As a mental health clinician, I have the right to diagnose myself. Lately I believe I have been suffering from MULTIPLE OZARK PERSONALITY DISORDER. (…Adult Goldilocks
As a mental health clinician, I have the right to diagnose myself. Lately I believe I have been suffering from MULTIPLE OZARK PERSONALITY DISORDER. (MOPD)
MOPD is located in the DSM-V: Diagnosis code: 69692020. ICD-10 Code: 2337.
Since quarantine, I have noticed that I am taking on more and more characteristics of these Ozark personalities. (You WILL definitely relate to this, whether you watch Ozark or not. Truly… no spoilers here, anything discussed is all pretty obvious.)
What I find ironic and hilarious is that my husband will no longer watch this show with me because he found the show “ridiculous” and “unrelatable.” He stopped after season one…typical. Season one of any show is comparable to a psych 101 class; basically playing just-the-tip with character development.Sheesh.
Anyways, the irony is, that the more outlandish and ridiculous this show becomes, the more I find it relatable.
Let’s be real, everything is ridiculous in the world right now. I mean who would ever think we would not be allowed to attend live sport events and there would be cardboard fans? Who would ever think that kids would not be attending school in person? Who would ever think that in the midst of massive change and uncertainty there would be a presdential election? I digress
These real-life events make some good old-fashioned, illegal activity seem refreshing. What’s the big deal about a dad who wants to make some extra bank on the side for his family?
Since we were encouraged to do nothing but sit at home, scroll on the phone and binge watch tv; we extinguished our coping skills. Now, everything is different at one time. All this change is just too painful for my brain to tolerate; my psyche has now split in order to protect my sanity…
Split Personality #1:The first episode of the third season of Ozark, Ben is introduced. He is a substitute teacher who seems pretty cool; but then he is exposed to the reality of tweens and smart-phones when a student begins to cry in class about a text with a photo received. The lack of eye contact, respect or response from the rest of the students infuriates the him. He then proceeds to take all the kids’ cell phones and throw them in a garbage. (I think this is a completely appropriate reaction.) He goes too far and throws them all into wood chipper. I find myself relating to this entire scene up until the last 17 seconds.
Split Personality #2: Ruth Langmore, who can make you blush with her raw cussin and brutal lack of filter. Ruth’s demeanor, even while having sex, gives off that don’t-fuck-with-me vibe that can make you cringe. She has also channeled her white-trashness into some useful business woman tips. What is cool as hell about her is she owns her mistakes; no excuses. Fuck is now a noun, verb, adjective, pronoun, adverb and a language in itself because of Ruth. Anyone else speak fluent fuck nugget?Straight up…my Spirit Animal.
Personality #3 The matriarch of the show, Wendy Byrde, who manages being a mom and wife with political policies. Wendy Byrde is completely transparent with her kids, does whatever the hell she wants in her marriage and uses her political knowledge to commit illegal crimes legally.
First episode of season one: Wendy is an ordinary, stay-at-home mom who gave up her political career/power to raise her kids. Her life was uneventful and easy, and she was unhappy and bored. She thrives in chaos. She had a rough childhood. 👈🏻(This article is brilliant about her acting out when she doesn’t belong.) She comes alive while juggling negotiations with a mexican drug cartel and her power soars when she comes up with strategies to legalize her husband’s money laundering operation. Wendy spins these webs from the safety of her minivan.
Just like any mom does, “Wendy’s got this.” Mom’s know what to do. Wendy can handle almost anything and plow through the day, unaffected. However, what is so relatable: it’s the little shit that throws her over the edge. Everything is cool until her damn emotions slow her down.
She can blow off a call from a drug lord👇🏻.
She can answer her kids tough questions without missing a beat.
Wendy’s-mentality: Don’t sugarcoat anything. Throw us a bone and let us know where we stand. Mama Byrde: OK, here’s a bone…straight up your ass.
TO HUSBAND: “Quite Frankly, I Don’t Give A Damn If You Like It Or Not, Cause I Feel Pretty Good About It. It’s A Good Idea, And I Did It For Our Family. What Did You Do Today… For Our Family?” Wendy Byrde (boom)
Marty replies flatly: “I bought a strip club.” (He is pretty bad ass but I haven’t gone numb yet;)
Everyone has a weakness and Wendy’s is: she cannot handle her brother and his “irrational” behavior. Why can’t her brother just understand that they are laundering money for a mexican drug cartel and everything is going according to plan? Why won’t he leave things alone and stop trying to make everything moral and just? Why doesn’t her brother “get it” that it is normal to be disintegrated in an acid barrel when you stand up to the cartel’s lawyer or you work with the FBI? Why won’t he stop behaving like a toddler and involving the police? Jeez…
Wendy. loses. her. shit. with her brother. The flooding of emotions causes her to get hammered in a parking lot in her minivan for days. When she does eventually come home, she wants to hide under the covers. She doesn’t want to get out of bed. She doesnt care about any of the stuff she was relentlessly working toward. She lost her tenacity and drive. She fell apart.
Which brings me to my “Wendy Moment”. No I did not get hammered in my minivan. What are you nuts? I do not drive a minivan😜.
Backstory: The last seven months during this global pandemic, I’ve taken pride in that I’m a Gen Xer. I have been thriving in this chaos. Watch movies with my kids every night, psshh, my dream come true. I have loved not having to go anywhere. I accomplished so many projects and got in the best shape of my life. I was kicking ass at work and rolling with the changes. My relationship with my kids and husband has never been better. Even when I struggled with e-learning and juggled my kids being home while I was working; I persevered.
Then the little shit happened that threw me over the edge. School started for 2 days, then was canceled for two more weeks (something died inside me that day😜). I broke my own phone and had wait 6 days for a new one (I am still re-doing every password in my life). My daughter received her scoliosis brace and she was NOT happy. This clusterfuck of events has triggered me to split. These are all NORMAL, regular, solvable problems, yet I cannot deal. Like Wendy, I can deal with the crisis and big stuff. The little, unpredictable, emotional shit…not so much ..
Monday: I was picking up some girls for a volleyball camp carpool and my friend was talking briefly about her day to me as a elementary teacher; now teaching her students online. It sounded unbearable, extremely stressful and overwhelming. A flashback of me teaching my daughter in May, triggered a depersonalization episode. It was as if I was hovering above both of us, looking at our life thinking “this cannot be real.” Similar to the Wendy-Goldilocks moment when she realized she did not belong in that life anymore.
The no longer knowing is terrifying.
The not knowing how to do our job, not knowing how to be a parent, not knowing how to behave in public (That awkward-should we hug, I want to hug but, are you hugging?…)
Everything we once “knew for sure” we no longer know.…(split) In comes Ruth Langmore: “This is crazy. I don’t know shit about FUCK!”
Tuesday 9/28/2020 – I Drive kids to school, attempted to listen to the news on my way home. The discussion about the presidential debate …Flood of emotions …I walk past my office, get in bed and hide under the covers…(split) Ben Davis “I will not fall into line with the others. What you walked into is normal… this is all normal….No, nope, no it’s not ￼…smh…” (split) In comes Ruth again…
“What are you going to do, kill me? you bitch wolf?“Wednesday: My son was excused from school for a golf tournament. I drive him to golf course at 5:30am. By 8:46am: My son has a golf-injury, I shit you not. He hit a ball, it ricocheted off a tree and knocked him in the chin. He was gushing blood apparently. I had to stop working and bring him to urgent care to get stitches. The day was shot. Anything my family said to me after that, I replied:
Kid: “I’m going to ride my bike to Dunkin.”
Me: “The fuck you are.”
Kid: “I’m going to the skate park.”
Me: “The fuck you are.”. Everyone just stay here, stay safe, stay uninjured. But…wait…we already did that…and that’s not living. Of course I thrived when we were all in a bubble. Nothing ever happened. We were all zombies. That’s not normal. It was a nice break; a reality check on what’s important. Yet it is all a blur. You don’t remember the nights you got plenty of sleep. You remember the nights you almost died in a field while you were at a “sleepover.” “Ok, ok you can ride to Dunkin after you do the dishes, and get decaf”. Look both ways when you cross the street (dipshit).”
“Ok. Ok you can go to skate park after you take out the garbage. You better wear helmet, knee pads, elbow/wrist guards…and here’s some bubble wrap (dumb ass).”
In the end, the little shit is all that matters and that must be why it’s so hard. -Quillan Kelly-Dunn
When I win my Oscar for best screenplay and give my speech; I would love to say “and last of all, I’d like to thank my husband for not giving a shit.”
Despite how it sounds, I mean this in a good way. By his “not giving a shit” or being “too tired right now” is actually helpful. My anger at him forces me to figure it out myself. When I do, my self-esteem sky rockets. I am no longer mad at him because I am too empowered; but not in a self-righteous kind of way. Like in a “men and women are equal” way.
Whenever I ask my husband for help, it is like an imaginary tennis match. He takes his pretend racket (tongue-on-roof-of-mouth-click-sound effect) and just hits that request right back to me. My rebuttal (tongue-click) back to him. This continues the longer I debate and the longer the match. Kinda like this: https://www.instagram.com/p/B-e3V7MDtMi/?igshid=z3swsvcatt03
I hate asking for help and I’m not a damsel-in-distress type of chic. I do not need or want to be taken care of or to be saved. (It does feel nice to think about it, perhaps my stubborn pride gets in the way.) When he does offer suggestions or the “right” way of doing things; he is met with a straight up tirade of obscenities. Therefore, deep down I must really not want him to help me.
Or…I would rather do it myself than deal with this:👇🏻
My old man is the most tired man in America; he works three jobs; so it’s understandable why he is exhausted. However, it was kinda weird that was able to stay up through rain delays until 1:45am when the Cubs won the World Series. Miraculously, he was still able to get up for work at 5am the next day. But…that’s another story…😂
Anyways, I get that he’s tired; which is why I cannot expect much from him. They say having no expectations leaves you pleasantly surprised right? My expectations are so low it’s kinda like when someone goes out for a pack of cigarettes and doesn’t come back. 😜 When show back up, you are pleasantly surprised.
So I live my life expecting him not to come back, but he keeps showing back up to sleep, eat and watch sports here so now what? 😜 I work full time as well and handle everything at home with kids such as an being an Unpaid Uber driver, bank teller, chef, grocery shopper , scheduler, drama processor… I’m TIRED!….
I know that he knows it’s difficult at home and more difficult than what he does because my situation is unpredictable. He will never admit it. It’s not black and white how he likes. I hate things that are black and white except movies. Being at home plus working is all mutha effin gray. Kids and teens are unpredictable. You never know what you’re going to get.
Anyways, Our most recent endeavor. About a month ago, our washing machine stopped working. It’s a LG High Efficiency washer, equipped with smart diagnosis. This means that I can connect my IPhone to the washer and it can diagnose what’s wrong. My washer continued to display “IE”. He has an Android, I have an iPhone which probably contributed to his feelings of inadequacy. 😂
In the manual, “IE” means that you have to clean out the water inlet valve, Manual says to clean inlet valve monthly. I know we have NEVER done this. So I asked my old man to do it. He didn’t feel like fixing it right now which led to the “tennis match”.
While sitting on the couch, he told me to call the repairman we used for the dishwasher. The woman who answered the phone asked me what was wrong and I told her.
She replied, “Yea, that Washing machine brand isn’t the greatest. That code means you need to clean out the water inlet valve”. I said “Like I know what that is or how to do that, thats why I’m calling you.” (Whorebag, in my head)
So she calls me back and said she can get me in on Saturday between 12pm-4pm.
Me: “Ummm that’s four days from now, you have nothing sooner?” Whorebag: “Nope. Mmm-mmm. No. We will call you the day before AND the morning of to confirm.”
Me: “Ok, thanks” (In head: “Dont you condescend me, man. I’ll fuckin kill you man.)👇🏻
I confirmed the service call from the know-it-all, condescending lady Friday night and Saturday morning. Shocker: Husband is too busy to wait for fix it guy. We go out to breakfast because we have nothing else to do. I overeat carbs to feed my resentment, he leaves. Then on my day off, in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, I have to wait. Me sitting on the couch, after a large, carby meal and doing nothing but waiting is not a normal situation and unfortunately, I fall asleep.
Three unanswered calls later from the fix it guy, I missed my repair window. His voicemail:
“Yea, since you aren’t answering the phone, I am not wasting a 20-minute trip since you are my only call out there today.” Me: Ew. Wasting his time? Who the hell does this guy think he is?
Me: (Furiously calling him back-but I get the awful lady 😫) Me: “I thought after I confirmed three times, he would just show up. I left a note on the front door for him to just come in. I missed his call but I have been here waiting.”
Know-It-All-Lady: “Yea, no, he’s too busy. If you missed his calls, then we have to reschedule. Where were you anyway?”
Me: (wtf-now who does SHE think she is?) “Where was I? I was home, sitting here waiting, doing nothing. I never do that so I fell asleep.”
Know-It-All-Lady: “You fell Asleep???”
She says it in that shocked, angry, judgmental how-dare-you tone like Rachel says to Ross after she rambles for 18 pages… .Front and back
Now if my husband dozed off on the couch, this would completely accepted and understandable. For a woman to fall asleep-Unheard of. This woman should know how tired women are in general as a species; this is a complete betrayal.
Me: “Well, I think it’s ridiculous that you guys make me wait four days for this appointment. Despite my confirming both calls and wait on my day off on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. His time is too valuable to drive here? I’m sorry my shitty machine isn’t worth his time. I’ll call another company.” She began to talk and hung up on her. (Damn that felt good)
So… I have had a hell of a time finding someone to fix this thing; but I REFUSE to call that company back. I really do not enjoy cleaning my cleaning appliances. 😂 I swallowed my pride, watched some you tube how-to’s DIY fix it videos and did it.
Yea, I fixed it. It cost NOTHING. I’m a bad ass. I’m muthafuckin Charlie Bronson. I’ll tell the old man the guy came out and fixed it. He won’t question a thing. I win, kinda. However if I said I fixed it…you know what will happen. Tons of questions, skepticism and he still won’t admit it. That’s all I really want. So who really wins? 😂
In the end, I know how to fix the washing machine. I know what a water inlet valve is and what a pair of pliers is. I don’t need him to admit it. I’m not even mad anymore. The irrational thoughts have left and I’m left with realizing this was about a stupid, replaceable washing machine. As much as I hate his guts in the moment, I realize now I’m doing the same thing he is doing. Everything I say about him, he could say about me. He handles stuff I don’t think about. I don’t give a shit either. 😂
However,👇🏻Admitting it is sexy, I hope men don’t wait until they are this old to see the truth.
Off topic: See the best of Floyd: I still laugh 18 years later
We had a 13th birthday party for my daughter last week; decided to make it an 8th grade kick off as well. This means we invited the whole class, all genders, hoping the class would possibly get along…together. (This class has not worked since day one.) We also rented a dunk tank assuming this should be a hit; and perhaps they would forget they can’t stand each other😂.
My daughter kept warning me about the boys, she said “Mom, they have no consideration for anyone but themselves.” (Probably repeating what she had heard year after year from the teachers.)
I was getting the yard (arena) ready the night before. I ripped a piece of shipping tape off the side of the pool (kids tried to ghetto-ly hang some rope lights next to the filter. 😂) Suddenly, I feel a sharp, shooting, burning pain on side of my head. I thought for a second I electrocuted myself. Then I see a wasp flying around. I look under pool edge and there is a giant a yellow jacket nest.
I considered spraying it and removing it myself. However, when I googled what to use, it strongly advised not to do this alone. Then found some websites for bee removal services and “Swarm removal.” 😬 (Usually, I would ignorantly underestimate the situation and fearlessly proceed. Then I had a momentary flashback of THE HUNGER GAMES’ tracker jacker scene and….it is 2020.
The hive has probably been there all summer. Adults & kids have been here swimming almost daily; no one saw it or got stung. I email some of these services, receive some prices and then they explain this is a 3 step process that needs to start at dusk .
The party begins in 14 hours, there won’t be time for someone to do all these steps. I hope, pray and assume no one will see the hive. I am then distracted by a past winner, “Haymitch” who graciously drops off a cooler of Gatorade and cookies.
12pm: I notice on my phone the temperature outside is a perfect 84 degrees; I look out the window, not a cloud in the sky. The most perfect day. Despite the temperature on my smart phone, stepping outside is a different story. As I slowly slide the door open, I am hit with a humidity blast that feels like 110 blazing degrees.
I am pouring with sweat setting up the bean bag boxes and volleyball net. I stop to wipe the sweat from my brow that is stinging my eyes. As a stand still, I feel the sun searing through my sun-screened, pale af, freckled, perimenopausal skin.
12:30pm: Most of the “tributes” have arrived. The girls remain on the deck, staring wide-eyed at the boys who are violently shoving each other into the pool and holding each other underwater. The floats are mangled and destroyed within seconds. The girls remain shocked & terrified; unsure if they should enter the pool or get blistered in the sun.
1pm: The dunk tank has been delivered. As I am pulling our hoses to fill the tank, I hear “It’s a Yellowjacket!” “Omg there’s a yellow jacket nest!” “Awesome!!!”
To my horror, all the boys are now surrounding the backside of the pool armed with bean bags, a ball, whiffle bats, and a broom (where the hell did he even find that?) Immediately, I demand they drop their weapons and step away from the hive.
“You guys are going to get stung!“ I exclaim. The boys playfully reply, “No we won’t!” Or “We don’t care!” I try another tactic: “Would you care if I record you and send to your parents?” Most freeze and give that you-wouldn’t-dare-look. I glare back at them👇🏻.
All except one take the bait and retreat. The last is still laughing maniacally as he is shoving the broomstick into the heart of the tracker jackers lair. I remove the broom from the boy, he mopes away with his head down, temporarily defeated.
1:30pm: I witness the girls still standing on the deck with their mouths hanging open. I gently encourage the girls to go in the pool while boys are out. Thankfully, “Peeta” shows up with lunch!
While kids are eating, I hide the “weapons” in the basement. Then I hear a loud, thumping sound. I run outside and see a heckling boy sitting on the dunk tank seat. The boys have already begun throwing balls at the dunk tank target. The Problem is there is only one inch of water in it. I envision a Tom & Jerry episode (pic below).
Before I plummet into debt from a kid requiring extensive dental work or sustaining an injury in the empty tank; I completely over-react with a loud, shrilling, scream. Everyone looks at me, stunned. *Side note: My reaction is amplified due to the dunk tank manual boldly stating SEVERE injury should occur if dunk tank is not full or “damage to the tank will result in responsible parties assuming cost of repair.”😱🙈
2pm: I regained composure and tell the kids how high the water needs to be in the tank before they can use it. I assured them I have three hoses going and it should be full in 20 minutes. This answer pacified them and the boys retreat back into the pool, while sporadically antagonizing the bees. I notice The grass around the pool is flooded (Tick Tock Tidal Wave).
2:14pm “Someone’s been stung!” I hear repeatedly by numerous girls. (Tick Tock Tracker Jackers)
As I am searching for a sting antidote in my closet, I remember something important from my kids toddler years.. At every playdate, it was chaos the first two hours; then magically the kids started to get along. The kids had to get used to and adjust to having another kid around. Epiphany: That is what is happening now! The two hour mark is in 15 minutes!
I walk down the stairs and find the entire floor from the back door to the front is soping wet. I am blindsided with a smell of stove gas & wet dog combined with sewage. My daughter is shaking her head at me. I ask her, “For the love of God, what is that smell?” (Tick Tock: Poisonous gas) My daughters glares at me with contempt, that “mom-you’re-so-dumb” look.
“Mom! I told you this would happen! All the boys smashed into the bathroom and locked the door so we couldn’t use it! They don’t wear deodorant! Then one of them took a big dump!” My daughter exclaims.
For once, the Covid mask comes in handy as I cover my nose & mouth. I locked the front & garage door to prevent numerous, wet entries and dried the floor. I tell my daughter, “They are boys, they never hung out with you guys yet. They just need boundaries and limits; it will be okay. If not, they are leaving in 2 hours and we won’t have to do this again.”
“Two more hours of this!? UGH!” She exclaims and stomps away.
2:30pm Some of other boys have now realized that there are girls present. “Effie” shows up to help me (hallefuckinglujah!). We gather them all together to take a group picture. Immediately following the flash, the boys simultaneously charge at the girls, pushing them into the pool. The girls nervously laugh and Effie and I shrug in unison; “At least they are all in the pool together.”
The dunk tank is full. The girls huddle and watch the boys heckle, whips balls at the bullseye and dunk each other. This contained, organized activity has seemed to spark the interest of all parties. The boys surprisingly organize themselves into a line and take turns throwing and being dunked. I overhear one of the more advanced thinkers of the group (who has sisters 😂), “Aren’t we going to let the girls have a turn?”
With two other moms present to supervise, I take this opportunity to escape. I had some lunch, cooled down in the AC and changed my clothes. The fear-induced “hallucinations” begin to subside and I have an epiphany.
My yard is the “arena” and the arena in a CLOCK! Just like in Catching Fire! It’s just a GAME! Stop giving a fuck and just play the game!!!
3pm: I look outside at the “arena”. I see “Effie” & “Peeta” sitting on lounge chairs with their feet up. To my surprise, some of the kids are either playing bean bags together or making a whirlpool. What…the…
Haymitch shows up holding a 6-pack and provides some useful advice. We enjoy some cold, adult beverages as a team. We effin did it! It WORKED! We won!
I have a sip of the “adult elixir” and experience another revelation… “They are just kids! They are supposed to be assholes! It’s our job to teach them to not be! They do not know how to play the game yet! We have to teach them how to play!”
Peeta organized the bean bag tournament. The kids all sat TOGETHER and watched each other play. I couldn’t believe it. Haymitch periodically would make the kids stop and take cleaning breaks. They listened. It was an effin miracle! (A 2020 miracle …pssshhh. No way.)
The four of us are sitting around talking and laughing. Parents are starting to show up to pick up their kids; grateful for the long break from their kids after a five month quarantine.
My daughter whispers in my ear, “Can you text all the parents now before anyone else comes so everyone can stay later?”
“What!? I thought you couldn’t wait until this was over? Remember you were frustrated there was two hours left?” Stay later?!? She’s hallucinating; musta been stung by a tracker jacker. I still almost fall out of my seat.
Daughter: “Well that was before. It’s been SO fun. I never want it to end. Everyone wants to stay.”
“Yep. And…You. were. right. Mom.”
👆🏻HO.LEE.SHIT. Was not expecting that👆🏻Me, Mom…was…right?. Tears of joy welled in my eyes.
I really did win!
As my 14 loyal fans are aware😜, I am a huge fan of the REAL & RAW AF @markmanson
He posts a free newsletter every Monday. I highly recommend it. How to sign up: https://markmanson.net/newsletter
It’s called MINDFUCK MONDAY. Which I usually read on Tuesday because I’m too tired on Monday to be mindfucked.😂
Sometimes Mark is way harsh… and I want to crawl back in bed and hide under the covers. 😂 I eventually process and see where I’m wrong…or think more about what he means in ways that make sense in my brain…then move forward.
My kids are at this stage of where explaining to them how to make decisions based on their personal values needs to happen… (yes we should be helping them figure that out- knowing your teens personal values also helps us understand them better.) #homeschoolingrealshit
Perhaps you don’t even know what your personal values are. It’s okay, just figure it out now by using above guide. It helps you understand why certain situations piss you off more than others.
By Teaching yourself, then you can assist the kids; and your spouse😜.
I am sure we are all teaching our kids the COST of their decisions even while toddlers; without even realizing it. Teaching them the consequences of their actions. However, I think with teenagers, we want to teach them the consequences BEFORE they actually make the decision. Then they won’t ponder “what would happen if I did this?” Example: “Will my mom lose her shit if I say this? Let’s try it….”
Teaching our kids the COST: I.E. spending a half hour reading before playing a video game and a half hour exercising may SUCK. However, what you do now sucks and you will spend one less hour with your friends online; but the BENEFIT outweighs the cost. The COMPOUND EFFECT of this sucking over a year equals GREAT, BIG, HUGE results.
Here is an example of Mark Manson link from newsletter:
“For example, let’s pretend there’s some imaginary skill that if you practiced for 30 minutes a day, that you’d get 1% better each day for the next year. Now, let’s say you actually did practice for 30 minutes per day — how much better would you be at the end of the year?
But the real answer? You’d be 3,778% — or almost 38 times — better than you were at the start of the year.” https://markmanson.net/decision-making
Thinking of my shenanigans as a 13 and 14 year old has resulted in my having some minor panic stricken moments…
Now I am no expert, however I go with my gut with most decisions and in my few stellar parenting moments. Yes I think Mark Manson is brilliant. However, One thing I have that @markmanson doesn’t have is…offspring.
I have experience with my offspring. The vulnerability of loving someone so much that you created and you are 100% responsible for; that is some real, hardcore shit. Parenting ain’t no joke.
Before I had kids, I believed “KNOWLEDGE IS POWER.”
Post kids belief, “APPLIED KNOWLEDGE IS POWER.”
I thought and believed a lot of things before I had kids that completely changed once I had kids. My personal values are completely different now than they were 15 years ago. Or having kids strengthens the values you did have or causes you to modify your values.
Example: One thing I hated as a kid and teen and now as an adult is mixed messages. I did always value transparency. “Do what you say, say what you mean.” Clear communication and concise messages makes a difference to me. I’m not into games, assuming, expecting someone to know what I’m thinking.
I hate when people expect me to read their mind. I’m not a fan of those work emails that are vague, and sent as a blanket to the whole department addressing someone’s mistake (usually mine). “Please remember to not have sexual intercourse on your desk.” (That was wrong? Should I not have done that?)😜
Then everyone becomes paranoid, “Did I do that? I didn’t know we couldn’t have sex on our desk?!”
I would prefer my boss to address my screw up personally in 10 words or less; then give me the consequences. It sucks at first but I won’t ever make that mistake again. Then move on. The rules are in the handbook. No need to involve everyone. Sheesh.
I see this a lot with my kids. When I am not being clear or specifically asking them what I want them to do; this results in big arguments. They check out after about 10 words. So I attempt to count the words prior to addressing them.
1.) If 2.) You. 3.) Want 4.) Money 5.) You 6.) Have. 7. ) To 8.) Do 9.) These10.) Chores
As far as letting your kid know the consequences before the decision is made, then there is no assumptions. If we are upfront about our expectations and what the consequences are if they do not follow these expectations; there is less battles in the long run (compound effect).
Example: My son has not given me any indication that he has used alcohol yet or has tried to sneak it. However, the more I learn about alcohol and binge drinking; the more I wonder how me and my friends are alive right now. I think about how lucky we were. Anyone else relate?
Sadly, I know some that were not so lucky.
Anyways, I told my son one day in May this year while we were hanging out watching TV “Oh, by the way, If you or any of your friends drink alcohol anywhere, you will lose your phone for a month and no one will come over for the rest of the summer.”
His eyes bulged out of his head and replies softly, “We won’t. I won’t.”
Clear concise consequences stated before the decision. There is no “I didn’t know.”
Now I am aware of the other loopholes that I would have also used with my parents, “You said alcohol! You didn’t say anything about weed or his moms prescription Xanax.”
That is where going with your gut and personal values comes in. Does it feel wrong? Then it probably is.
Last summer, we both told our kids that if they are in a situation that feels wrong; call us and we will pick them up…no questions asked. If they want to talk about it, they can, when they are ready. Also, they also won’t be in trouble for telling the truth.
It was premature to tell them last summer, but I think the shock value of this statement stuck with them so early. Like “what situation could I possibly be in that I would have to call you to pick me up?”
This year, my kids have been in situations that seemed like they are no big deal to me (their friend said or did something they didn’t like or felt wrong) and they came home early or asked us to pick them up. To them, it is ALL a big deal.
I hate FaceTime but I would prefer my kids do that with friends instead of texting. Texting is helpful sometimes, however so much can be misconstrued via text. I tell my kids “have conversations with your friends” and “don’t put anything in writing or post anything you wouldn’t want their mom to read.” Once it’s out there in the “cloud”, it can always be discoverable.
Dealing with peer pressure is difficult, even as an adult. When you do stand up for what you believe or stick with your decision; it stings like a mfer when your “friends” provide you with their consequences for your decision.
Teaching your kids/teens the crabs in a bucket metaphor helps them have a visual. The metaphor of someone pulling you back down “stay here and be miserable with me.” It tough time find a video of crabs in action so I edited one I found from you tube. https://youtu.be/UJdtaaDOkEo
Lastly, my last two parenting tips for yourself and your kids in “five words or less.” #parentyourself
“Nothing good happens after 2am.”
Even if your kids aren’t going to late night bars such as Brewbakers or Grouchos; 😜 staying up at home watching TV or playing video games past 2am is usually not wise. This is where your friends get overtired and start saying stupid shit to stay awake or act out such as kick you out of “video game party” (whatever the hell this is).
How this leads to bad habits as adults=After 2am bad decisions. This is where those last two dranks throw you over the edge; leading to a massive hangover or blackout. Past 2am is where you have beer goggles and hook up with someone that’s a “full-on Monet”…(see below) you wouldn’t have looked at before midnight.
typing, writing, blogging, documenting, lifting, texting, Editing, painting, cleaning, spraying, wiping, exercising, scrubbing, folding, washing, bringing, dropping, returning, buying, framing, ordering, shopping, selecting, carrying, drinking, posting, networking, punching, pushing, pulling, decorating, eating, spending, clicking, entering, hanging, filling, loading, unloading, tapping, cutting, pasting, organizing, sorting, driving, downloading, uploading, swiping, scrolling, teaching, knowing, competing, disciplining, tweeting, taming, fearing, sorting, worrying, numbing, controlling, binging, guessing, confusing, dying, producing, moving, locking, journaling, questioning, debating, arguing, avoiding, fixing, finding, searching, planning, resisting, wishing, looking, filling, running, circling, drowning, refusing, fighting…
Sitting, sleeping, watching, hydrating, laughing, smelling, crying, listening, hearing, seeing, dancing, playing, talking, touching, baking, prepping, praying, snuggling, creating, bathing, planting, soaking, replenishing, strengthening, zooming, holding, learning, riding, napping, enlightening, dreaming, calling, connecting, hugging, stopping, quieting, soothing, reflecting, enjoying, smiling, loving, empowering, grieving, pausing, living, giving, feeling, staying, appreciating, facing, unplugging, growing, resting, helping, healing, shining, hoping, fasting, unlocking, braving, allowing, permitting, surrendering
Which “ING” have you been doing?
Yea, me too…
I recognized this morning that “I’m doing it wrong.”
This book was a tough read…
Took me a long time to get through it…
When I say this, it is because unlike Malcolm Gladwell’s @malcolmgladwell other books, this one touched on extremely emotional topics.
I didn’t get it at first, as usual (I’m slow) or perhaps it’s the haze of cognitive dissonance…
I didn’t like it at first is because it made me feel things I didn’t want to feel.
It made me think about topics I avoid…
It made me uncomfortable.
It made me nauseous…at times.
Then something clicked and I got it.
@malcolmgladwell pulls at your heartstrings with true stories, cases, that are controversial and breaks them down…
He discusses what WE can do to communicate better with people we do not know.
He reveals how some people “may not act the way WE think they should act”.
I will lightly touch on some of the topics in this book that I feel compelled to weigh in on so if you want to KNOW NOTHING about the book and read it yourself: please stop reading. (But begins you go, please enjoy this meme regarding “spoiler alerts” below 😂)
An intriguing example is when Gladwell explains the Amanda Knox case and what could have been done differently.
Malcolm clarifies that the whole ordeal Amanda was sucked into was because the Italian police didn’t think she “acted” the way she should be acting when her roommate was murdered.
Amanda didn’t “show emotion” or “communicate how she should.”
It’s seems like it should be such a clear concept, except we all know it is not. We all judge people on their behavior, their words, their actions. We judge because someone is not “behaving” the way we would.
On the opposite spectrum of innocence, Gladwell breaks down the Penn State/Sandusky scandal. (This is where I struggled the most with getting through this book.) Sandusky went years untouched and undetected because “he doesn’t act like a child molester” or “his victims don’t act like they were abused”. Sandusky was adored by all. Sandusky was a god on that campus.
Gladwell brings up many other controversial and historical topics such as Hitler, Sylvia Plath, and Gingis Khan.
Therefore, Gladwell solidifies his point that: The human race overall, sucks at talking with strangers.
Transparency is the idea that people’s behavior and demeanor—the way they represent themselves on the outside—provides an authentic and reliable window into the way they feel on the inside.Malcolm Gladwell: Talking to Strangers
Talking to Strangers: What We Should Know about the People We Don’t Know https://www.amazon.com/dp/0316478520/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_i_9eWNEbRW7CFK5
Here’s the Southside Blasphemy:
Gladwell painfully examines binge drinking and college sexual assaults. He breaks down the culture of socially-acceptable-yet-dangerous-binge-drinking and how this scientifically affects the human brain.
Gladwell goes into detail about black outs; the lack of communication between people while intoxicated and how so many assumptions are made. He brings to light how serious incidents are minimized and the misconception of society’s view of alcohol abuse.
Gladwell deliberates how men are called weak and berated if they don’t keep drinking, slam shots or chug beer bongs. He states how women are glorified if they can “drink a guy under the table” and how women are judged by “how cool they are” based on how much alcohol she can consume.
Then he dissertates the differences between men and women’s genetic make-up, how they metabolize alcohol differently and what happens biologically to the body and mind.
I listened to this chapter with with different ears. As a parent, you have no choice but to imagine your kids in one of these situations.
I never considered teaching my daughter “how” to drink (not sure I am qualified either 😜maybe I need another adult to do that for me;). I never thought of teaching my son exactly how to “be respectful of women”, knowing how to ask for permission and when no means no.
I just assumed that my kids would make good decisions based on how we raised them. However, Gladwell discusses how alcohol, and the impact of society & social media erases all of that.
The impact alcohol has on sexual assault:
This part in the audiobook was exceptionally painful; listening to a real court case of a sexual assault between two freshman at a college campus. Listening to testimony of a 19 year old MALE who “assumed” the girl he making out with was “okay with everything” because “she didn’t say anything.”
In reality, she was in a black out; unconscious.
In the testimony, the 19 yo make speculates what happens; then when asked directly, he admits he truly doesn’t remember the situation either.
Yet here he is, in court after making some bad decisions he doesn’t remember while intoxicated as a freshman in college: facing a jail sentence, expulsion, felony charges and a 15-year listing on the sex offender registry.
I couldn’t help but have empathy for the female but also for the guy; he was just a kid who is 5 years older than my own son. He was clueless, naive, and he ASS-umed. I could actually see myself and our friends laughing about a situation like this – (hooking up with someone in a black out-where neither party remember or know each other’s names) in college or even last year. However, when it is your child, it is a whole different deal.
…This chapter lead to one of many future discussions with my kids about alcohol use and how we all, as parents, have to educate our kids on safe drinking. I can say I “don’t want my kids using alcohol” however I know they will. So atleast as parents, we need to specifically educate them exactly how to “drink responsibly.” Brevity is key.
“Drink responsibly” is the message that is repeated, but what does that mean? I had to figure that out for myself and it took 30 years! I still drink too fast.
Therefore, if we know this, we need to offer our kids some guidance on HOW to drink responsibly.
However there are so many societal mixed messages. The ambivalence is similar to Frank the tanks “I have a lot to do tomorrow, but it tastes so good as it touches your lips.”
(Speaking of mixed messages, coming soon is a spin off of this article regarding the D.A.R.E. program…gasp… yes I said it)
In educating kids and teens, you cannot always say a specific number of drinks or beers because everyone metabolizes alcohol differently. We also have to educate them on the social impact their “being responsible” might result in. Transparent Translation: their friends and peers might give them a lot of shit for turning down shots or not slamming beer after beer. We have to educate them that how much they can drink has nothing to do with “coolness.”
Peer pressure is real, even after you have kids and are an “adult.”😂
Example: I was at a party last year and another parent offered me a drink. I turned it down because it was already 3am and I had to get up for my kids games at 9am. He smirked and replied “You used to be fun.” My inner—insecure-socially-awkward-teenager-self-emerged and immediately wanted to grab a bong like Frank the tank and “show him”! Adult peer pressure is real.😂
As a 40-something adult, I STILL had to remind myself he is kidding, he really doesn’t care if I drink or not and he honestly won’t even remember saying that to me.
We all like to belong. We all want to be fun (Fun Bobby) https://youtu.be/3nJ_l5qMrdw
No one wants to feel “not fun” (turns out fun Bobby is not so fun anymore) https://youtu.be/Y9qR3y_oLXM
However, we all need to have these uncomfortable feelings and transparent conversations. 2020 Kids are fucking smart.
The last three days have been interesting…
It’s the First time BOTH of my kids have had projects at the same time.
(Be sure to check out hilarious science fair pics)
I hear myself sounding just like my mother and as much as I hated what she told me … she was right.
I was so rotten as a teenager.
But I guess that was my job.
Maybe that’s the point of having kids. To learn how much of an asshole you were and truly appreciate your own parents.
The other day, I said to my son
“I didn’t have kids to have them stare at a screen like a zombie all evening.”
His reply, “Then what did you have kids for?”.
That’s a good question.
I actually didn’t have an answer ….
I always said I DIDN’T want kids.
I was the oldest and I had to change three of my siblings diapers and feed them.
I remember cleaning poop from under my brothers balls and thinking “The hell with this.”😂
As teenagers, I remembered how atrocious my siblings and I were to my mother.
I never understood why my mom wouldn’t just go to bed when I was out 😂🙈😜
Now I pick my kids up bitching and whining at 9:30pm because I want to go to bed.
I never wanted to deal with that.
I wanted to avoid that struggle and stress; Just completely bypass that journey.
Then I fell for how adorable pregnant bellies are, how good babies smell & how cute and funny kids are when they are little. I got suckered into it.😂😜
My maternal instinct kicked in I suppose.
My heart wanted something despite what my brain said.
But still…What did I have kids for?
After I drive back and forth on 127th street twelve times in a day with school, practices, games while juggling work, laundry, appointments, and making dinner; I think of Henry Hill and the last half hour of Good Fellas.
While he is driving around, the helicopter is following him yet he attempts to go about his overbooked day…paranoid.
•Henry: 6:55am Doing a line of Coke
(Me: 5:55am – Energize drank🤪)
•7:30am Henry: Attempt to drop off guns to Jimmy (Me: Attempt to drive kids to school as fast as I can while kids fight)
•Henry: Get screamed at by Jimmy that guns are wrong and the drugs are turning his brain into mush
(Me: Kids bitch the whole way to school that they are always late because of me.)
•Henry: Dropping off guns in a paper bag
(Me: Finally Dropping kids off at school with lunches. Kids bitch about what’s in their lunch)
•Henry: Pick his brother up from hospital
(Me: Pick up medications from CVS)
•Henry: Braise veal, pork shanks and sausage for tomato sauce and while also getting some other great ideas for an appetizer
(Me: Scrolling on Pinterest for something to make for dinner and then end up giving up and default to spaghetti and frozen meatballs)
•Henry: Pick up a morose Karen
(Me: Pick up annoyed kids from school)
•Henry: Ditch the guns at his mother-in laws
(Me:Drop one kid at practice)
•Henry: Go pick up Drugs for Pittsburg deal
(Me: Pick up one kid from practice, drop one at a game early, go back home to drop other one off to finish homework, go back to other kids game -now late)
•Henry: Go to his side chic’s house to have her cut the drugs while she berates him; he eventually escapes cackling and she whips a cup of coke at him.
(Me: Make my kids do science projects and get the shit off dining room table while they bitch the whole time that they have to do this project. Get this project out of my life!!!)
•Finally eating dinner
••Like me, Henry did Not anticipate any setbacks like:
•Henry: The guns will be wrong and he has to figure out how to get money back.
(Me: Return some gifts the kids said they wanted for Christmas; but changed their mind- if I don’t do it today within the 30 day mark I will have to accept store credit🤬)
•Henry: Argue with his wife, Schmooze side chic to get drugs, and debate with his drug mule
(Me: Debate with old man about who drives where and why he thinks he can sit on the couch while discussing this.;)
•Henry: Give instructions to his old babysitter now drug mule only for her to ignore what he said, do exactly what he said not to and also forget her hat
(Me: Tell kids how to do science fair poster measurements, they say they understand, get annoyed with me and then they do exactly what I said not to do, all crooked- plus forgot science book)
•Henry: Almost getting into a car accident While looking at helicopter
(Me: Trying to find the away game location, not looking in front of me and almost back ending someone)
•Henry: When picking up his brother from hospital, the doctor made him sit down for an evaluation because he was so stressed out. (Me: Sitting at game with massive RBF, other parents who got it together ask me if I’m ok.)
Then all that shit doesn’t matter suddenly because the Cops arrive as Henry is about to leave to get his old babysitter’s hat. All the craziness Henry Is doing, doing, doing, STOPS. All that business aka BUSY-ness stops. There’s a GUN to his head. He HAS to stop!
Me: In an attempt to maximize some time, I think it’s a good idea to put two boxes of Christmas decorations away in the shed while kids doing project. It’s dark out and I trip on a frozen hose (that’s been left out since summer🙈) and completely wipe out on my right side smashing into the frozen brick-like ground. I’m tangled in the hose as if a boa constrictor is wrapped around my legs. I can barely get up my right arm hurts so much.
I’m laying on the cold, hard ground, wailing in pain, furious with myself exclaiming “everything sucks!”.
I manage to roll onto my back – still entangled in the stiff, frozen snake-hose. I continue to sob feeling sorry for myself as the pain slowly subsides.
I stare up at the lightly snowing sky.
I stop crying.
It’s so quiet and peaceful. I laid there for what seemed forever but it was probably two minutes. Had an Epiphany:
Who cares when I get all this done? What am I in such a hurry for?
I surrender. I raise the white flag.
I walk back into the house using only my left arm, laughing at myself thinking of Molly Shannon walking without using her arms. None of this matters. Now I can’t use my right arm so I’m forced to stop.
I sit down with the kids at the table. I let them ask me questions.
I let them TELL ME how they are going to do their project. I STAY QUIET. I let them tell me what they learned. I’m actually learning something new as well. I laugh at some of the pictures they found.
Instead of “getting it done” I realize I can enjoy the process of getting it done. I need to stop and BE where my kids currently are.
They just need me there for reassurance. They want to make sure they are doing it right. They need me to be PRESENT… KINDA like a mama bird does before she kicks them out of the nest…
I never thought I would miss them being toddlers and I totally do now… My heart hurts when I see pictures or videos of them when they are little. I stare at my toddler nephews in awe and amazement.
I suppose I will miss being an unpaid Uber driver, them saying mom 749 times a day and all this schedule craziness as well someday.
Just as Henry is alive and free, he is bored as hell and “there’s no action.” He misses “The Life”. I suppose I will too. However, I refuse to be bored…I plan on binge/watching all the shows I don’t have time for now😜
I’m in that phase of marriage where I find myself often pondering…
“What the fuck was I thinking?”😂😂😂 Anyone else??🙋🏻♀️ Please comment below…let’s cut the bullshit cord.
It feels good to just say it.
I’ll say more…
We have nothing in common. We are completely different individuals. How did we end up together? We don’t make sense.
All I remember, honestly, is we both “taped Seinfeld” everyday. He told me that the first night we met, 22 years ago (wtf) at Reilly’s daughter. I gushed “so do I”.
I later discovered we both wrote our favorite part of the episodes on the video cassette label. I knew it was “love”.
Reality, I was drunk most of the time for one. He likes to eat a lot, so do I. We both liked pizza. We both liked movies…comedies and could quote them.
Jerry: What percentage of the population do you think is good looking?
Elaine: Like twenty, twenty-five percent.
Jerry: More like 4-6 percent.
Elaine: How are all these people getting together?
I could tolerate him sober. He made me laugh. Like laugh really hard. He still does. Especially when I want to punch him in the throat. He would also make me laugh at myself; I would rip on him back.
I’m not sure what happened besides the buzzkill of having kids, housework and bills.😜
We “can’t stand each other”. https://youtu.be/AjoTTva-FK8
George “Can’t stand ya.”
I can’t stand him.
However, a lot of what I “can’t stand” about him; is what I wish I could be: organized, punctual, focused and unemotional, .
The truth is, you have to reach a point where you can’t stand yourself any longer.
As a counselor, I am truly convinced that everyone has to truly DISCOVER what they need to do to change on their own…I would say this all the time to myself or to patients. Except this time I truly believe it…
Examples…I have read books for years to learn how to change, get organized, be more productive and I somehow would fall back into old habits. Why? Because I didn’t truly believe it would work, I didn’t set my mindset 100%, I got lazy, went back to comfortable, did it for the wrong reasons, and gave myself an out etc.
Personal REAL examples:
My old man and I argue often about what he thinks “clutter” is and what I think “clutter” is. When I say argue, I mean like I-would shank-you-if-I-could-get-away-with-it fights…about clutter!😂
Until one day, I became disgusted with my own clutter one too many times that I had to make the decision: “I have to do something about this.”
I am ashamed to admit it …🙈
Everything my old man has said to me is in GRETCHEN RUBIN’S book.🙈
“Inner order, Outer calm.”
He probably does everything in this book, (cantstandya) 🙈 BUT when he said it to me, I couldn’t hear him. 😂
He would say “if you put everything in the same spot, you wouldn’t spend so much time looking for it.”…
I heard “I’m better than you because I’m organized” I heard condescending tones and criticism…My brain translated his words into “you will never be good enough” and I felt pressure to be something that I am not. “I’m just messy” I thought. He’s just a heartless, smug mo fo😂
“Oh that Michael. I hate him. He’s so smug.”
It’s fascinating to me (and annoying) how the brain is and how it functions combined with emotions. Everything is so difficult as it is, couldn’t cohabitating be easy. Sheesh.
Gretchen Rubin explained the WHY you should put everything in the same spot and the HOW. She provided solutions that made sense to me; which provided me with my own ideas that made sense in my messy brain. Her ideas made me excited to change. I don’t have to live with her either so I can hate her all I want.😂
Example: “Tray of Requirements”
(This is a constant blame game in our house…”where are the fucking remotes?”)
Whisper “cantstandya” to the melody of “by mennen” commercial
I can’t stand Gretchen Rubin! That is the beauty of an unbiased person, counselor, author etc. However, I respect Gretchen Rubin. Also she shares her own embarrassing clutter issues so you don’t feel stupid or alone. Delivery is everything- a subtle reminder to you smug mo fo’s- cantstandya.
The best part of advice from someone you don’t know: The emotions are removed so if you hate them, it won’t effect a long term relationship.
When my old man would say things about some of the kids toys or “to just get rid of it”. My kids and I would view this as heartless and cruel.
When discarding something, I always try to fix, reuse or donate. The problem, I put it aside to fix and I don’t. Which is what Gretchen Rubin says to do as well but also – “if it will take less than a minute, just do it right now” . She also states-Finish the project or abandon the project- it’s clutter. It causes underlying anxiety and stress provoking.
With clothes, instead of just dumping a bag on their porch; now I will ask someone I think of who could use the item or fit in it. At least give them an option- don’t dump your stuff on someone else to ease your guilt. Don’t just throw it out either. We are fucked with the state our planet is in but that’s a whole other topic. Anyways, back to how much I cant stand my old man 😂
I think, “He SHOULD do what I do.”
He thinks, “She should be like me.”
Gretchen Rubin explains the WHY you need to let go of some of the toys, clothes, belongings of the past and EMBRACE WHERE YOU ARE NOW.
My take on what Gretchen states…
If you hold onto clothes from a past career “in case you go back to it” you are never fully embracing the present, the career and position you currently have. That part of you is now in the past. You are not truly accepting you can handle this, this is what you want or you are afraid to fail.
If you are a New size from losing weight or body shape changing from exercise, however, you hold onto the past clothes “in case”…. You are not trusting yourself. You are letting yourself off the hook. Getting rid of those clothes will force you to stay accountable. BURN THAT BRIDGE. That’s what is meant by BURN THE BOATS. Then you are forced to figure it out…
It’s all about our perception. I have now learned to stop wasting energy explaining things to people bc no matter what, they will have to make the decision on their own. They will have find their own ways to learn it that makes sense to them…
Exception for kids… teach them by leading by example, they won’t care – but you pay the bills…
My kids have been actually excited and impressed with what I’ve accomplished and now they “want” to hang out where I’ve organized; yet seem respect the area. Gretchen Rubin symbolizes this by using this concept: “Fix the broken window theory by Thomas Merton”).
And whenever you are wondering “what the fuck was I thinking?” Watch this clip:
I don’t know all the rules or fundamentals of baseball. It’s not easy for me to sit and watch an entire game-especially on TV.
I know the basics. I played when I was young. I watch my kids.
However, going to a live professional game to me is so fun.
What I love is about it is THE ATMOSPHERE! The ENERGY! The PASSION. And Of course I LOVE THE MUSIC!!! My kids games would be so much more fun with music😜
How boring would a live professional game be without 🎶 music???!!!!
I love watching people getting fired up, the pain of defeat which fuels players to try harder or be phased out. I love the passion, the getting angry, the rivalries and people becoming ecstatic… experiencing joy or pain!
As a therapist…I LOVE EMOTIONS! I am fascinated by them.
I don’t care about every play or rule. I don’t care who wins most of the time. I do love seeing the home team win and how everyone reacts…and the songs they play…the food they serve…I love baseball hats and spirit wear.
What I am mostly attracted to is the human drive of dedication, motivation and consistency.
While my husband watches live games knowing every rule and why…”Tsking” and shaking his head at me with his smug “you-don’t-know-anything-about baseball⚾️” attitude.😜
I smirk, laugh and agree with him, he’s right…I don’t. I don’t what he knows. So what?
What I do know a lot about is dedication and consistency and sticking with something when it gets tough. I worked out have done every day since he has known me. And before he has known me. I have never given up and never will.
Anyways, On Thursday, I walked around Yankee stadium…alone …and people watched. I went to the museum inside- no one else in my family had interest. I love learning about the legacies left, the pain, the thrill of victories, the daily earning of success…I love everything about the game.
Metaphor of Me,above, imagining I’m about to hit my old man’s square head😜
I also LOVE baseball movies…I cry every time I watch The Natural. I cant even talk about the movie The Pride of the Yankees, Lou Gehrig or even Gary Cooper without getting choked up. I can watch Sandlot and A League of their Own; over and over.
I love people and what’s important to people.
I also love the baseball innuendos too 😜😂
There are so many metaphors in baseball that applies to life in general.
“You just can’t beat the person who never gives up.”
“Never let the fear of striking out get in your way.”
“Every strike brings me closer to the next home run.”
All these are said by The Great Bambino; who I remind my son, the Sultan of Swat had the most strikeouts too…
There is no failure if you don’t try. I try and fail almost every.single.day. Some rare days I kick ass and hit it out of the park.
👊🏻I may not be a professional, paid athlete… But I CAN train like one.
Read to see Lou Gehrig was a real class act: