What have you been up to? Oh, not much. Just doing this sometimes unrecognizable version of me.

So I’ve been “blog silent” for a bit. I like to equate that to me not having much to complain about. Just kidding. There is always something to bitch about. But in all seriousness, I’ve been busy with work and home and apparently doing random races that are so unlike me. I’ve done a 5k run, a Warrior Dash and a Spartan Sprint in the last few months. Sometimes I look in the mirror and ask – “Who are you?” When did you start to be this person that likes to lift weights, run around and carry buckets of rocks up a mountain? Ha, yeah, that last part, I am so not in tune with that last part.

Now don’t get me wrong, doing the Spartan, or more importantly finishing the Spartan, definitely gave me a feeling of accomplishment. But that shit wasn’t graceful by any means. If you saw my face ¾ of the way through, you probably would have wanted to scoop me up and drive me off the course. When I approached the last hill, I almost cried. Like, literally. I looked up – way, way up that hill – and I thought that there is no way in hell I am getting up that hill. But I finished the race, so somehow I got up that hill. I think it had a lot to do with my thought process as far as asking myself – What happens if I stop? How in the world do I get out of here? Does someone throw me in a golf cart and drive me to safety? Do I have to do the walk of shame via a short cut to behind the finish line? Ok, it wasn’t all me and my ridiculous thought process. It was also my teammates, husband included, telling me I would finish. Encouraging me every step of the way. The best part of the race was the vibe that “we are all in this together”. Of course when my husband kept saying – “ok, let’s make up some time” at certain points on the course - I wanted to punch him in the face. But I didn’t. And we are still together to this day. Amazing.

I will not do another Spartan race. I checked a box. I did something I thought I couldn’t. And I want to keep doing things I think I can’t, but I am done with the Spartan genre. I will do another Warrior Dash and probably another 5k because they gave me a sense of accomplishment and I didn’t feel like crying while I was doing them. I guess that’s high on the list of why I will, or more importantly why I will not, do something.

So what’s up next? Well I’m not all that good at multi-tasking. I can only do a few things at a time, not 700, like some extremely impressive moms out there. So working and keeping my kids alive are my first priorities. And with the way they test my patience sometimes, that's basically a feat in itself. And then it’s focusing on me and discovering more and more that I want to continue to be strong, to get stronger. For Christmas, as a gift to myself, I want to do a pull-up. I’ve been saying that I want to hit this goal for a year. But now it’s no joke. And it’s out there. I’m telling all of you. So now I have to do it. Besides, we just bought a new car so it’s really all I can afford to ask for. I also want to get to 24% body fat. Getting there, but not there yet. And when I get there I will set a new goal. What I’ve realized is that I am enjoying the process of getting to these goals. It’s not easy. This is hard work. When the hummus and pretzel chips are calling me from the kitchen as I’m working from home, I have to tell myself to focus on my goals. When I’m eating cold pork tenderloin and mini peppers while my kids shove handfuls of popcorn in their cute little faces at the movies, I have to remind myself of my goals. And when I really just want to sleep in and skip the gym because I slept like shit the night before, I have to remind myself of my goals. Now don't get me wrong, I'm only human, and sometimes the hummus and pretzels win! But I don't call the day a wash and start up with the peanut butter cups. I call it a misstep and make a better choice at the next meal.

In all reality, whatever goal you set for yourself is a challenge. Challenges in themselves are difficult. Big or small. Isn’t that why they’re called challenges? I think they make us feel just a little bit more alive. A little bit more “in the game”. And right now I’m full on digging this game.

I hope you’re enjoying your game. And if you’re not, set a goal. Get in it. High five yourself as you work toward that goal. You deserve it.

Now go kick ass and take names. And thanks for visiting.

Peace. Love. And sanity.

Strong is the new sexy: Changing the narrative

I never wanted to lift weights. I thought nope, it's a waste of time. If I want to get "skinny" I need to do cardio for 45 minutes and eat 1200 calories or less. That'll do it! Clearly that did not "do it". Not only is it incredibly boring, but when you're only eating 1200 calories you are always hungry! Or in all reality, hangry (don't ask, just google it). But this was what I was "taught". This is what girls do. Until about a year ago.

Now here I am, in the best shape of my life and only getting better. And I'm finally "getting" it. The myths that have been perpetuated as truths for most of my life have finally been broken by my own results and the results of so many others. But what will the "fitness industry" do if women stop believing their crap and stop buying their ab rockers, tread climbers, and the other shit they tout in their douche-baggy infomercials? What if women finally start listening to those people who have looked at the science, who have figured out how to shape bodies and change perceptions to provide REAL results? When you watch the Today show and you hear a woman talk about "fat loss" as opposed to "weight loss" for probably the first time ever, you smile and you realize that maybe, just maybe, the masses are finally catching on. And maybe they'll also realize that the scale is kind of evil and BMI is an asshole.

I was fortunate enough to attend a fitness workshop this weekend, given by the amazingly strong Artemis Scantalides. That was the icing on this proverbial cake (mmmm, cake). What?? I was at a fitness workshop? Who am I? Anyway, this "I am not afraid to lift" workshop, continued to blast holes through the nonsense we've been fed by the fitness industry (and in many cases our doctors) for too many years to count. And this woman is proof that strong is the new sexy. Some of the things she was able to do I could only liken to party tricks. How did she do some of these things with her body?? Well, she worked her butt off. Oh, and she is a bad ass. And she was teaching us how to be bad asses. And she was encouraging us to become the masters of our domain. And it was awesome. It was empowering. And I couldn't wait to get into the gym the next day to lift more weights. (Ok, I'm stretching the truth a teeny bit there. I was sore as hell but I still went in and got it done!)

Now I'm not putting down my marathoning friends, my endurance savages. You go ahead and get 'er done. I think it's amazing what you are able to push your mind and body to do. But that's not me. So if I can't do that, does that mean I won't be able to meet my own goals? Nope. When I walked into the gym a year ago I was amazed by what I saw some of these women doing. I wanted to be them. They were swinging, pushing, pulling, lifting, grunting, sweating and kicking some major ass. And now I am one of them. And every time I lift a heavier weight or learn a new move I feel accomplished. I feel like I am joining the ranks of the strong. And I am thankful for my trainers who have taught me that it's ok to lift heavy things, it's ok to eat actual food (and lots of it) and that it's good to build muscle! 


And I also see it in the many posts on my social media feeds. Whether it's Facebook or Instagram, seeing people at the gym, posing with their gym buddies, posting videos of their accomplishments. It's all motivation for me. I don't care what other people say, I applaud your "check-ins", your food posts, your PR details. Keep 'em coming! We are watching and we are proud of you!

 So in the land of lady beasts and loud leggings I have found inspiration. I have found a new way to approach my health. I have a found a group of people who support each other's accomplishments and who push you to take the next step to get better and to reach your goals.

So go ahead - lift like a girl. I dare you.


Peace. Love. And sanity. And strength!

“What’s for dinner?” – And other cringeworthy questions

I think I live my life in lists. I think most of us do. It seems to be the biggest part of “adulting”. Lists for work. Lists for home. Lists for the food store. Lists for chores. Lists so you don’t forget to do something because if you don’t write it down you will totally forget. If I didn’t write down the five things I needed from the food store, I would without a doubt, leave without one of those things. Now my husband, if his list has one thing on it and he doesn’t write it down, he’s simply walked into the store for no reason because he can’t remember shit. Love him though!

So in the spirit of lists, let’s continue that theme. This time around let’s list out some of the most cringeworthy questions heard from kids on a daily basis. Some of these may not affect you, but for me, they are like nails on a chalkboard. And if NONE of these resonate with you then either you’ve hit the patience jackpot, the kid jackpot, or you’re a mannequin.

1.  Are we taking a bath tonight? – So this one may sound silly, but essentially since birth my kids have not gotten baths on Tuesdays or Thursdays. Of course there are exceptions this rule, but we don’t get home until later on those days and unless they’re completely disgusting (i.e. in the summer when they are complete dirt burglars), we forego the bath. Now regardless of this fact, they continue to ask me this question EVERY Tuesday and Thursday. Seriously kids? I find that kids work best within a routine-oriented environment, but apparently this doesn’t have any effect when it comes to asking about said routines. Annoying.
2. Is this enough to eat? – If you have escaped this one, then consider yourself extremely lucky. But I think this one is the first time kids start to flex their muscles in the art of negotiation. And you, no pun intended, feed into it every time. You’re negotiating with this tiny person about how many bites, how many slices of cucumber, how many pieces of chicken they need to eat in order to satisfy the “I’ve eaten enough for dinner rule.” And in my house once you’ve satisfied that rule, you’ve “earned” your treat. How ridiculous is this? It’s completely ridiculous. And I do it anyway. Some nights I’ve had enough and end up yelling some total mom thing like, “If you ask me that one more time!!” So awful. Oh and I should probably add that while still chewing his last bite, the male child always asks, “Can I have my treat now?” Dude! Can you finish chewing first? Oh good, I finally get MY question in.
3. Is it time to go to “insert any place” yet? – See you want to tell your kids when you’re going somewhere fun, and you do it, but you also know that you shouldn’t. But you do it anyway. And then you get asked constantly, up until the minute you leave, when you’re leaving. Is it time to go to Grandpa’s yet? Is it time to go to Grandma’s yet? Is it time to go to the waterpark yet? Is it time to go to breakfast yet? And then you’re doing the 8 hour, 6 hour, 4 hour, 2 hour, 30 minute countdown. And you want to scream! But it’s your own damn fault. And you never learn. Shame on you. You did this to yourself!
4. What’s for dinner? – This one legit makes my skin crawl at times. Sometimes it makes me want to cry. I so hate this question with a passion. Can’t you tell? And this happens every damn day. Without fail. Pretty much as soon as we are in the car. In some cases I’ve literally been in the car for two hours driving after having been up since 5:00 and these two can’t wait to ask me what I’m making for dinner. And I can almost guarantee they won’t like some part of it. And that’s probably why it gets to me. If they were easy, if they ate whatever I put in front of them, then I would be fine with it. But no, I have to put together, albeit a very simple meal, something I think they will eat. And really, I never know from one day to the next or from one week to the next what these little monsters are going to still be eating. For example, last week my 6 year old liked mac and cheese, but this week, as I learned last night, apparently she does not. WHO DOESN’T LIKE MAC AND CHEESE? I don’t know where she came from. 

I love my precious little peanuts, but sometimes I also want to strangle them. But I don’t. Because it’s illegal. I know kids have a repetitive nature. I know I’m going to answer these questions, and many others, over and over and over again. But it will always annoy me. I did not hit the patience jackpot. I am my father’s daughter. Ask anyone. (Love you Dad!) So while I know these things shouldn’t get to me, they will continue to, as things get to all of us. We all have different levels of nutty. Different levels of “I’ve had enough”, because we are human. We are parents. We are caregivers. We are out there fighting the good fight. Trying to raise these tiny people to be good members of society. However, this absolutely does not mean they don’t sometimes annoy the shit out of us on a daily basis. And this is why they’re cute. So at least after they make you crazy, you can look at them and smile and still have them melt a little piece of your heart. Even when they ask just one more time – “Are we there yet?”

Peace. Love. And sanity.

 

Mommy Wars: This shouldn’t be a thing

As women and as mothers, we should support one another. This goes without saying. Doesn’t it? Well apparently not. Are we just bored? Or are many of us just a bunch of judgy DBs that only feel happy when we are making others feel shitty? I really hope it’s not the latter. I do think that there is a combination of things spurring this behavior. From boredom, to social media to some people just being assholes, we’ve created a crappy society where mothers attack other mothers, and for some reason they feel justified to do so.

I really thought that a lot of this was made up social media nonsense, until through a collection of anecdotal evidence, it turns out this actually happens. In real life! To people’s faces! And of course it most definitely happens behind our backs. But some of these “wars” that pit hard-working mothers against one another, are completely laughable. Some of them must be created through social media feeling the need to feed this fire and have something to talk (read: fight) about. So let’s go over some of this nonsense:

1. Breastfeeding: This one is so long standing that maybe it’s not worth mentioning. But I will anyway. It’s just amazing to me that we are still judging the crap out of each other around this topic. It’s 2016, and we worry about the government trying to dictate what is right for us, for our bodies, but apparently it’s ok as women for us to tell each other what to do with our bodies? News flash, no it’s not.
2. How I birthed my child: This one is completely ridiculous. And one that makes me think that we are just bored or that social media gurus are sitting around trying to come up with new conflicts we can fight about. If you’re telling me that having my body cut open to deliver my children makes me less of a mom then pushing them out of my hoo-ha, then you are just a DB. Plain and simple. Hello, childbirth is hard no matter what. Don’t we know this already??
3. Getting a babysitter: Since when is getting a babysitter for your kids an issue? Do we not need time away from our precious little peanuts to maintain our sanity? When I was little my parents went out every Saturday night and look, I’m ok! Well, mostly, but I don’t think that’s related to their once a week night out. I would encourage parents to take a break. Your children will not fall apart. They will not be scarred for life. And you’ll get a chance to exhale. This seems like common sense to me.
4. Clean house versus a messy house: So this is a new one. It looks like the “argument” is this, per social media, if your house is messy then your kids are making memories and having a childhood they won’t be able to stop gushing about when they’re adults. But if your house is clean, your kids are miserable and will be in therapy as adults complaining about how unhappy they were growing up. Dumb. Times a million and a half. We are all screwing up our kids one way or another. And I guess my kids are somewhere in between happy and miserable according to this argument. Go me.
5. Sending kids to school sick: I’ve read about and heard about this one over and over. Someone thinks that if they go pick up their kid and another kid is coughing or sneezing that they are immediately sick, contagious, carrying bird flu and their parents are absolutely horrible for sending their kid to school to “infect” other children. Or, if their kid gets sick they are quick to blame some “horrible” parent. And now their perfect little sweetie pie is sick as a result. Really people? Sure, sometimes people send their kids to school when they shouldn’t. But to demonize parents, in general, when your kid gets sick makes zero sense. Kids get sick. And listen, if my kid doesn’t have a fever but has the sniffles or a little cough, then they are going to school. If every parent kept their kids home for every sniffle and cough, then these kids would be missing out on a lot of education. Do you miss work because you have a little cold? Nope. And don’t get your panties in a bunch here; I already noted that some people will indeed send their kids to school when they shouldn’t.

Why do we need to make each other feel guilty about the decisions we make for our kids? The keyword in that sentence being our.  And I’m not talking about some koombaya moment here. Just looking for some common sense to prevail in a society where it doesn’t typically seem to. You do what works for you and let me do what works for me. As long as my children are healthy and happy, you should just smile and wave. And keep your opinions to yourself. Unless of course you want to throw some praise at a mom. In that case, have at it. But let’s lift each other up. Not shit on each other. It’s not a good look.

Peace. Love. And sanity.

And solidarity. (word to the mothers)

The joys of womanhood

Being a woman isn’t easy. I mean, the upkeep alone is enough to make you want to be a man. And they don’t get it, not one bit. They roll out of bed on a Sunday, throw on a hat and they’re ready for the day. As they look at you and ask why you’re not ready yet. So yeah, being a woman is a bitch, so it’s no wonder why sometimes we can act like one (not that I necessarily think being called a bitch is a negative thing, depending on the context.) So let’s count the ways….

1 – As I mentioned, the upkeep. I spent three hours last weekend getting “maintenance” performed on my person. From hair to eyebrows to nails. And I’m not a princess people. But as any woman knows, these are necessary items that must be performed in order to not look scary to the outside world. And ok, maybe I’m slightly obsessed with my eyebrows as of late, but that’s a different story. You still look weird if your eyebrows appear to have a bridge between them.

2 – Being “mom”. If you are a mom, you are probably the most “called on” for things. No matter how close dad or other siblings are to what they are asking for, those little buggers will seek you out so they can ask you. Even if you’re in the bathroom. “Mom – can I have some milk?” “Sure honey, why don’t you ask your father who is standing right next to the refrigerator?”

3 – Makeup. I know I need to wear some makeup in order to look human. And as I get older, I realize I need to wear MORE makeup to look human. Case in scary point: We were away last week at a water park. So naturally one doesn’t wear makeup when they are splashing around in the water with their precious little peanuts, or at least this woman doesn’t. And I barely slept the night before because my toddler likes to randomly wakeup and “sleep cry”. This means that he doesn’t know that he’s doing it but he wakes up everyone in the process, except for my husband, who wears earplugs. In any case, we were at the water park that day and my husband says “Look at me.” So I’m assuming he’s going to tell me that I have something on my face or something in my teeth from breakfast. Oh no, it’s even better. He says “It looks like you have two black eyes.” Gasp! Did he just say that out loud? I know what you’re thinking ladies, but I must love this man a lot because he’s still alive. Of course I was at Ulta the next day looking for a concealer labeled – medium beige/no sleep. Yeah, they don’t make that yet, but they should get on it.

4 – Working out and getting weighed. So you can bust your ass at the gym. You can literally feel like you’re sweating your ass off. You can feel like you’re getting stronger, and you know your nutrition is on point. But if it’s “that time of the month” and you get on a scale or some other torture device (i.e. the scale/body composition machine at the gym) you will cry and/or throw something. Because for a woman, working out and eating right aren’t the only factors you have to deal with, you also have to deal with hormones. So do yourself (and those around you) a favor and just avoid those torture machines around “that time”. Trust me on this one.

5 – Having a baby. This one does all kinds of things to your body. And those things are way too numerous to name in this one post. But one thing to highlight, per my sister, is that not only do they live in you for 10 months as your body actually builds them, but once they come out they also feel the need to take a bit of your dignity with them. From the time of delivery to when you try to do a jumping jack or you sneeze or you laugh too hard. I’m pretty sure I don’t need to explain this one any further ladies. Oh the joys of pregnancy. But it’s such a beautiful, natural thing. Right? Yeah, right.

I could probably go on and on about what it means to be a woman in this world, but I digress. I thought it best to highlight some of the major things some of us deal with in our lives at this point, as well as to give a little peak into the future for those who have not yet joined these ranks. But no matter what we deal with, there is no doubt at all in my mind that while we may not be the physically stronger sex in many instances, we are certainly the emotionally stronger ones because there is no way in hell that a man could deal with any of the crap we get to deal with on a daily basis. So in closing – Girls rule. Boys drool.

Peace. Love. And sanity. (my bitches)

The best medicine

It really doesn't get much better than a vacation with the girls. It's an overall mental health break. A refueling for your soul. A chance to get away from your everyday and be yourself and just exist, if only for a few days, like you have no cares. No responsibilities.

And you really appreciate the time you get to spend with these people. Especially when you know that you are going to get some very key things accomplished in these few short days away. You laugh. A lot. You cry. Laugh until you cry. Laugh until you pee your pants. Drink until someone gets carried home. Wake up and do it again. 

Now I don't want to brag, but my girls kick some major ass. I could spend one day with them and be re-energized to take on the week ahead. But getting to spend a nice long weekend with them, even with a cluster of a road trip thrown in there, was complete awesome sauce. And we've all been through some shit. So that crying mentioned earlier was pretty much inevitable. When your girlfriend has kicked the crap out of cancer TWICE - you hug and you cry and you laugh and you are thankful. 


I am so thankful. For all of them. These kinds of friends are the kinds of friends that you cannot see for months (even though that really sucks) and it's as if no time had passed. You feel less alone and you feel like you are with the people who "get you". And you get to say things like - "I'm glad it's not just me!" and "That happens to you too!?" You can actually have conversations about religion, politics, music and bad tv. And you're still friends afterward. There are no such things as "taboo topics" with these friends. And you can be yourself. Warts and all. But thankfully my friends are very much like me - honest and funny basic bitches that enjoy the activity of imbibing copious amounts of alcohol - and I freakin' love them. 


So this particular weekend has brought me to the conclusion that vodka, beer, music and amazing friends (not necessarily in that order) is a pretty damn good prescription for anything that ails you. And when you need a break, when you need to rant about some ridiculous crap going on in your life, or when you really need to talk out which Real Housewives storyline is truly awful this season, I hope you're lucky enough to have your favorite bitches around to do it with. 


I send some major love and thanks out to those fantastic ladies and all of the fun, laughs and tears we shared over this phenomenal weekend. You have given me many a memory to think back on until we get to do it again. Hopefully sooner rather than later. 

Peace. Love. And sanity. (they have certainly helped me to preserve mine)

O Toddler! My Toddler!

No human being, aside from the toddler, is as equally needy as they are independent. These tiny little dictators rule your world from morning until night with their odd tantrums, their puzzling requirements and their Jedi mind tricks. If this phase wasn't a fairly short stint between "baby" and "school-aged kid", parents everywhere would be spending some time in the psych ward.

The toddler is a special kind of special.  One minute they are all smiles and the next they are throwing themselves on the ground because it was their turn to put the stickers on the happy meal toy.  Oh yeah, that totally happened just the other day. Or they are soooooo thirsty for that cup of milk that they must have it NOW! And then you get it for them, so as to avoid a meltdown and shocker, they don't want it anymore! It doesn't end there with the toddler. They want to watch their tv show, while they simultaneously take all of the pillows off of the couch and create a fort. But as soon as you change the tv because clearly they weren't watching- "I was watching that!" (enter tantrum)

And sometimes this happens - "I want to watch Paw Patrol." To which I reply, "Sorry buddy, Paw Patrol isn't on now." "Why?" "I don't know, I'm not the program director for Nick Jr." (enter tantrum) Now I know I could probably find it on YouTube or through the On Demand menu, but hey, I didn't have that when I was a kid! And I also sat through commercials, so get it together toddler! See, I can play his little game too. And besides, you know it's fun sometimes to mess with them since they spend so much time messing with you!

These cuteness wielding hell-raisers love to mess with you. They really do it for fun. I believe they get joy out of watching their parents get worked up. Taunting us with their cuteness as they proceed to mush cupcake in their freshly washed hair. Or doing something you told them explicitly not to do 100 times prior, while they look you right in the eye and do it. Oh they love that one!

And let's talk about the repetition factor, which really is synonymous with the toddler. If you have a toddler then you have heard the same question, the same request, the same song stated/sung/yelled  over and over and over again. Or if you're a mom, you've definitely heard your "name" said in 10 different ways for 10 minutes straight. I've contemplated just having him call me Beth. But I'm sure he'd find a way to beat that to death too, but "mom" he just abuses. Momma. Mom. Mommy. Mooooommmmyyyyy!!! Ugh. It's exhausting.

 And then this mini juxtaposition of angel and devil, when you tuck them in at night, manages to make up for all (ok most, ok some) of their shitty little toddler ways. Their need to hug and kiss you more times than is necessary, while probably a tactic to avoid sleep, gets you every time. Those puckered lips and that need to give you a big hug and a kiss, a little hug and a kiss, maybe even a Valentine hug and kiss or my favorite, the Hulk hug and kiss. It makes up for the craziness of the day. And it sets you up for tomorrow. And for more yelling, timeouts, tantrums and tests of will and patience. Oh how I love my sweet, sweet toddler monster.

 Peace. Love. And sanity. (which you're going to need to keep a death grip on with a toddler)

Why the hell did I sign up for a Spartan Race?

This is a question I continue to ask myself since I signed up two weeks ago. What the hell was I thinking? I'm not an athlete. I'm not an adventure seeker. I like wine. And my couch. I like the basics, remember?

 But maybe that's not true? I have no idea. So since I've signed up I've been really thinking about why I'm doing this. Am I crazy? Am I fooling myself about my abilities? I'm currently listening to (yes listening, what's reading?) the book Spartan Up by Joe De Sena, the founder of the Spartan Race. He goes through lists including: foods to eat, what makes you a Spartan, how to become a Spartan, etc. So I thought I would go through my own list. Put it out there. Make my commitment. Convince myself that yeah, you can do this. Maybe.

 1 – My husband: He is in love with this stuff. He’s going for his trifecta this year, which is three crazy ass Spartan races (Sprint, Super, and Beast) that continue to increase in difficulty, and he’ll do it no doubt. So when he asked me to do the Spartan Sprint with him, at first I laughed. And then I thought about it, consulted a friend and took the plunge. Well, I didn’t, my husband signed me up and I got the email. You’re registered! I know what you’re thinking – “How cute. You guys want to swim through mud and jump over fire together. How adorable.”

2 – Am I more than the sum of what I do every day? As mother, wife and worker, is there something else I can do solely for me by me?  Don’t get me wrong I love being those things. Those all give me fulfillment in different ways, but this would be all about me. Can I do something for me that is all me? Is doing something like this just for myself motivating enough?

3 – Making a commitment. So apparently the first step to making the commitment to do the race is to sign up. Check! I have that part done.  But I’m wishy washy. In my history of dieting and working out, if someone says, “Hey, you’re looking good,” my next step is to reward myself with a pizza. Hey, I earned it! Ridiculous right? In making the commitment to do this race, I know I cannot do that. Someone like me cannot be fueled by pizza and finish this race. I will need to stick with my workouts and my nutritional plan to get this done - to kick some ass.

4 – Monotony. If there were medals given out for most accomplished in dealing with monotony, I would win. The phrase “same shit, different day” is not lost on me. Not by a long shot. Not by many of us right? And again, I love my life, and know routine is necessary but I’ll be damned if I don’t need something like this to shake me up a bit.

5 – People are masochists. Am I wrong here? I say this often. I believe it. And my example is always hot wings. It’s silly but it’s true. People eat hot wings, love hot wings, but they make their eyes tear their noses run and they continue to eat them. And they keep ratcheting up the heat level. People like some pain. So here is proof of my own masochism. I can’t wait to put myself through some torture.

6 – To feel like a badass. This one is self-explanatory. When I finished the much less taxing Dirty Girl Mud Run, I felt great. I felt accomplished. I felt a bit of a high in completing something I had never done before. I want that feeling again.  

And there's my list. Those are my reasons. And at the end of the day maybe I can't make all of the obstacles. Maybe I fall off of those monkey bars and am forced to do more burpees than I deem a human being should ever do. But either way, I'll be giving it my best damn shot. In my quest for badassery, I will get to the end.  One way or another.

Holy crap, was that some optimism and positive thinking? See, I'm not good at that so I don't even know it when it happens.

Oh, and if you’d like you join our team in the quest for your own badassery, feel free to reach out and I’ll give you the details.

 Peace. Love. And sanity.

Basically annoying shit that annoys me because it’s annoying

Wow. That was a cringe-worthy title, huh? It turns out that when I abandon most of my vices in search of health and fitness, I become quite cranky and a bit sensitive.  I suppose I should apologize to my husband, since he receives the brunt of my “reformed” ways. But I’m sure I’ll go back to my “normal” ways soon enough. Well, hopefully I’ll be a bit more self-aware by then and learn to practice moderation. What do you mean I can only have one ounce of cheese? Screw you.

Seriously though, as I started diet number 764, a new supplement regimen and a fairly badass program at the gym in the last month, I’ve been feeling great. My ills from the holiday season have finally gone and oh look, my pants fit again! All good stuff, right? But along with that came the abandonment of most of my vices – the weekend cocktails, cheese, the foodie “food coma” inducing dinners, and did I mention cheese? And with those magnificent items being on temporary hold, in the name of health, I have found I’m a bit more annoyed by things than usual. Now don’t get me wrong, a lot of shit annoys me. But lately, I’ve been a bit more sensitive as well. Like really girl, put on your big girl panties, suck it up and suffer like the rest of us! So in the name of self-transformation, I’m vocalizing what annoys me in the hopes of a more balanced, less cranky, less sensitive life, or, at least to provide some laughs whether those are with me or at me. I’ll take either at this point.

People : Most people are annoying. It’s just a fact. But not you people. I love all of you. You don’t annoy me in the least.

Kids:  Kids are definitely annoying. They basically live to annoy adults. But they’re also cute, so that balances it out - a little.

Work:  Work is so annoying. And this is mostly because you deal with people. But it pays the bills and sometimes you even find some gratification in it. But if I win the lottery, I will be happily unemployed.

The cold: Ok yeah, we’ve been pretty lucky so far this winter, but sometimes I’m sitting in my house and I’m freezing my ass off. And then I ask myself- “hey dummy, why are you sitting here freezing your ass off when you have the option to use heat?!”  But seriously, I actually sit here sometimes and get angry that I’m cold. Told you - sensitive and cranky.

Douche-baggery: This phenomenon is pervasive in our society. From the guy that smooths his way into line at a concert like a creep, to the person who talks way too long about themselves on a conference call. And they are always fully equipped with stories about how awesome they are. My friends and I have had to coin a special phrase since this phenomenon has become so prevalent. Now, way too often we have to say “DBD” or “Don’t be a douche.” Feel free to use it as needed.

Social media: I have a love hate relationship with this one if I’m being honest. But then if I’m being even more honest, I hate myself because of how much I’m addicted to it. So apparently, I annoy myself.

People who sell items on FB pages for $2: And I’m not talking about a bunch of clothes or something practical, I’m talking about some crap that you can’t imagine ANYONE would buy and then SOMEONE buys it!! For example, a person that recently sold a decorative chicken statue thing on a FB page for $2. And someone scooped that crap up in a hot minute. First of all, no.  And second of all no, no, no. Just no. Stop transferring your crap around. And stop buying other people’s crap. It’s annoying. And yes, people are making fun of you. This was actually a public service announcement. You’re welcome.

So you see people, I’m a bit sensitive and cranky at the moment. But I’m really trying. I’m trying to live a “cleaner” life. I’m actively trying to treat my body better. My brain might be atrophying slightly as a result, but that’s ok, my jeans fit. It’s all going to be ok. And you all just helped me be a little bit better by letting me get it out. I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. And in 10 more pounds, I might just turn into an optimist. Ha, yeah right.

Thank you for your time.

Peace. Love. And sanity.

The best damn mom

On February 2^nd 2010, I became a mom without a mom. From that day forward I wouldn’t have the benefit of learning how to be a mom from my own mom, who was one of the best. And while I have always known how important this “mom” figure was in my own life, and how lucky I was to have the mom I did, nothing made it more evident than when I had to be a mom, on my own. When I had to look into the face of my then 8 month old daughter and tell her that I was going to try and be the best damn mom I could because I had one of the best damn moms there ever was.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve failed at the task of being the “best damn mom.” I am still taken aback by the fact that there are two little humans out there who, on many occasions, only want me. Me!? This is what it means to be a mom. You are that person. Their go to. And even though I was that way with my mom, it was, and still is very strange that I am the go to person for them. How am I your go to person? Sometimes I’m still that little girl that needs help from her mom. So how can I be a good mom for you?

I struggle with questions I would want to ask her about being a mom. For example, did you sometimes think we were the most annoying little beings on the planet? Did we always come to you for milk, water, a band-aid, a snack or really anything, even though Dad was also in the house? How about when we asked why you were throwing out our lovely artwork, which was really just us putting one line on a piece of paper? But I think I know the answer to that because she kept everything.

Do I feel cheated? Hell yes I do. And I feel like my kids got cheated. Of course they were cheated out of an amazing grandma, but also maybe I could be better, do better, if I were able to ask her questions. Maybe I could have more perspective. Maybe I would be able to practice more patience with them. Ok, probably not. But I certainly know I would have at least had some laughs from the stories she would have told. I didn’t get the stories. I was cheated out of the stories.

So the only thing I can do now is remember. I can do my best to remember how she raised us. How she gave us more love than we could handle. How she managed to be a mom and a friend wrapped up into one. How she taught us the importance of family and to always be there for one another. And I think we’ve at least been able to accomplish that. Any maybe one day I will be lucky enough to have my kids say that I am the “best damn mom” there ever was. But from where I sit, I have some really big shoes to fill.

To know that woman was to love her. And I am thankful I was able to call her mom. And I miss her every day.

Thank you for reading.

Live. Laugh. Love.

Talking smack about your kids is necessary for survival

I love my kids, but I will talk some shit about them all day long. And I don't feel like I need to say "I love my kids" because of course I love them, but some people don't get my sense of humor so I just like to reiterate. Recently I was actually thinking about how I could pull some Jessica Jones maneuvers if someone or something got between me and my kids. I mean, probably not, but I like to think I could. Let's just hope I never have to find out. In any case, the point is, I love my kids - fiercely. 

So back to the shit talk. They make me crazy on a daily basis. And that's pretty bad considering some days I only see them for about 3 hours. I have a very low patience level - which I probably should have considered a bit more before having kids. They manage to both amaze me and annoy me in the same 10 minute time span. One minute the young male child is happy, putting together a 46 piece floor puzzle and the next he's throwing a tantrum because HE wanted to open his Babybel cheese. Amazing! And then one minute my daughter is giving me some look like "something is definitely wrong but I'm definitely not going to tell you what it is," and the next she's happy as a clam, giggling and running around with her brother. Or, one minute all is going well and the next it's the apocalypse because someone took someone's something (insert - "it doesn't matter what because they're siblings"- here).

Oh and the fun doesn't stop there. They're also like tiny tornadoes. They move from room to room making a giant mess, and when you confront them they look at you with their little heads tilted to the side, like a dog when it's slightly confused. And then you kind of lose it and yell. Hopefully I'm not alone here! 

And we probably shouldn't get started on the whole food thing. What they're eating this week and, more importantly, what they're not. Or, having to show them how to eat. "Honey, you're almost 7, do you think you can try using that fork?" "Sweetheart you're 3, do I really have to continue to tell you NOT to shove the entire chicken nugget in your mouth at once?" And my favorite one lately, "The food stays on the plate and does not get placed around it!" I actually didn't know this was a thing - having to show them how to eat. I really thought it was instinctual or something. Clearly they're savages. (That's one of my endearing nicknames for them - my little savages.) 

I really could go on, but the moral of this story is that kids are nuts, and as such, they make you nuts. And sure, at the end of the day you get to reap the rewards of the snuggles, the kisses and the happy faces. But you definitely navigate some land mines to get there. And therefore, you should totally talk some smack about your kids to your friends and family. It's a survival technique that I promise will help you relieve some stress. You'll get to laugh, and as an added benefit, you'll refrain from strangling one of them.  And you should also absolutely reward yourself with some wine or something stronger like bourbon, vodka, scotch, tequila or grain (if it's serious) - or both. Probably best to go with both for safe measure. 

I feel better already. You?

Peace. Love. And sanity. 

Google that shit - and other basic advice

Hello you lovely people! So the advice I'm going to give you today is going to change your life, make you a better person and increase your circle of friends. 


Ok not really, but hey it was an intriguing intro, right? This really is some basic bitch nonsense right here so if you're not doing some of these, don't tell anyone, and just start doing them. You're welcome. 

Google that shit.
Ok, this one is my jam. All. Day. Long. For work. For life. For everything. And hopefully I'm not blowing up my heroine, big sister spot right now.  My sisters and I text a lot because it's easy for us to keep in contact that way considering we work and have 7 kids between us. And they often throw a question out there and I always answer. So while they may think I know right off the bat how long to cook a two pound turkey meatloaf for, sadly, I do not. I just googled that shit. And boom! I'm a hero. Well, not anymore I suppose. So if you are not doing this, start doing it before someone points you to lmgtfy.com - and then you feel like an idiot. 

Use a weather app.  
I have no less than 3 weather apps on my phone. You do not need the news, or anyone else, to help you in this situation. This is why they make apps - to help you help yourself. Here's a wonderful anecdote on using a weather app ( one of which comes delivered with your phone!) Me and my husband, who, for the purposes of this example, we'll call Channing Tatum; so yeah, me and Channing are standing in the kitchen at 6am, neither of us has been outside yet and I've barely had a sip of coffee. Both of our phones are on the counter and he looks right at me and says, "What's the weather for today?" Ummmm, well dear, maybe you can take a look on your phone just like I would, unless there is something wrong with your fingers? And then of course I get "the look" for not being helpful. But seriously, I am privy to no more information on this weather situation than he is right? So yeah, use your weather app. It's so easy! 

Posting on mom group Facebook pages can be a dangerous venture.
You've been warned here. Some of these FB groups are brutal. I've seen arguments go on for hundreds of comments just because a mom asked what a rash might be on her kid's ass. There are so many problems with this post for the various types of moms on these pages. They are offended by the butt picture, the detailed description of said rash, the fact that other non-doctor/nurse moms are chiming in with their thoughts and then of course there are several dozen moms who throw in the ever so helpful (as if the mom is a complete idiot) "go to the doctor" comments. So tread lightly my friends, it's rough out there. 

Vaseline is good for everything.
Now I know that coconut oil is presently saving the world, and of course you can eat it as well as use it to take off your makeup, but Vaseline is amazing stuff and I put that shit on everything. Hands and feet are dry and cracked? Vaseline overnight with some gloves/socks and you're good to go. Red nose from a cold - Vaseline. Your son who is 3 and has diaper rash because he refuses to poop on the potty? Yup, Vaseline. And when your young daughter comes in to tell you that it's red and hurts "down there". You guessed it, Vaseline. It's basic and it's awesome. Use it. 

Just because you can doesn't mean you should.
Now this one will require some self reflection and some deep thought. For example, just because I can get 50 pounds of almonds on sale at Costco does that mean I should? Probably not. Hey, my grill is perfect for smoking 20lbs of pork for the party we are having with 16 people. Should I? Nope. Damn my body is slammin' and I can totally wear this two piece, mid-drift bearing outfit to my friend's wedding! Well good for you and your awesome bod, but do I actually even need to ask the question? The answer is definitely no. No, you shouldn't. 

So there you go. Some extremely useful advice to take with you as you move forward in your day, maybe even your life. And you know what they say about teaching a man to fish. Oh wait, you don't? Well maybe you should go and Google that shit. 

Peace. Love. And sanity. 

Thanks for visiting!

-Basically Beth 

Work-life balance: Yeah, sure. No problem.

So, work-life balance. What the hell is that? And I don’t care if you work from home, go to an office, travel, or are a stay at home parent – all of that shit is work. And, it’s also your life considering how much time you spend doing it. So, how is this deemed “work-life” balance? It’s probably a concept that some corporate folks made up to try and make you feel better. (I should google the real origins, I suppose, but does it really matter where it came from?)  So in any case, here we are trying to navigate some kind of work-life balance when really that balance is just a see-saw with an elephant sitting on one side (work) and a feather sitting on the other (life). And with elephant in tow, we move forward. And sometimes you feel like you are doing really well in this work-life balance space. Everyone is happy and thriving, bills are getting paid, some splurges are being made and it’s all awesome sauce. And then this happens:

One day you go to pick up your then 5 year old daughter (she’s now almost 7), and there is a lovely bulletin board for Mother’s day hanging up with the theme “My Mom is…” And all of the kids have pictures up that they’ve drawn so nicely with flowers and whatnot and some of them read: “My mom is beautiful, ““My mom is a princess,” or “My mom is the best in the whole wide world.” And you look for yours with anticipation and excitement and yours says – “My mom is a worker.” Yup! A WORKER! And all of your hopeful thoughts about work-life balance go right down the toilet as you look for a corner to curl up in so you can cry like a baby. And the lovely director tries to console you as you stare in disbelief and let out some uncomfortable laughter and she assures you that no, that’s a good thing; she knows you’re a hard worker. Yeah ok. That is definitely not how it felt. It felt like a punch in the gut. But ya know what, you put your big girl panties on and move forward. And you hug that little apple of your eye and tell her that it is the best picture you’ve ever seen and you love it and can’t wait to throw it out, I mean hang it up, when you get home.

And there you go. Work-life balance. But listen, it’s not all bad right? I mean we work hard and our kids do see that. And we do it for them. Whether we choose to stay home or work outside the home or work in the home and send them off to school/day care! Whatever the case is, we are all working. And we are all trying to balance. And we all love our kids. But at the end of the day when they want something – because they ALWAYS want something – and you are exhausted, it’s ok to say – “I’m sorry honey but mommy is tired from working, commuting, running 100 errands, doing laundry, cooking dinner, giving you a bath, cleaning up and over-working her brain for the day. So if you don’t mind, my beautiful offspring, while I am happy to be close to you after this long day away from you, I’m going to sit here and catch up on the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills while you play Mine Craft, watch creepy Shopkins videos or play and try to not kill one another.” Mommy loves you. No really, she does.

Peace. Love. And sanity.

And thank you for reading this installment on the musings from my basic life.

Basically Beth Out! (Basic Bitch TBT)

Basic Bitch - The "married with two kids and a job" version

Hello people! My name is Beth, and I'm a basic bitch. Oh, and I'm also rather blunt. And maybe not the "basic bitch" Wikipedia definition (which I just googled) but I'm definitely basic. So it's not horrible, right? Just. Basic. I'm a mom, wife, employee, daughter, sister and friend. Basic. I go to the gym. Try to eat healthy. And many times I suck at those things. I like my weekend cocktails. I love cheese (but it's my gateway drug). And I love to cook but don't get to often enough because of "basic" responsibilities. But when I do and it looks good, I post that shit on Facebook! Ugh, so basic.

 I'm pretty good at my job. Most of the time. Sometimes I even like it. But I could probably be a professional bad-tv watcher if given the opportunity. 

And I consider it an accomplishment if at the end of the week everyone is alive and has one more pair of clean underwear (or diaper) for Saturday.  

Why am I here writing? Well because this basic bitch is trying to be just a little better. A little "more than". I feel like a lot of us want to be a little "more than", and I'm too tired to try and facilitate world peace. So, I figured I would just talk to you. I love talking to my friends but of course because of families and obligations and such, we don't get to do it enough. Again, basic. 

I hate saying the word "resolution" because it just never works for me. So for my 2016 I just want to get the thoughts out of my head and into the world (however small that "world" may be) so I don't lose my mind. And to see if I can't relate to some other basic bitches out there. It may not last and maybe no one cares but hey, if it makes me feel a little bit better I'll take it. 

So I have a lot to say, and hopefully through your ability to identify with some of it you'll find a laugh or two. Or not. But I'll try! Because sometimes shit is just too serious and sometimes when you're a mom and a wife and an employee, you don't get to hear your own voice and it's just kind of screaming in your head dying to get out. 

Here is to getting it out! Basic bitches unite! 


Peace. Love. And sanity.