A Confession, Ann Lamott, Asshole Republicans, and a Blood Prerequisite

Hello Blogisphere, 

I'm going to break the ice with a confession: I'm no blog virgin. I've been around the proverbial blog block a couple of times, but my perception of them has always been off. I thought I had to have grade A photographs and lengthy posts in order for them to be appropriate for public consumption. Truth: I don't like living behind a lens and I don't always have time for lengthy. But I do have snippets. And besides, blogging is trendy. So I'm back and mama got herself a brand new name! 

Wildly, Messily, Marvelously. A few years ago I stumbled across a quote by Ann Lamott. I have no effing clue who Ann Lamott is, but apparently she is the author of this quote, which makes her pretty B.A. in my book. So... The quote: "We begin to find and become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who we were born to be." 

So this is me. My fast and dirty blog, constructed wildly, messily and marvelously. Enjoy it. 

My first little nugget of wisdom for the day...

I'm a mom. As such, I butt heads with my kids. My girls are 2 and 4 (aka evil and calculatingly evil). Of all the mother-daughter duels, one of the most frequent is about... wait for it....














Band Aids. 

If you are a kid, and you get a band-aid you can call it a day. Just throw on some footie pajamas and get back in bed because you're day will not get any better than it already is. 

So yeah, band-aids weigh heavy on my girls' minds. Pretty much any time they think of a band-aid, they want one, and they have lots of triggers. A commercial. A dream. A puppy. A waffle. A pool. *Insert Random Noun Here*. But the biggest trigger? If their sister gets one. If one of my daughters hurts herself and needs a band-aid I better HOPE that the other one does, too. 

So yeah, band-aids kind of turn my kids into little Republican assholes. And if your kids are the right age, you know what I mean, because I'm pretty sure band-aids turn EVERY kid into an asshole at some point or another. It's okay, I found a solution. 

Blood prerequisite, baby!  Oh, you're hurt? That's unfortunate. You want a band-aid? Sure, where's the blood? Aw, no blood? Okay, well just a kiss then. BAM. Even baby Republicans can't argue with that logic. So far, this method has cut our tantrums by about 25% which I view as a major success. So go ahead, tell me I'm a genius and report back when your band-aid woes are miraculously cured.

WARNING: This theory has yet to be applied to little boys. DO NOT put it past the little hellions to go ahead and MAKE some blood just to get that band-aid. This is why I'm glad I only bore sugar and spice (with just a side of asshole).

Have a nice day :) 

-T