Gorillabuns

you're so money

The girls are ending another school year and I'm feeling yet another year older. *gasp!*

and totally bleary-eyed.

It is all moving too fast, ya'll!

I do enjoy the school experience for my chicklets even while we are quite harried in the mornings. Hair? A total "Project Runway" moment in the mornings. Even with mandated school uniforms, a fight might ensue because, "MOTHER!!! I SAID I WANTED THE WHITE SHIRT INSTEAD OF THE RED ONE!! AND I WANT A GOD-DAMMED PONY THROWN INTO THE MIX!"

We ALL are so over the homework, homework and mother-of-GOD! MATH! Homework! Just so you know, I am flunking third grade math. I am hanging my head down in shame. Who knew I went to graduate school with this times shit hanging over my head?

I for one I do have to say, I'm looking forward to sleeping in. Doing crafts and reenacting GLEE dance montages for our pure entertainment (or as the 3-year-old, Celia used to say, "Craps and Songs, man..." ) while settling in for lunch in our comfy's in front of the old boob tube.

As Rich and I were discussing the other day to another couple, we are not the type of people who like to have three activities going on in one day. Twice a month? Maybe. We are the friends you make fun of, TOTALLY! You know THAT couple... lazy people who like to lounge around, make breakfast at 10am, maybe mow the lawn, watch a little crap t.v., take a nap and then go onto a function fully refreshed. We show up fashionable late and early? HELL! It has frozen over because surely showing up on time has thrown off the time space continuum of social niceties for this BUNS household. All the while trying to minimize the exertion it takes to be social.  Not that we don't like to be social because we do. We just like the laissez-faire kind of social while living in Spain. SIESTAS!!! POR FAVOR!! FOR EVERYONE!!! THEN WE DRINK!!! ARRIBA!!! ARRIBA!!! for the health of our blood and all mankind!

BUT... We live in Oklahoma. It is not acceptable to drink at lunch and sleep afterwards.

I guess pretty much anywhere in the United States to be exact.

Here at the end of the year, papers are flying in at an alarming speed along with their awards. They are both sweet and poignant. My first grader's love for her teacher (rightly so...because I want her to be my mom too) and my third grader's love for a boy and friends make me too sad that they are growing up and feeling that end of year angst we used to before Junior High School. After that, we just praised ourselves for being alive and zit-free.

I for one can't wait for our children to have the best summer ever! Even if the summer is full of side-walk chalk art, watching "Good Luck Charlie" reruns and running through the sprinkler while our crisp, grey, grass is dying from the very harsh Oklahoma heat underneath their garishly painted toes.

Coupled with many a freaking nap, PLEASE!?!?!?!

and many an impromptu

performance interpretation of "The Jersey Shore" preformed while we are all caught unaware.

In closing because we all like a good closing, no? We are prompting our girls to write in everyone's yearbook.

"xoxo, [insert our kid's name], you are so money and you don't even know it."

I would get a huge thrill if the recipient's parents knew what our plagiarism meant. To us and them.

Because they are money. and some just don't even know it.

 

 

 

PAARRTTYY!!@

This weekend was fraught with much celebration. Across the board in our family.  We finally celebrated Celia's 9th with much a do and many a hurt feelings because the free world wasn't invited.

Because the free world wasn't paying.

I can't believe she is nine. Didn't I just have her? My saggy scarred belly says so....

I love everything about her down to her itty bitty mole.

Funny enough, she has one in the same spot. I'm drilling her to love it. It's a beautiful thing to have. Love yourself and that mole. It works for Cindy, no? She says, "Cindy, who?"

Never mind.

We had a painting party with a princess frog as the themed painting. Part of me was QUITE SCARED that her peers would make fun of her painting choice while the other part of me was fist pumping into the air that my child is just that. A child. Full of conviction of her subject matter. Caring not what anyone else felt about what they were going to paint. She's 9 for goodness sakes! If she still like Barbies, frogs and princesses? So be it! BRING IT! Stay a child as long as possible!!!!

I feel quite proud of her joy and excitement in being a CHILD! She still loves dolls, American Girls and Monster High.

The biggest hit of the party? My friend's child's boots.

I'm FUURR REALS HERE, DANIELLE!  I/we/30 people at the party want these boots!!!

Back to my sad sack-of-shit. I feel our (the family as a whole) emotions are not exhibited closely to our vest. I'm not thinking we are doing the best job here....

I find at 43? I'm feeling more like a nine-year-old than my actual nine-year-old.. I'm having to explain myself to everyone and anyone for my decisions or my lack of conversations to placate everyone else's opinion. Because contrary to popular belief, I really hate confrontation.

At this moment? I feel quite a few want to make the decisions for me and my family. "with their best interest at heart."

I want to have this kind of conversation with my friends. [man love aside...] An honest to god conversation without all of the passive-aggressive bullshit that seems to come into play.

At times I want to be a man without the whole penis and ball shit. You know, say what you mean and mean what you say? I punch you in the arm and you punch me back and then we hug it out? Sadly, girls aren't made up that way.

Instead, we are shitty back-stabbing bitches.

and the bitches? can leave me alone.

Because I want to be nine again.

"Because I don't have time for that...."

splits

 

If you know anything about me, especially if you are the one who feigns having to "go to the bathroom" at my house but instead dig through my drawers and cabinets, you know I have an obsession with makeup. Like a three drawers full to the brim obsession times two bathrooms.  My girls have no chance to escape this disease as I see their little stashes of sparkly fare hidden about the house. 

Now, since I am an enabler and will be using the above link to save money on my search for the perfect summer lipstick, and because I really hate shopping with other people shoving their ways into my personal space, I thought I would share this money saving link to you. Because I care. Because I'm a total sharer. One would one say an over-sharer. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy a bountiful beauty booty from the money savings link above.

Awkward segue coming up next....

Mother's Day was actually a nice and peaceful day. Never mind the fact that I was on day 10 of "operation getting old as dirt," my emotions were at an all time high. **Not preggers, if you were still wondering.***

I was surprised with flowers planted in our tree planter and beautiful side walk art. I think Moira was kinda confused as to what holiday we were actually celebrating as "Happy Birthday!" was thrown into the greetings.

I've heard some moms complaining about the homemade gifts from their children as well as throwing their "love"gifts away as soon as the event is over. To these parents, guess what. Your child knows what you do and they aren't fooled. They are hurt. I've talked to a lot of my girls classmates and they've told me they don't want to try on the projects because their mom is "just going to throw it away anyway." How sad.  Your reaction and how your cherish these gifts are showing them how to give and receive. Both good or bad.  I choose to be proud of their gifts. Macaroni necklaces and all.

My favorite part of the "my mom" series was from this sentence: My Mom can do many things! I think she's best at "doing the spilts! She even know Times!"

I do have to say, I'm pretty damn good at doing the splits or "spilts" and my mother will laugh about the times comment. I still don't know them very well.  I wonder where my oldest gets her math skills from....

Speaking of my mom, we also shared a nice lunch together.

I have to say, everything I've learned about parenting, love and compassion has come from my mother.  She's always been my greatest champion and thinks I'm neat.  I couldn't ask for a better mother/father as she is the one who had to fulfill both jobs on her own.  It has always been us against the world. and yes, we've kicked ass and reported them to the authorities many times throughout our life together.

I only hope I make her proud.

I hope I am a role model to my girls and they feel the same way about me. That I am a loving and compassionate mother. That I am their greatest champion and that they too know they are so freaking neat. 

 

 

 

taut and tight

I'm sure most of you out there in never-never land don't have to worry about middle age and the things that result in it's wake.  Quite a few would freak if they thought they were pregnant at my age. Before you freak the fuck out, so far I don't think I'm pregnant. I'm six days late for Aunt Flo to start and part of me so wishes this was the time in my life for a 'miracle' to happen and part of me knows it's not probable. I've been told by experts to never expect it and with this age? It is not on my side. I have to listen to the little voice in the back of my head that 'this month' is finally the start of peri-menopause in the midst of my life's story. Sadly I'm such a chicken-shit to take that actual test to disprove my wishes and more so my husband's fingers triply crossed wishes. Mainly because of human nature and wishes and wants are just that.... full of wishes and wants and man, I don't and can't be disappointed in another failure.

Earlier this week I posted a link on my Gorillabuns Facebook page from a fellow blogger who lost her baby during her first trimester. I posted it because as a silent supporter I felt the pain and anguish she so whole heartedly put out there for anyone and everyone to read. A fellow parent thought I was the one who had a miscarriage at 9 weeks and compassionately so, worried how I could withstand another loss and how it is so unfair to our family.  Part of me is quite surprised that people in my close wake still remember and think of me as the walking wounded. Though when I pull my head out of my ass, I know that I am so openly fucked up.  Part of me (the loving part not the crabby part) wanted to make sure she was comforted in her mistaken grief.  Though, I did not. As another friend pointed out, this would be the end of story for me if I miscarried and sadly, she was quite right though I wouldn't admit it to her face. I just laughed and said, "how sweet she cared. Ya'll are so funny."

This aging thing is a bitch and a half.  I'm tired of being happy for others while my uterus is drying up with want or my perceived want.  My husband wants me to take a test tomorrow and I don't want to do so. Mainly because I've been told it's impossible and mainly because I don't think I can come to grips with the fact.....I'm getting old and I've become such a broken machine. I so don't want to disappoint him.one.more.time.

Keeping my shit together with that fine embrodiery string of art is taut and tight. Ready to pull loose from my fabric of life, unraveling and man, I'm so tired of picking myself up to restring another picture for myself for others and myself to pleasantly view and admire. Because I'm not brave to handle any of this news. Good or bad.

 

birdy

Today is Celia's ninth birthday.

Nine years ago I was wondering if she was going to be a boy or a girl. 

Upon learning she was a girl, I loudly exclaimed, "YEA! a girl who I can put in pig tails and tutus."

The tutu stage lasted a nano-second and all I have left is the pigtails. and my beautiful sunshine.

I'm truly lucky and blessed to have her as my child even if the road is sometimes soul-crushingly hard. Not because of her personally but due to all of the growing up stuff that comes with being a nine-year-old. 

Her anxiety, her dyscalculia and her sensitive nature.  In the end I know she will be a stronger person because internally, she is such a strong person. 

I love you beautiful girl.  You make my heart full of love, promise and strength.

love, 

mommy