candidates.  I'm just slightly less appalled by one than the other.  With that being said, I can't help but watch other people and their reactions towards our future president.  Particularly women.

And...here's why.

Trump, at one point or another, has expressed the following viewpoints...

Women are aesthetically-pleasing, and that is their purpose
Sexual assault in the military is expected behavior
Women need to rely on sex appeal to win
As long as your significant other is hot, it doesn't matter who you are.
Ugly women shouldn't be on TV.
Breast feeding is a disgusting thing to do
Women trick men
Women should be blamed for their husband's actions
Women shouldn't date too much, it makes them unattractive
And that all women want him

Yes, that is appalling.  It truly is.  However, before you're all "I'm With Her", I think it's important for you to think, particularly if you're a woman, if your words and your actions are much different than Trump's.

Here's why I say that.

I made a career choice that has me surrounded by women on a daily basis.  When I'm not at work, I typically find myself in the mommy circle, once again surrounded by women.  And, on a daily basis, without fail, I see women...those that claim they're with her...treating each other no different than Trump.  I, myself, have been victim.  My co-workers have been victim.  My friends have been victim.    I've even seen my daughter fall victim.

It's true.

And, if you say it isn't, then I want to live on your amazing planet where, perhaps, rainbow-farting unicorns fly around, sprinkling drops of bullshit like rain in the Amazon.

Because, whether you want to believe it or not, most women are guilty.

I've been accused by other women of not having a brain, only sexuality.
I've been told that my outgoing personality has me asking for attention.
I've been blamed for the actions of my significant other.
I've been told I'm "too-much" because I have opinions.

And, unfortunately, I too, am guilty.

I've called women ugly because I was pissed about how they treated me.
I've said that women shouldn't be sportscasters, because they haven't played the sport.
I've said I'd rather be friends with guys because women are moody and judgmental.

Yet I'm pissed, because someone who has a pretty significant platform, is saying and doing the things that I have found myself doing.

I suck.  And, not in the way Bill Clinton wishes.

And, it's not just in what we say, it's also in our actions.  I look at social media and we are in the land of Me-me's.  Not "Memes" (Well, those, too).  I mean the land of me-me, where anything and everything is about me, me.  I love many of you so much, but some of our social media life is about as fake as my eyelashes on any given Saturday night.  And, why?

It's okay to not have your shit in a pile.
It's okay if you didn't breastfeed.
It's okay if you're in a sexless marriage.
It's okay if you can't find half of your children.

It's not okay to pretend.

There.  I said it.

Our game of imaginary land of puppies and chocolate covered asparagus is only making those around us feel like they, too, have to up their social media game.  And it becomes this fucked up twist on keeping up with the Joneses, where people feel the need to make everything look pretty on the outside to protect what's happening on the inside.  Isn't that exactly what Trump says of us, that things should be aesthetically pleasing, because that is our purpose?

We are all fucked up.

And if you think you aren't, well, you're more fucked up than I thought.

But, if Love Trumps Hate, we need to act like it.

My shoes may not be your style.
I may be louder than you like.
Perhaps my boobs are bigger than yours.

But, regardless.

I'm a woman, and I'm one of you.

So, don't just be with her.

Be with me.