parenting struggles – Quillan Kelly-Dunn

The older I become, the more I realize that I can now relate to most of the characters in National Lampoon’s Vacation, not just the teens & Uncle Eddie… 😜

What triggered thoughts of the Griswold’s was an incident with my daughter a few weeks ago. My daughter’s friend asked her to go to Fright Fest at Great America, I agreed, assuming the other mom/dad were going. Unfortunately the other mom/dad assumed I was going.

Since we already told them yes and they were so excited; neither of us could say no. So I agreed to drive one way and the other mom agreed to drive the other. Neither one of us were thinking about the round trip time. When I realized I would be in the car for 2.5 hours going nowhere, combined with my daughters additional side text requests for other accommodations; I started to get a tad bit resentful. Hence, my text below to my daughter.😜👇🏻

On my round trip to Gurnee, I got to thinking about how much I will enjoy seeing my daughter sing zip-a-dee-do-dah out of her tiny butt😊😅 like Louis Armstrong. Then I realized I am becoming more and more like Clark Griswold! How did this happen?

Becoming CG

Despite our parents, grandparents, aunt, uncles’ best efforts to provide us with social guidance and teach us society’s unspoken rules; there are many instances that do not “come up” in everyday life. Therefore, movies & TV shows assisted in bridging the gap of the absent social cues on how to behave.

Looking back, I now recognize how being exposed to the encounters faced by this family has played a key part in my upbringing. Here are some of the crucial components I might’ve missed if it wasn’t for this family and their interactions with others.

#1. Hand Hygeine is important

Growing up in the 80s, where most of us probably washed our hands once a day, if that, before dinner (after the street lights came on.) It is a damn good thing that Clark Griswold (CG) subtly suggested to cousin Vicki, (a young Jane Krakowski!🤯), to not stir the Kool-Aid with her hand.

As an avid, Kool-Aid stand entrepreneur, I might’ve thought this was behavior was acceptable if I could not find a large spoon. Thankfully, I caught Clark’s subtle hint.

2. Don’t Judge/Be Proud of where you’re from.

Cousin Vicki is uncouth, however, it is not her fault since behaving this way appears to be normal where she resides. Hence, when Audrey confronts Vicky: “That being a farmer isn’t cool” instead of reacting offended, cousin Vicki advocated for herself with an “Oh yea?Well…”. Vicky counters Audrey’s statement with a shoebox full of weed.

#3. Drug use can get you arrested

In the 80’s, we were lucky enough to have those amazing commercials about “This is your brain on drugs 🍳, any questions?” Also, the powerful “I wanted to be a ballerina when I grow up.” (I am being serious rn, it was powerful, it stuck with me;)

Other than 🍳that, there really was no other protocol for not participating in the use of illegal substances. Thankfully, I witnessed Audrey’s attempt to throw Aunt Edna under the bus when the cops pulled them over. I realized, “Holy smokes Audrey could get busted, in front of her parents! Yikes! No drugs for me.”

#4. Don’t get caught, but if you do, indirectly blame the crabby person

I was never able to pull off this one: If you are always happy, nice, kind and sweet-no one will suspect a thing. 😜 I have zero poker face. I kept this default tactic in mind “blame-the crankiest individual, no matter what age, for the “bad” behavior”…

#5. How to shotgun a carbonated beverage

In my family, pop or “soda“ was a rare commodity in the 80’s. A day I could have pop was the best day of my life. 😎

Which usually meant, the next day was the worst! 😩 The sugar & caffeine withdrawal left me tapping my inner-arm veins like an addict for some more high fructose corn syrup & artificial flavors.

For some reason, I also thought that “I better drink as much as I can today because there might not be any tomorrow!” Which made me feel normal when I saw Rusty slam that beer.

#6. The Mom is the Smart One 🤷🏻‍♀️

Ellen Griswold taught me that I need to be smart! Better go to college!! Also that I need to question the dad just in case ;).

#7.The Dad will rarely admit he’s wrong 😜

Therefore, I don’t waste my time waiting for an apology or acknowledgement. With no expectations, I am never disappointed, but there is always that possibility of being pleasantly surprised.

#8.The Dad always wants to impress the hot women.

Turn a blind eye ladies, they can’t help themselves. 😜 It is in their DNA.

#9. Props are important while dancing.

My family can attest that I use this tip at most functions that involve dancing. Props can include, but are not limited to, (CG) bologna sandwiches (me)trays of cold-cuts, plants etc.

#10. Many unforeseen problems will occur on family vacations

This tip has come in handy over the last few years. Clark planned his vacations meticulously, yet many unfortunate events still occurred. I expect our family vacations to be disasters, and they usually are.😜 Incorporate same mentality as #7.

Learn from disasters for the next shitty family vacation

#11. Find a job with an excellent PTO package 😉

Allow for some extra time during your vacation in case of a setback.

#12. Don’t Shoot the Messenger

The majority of people in this world are doing the best that they can, (even if they are annoying;). Overall, the majority of people are good, unfortunately we only hear about the people with bad & rude behavior. Most annoying people are just doing their job as instructed.

#13. Don’t believe everything you hear, no matter how convincing and like-able someone is…

I was very naive and innocent growing up; still am sometimes. Somehow, I knew that Clark was an example of a dorky parent. (Ya think? Yes I know I’m a genius.:) Anyways, everyone in the family rolled their eyes and sighed at Clark; yet they went along with whatever he suggests or does.

I am aware this is a movie, however, I would like this type of cooperation without the eye-rolls & sighs from my teens. Did Clark know he was a dorky parent? I wish I didn’t. 😉

Fortunately, there is one thing that I partake in that Clark does and I do not care about the sighs or glares… The final way I’m like Clark Griswold. 🥁 roll please…

#14. The more Christmas lights, the better 😜

My tip: Don’t buy 300 light sets. They always burn out in half. Purchase 100 light sets, probably 12-15 boxes. Easier to keep track of the quantity.;) They also seem to last a couple more years without the annoying and impossible fuse changing.

Contrary to popular belief, the holidays actually start a week from tomorrow, ya know, the day AFTER Thanksgiving ;)…Sweet baby Jesus…Hallelujah…Well holy shit, where’s the Tylenol ?🙃

#Beyourself, #brenebrown, #doitanyway, #freedom, coming of age, Ned Vizzini, under pressure

The Terror of “Knowing”

October 31, 2021November 2, 2021 quillankellydunn

Picture it: It’s a chilly, dreary Tuesday morning, probably November 2nd, you are in the car, flipping through radio stations. The cusp of the holidays are approaching. You are not feeling anything in particular, perhaps even a little numb or dead inside. Probably chasing a hangover of some kind; from sugar, booze or your drug of choice. You are going through the motions of whatever tasks you have on your pointless agenda.

Suddenly, you hit a pause of silence on the radio; you hear those glorious drums…the chills involuntarily run up your spine, arm or the back of your neck. A gasp or slight smirk emerges on your previously despondent face. …Next thing ya know, you are belting out “FEED THE WOORRLLLDDD!” And “the only gift they will get this year is LIFE”….

Life?

You freeze with a furrowed brow, with that expression of “what-in-the-hell-did-I just say?” THAT.

The realization that the lyrics of this “jam” are so heartbreaking and sad. That naive, duh moment, “Omg. I’m an asshole. Uh, first world probs…I was just depressed about going to work on a boring Tuesday, feeling blah or overwhelmed about the holidays approaching…jeez get some real problems.”

It’s fascinating and tricky how musicians and songwriters can make a song upbeat & fast so you do not even realize what the song is truly about. A complete mindfuck.

Which brings me to why I am kind of freaking out right now.

The same situation just happened to me with “Under Pressure” by David Bowie & Queen.

I am mind-blown right now struggling to comprehend how I’ve been singing the lyrics to “Under Pressure” for twenty-something years and never realized what I was saying. How the hell does this happen?

🎶”Watching our friends scream LET ME OUT!”🎶 😱

David & Freddie, you deceased & tricky muthafers!

“It’s kind of a funny story” is a novel turned movie featuring “Under Pressure”. I will not spoil this for you with my usual humorous Memes-poking fun at this movie because it’s a hidden gem. It’s one of those movies that you will have to watch yourself. If I tell you anything more about it, besides the trailer below, you MAY NOT have the same experience I did.

Ironically, this movie is some thing that peaked my interest but I had no desire to watch it. I don’t want to watch a movie about depression when I’m feeling “blah”. It turned out to be-exactly what I needed.

The seasonal change followed by all the routine adjustments, the growing pains of my kids and myself along with them; feels a little more overwhelming than it has in the past.

This movie reminded me what it was like to be a teenager and how they feel. Adults can feel the same way, yet express it in different ways. Teenagers and even kids these days are more in tune with “life” way more than we ever were. They are exposed to so much more through social media.

It was a reminder why I went into the mental health field in the first place.It was a subtle hint that even though you don’t “feel” like doing something or believe that you have any “talents”, JUST DO IT ANYWAYS

Uncomfortable emotions are where the magic happens.

I’m sure David Bowie & Queen were feeling the same way when they wrote & composed the song “Under pressure”. This masterpiece of a song is what happens when individuals with shared values are real and authentic together and collaborate ideas.

“Queen’s Brian May says it was the group’s bassist John Deacon who first came up with the song’s unforgettable riff, and kept playing it over and over. The problem, Taylor said, is that everyone got hungry and went for pizza, and by the time they got back to the song Deacon had forgotten what he’d come up with.”
https://ew.com/music/queen-david-bowie-wrote-under-pressure-drunk-then-forgot/

The channeling of uncomfortable, but not necessarily negative, emotions such as sadness, anger, frustration, stress, pain, grief, despondency, and rage is an art in itself.

This process is a way of coping, using your gift, being authentic, being real, and living. You may possess something that transforms these emotions into some thing-spectacular, creative, and possibly beautiful.

However, even if what you enjoy doing doesn’t turn a profit or if no one likes it, this process is what flows for YOU and YOU AS AN INDIVIDUAL.

Doing YOU is doing something YOU enjoy. THE point is: instead of numbing these feelings out, or ignoring them, you stay with them, feel them and eventually “do” some thing therapeutic with these emotions. Perhaps just putting your foot in front of the other and walking in the “allowing yourself” to just “be”.

What ideas come to mind?

How do you know what your gift is?

Paying attention to the things you enjoy doing and time flies by, you get lost in it. It could be something you dream about like playing the guitar, playing the drums, playing an instrument, acting, improving, charading, game-playing, doing stand-up, writing, drawing, painting, sculpting, singing,gardening, planting, weeding, cultivating, innovating, editing, photographing, cutting the grass, doing hair, coloring, fixing a car, fixing a machine, using watercolors, composing, wood-shopping, poem-writing, pole-vaulting, inspiring, speaking, glassblowing, baking, frosting, cooking, exploring, running, crafting, reading, climbing, hiking, exploring, directing, cleaning, organizing, running, walking, riding, exercising, decorating, wrapping presents, folding clothes, etc. are all ways of processing emotions.

All of these are an examples of occupational therapy.

Which you may or may not be aware of, that is what they were doing on the psychiatric floor in the movie during arts & crafts and musical expression. I can’t wait for you to see these parts of the movie!

What I love about counseling, being a counselor and the mental health field is the process of self-discovery and personal development; which is displayed in this movie. I am drawn to the process that the protagonist, “Cool Craig” experiences during his psychiatric admission. Once he stops resisting and attempting to control the situation, he lets go and trusts the process.

Just like this blog that may or may not have more than six readers 😜, it is something I do to process emotions and it gets my mind off the “terror of knowing what this world is about.”🎵

🎶 This. is. ourselves. under. pressure. 🎶

#Beyourself, #doitanyway, #freedom, Covid-19

The Vast Configuration of Things

October 7, 2021November 30, 2021 quillankellydunn

A daily routine: The day in and day out of it can be redundant & exhausting. What is the point of it all?

The weekly grind of working, parenting and adulting overall is boring, tedious and unfulfilling most of the time. Throw in 18+ months of uncertainty, due to a lingering global pandemic; paired with this underlying pressure to “get back to normal” does not help.

Now, more than ever, we need to take care of our physical, emotional and mental health. How are we supposed to do this? It is extremely difficult when you feel confused, unsure, tired, worn out and depleted.

In a attempt to find some type of motivation myself, my brain has been searching for a frame of reference, a role model, to cope with this strange time. Which led me to thinking about George Bailey.

George is technically not a real person, however George is relatable to all of us and represents many of our real-life, elderly population. This wise, hardworking generation lived through true-times of uncertainty; such as the Great Depression and a World War. I suppose they just “kept showing up” through the confusion and cognitive dissonance.

George was already feeling stuck, trapped and living in a period of uncertainty before the real shit hit the fan.

“I’m shakin’ the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I’m gonna see the world! Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Colosseum. Then, I’m comin’ back here to go to college and see what they know. And then I’m gonna build things. I’m gonna build airfields, I’m gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high, I’m gonna build bridges a mile long…”
George Bailey

George wanted to do something BIG.

BIG is what we all “want”, isn’t it?

A bigger house, a bigger yard, a bigger car, a bigger bank account, bigger boobs, a bigger ….

**I WANT a BIG one. (Everyone does George**🙄)

Anyways, BIG does not always refer to SIZE.😜

BIG things can also come in small packages.

Burn out: What was I doing here again? I forgot already. 👆🏻

There is nothing wrong with dreaming BIG.

There can be an issue with dreaming big if you base your self-worth and life’s purpose on an external picture of “what-it’s supposed-to-be-like” instead of “what is.” As with anything, there are steps to greatness.

George wants to do something IMPORTANT.

George wants to BUILD.

However, George is so fixated on the “doing something BIG” he missed the BIG picture that he already was. George was oblivious that these little, menial things he was completing consistently on a daily basis that were adding up to BIG results.

George could not see he was already BUILDING:

George was BUILDING homes that provided other human beings with a sense of dignity and integrity.

George was BUILDING relationships and friendships through candor, loyalty, honor, honesty & consistency.

George was BUILDING a community with these relationships who held the same core values.

George was BUILDING the foundation.

Without a solid foundation, a community, a family or an individual falls apart. 👇🏻

Pottersville: a community of selfishness with no values or morals.

This solid foundation of community & the connection of core values is what ultimately saved George’s life & mindset. By his perseverance and showing up, he inadvertently saved the entire town from plummeting into the gutter.

It is tiring staying true to your values with leaders and other members of society do selfish, stupid, manipulative and downright evil deeds. How are we all supposed to maintain a sense of hope?

This may lead you to feeling like you should do something drastic & BIG, such as quitting your job, switching careers, moving, cutting off family or friends, and even leaving the country.

Fantasizing about a massive change to stop the awful, bewildering sensation of cognitive dissonance is normal; it’s an escape for the brain. A good grounding exercise for when you catch yourself fantasizing about living in the country alone with no internet, wishing for a bigger house, a better car or a BIG vacation to “fix” how you feel=look back at your childhood.

What is the first vacation memory that pops in your mind?

This is what I honestly thought of. 👇🏻

We didn’t have any vacations but what I do remember is the night we went out together for the first & last time as a family to dinner….

The McRib Story

We were all showered and dressed in our Sunday best for our first dinner out. We eagerly piled into the family van, wide-eyed with excitement for the evening ahead. Our mouths were watering, recalling that glorious sandwich with its golden, brown-sugary appeal. Our vivid memories of that commercial were so powerful, we could almost taste it. We craved this tasty delicacy with an empty, insatiable hunger.

All of us were smiling greedily at those Golden Arches, we were finally here! My stomach fluttered with butterflies as we pulled into the McDonald’s drive-thru so we could all finally try the infamous McRib sandwich….Drool was rolling down our chins as my Dad ordered six sandwiches from the overly-perky, fake smiling attendant !

The drive-thru attendant’s expression changes to that patronizing-exaggerated pucker and states, “The McRib was only here for a limited time, so we no longer carry that sandwich. It may be back. Sorry.😕 May I get you something else?” My Dad shakes his head no, speechless. Our mouths hang open, frozen, in disbelief. The devastating disappointment was written on our faces as we drove back home.

This sad story of the BIG Sandwich that resulted in BIG disappointment is ironically what makes all of us laugh now. It didn’t turn out as planned, just as most things in life. Now this story provides us with BIG joy.

Through my family’s solid foundation of a good sense of humor and laughter-in-the-face-of-adversity is how we found joy. How we DEALT with the disappointment is the shit-sandwich I remember as an adult.

The point is, in the vast configuration of things, Potter is a scurvy, financially-rich spider 🕷 living an empty life and we have no control over anything. We also have no control over what our kids will remember as adults.

In the BIG picture, we are only able to provide ourselves with a SENSE of control. An example of this sense of control is a planning ahead, a consistent daily routine, shifting our mindset, staying connected to those who maintain the same values and practicing coping strategies. Meanwhile, still accepting that something may still go wrong as a part of life; such as the joy-robbing, limited-time, McRib Sandwich.

“The McRib is a barbecue-flavored pork sandwich periodically sold. It was first introduced to the McDonald's menu in 1981. After poor sales, it was removed from the menu in 1985. Seasonal items are an important marketing tool for the food industry. Limited releases almost give consumers a Pavlovian response.”By Danielle Wiener-Bronner, CNN Business

Worth & Value are found in prioritizing the serving of others while making a living.

Bottom line: Keep showing up through it, we all feel the same way. Find ways to cope with the foreign feelings.

ADDENDUM 11/30/21

If you love It’s a Wonderful Life …

There is a restaurant and bar in Berwyn Illinois called Fitzgerald’s. This super, cool place is located along a quaint and adorable block. Not even joking. A cross block before it is Clarence street. 😇.I am so grateful I was able to get the free tickets and show up to their viewing of It’s a Wonderful Life! They had specialty drinks such as mulled wine, flaming rum punch (of course) and a fun drank ZuZu’s petals!

I went with friends. We all agreed they had fantastic food, best waffle fries we ever had. This is definitely going to be a regular place to go for us all year round. Loved it!

https://www.fitzgeraldsnightclub.com/

More on this topic:

https://www.binghamton.edu/news/story/2390/a-path-to-peace-researchers-explore-the-best-ways-to-cope-with-covid-stress

https://thriveglobal.com/stories/how-to-incorporate-the-three-c-s-of-resilience-into-your-life/

https://www.washingtonpost.com/outlook/2021/08/11/pandemic-anxiety-psychology-delta/

#Beyourself, #dadflu, #manflu, #coronavirus, #lifestylechoices, #southsideguylifestyle, #dadbodinevitable, #dadbod, #dabears, #chicago, #southside, #southsidechicago, Coronavirus Southside Chicago, parenting struggles, Yoga Pants

The Moron Twins

April 22, 2021May 12, 2021 quillankellydunn

One of the symptoms found when you Google coronavirus SHOULD be •acute onset of stupidity•dumb•moronic•

This is a valid & real symptom that no one seems to discuss. The brain fog of covid is no joke. Therefore, I feel compelled to share this with everyone in hopes I can save a few marriages from separation or worst case scenario…murder. 😜

If I was to get married now, post Covid, I would definitely rewrite my vows.

I, (state your name) take you, (lucky bastard) to be my lawfully wedded (husband), to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health*** (see below addendum) , until death do us part.

***Addendum: Questionable. This excludes THE SICKNESS of Covid-19 aka coronavirus. With all due respect Reverend, I can’t be held responsible for this shit show. I will take this up with Lord when my time comes.

Perhaps many have endured the coronavirus as a couple and thought nothing of it. This was not the case for me, as usual.

As I am grateful we all were positive for Covid simultaneously and I was blessed with: 1. Having no sense of smell which came in handy when some were ripping ass left and right.😂

2. Having no taste made eating less enjoyable, (chewing cardboard isn’t much fun; therefore we didn’t eat a lot so no one gained weight.)

3. Initially assuming my feeling like I was hit by a truck, plus paranoia, anxiety and feeling overwhelmed was due monthly hormonal symptoms. I felt guilty for my statements and behavior. Getting diagnosed with coronavirus* gave me permission to be as mean as I wanted but able to use covid as an excuse. 😜. (*oh yea-I had my period and covid at the same time-wtf)

5. Lastly, possessing no memory, decision- making skills or energy: I did NOT have to cook, clean or exercise at ALL for two weeks.

ME: Is this chicken bad?” Kids: “I don’t know. I can’t smell.” ME: “Me neither. I don’t remember how long it’s been in the fridge.” Screw it, let’s get Jimmy John’s…again.

Notice I did not mention husband/father in above example. 👆🏻Unfortunately Dad was unable to leave the bed from April 3rd until April 10th. He was literally knocked.out.cold. by this virus. He dragged self to bathroom to only shower or shit his brains out.

The three of us kinda felt bad for him, however considering all four of us were positive for covid; we would casually joke downstairs about this being “The Dad-Flu”. I showed my kids the parody skits on you tube about the “Man-Flu”.

Us adults received a z-pack and steroids for the bronchial issues. I administered these to him and myself plus vitamins, emergen-c packets, tea, soup etc. I felt better within two days; he was worse. He remained perpetually freezing and bundled up; which led to sweating profusely and changing clothes frequently.

The kids stopped talking to him completely because he wasn’t making any sense. 👆🏻He could not eat because he was so nauseous. After taking famotidine (Pepcid) for 7 days, the nausea finally subsided for Dad, but the chills continued. Wearing a long sleeved underarmour shirt, long sleeved t-shirt and hooded sweatshirt with the hood up, sweatpants, thick socks, yet still freezing…Dad emerged from the bedroom.

So there Dad is, walking in slow motion hooded, unshaven, gaunt and miserable. He resembled the polish version of Eminem.

He kept mumbling to me and when I replied; he could not hear me:

COVID DINNER CONVERSATION. Me: My name is
Him: What?
Me: My name is
Him:Who?
Me: My name is
Him: Huh?
Why can’t you fucking hear me?
Me: My name is
Him: What?Excuse me Me: Just forget it. Meanwhile mumbling under my breath “Stolat” and downing a shot of spiritus.
-Eminem (paraphrased Eminem;)

I make him a dinner plate, tea and ask him if he needs anything else. He shakes his hooded head no. I sit back down, ravenous and start shoveling in the random food.

Him: “Would you get me a knife?”

🤬🤬🤬🤬 We are BOTH positive for COVID sitting at the same table-the same distance from the utensil drawer. This sets me off.

I replied to his knife request, “HOW BOUT I JUST CALL YOU AN AMBULANCE?” Cuz you need to GTFOH.

He replies, “What?”

I laugh in disbelief, shaking my head at the audacity. I reply softly in an eerie whisper: “Cmon, you can get a knife, it’s five steps.”

Oddly he hears my creepy whisper. He reluctantly stands, walks as if he is walking through water and fetches a knife for himself. 🙄

I give him Alka seltzer cold and he seems to feel a little better. He made a comment about how sick he is and accused me of “Muchasen’s by proxy”. I laughed hysterically at this allegation and think he is turning around. I never wanted him to make fun of me so badly in my life.

This is short lived. He is up all night coughing and gasping for air. I make him wear his sleep apnea machine mask despite his outlandish claims that it makes him sweat more. I threaten him with opening the window. The sheer panic in his face 😬 made me almost feel bad. (Try living with hot flashes year round bitch ass). He surrenders and wears it.

The next morning, when he stands up, he is struggling to breathe. I text my nurse friends and the doctor. All say “If he cannot breathe, bring him to the ER.” I was apprehensive because I haven’t driven or talked to another adult in seven days. I am greeted by security. No sound comes out of my mouth. I have zero recollection of what to say. I blurt out single words like a toddler, “Covid!” & “Wheelchair!” He could not hear, talk or barely walk. Two idiots. 👇🏻

In triage, I notice he cannot hear the nurse either. So he was not messing with me. 🤔When he does answer her questions, his answers don’t make sense. Then they bring him back and advise me that I am not allowed to stay because he is a covid patient. A beaming creepy smile 😃 emerged on my face. Hallefuckinglujah I need a break.

I felt guilty for being so happy, but it was overwhelming relief I was not his nurse anymore.

He has an ECG, chest x-ray, cat-scan, & labs; which are all within range. His cat-scan shows the beginning of mild Pneumonia (aka covid lung) which is common for covid. He is discharged with a z-pack, inhaler, and a cough prevention medication with orders of “just let the virus run its course. Keep checking the pulse ox, if it goes below 90, come back.”

He is frustrated and is becoming anxious. The normal, unfortunate reality and fears hit him hard. Fears about about going back to work. Fears about how is he going to function at work. Fears that he is draining his vacation time. The terrible “what if’s” are frightening. I inevitably begin to feel scared as well. Thankfully my defense mechanisms kick in.👇🏻

He is unable to leave the bed again for two more days and is still struggling to breathe. The pulse ox dropped to 88, 82 and 78 when he stood up. His doctor said to go to ER immediately. He is then admitted for five days for double pneumonia. He is discharged and does not seem much better. The nurse and doctor advise that it is “a very slow recovery.”

He was a wreck post hospital, we felt so bad for him. He was so understandably confused. He used four weeks of vacation time. He had to see a pulmonologist. He now has fibrosis, scarring in his lungs, that require nebulizer twice a day still. Obviously compared to many individuals, this is mild and we are lucky.

The point of my discussing this and violating his privacy 😜: He’s 48 years old, no prior medical problems, he does not smoke or drink. He works 12 hour days, goes to bed at 9pm every night even on weekends. He wakes up at 4:30am for work. This is where the WHY comes in. Why did it hit him so hard?

He teases me that I: O.H. (over-hydrate) & O.V. (over-vitamin). 😂 At times he is annoyed with me that I prioritize my mental health and physical health before anyone else; even my kids. I leave the house a mess and go workout first, always. He states that our cabinet looks like a pharmacy:

I see his point, however my outlook is not necessarily the norm around these parts when it comes to health and exercise.

If you ain’t full, you got nothin to give anyone else. Translation:”You cannot pour from an empty beer bottle, guys.”
Kelly Durnelly. Mtg Hooder 1974-2004

Besides being the most tired man in America, he has never been “sick” more than a day as long as I’ve known him. It is very puzzling WHY. Was he just unlucky? Genetics? Stress? I could be 100% wrong, but I do believe some things could have contributed to how bad it hit him. The suggestions made by all the doctor all were to stay ahead of hydration, take vitamins D, C & Zinc daily, and rest/sleep.

Perhaps if some do this before contracting covid, maybe it won’t affect a person as severely. 🤷🏻‍♀️ If you or anyone you know exhibits one-two symptoms on below list, forward this to them immediately. Maybe they will listen to me.

Southside Guy Lifestyle Criteria: 👇🏻

https://quillankelly-dunn.com/2021/05/12/southside-guy-lifestyle/

#brenebrown, #doitanyway, #freedom, #greatpretender, #homeschoolingrealshit, #millenials, #opportunity, #sidehustle, Badassery, brene brown, glennondoyle, Health & Wellness, Lin Manuel Miranda, narcissism, narcisstic personality disorder, parenting struggles, relationships, unlockingus, vulnerability, Women's Fight, Yoga Pants

Sympathy For The Devil

November 23, 2020November 17, 2021 quillankellydunn

I may not KNOW a lot of things but one thing I do believe for sure is that BOB (Esai Morales) from La Bamba is one BADASS mother fucker. He has to be THEE coolest and most captivating actor on the planet.

He should have won an OSCAR for best supporting actor for his performance; (Esai Morales) truly MADE the movie.

He literally SEDUCES the audience.

That being said, what I find most ironic is that no matter what he did or said, I still liked his character. I thought he was hilarious, I still do. What is even more puzzling, is that he is a complete dick.

(Side note: Esai also appeared on Ozark for a season or two- I was immediately entranced. )

As a woman, I completely identify with Rosie. As a mother and wife, I empathize with how she feels; I hate how she is treated by Bob. What was also puzzling is that she ANNOYED me. 🙈

I can actually feel her pain, grief, & confusion. You can see it written on her face. The “wait…wtf-just-happened?” face. The “how-in-the-hell-did-I-end-up-here” face. She displays this facial expression the majority of the movie. We all know that face.

We all know that feeling: When you realize you’ve been had. You got screwed over. The worst part about it, the majority of it was your own doing. You assumed. ASS-U-ME.

I get how she assumed as well. Any woman in a could easily fall into Bob’s trap; especially the married ones. Bob’s seductive allure could have wise woman entranced in his spell: After Bob flirts with you: Huh? What kids? What husband? You don’t have a job you say? Ballsy. Hot…You drink every day? Wild & crazy. You live in your mom’s trailer? Sounds cozy. Humina Humina 😍🥰😛

I am embarrassed to admit this, but I remember thinking: Awwww just leave him alone Rosie.. it’s your own fault you got yo self knocked up…

I STILL liked him after that horrible, disrespectful and honest statement by Bob. Like “Dayyyuuumm.” Why?

Currently, I am an adult and an educated & wise woman, yet I still like Bob. Wtf!? How come? 1. Clearly excellent acting by Esai Morales 2. Amazing directing

However, I am not satisfied with this. Inquiring minds want to know!!!

I was concerned with my reaction when I watching this movie recently. When the mother, Connie Valenzuela, minimized Bob’s cartoonist abilities and reminded him that he is about to become a father, I thought: Jeez Connie, buzzkill, what did you have to go and do that for!? Why don’t you get out of Richie’s ass and pay attention to poor Bob. He is trying. POOR BOB

Poor Bob: your womanizing, chauvinistic, selfish, entitled, immature, unemployed, alcoholic, manipulative, man-baby-son who just was released from prison.🤔 (Bob sounds like a real catch on paper doesn’t he?🤥😂)

Idle hands are the devil’s workshop; idle lips are his mouthpiece.Proverbs 16

From a biological & genetic standpoint, Bob does what Bob does best. Bob is a an alpha male who is genetically predisposed to flock his sexy shit to attract females. Bob does whatever possible to get laid; ultimately procreating more human beings to populate the earth. (Biology 101: It is vital for males to compete for reproduction and for females to choose between those competing males.

If a member of the opposite sex finds your tail, your song, or your dance moves sexy, you will have a chance to fulfill your primary biological role as a member of your species: to reproduce.
https://biogeoplanet.com/how-do-animals-find-mates-sex-and-sexual-selection/

This is “Bob’s” “primary biological role” aka his job and he rocks it. He got Rosie pregnant so now he needs to “move on” and to do this again.

It’s not his fault…yet. (Please don’t get angry, hear me out;)

From a biological/genetic standpoint, Bob is doing his job. He behaves how all male animals act. Bob is genetically predisposed to be what humans would consider “an asshole”.

The problem is, he also doesn’t know any better. No one has taught him otherwise. No one has had the chance to teach Bob to step above his biological urges.

Please don’t cause him to feel inadequate by making him have to THINK.

Don’t make him feel like a failure by asking him to have COMPASSION or EMPATHY? That is NO FUN.

What would cause a human being to behave this way? Or to treat women this way?

Bob’s True Story & my psychological interpretation😜:

Just like Rosie, Connie also hooked up with a bad boy at a young age and got herself impregnated (with Bob.) The hot, sexy biological father took off.

I know you “love him” Rosie, but unless you want to cook dinner on his motorcycle…

Connie then met someone else (Steve) and Connor married Steve when Bob was two years old. Steve loved Bob and treated him as his own. Steve and Connie then had a child, Ritchie. Ritchie was a reflection to Connie what she did right=Ritchie=golden boy. However, Bob was a reminder of her bad decisions.

Connie, Steve, Bob & Ritchie were doing well together for a while. Bob assumed Steve was his biological father and Bob loved him.

In an interview, the real Bob Morales states his life took a bad turn when he was 14 and his parents (Connie & Steve) separated.

“I moved in with my mom while Ritchie went with my dad. One day I told my mom that I wanted to live with my dad and and that’s when my aunt told me ‘Why do you want to go with him if he’s not even your real father.’Bob Morales

Despite Steve conveying to Bob that he loved him as his own son, the shock devastated Bob. Also, it was horrible timing for Bob to find this out because soon after this discovery, Bob began high school.

Bob was getting into fights frequently so he stopped attending. Instead he gave money to the homeless nearby who would buy him alcohol.

While his now single-mom was working two jobs, Bob was not going to school and had no structure all day, no guidance, no direction=idle time which is the DEVIL’s playground.

Therefore, Bob ended up going to a detention center from age 12-17! Connie, his mother, signed him over as a ward of the state. He did not see his family that entire time he was locked up.

👆🏻AKA Go Fuck yourself Connie. I will never let a woman hurt me again.

The first time Bob saw his mother or Ritchie in years; was the day of Steve’s funeral. Which also means he didn’t get to say goodbye to Steve or to grieve properly.

Bob learned to adapt to his lonely life by becoming the life of the party. He learned how to get what he needed by finding comfort in women and selfishly move on. This probably soothed his resentment toward his mother for while, but then he felt guilty; so he drank the pain away.

Of course he was jealous of Ritchie. Ritchie got his Dad and his Mom. He got nobody.

The point is that all of US are capable of evil depending on what we are exposed to.

I thought of this blog when I was about to bitch at my son for not cleaning up the mess he made after making quesadillas. I realized that I can’t assume he knows how. Instead, I showed him how clean it up. I told him that this is what I expect. I didn’t talk to him like he was stupid. I thanked him for making his own food. I didn’t clean it up for him. This is the only way they learn.

Mothers: We cannot assume that our sons are just going to know how to treat women when they’re older. We cannot assume that their Dad’s are going to teach them either. Most Dads are working their ass off and are never home. (Probably chasing tail 😂 not knowing why. Kidding!🤪)

We have to teach OUR SONS what WE want from them so they can learn how to GIVE this to their future partners. We need to teach them about affection, connection, friendship, compatibility, respect, and the long term.

We have to teach them that this may be a biological urge to continue to chase women and populate the world, HOWEVER, we are not animals.

It costs a lot of time, money, energy to raise a human child properly into a respectable adult.

We need to teach them that human females can be hot and smart. Women can be attractive, fun, brilliant, and confident. We have to teach them, not ASSUME, that a Human FEMALE’S purpose is not to populate the world.

It’s Biology Rosie- kidding! You can have both!

We also have to teach our daughters: What they tolerate will become their future. Being a victim will not get you anywhere.

It’s OUR job to ALSO teach the FUTURE MEN of this world these skills. We need to teach them how to love unconditionally. Parents need to be a TEAM.

There is a chapter in this book on how we “go easy” on our sons because we don’t think they can manage it all and are tougher on our daughters 🙈

https://markmanson.net/love

https://markmanson.net/compatibility-and-chemistry

#markmanson

#ericthomas

#glennondoyle

#brenebrown, #doitanyway, #freedom, #greatpretender, Badassery, Find A Way, parenting struggles, relationships, unlockingus, Women's Fight

True Romance…

September 4, 2020September 10, 2020 quillankellydunn

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.

In the heat of a debate. Both stubborn AF

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 husband after getting rid of yellow jacket nest 👆🏻

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!….

For every insult, there’s a counter insult.
No one ever wins. 😉

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?

Off topic: True magician, Gary Oldman as the pimp Drexel Spivy

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.

I’d rather die than have you fix my washing machine bitch

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.

I thought of the jerky boys while doing this. “Should I bring all my tools?” https://youtu.be/5F-VQtEfbTU

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

#doitanyway, #freedom, #homeschoolingrealshit, Find A Way, parenting struggles

District 2020

August 28, 2020October 6, 2020 quillankellydunn

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.”😱🙈

👆🏻Me: Visualizing myself having to listen to my husband’s lecture about adulting and “dunk tank repair” is not being financially responsible. 😜

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!

Stung tribute…Don’t say I didn’t warn ya kid.

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…

Toddler to Teen mindset: Every “play date” takes two hours for the kids to get along.
That’s just the way it is.

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.”

“They do?”

“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!

😂 #winningmommoment

#freedom, #greatpretender, parenting struggles, vulnerability, Women's Fight

I am Henrietta Hill

January 21, 2020January 22, 2020 quillankellydunn

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.

I had kids to enjoy them.

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😜

#henryhill

#motherhood

#gretchenrubin

#goodfellas

#freedom, parenting struggles

It’s gonna be…Oh wait… it already is

May 10, 2019April 28, 2022 quillankellydunn

The last few weeks of April are hell for Justin Timberlake. All the memes and jokes flood social media stating that “It’s gonna be May”. (If you’re not familiar with why he hates May-here…

In a *NSYNC song, “It’s gonna be Me”, JT says the word ME in a strange way that sounds like MAY. Despite JT putting himself out there thousands of times and killing it, this one cringey flub consumes all of his massive success and talent every year during the month of May…👈🏻 Here he is, as an adult having to do it…again.

I dread May as JT does, however I have no famous memes to remind me, until it is already here, and then I remember. The end-of-the-year-last-minute chaos with all the school functions smashed into four weeks. When all the sports overlap, the parties and the calendar resembles a Tetris game. This game of a calendar is perfectly “NSYNC” 😉 to remind me on the hour that:

I. AM. A. Fucking. Mess.

I.Cannnot.Do.Anything.Right.As.A.Mom.

Every year it gets worse because the kids become wiser, smarter and catch on to how inadequate at this I really am. They remind me every 6 minutes of something I did not do or they need (Mom, you forgot to give me money for this.) Along with, Can we go here? Can we get this? Can we invite this person over on Friday? (It’s Monday). Following the question drill, I continuously put it back on them. Did do you do your homework? Did you study? Did you brush your teeth? Do you have practice? Do you have a game? Did you wipe your ass?

Daily Banter

Kid: “Mom, I asked you to make me something to eat.”

Me: “Yes and I replied …Can’t you make something yourself?”

Kid: “We have no food.”

Me: “Yes we do.”

Kid: “Like what?”

Me: (Grrrrr) Pizza, chicken strips, PBJ, We have Lunchmeat, make a sandwich. Carrots and hummus, chips and guac, apple or banana with peanut butter, string cheese.”

Kid: “I have that everyday, I had that for lunch.”

Me: “I don’t know what to tell ya, figure it out.”

Kid: “You don’t even care.”

Me: (Blood pressure rising) “This isn’t a restaurant. You eat what we have in the house.”

Kid: “Can I have some money then?”

Me: (biting lip/clenching fists) “For what?”

“Kid: “To ride my bike to Subway?”

Me: “Ummmm, NO. I just named like 10 things we have in the house.”

Kid: “Yea, but I don’t want that.”

Me: “If you don’t “want that” use your own money and go to Subway.”

Kid: “NO! I don’t want to waste my money on that! You’re supposed to feed me.”

Me: (Face getting red) Please leave the room. This discussion is over.”

Kid: “Thanks a lot! You don’t even feed me!”

May: $#&%*@%&$*@&!%#

I am sure we all remember the day when we first realized our mom’s flaws and she really doesn’t know what the fuck she is doing. I remember that day, when I first “saw” my mom without the rose-colored glasses. We all remember when our mom says stuff that makes us cringe. When you realize that she is funny-looking when she is angry and you want to laugh because she looks funny, but you know she’s angry…that realization.

I noticed my mom’s humanness in about 6th grade (same as my daughter, awesome, good times.) I was at school wearing my brown “weskit” uniform vest when I discovered my little brother’s brown socks were static-clung to the inside of my vest. Later on that day, my mom brought my lunch to school for the 45th time that year and finally my classmate asked me, “how come your mom always brings your lunch to school late?” I never even considered this as weird until someone pointed it out. Then the little realities continued to trickle in and I gradually realized my parents were frauds.

I remembered this “weskit” incident this past Tuesday when I didn’t check the hot lunch schedule and realized that morning my kids did not have lunches; AND we had zero food for them to make their own lunch. They outlandishly claim they told me the night before.

I went to the doctor straight after drop off in the clothes I slept in to get urgent meds for a UTI. I then dragged myself to target to get food, threw it in their lunch boxes and hobbled to the school entrance. Usually when I have had to do this countless times over the years, I am buzzed right in. Not Today.

This time, when I rang the bell, the woman at the front desk said over the intercom outside, “Can I help you?” She didn’t even recognize me! I assume she thought I was some homeless lunatic; not that I blame her. She even asked me my last name and kids names. Huh? Doncha know may?

This incident triggered the downward spiral of me screwing up over and over every few minutes: at work, at home, at school, with my kids, with my friends, and with my family. It was as if I turned into Mr. Bean overnight, again! Everything I touched, said or did turned to shit. #theshittouch

Which you know how that goes; the more you think about it, the more it happens. I could not snap out of it.

Today was exceptionally brutal and I could not even consider anything I usually do to end this tailspin of humiliation.I wanted to blame someone for the self-created web of hell I got myself into. I woke up late, I made about 700 mistakes before noon, was tardy for every patient appointment (I mean how can every ramp be closed at once on 90/94?) and all I could think about was crawling back into bed and hiding under the covers.

This fantasy was interrupted when my daughter called because I did not pick them up from school. I knew I wouldn’t be able to, BUT I forgot to arrange a ride. Then I receive a text about something I volunteered for at school which I had no recollection of until that moment. For the love of God! Please leave MAY alone!

I sheepishly go see another patient, (husband and wife married 60 years, who primarily speak Ukranian and Russian; they insist on not using a translator. They say “We want to try to speak to you in your language.”)I was ready to thank them for their patience with my inadequacy. Instead, I am greeted with a hug and exclaimed, “We are so glad to see you!”

(I turn around thinking there was someone else behind me.)

They continue, “We are very happy! This is a big day in our country!”

They both describe why they are so happy, adorably, in their accents and broken English about Victory Day. I am ashamed to admit that I did not know what they were referring to.

Wife: “In your country, May 8th, 1945, the war over. On May 9th, 1945.. the war over in my country. I remember I was so happy. It was so long. I was four years old when war started, my parents tell me we must move to Siberia. It was so cold there. Me, my brothers and sisters would lay down on the floor with head in knees, so scared, hearing planes. My mother would hide bread high up so we not find it and give us a tiny piece once a day. We so hungry, we beg my mom everyday for more. We were so cold. We were so scared.” Tears glaze over her eyes, her husband holds her arm. My eyes well up now. “My husband, he had to go to Siberia too and wait for war to be over, not us together (she laughs nervously), but he had to do same.”

Husband: “Yes. Excuse me. I go. Same.” (He Shakes head, becomes choked up.)

Wife: “So every year, this day, we are very happy. We thanks God. We hear on the radio, war over, my mother, my father, my brothers, sisters, we hug, we cry, we thanks God. We can go home. We remember everyone who die.” She holds her hand to her chest, does sign of the cross and looks up.

Husband: “Excuse me. We want you to have this. We are happy you and your family do not have to have war. Please. Take. We happy today.” (He says excuse me before he says anything in english, it’s so cute!)

Culturally, it is very rude not to accept gifts in their country and they insist on giving me European chocolate after each visit. Today was, well, above and beyond. I imagine if I refuse to take it, he may react the same way the Ukrainian man in the Seinfeld episode reacts to the game of risk when Kramer refers to the Ukraine as “weak”.

This Seinfeld clip of the Ukraine makes me laugh, finally. I walk to my car holding candy, feeling humble, grateful, tearful and smiling. That visit knocked me right out of my tailspin. I thought about her mother, in fucking Siberia (for real) for three years! I thought about her trying to keep her family alive and having to give her kids a quarter slice of bread per day. I thought about the guilt she felt when her children complained of being terrified, hungry, bored, and cold every day for three years. Now that is some real motherhood struggles right there. I feel foolish now for even being stressed. None of it matters.

I am back to loving life while being a jack ass.

I thanks God too.

All the stuff I was dealing with is nonsense.

It’s Insignificant.

It’s Motherhood.

And Justin Timberlake…he’s a bad ass.

And the Ukraine is sure as hell not weak.

https://youtu.be/lZfJ1ZP3Ywg

parenting struggles, Uncategorized, Women's Fight, Yoga Pants

My Whole Life is “Have To”

April 25, 2018February 1, 2019 quillankellydunn

“Do you really have to go?” She asks during a heated discussion.

“My whole life is HAVE TO.” Steve Martin sneers.

I have no idea how but I truly believed I “had no time” prior to having children. What the hell did I do before? How did I ever have the balls to complain about anything?

Parents HAVE TO show up no matter what. There is no break or stopping. I am reminded of this quite frequently as I am about to plant my ass on the couch or eat a hot meal. I am stopped from stopping.

“Mom! Where’s my uniform? Mom, I can’t find my shoes.” Or some fight breaks out while they are both screaming my name simultaneously “MOM!” and overreacting in some kind of hysterics.

However, When you don’t have time to trim your toenails or make a doctor appointment to check out your vadge…this might be a sign you need to calm the fuck down.

When you’re walking around unaware that your shoulders are at your earlobes and you are appearing neckless…it might be a red flag to slow your roll.

As I mentioned that parents never stop, I really am unable to stop “doing stuff” and most of the time, it’s not by choice. I set a rule: one sport per kid at a time. However, what usually happens is there is a 2 week overlap where one sport is ending with playoffs/championships and another sport is beginning. These are the weeks I lose my shit.

Exercising helps and so does wine;). In order to mirror my non-stop lifestyle, I usually gravitate toward a fast-paced heated yoga sculpt; or a Beachbody workout with cardio/weights smashed into 30 minutes. These workouts are non-stop; like my life with only 10-30 seconds of rest. These workouts are essential when your whole life is “have to”.

This past Sunday morning I escaped while everyone still sleeping and I took a 75 minute heated yoga fusion class. Yoga fusion, Bikram, or Vinyasa are slower paced yoga classes. They entail poses that are held for longer periods of time; these are classes “I don’t like” or try to avoid.

I was extremely frustrated through the first half hour of this class. I was annoyed and irritated at my lack of balance and focus. I could not hold any pose for more than a second; then I would stumble. I had the urge to walk out of class because I felt so stupid; yet I was projecting my annoyance on the yoga instructor.

The yoga instructors constant reminders to lower my shoulders from my ears was irritating. I noticed every pose I held would become more difficult as my mind traveled to other places.

Examples:

During tree pose: I was initially focused and balanced, the instructor then advised us to hold this pose for five breaths. Met with the silence and only my thoughts, my mind wandered somewhere else then this dumb class. My focus switched to the music; which was Dave Matthews, One Sweet World ….My mind traveled to Reilly’s beer garden reminiscing about dancing in the sunshine…Then wondering why I am in this dark class on this sunny day…Ahhhh… happy place…

BAM…wipe out… back in present and staggering out of tree pose. Grrrrr.

During wild dancer: I listened to instructions and got in pose, then as everyone had to hold it with no one speaking…my thoughts wandered again…”I wonder what Dave Matthews is up to these days? Man that double CD “Live at Luther College” with Tim Reynolds is the best. I need to pull that out when I get home. I should go see Dave at Red Rock, oh yea and marijuana is legal in Colorado…SaWEET!”

Knocked out of my thoughts…I falter out of wild dancer.

Standing Split Pose: Again initially balanced and focused … then Rusted Root’s Ecstasy begins to play…Thoughts, “Am I too old to sit outside in Reilly’s beer garden? I wonder if they have live bands outside still on Sunday’s?”… I blunder unsteadily and tip over face first ….

What is the deal with this instructor’s class? I thought. She sucks.

This repeated over with my wandering thoughts.

“Did I even shower yesterday?”

(Teetering then fall)

“Jeez I need a pedicure.”

(Tip over, again)

“I should day drink more often.”

(Wobbling)

“I can’t do this.” I thought and decided I hated the yoga instructor. “I like heated yoga sculpt Better. I like my workouts at home better.”

Then I painfully recognized what I was doing. I was uncomfortable, therefore I wanted to stop. I wanted to blame someone for my embarrassment. I was no longer in my comfort zone. The workouts I want to do are fast paced with constant movement…kinda like my life.

I was failing because I wasn’t in the present. I was struggling because this type of class was uncomfortable since I rarely slow down.

I pushed through the class anyways now that I realized I did not loathe the instructor; I loathed how I felt. I felt stupid and clumsy. I looked and felt foolish.

Then the wake up call…Reality check…No one gives a rats ass what I am doing, what I look like or even notices me. Everyone is too busy focusing on their own poses, demons and thoughts. I gradually got “out of my head” and “into my life.”

I pushed through the class now, wiser. When my mind began to wander, I counted backwards 54321. Trick learned from the book The Five Second Rule by Mel Robbins. It was the only tool I could think of to do in that moment.

When I finally reached the end of this 75 minute class; I sensed relief. I made it to corpse pose (Shavasana) and my mind was completely blank. Shockingly I was thinking of nothing. I had no recollection what I was doing after this class or the rest of the day. “It doesn’t matter right now“. The teacher, now my BFF, gave me an ice cold washcloth with essential oils for my face. I now felt like a million bucks!

This was an excellent reminder that stepping OUT of your comfort zone helps you step INTO the BIG PICTURE.

I am not a mom.

I am not a wife.

I am not a daughter.

I am not a woman.

I am not a coach.

I am not a counselor.

I am

I just …am

I am enough.

#thefivesecondrule

#parenthood

#stevemartin

#mywholelifeishaveto

#melrobbins

#slowyourroll

Category: parenting struggles

#WWCGD