Ok, so I have seen blogger after blogger do it, and now, here I am. Doing it.
In hushed tones of reverence and shameless delight I am exceedingly tickled to share that Ginga Joy, she of the ravishing profile shot, has drawn her mighty blogger arrow and pointed it at me. Sipping my fourth coffee of the morning and trying not to introduce more profanity to my toddler’s vocabulary, I proudly take the challenge she shot my way:
Part of the Real Mothers meme spawned by the evil Kristen at The Mom Trap–see the rules here and then break them, like me.
(Put up a post “Real Moms [insert what you do here]”, followed by an explanation (feel free to use more sentences than just one run-on one like me), a picture, and a “Real Moms. Making ….”. Then tag five people.
And break the rules I shall, not because I am a rule breaker, because I’m not. Actually I am, but it’s rules like arriving to work on time or no drinking from the milk jug, these are rules I break. Double parking my lazy ass in front of the grocery store or blocking intersections because I don’t want to sit through another red light, these are rules I don’t break and wish the hell that others would follow suit.
No, the reason I’ll break the rules is twofold, first, because the magnificent Ginga Joy told me to. I know, I’m laying it on a bit thick, but go over and read her stuff. She’s better than good and she makes me laugh and think. You don’t get that too often these days. Second, I am on the west coast away from my obscenely large trove of pictures. The current state of my skin and the absence of a hair dryer in my life makes the no picture bit a treat for you all, so, you’re welcome, hold the thank you cards because this real mom rues the day that little number was added to the book of ettiquette. And while we’re on it, WTF with a book of ettiquette? Can we agree that if you need a book for it maybe it’s not essential to life?
Real Moms make do.
We add a dollup of cream cheese to chips for dairy in a toddler’s diet.
We take ribbon, an empty box and a pillow case to make a fairy charriot.
We nibble little necks to keep blazing tantrums at bay for another moment.
We turn “Oh fuck” into “Oh the flock, did you see the flock?”
We go on dates with our husbands and wear flirty frocks. We realize that our white bras are glaring from beneath a black bodice and our wildly distracted by it despite our husband’s promises that it isn’t noticable. W scan and then ferret black tulle from a flower arrangement and steal away to the ladies’ rooms to wrap the hateful itchy fabric around the underwire to mask it. And it works, but how it itches. My flocking god how it itches.
We real moms, we’re a creative bunch.
Rereading this I guess the other thing we do is we find a way to talk about itchy boobs.
I’ll tag five moms as per the directions, but know that chances are these real moms may have been tagged before. I am excited to share these great blogs with you, so I gleefully tag:
SusieJ who may just have to most beautiful masthead I’ve ever seen!
MommaK at Petroville who convinced me to bare my belly to boost the spirits of a pregnant mom.
Emily, maker of magnificent woolen things and walker of beautiful beaches, over at Five Flowers.
Kristi, if she has ever found that moment to go to the bathroom can consider herself tagged.
Beck at the poignant and genuine Frog and Toad are Still Friends.