Today is the day I officially start sharing my randomness with more of the world that is not subjected to the rantings of my Facebook or Myspace pages. Testing the waters there, I only allowed my friends to experience the inner workings of my sometimes deranged mind - deranged may be putting it loosely. It was comfortable there; they KNOW me. They know my idiosyncrasies. They know I am a loon. They know I am a now haggard representation of the inner hot 19 year old I used to be.
I am a married mother of three, living in a world of competition in the Mommy Olympics and acting like I am still that 19 year old kick-ass-now-and-take-names-later kind of girl. My 'notes' and 'blogs' on Facebook and Myspace centered around the craziness that is my life - I am a drama magnet. It follows me everywhere and when bored, I admit I create it also. My kids and my husband are my life and soul - yet they can EAT my soul at the same time. I was told by a publisher, "You should write about it....that's some funny shit". Shit is always funny when it happens to someone else, but especially when you can relate to the same distinct smell.
So I do it; write my life's hell and blessings at least weekly. My oldest daughter initially didn't like the fact that I was yakking about her everyday blips all for the purpose of potentially making a buck off of her misery, but now loves the fact that I do. I suppose she feels like a celebrity and I am the friggin paparazzi following her. My youngest ones, boy and girl twins, are still blissfully unaware that I use them almost daily as blogging fodder; however, I suspect they caught on to my game when, during my high school reunion, everyone kept saying, "So THIS is the infamous Johnathon. THIS is the infamous Mackenzie". My cover was blown.
I used to wonder if somehow I was causing irreparable harm to my children in the way I handled their everyday bullshit; I do not think children come equipped to handle my 'in your face, take it like it is' attitude. It must be genetic though, because they are turning out better than I could have hoped for. I have to be doing SOMETHING right, right??
So, while looking for inspiration, or at the very least, SOLACE in the fact that I was not alone in the world of mothers who swear like a drunk sailor, drink like they are still in a sorority, and still turn out very well rounded children with some semblance of success, I found my home. My soul sisters. The EXACT same thing I was doing. Moms who drink and swear.
Like a fat kid stumbling across 50 free cakes, I was giddy. Almost in TEARS giddy. I came home to the motherland. There are actually other moms (and DADS! ) out there who tell it like it is. They drink. They cuss. They spew venom that even I had not encountered. And they love their children more than life itself. I felt like I had joined the cult I have forever searched for and joyfully partook of the free kool-aid.
I stayed up until the wee hours of the next morning reading and reading. The cults leader, Nikki, shares DNA with me, I am sure of it. I was instantly addicted to her wit, her style, her outlook on life and family and kids and the fucking insanity of it all. That publisher was right - there IS a demand for this shit. There ARE more of US out there than these crazy assed Stepford Wife Wannabes. I am now sure of it. We are REAL LIFE. So, with his persistence and pushing, I am officially joining the blogspot for continued exposure.
Nikki - thank you for what you do. I thought I was nuts writing blindly until I found you. If I end up being half the awesome bitch you are, I will be thrilled with the outcome.
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