Gangsters, Pirates, and MILF's

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And So It Begins...School That Is

((This pic was on meet the teacher night, a few days before school started. I should have known then that kindergarten was not going to be a cake walk with him.))


I officially have a kindergartner. We are starting our third week of school and so far it is much better than the last two weeks. Most of you follow me on facebook and twitter and have listened to me cry and bitch because my kid cried for the first two weeks of school every time I dropped him off. It is not a fun way for me to start the day. It makes me sweaty, sad, and have anxiety and then I seriously contemplate chugging my bottle of Jameson at 8:30am in the school parking lot. Anyways...rather than bore you with the first day of school stories I am just going to explain things I witness and notice at school.

1. I love that our school is next to a Lee's Discount Liquor. And just a block away from that is Taco Bell. Seriously..prime fucking location for this school. I really am going to go into the liquor store one Friday night to see how many Pinecrest Academy staff members are pushing around carts full of booze. Fuck it...I'll buy a bottle for them. They deserve that shit.

2. I've known this for awhile, but fuck me, mom clique's are the worst. I would rather deal the bitches back in high school than the mom groups. I literally hang out with the dad group because they are mellow. Most don't talk at all. And there is no cattiness. Yea ho...I can see you giving me the stink eye from across the playground...don't hate because you're wearing a velour sweat suit and crocs and I'm rocking platform heels and skinny jeans..I will cut you.

3. Speaking of moms...some of them suck dick for skittles. There is one mom who is a stay at home mom ((listen not hating on staying at home, that is something I could not handle, but hear me out))...she has one kid, who is now in full day kindergarten and then goes to the after school program. And she is bitching because she just can't find the time in the day to get everything done. Yo, bitch...get off your ass, stop watching The View, and fold some fucking laundry. And DO NOT come to me with that shit...I work full time and raise a kid on my own with zero fucking help. Suck it up ho. ((Umm..sorry for the rant..kinda..not really..)) Because of this lady, I switched over to the dad's group. Thankfully, I have been accepted with open arms..and wide eyes. haha

4. I really do not like MOST other children. There are a few that are SO sweet ((one little girl told a new girl that she was beautiful this morning. I wanted to hug her)) However, most other kids are annoying and obnoxious.  Swear to Jesus if my kid acted like some of those kids I'd put him in military school starting now. Kids just running around and pushing other kids for no reason, screaming for no reason, talking back...hell no..I would put that shit to an end real fast. And of course, most of these kids have mom's in the mom group not watching them. Go figure.

5.  They should have a Starbucks (for all your coffee drinkers) and an energy drink stand at every school for us parents who stand with our kids and wait for the bell to ring. ((Bowen has a little separation anxiety so I stay like the good mommy I am)) I drink my energy drink..and by drink I mean guzzle...while listening to whiney, bratty kindergartners and their whiney, shitty mothers every morning. I mean, where is my incentive for doing the right thing and staying with my sweet, loving baby and not just handing him over to some random teacher while he has snot running down his face from crying and is bawling like I just pinched the shit out of him? WHERE IS MY INCENTIVE?! ((i know...peace of mind and good feelings and yadda yadda...but I still want an energy drink stand or something))

6. Random thought...how much trouble do you think I'd get in if I accidentally tripped the little boy who keeps telling my kid he is small? ((Seriously the kid looks like he belongs in 3rd grade and reminds me of the ass clowns in Billy Madison...you know "O'Doyle RULES"))

7. I honestly have no fucking clue what my kid does all day. He tells me absolutely nothing. Today he did tell me that he went to lunch and recess. Sweet. Glad I am spending so much money on lunch and recess. For all I know they are brainwashing him and he is joining the occult. ((Joking people, joking. It IS a charter school..but they aren't that cray))

8. Finally...I realize I have just begun. I mean...it is kindergarten. I have 12 more years of schools and moms and bratty kids. Therefore, if you would like to help me keep my sanity, please mail me bottles of Jameson and Crown. I also accept cash and gift cards where these items can be bought. K, thanks.

Skinny Jeans and Sweaty Balls

I hit 400 followers on Twitter yesterday ((Check me out.... @MsSarahHolmes)) so I asked my followers what I should do in celebration. One guy told me to write another blog. Which made me realize I have been slacking on my writing. So here we go....a little recap of the last few weeks...err months?

It is summer in Vegas so it is hot as fuck. I have no filter (haven't you noticed?) and I say, "It is hot as balls" all the time. I don't know how hot balls get, but from the way some of them smell, I am betting they get fucking hot and sweaty. Anyways, back on track, we walk out the front door one Saturday and Bowen says, "Man!! It is hot as balls out here!!!". It was fucking hilarious. Then I told him he can only say that around mommy...anywhere else he will get in trouble. He said deal..so far...no complaints about ball talk.

Bowen and I went to Target a few weeks ago to buy some school uniforms since kindergarten starts soon. While shopping for our khaki and navy bottoms the kid spots some royal blue skinny jeans. Now I used to say I'd never let my kid rock skinny jeans...but I have seen some guys in rock bands that make their skinny jeans look great (and their package too) so I said what the hell. We went to the dressing room to try all his clothes on. (A first for the kid) So he gets his skinny jeans on and looks at his ass in the mirror for five minutes. Seriously..he turned to the right and looked...turned to the left and looked...and then said he liked them. In fact, not only did he like them, he told me it made his junk look big. Trust me...it did not...but who am I to crush a young man's dreams?

The next day he decided he wanted to wear them to preschool. Of course I let him. Let's face it, I would let the kid walk out in mismatched clothes and a cape if he wanted to. So he gets his jeans on and sits down to put his shoes on and says, "Ohhh...there is NO way I can do circle time in these." Obviously they are tighter than he is used to. So I do what any good mom would do in this situation and suggest him not wearing underwear because they are tight up there. He looks at me like I am a fucking alien and says, "Mom...my butt crack would hang out. And my balls would get sweaty. That is not going to work." Needless to say, he wore shorts to preschool that day.

I know it is a boy thing to talk shit during video games. I get it, I respect it, and if I play, I'll talk shit too. I just didn't realize that it started at such a young age. One of my babysitters got Bowen hooked on playing Super Mario on the Wii. The other day he was playing the game and it was a constant stream of shit talking...except in 5 year old words. For example, "Oh yea Mario we are going to crush them...ooooohhhh I killed you, I killed you...that's right, move out of my way...oh yea, oh yea...I'm gonna beat you..." so you get the idea. He finally beat this level and then stood up, threw the controller on the couch, and did some pelvic thrusts while yelling, "Oh yea, I won!" After like five minutes of celebrating I told him to shut up. I got the reply, "Mom..I won..I am almost to Bowser's castle..chill." I can't wait to walk in on some COD shit talking...

Last night we went to meet his kindergarten teacher. He was not excited about this. BUT I bribed him with a happy meal. So we met the teacher and did all the hand shaking and checking out the classroom and bullshit. The school is literally 30+ minutes from my house and in an area I know nothing about.  So on the way home I go a different way back and after driving for ten minutes realize I am fucking lost. I just blurted out, "Where the fuck are we?" And Bowen, my lovely little child, rolls his eyes, sighs and says, "Well...this can't be good..."

And we will just wrap it up with some highlights of tonight's drive home from his last day of preschool. (Sniffle...last day of preschool) We always jam any time we are in the car. And he usually requests some pretty good tunes. Today I was skipping past songs and I listened to like .5 seconds of Make It Rain by Travis Porter. I normally don't let him listen to this song ((we originally heard it in H&M)) because it is pretty raunchy. I mean cuss words, fine whatever, but this is talking about dirty shit. So he says, "MOM...play that song..I SWEAR I won't say any bad words." So I warned him that if he did, he would get popped in the mouth and no games. We listen and towards the end of the song I hear, "Ima make it rain trick, Ima make it rain." THANKFULLY he asked for Slipknot next and I got to hear that angel baby voice sing Duality. Corey Taylor would be proud. (So if you see him, tell him I want to have babies with him)

So as you can see...not a lot has changed in the Holmes household. We are still crazy and I still cuss and for us, this is normal. Kindergarten starts Monday. I can't decide whether I get to cry because I'm a mom or whether I need to keep my shit together and be tough because I'm a dad too. I'll let you know how it goes.

Parenting Prep From A Pro

There is no way to really prepare for parenthood. I mean you can read all the "What To Expect", "No Cry Sleep Solution", "Dr. Spock" bullshit that you want to and you still won't be prepared. It is because those little energy syphoning midgets we call our children do not come with a manual. They don't have batteries we can remove or an off switch. And they certainly don't understand the don't-mess-with-mommy-she-is-exhausted/angry/sad/hungry/overworked-and-needs-a-moment moments. Oh no, those are the times they will choose to push every little button you have. Because they are kids. And that is what they do.

Bowen and I are ridiculously close. He knows when I'm in a funk and I can tell when he is in a funk and we kind of feed off each other. Really this sucks WAY more for him than me, because, well he has life EASY at the moment. Needless to say, when I am upset or depressed or pissed off or going through the break up of the century, he can tell and becomes this loving, but leech-like, baby of mine. So no, those are not hickeys you see on my body, that is where I had to literally unstick the child that has latched onto my side. (joking..there are no marks and def no hickeys) 

I am (finally) getting sort of out of the break up funk (we are not out of the woods yet, so brace yourself for another breakdown in the near future) and last weekend Bowen and I had a pretty good weekend for a change. Saturday we hung out at the pool for an hour or so, then decided it was too hot and we needed a movie afternoon. So we laid on the couch/bed and watched movies and ate shitty food. Well he ate shitty food. Then Sunday all the neighbors were out and we went to the pool for a more exciting pool day.

Then disaster struck.

I am laying out, chatting with everyone and Bowen was playing squirt guns and doing cannonballs in the pool with the other kids. PERFECT. So now you know some shit had to happen. I just didn't know it would be literal shit. All of a sudden I hear my son scream, "I'm gonna poop! I'm gonna poop!" I yell back, "DON'T DO THAT!!" and gracefully (ok not gracefully or sexily at all) ran to the side of the pool he was on and hoisted his 40-something pound body out. I tell him to start walking to the bathroom ((While he is holding his butt bc he is LITERALLY shitting himself)) while I run to get the bathroom key. 

It only got worse.

We get into the bathroom and I have to help him peel those wet swim trunks off. As I do, I literally catch his poop in my hand. For all the non-parents out their gagging, just you wait. You think it is awful, and really it is, but when it is your kid you just do it. You just go into beast/survival mode and do what needs to be done. And at that moment what needed to be done was me catching his poop in my hand so it wasn't all over the public restroom and get the kid on the toilet so he could finish. Did I gag? Hell yes. Was it something I never hope to do again? Obviously. But it is what it is. It happened...we were in the situation and the only thing to do was cope.

So after I scrubbed my hands for like 5 minutes we emerges from the bathroom and obviously I needed to take the kid home. He smelled like poo. And was a little embarrassed. So...as sad as I was to leave the pool party...we did.

Ok so we go home, he showers, I do poopy laundry and we are chilling. I decide to cook and he is playing games. Nice little Sunday evening at home. All of a sudden I see him RUN to the bathroom while yelling, "I HAVE TO PEEEEEE!!" Wtf. So he comes out and says he didn't make it in time and peed on the floor. SO again, I do what I have to do, and go clean up pee.

Normally this shit (literally) does not happen. He can wipe his own ass!!! It was just one of those weekends. Once all the potty issues were resolved we played like 29 games of Pop The Pig and watched movies and ate popsicles on the patio like we hadn't been in crisis mode only hours before. Ahh the joys of parenting. Bet ya didn't read these type of situations in your parenting books, did ya? Well I'm a straight shooter and I will tell you what parenting is really like. PLUS I find it HILARIOUS to see people's reactions to this and bring them back to reality when they discuss sweet bundles of shitting joy they plan on having. Insert evil laugh here.

The Blog About Not Blogging

When I was growing up I had this image in my head of what my life as an adult would be like. Of course I was going to college and then marrying some dude I met while in college or right after landing this dream job that I scored because of my amazing degree and having kids and being a kick ass mommy/wife/lawyer-teacher-writer-thing. ((I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, so I had to leave that open ended...also, yes, that was poorly abbreviated. Suck it.)) Obviously...none of this shit happened. Well I was a wife for a minute and I am a mommy, so that part happened, but really, my life is NOTHING like I thought it would be. So here is my blog explaining why I haven't been blogging so people can quit asking me why I'm not blogging. ;-)

In the last month Bowen and I have moved. At first I loved this place, now, not so much. There is something weird about it. It is negative. I need to smudge or cleanse this apartment ASAP because ever since we moved in I have been in a HORRIBLE funk. And by horrible funk, I mean really dark place. I know I am not really rainbows and butterflies, more like cusswords and sarcasm, but I have been not ok. I cry all the time now. And I am not a crier!! And this, my friends, is why I have not been blogging. No one wants to read some depressed shit about how I feel like my life is a train wreck and I don't know what I am doing. I just read that sentence and want to un-read, so yea.

Anyways, Bowen does not handle change well and I don't handle change well (according to my therapist at least) so we are both a fucking mess. And really any time I am sad or whatever, the kid picks up on it (bless his heart) and that doesn't make things any better. So I really need to get my shit under control because my baby is about to turn five and start kindergarten and I want him to look back on his childhood and not remember his mom being a depressed lunatic. I just want him to remember her being a lunatic. 

So aside from my house being some negative energy pit, I have also been trying to figure out wtf I am doing. I seriously thought that by now I would have more shit figured out. Instead, I am trying to decide how to pay for Bowen's school for the next year and what to do about daycare during school holidays and if I will ever get cable again and how to do a better job at work and if I eat a poptart at 10:30pm does it immediately go to my ass and make me gain a pound? Plus, I am on my own 100% out here suddenly and it is kicking my ass. Some days you need help...and on those days...I gotta be my own help. In fact, the therapist pointed out last week that I really am out here 100% by myself and without anyone to talk to because no one relates. And I LOVE my friends, they are truly amazing, but we aren't in the same boat, so they don't get it. I don't understand their situations either, so I ain't mad at 'em. And honestly, I wouldn't wish my situation on people, so yea. I am ronery...oh so ronery. ((TEAM AMERICA))

Please, for the love of God, tell me that at least one other parent (single parent preferably) that this is normal and I am not a complete moron/shitty parent. I am just a little overwhelmed and I know any day now my big girl panties will magically come on and I will power through everything. I usually work better under pressure. So I'm not really sure wtf the problem is as of late. I know it'll get better and I will be on my ass-kicking track again. I think it starts with the cleansing of the negative energy in here. Who is coming over to smudge? Tomorrow. We need to do it tomorrow. Any takers?! 

Anyways, I will get back on the blogging about the fact that my son asked me if douche was a bad word, then telling me one day that being a girl and having a vagina seemed cool, and that being the worst mommy ever then the best mommy ever in one day is seriously emotionally confusing. I'll be back to that folks. Just trying to get my shit under control. 

I'm So Vain, The Song Is About Me

I am one of those people who thinks they are prepared for everything. For example, the SAT's in high school...I thought I had that shit down and didn't need to study. I was wrong. And I have completely erased my terrible score from my memory. Or another example, taking care of babies. I thought I knew all about them since I was the oldest sister of four. My kid was over eating and puking for like two weeks when he was a newborn. I couldn't figure out what the hell was wrong with him, then I finally realized he just needed a binky (after my mom told me). Anyways, before we delve too deep into the plethora of shit I have thought I was prepared for, but really wasn't, let's just get to the point. I thought I was prepared to have no hair. I was wrong.

I have had a huge wake up call on this whole lack of hair thing. For two months I told people, "Oh it is just hair...it'll grow back." I even said, "It is a small price to pay compared to what these kids go through." And while I still honestly believe both of these things, I also truly believe I look heinous.

I am not a cute bald chick. I definitely look like a boy. Thank God I am seeing someone or my chances of getting laid would go from the previous (being the pre-Jeremy) 12% to, at the very least, -12%. But that is neither here nor there.

So funny thing happened....as I mentioned before in my last blog, the big man at the office, Dana White, made a huge donation of $5000.00. I finally ran into him and was wearing a wig and he was like..what the hell? So it took it off and showed him my bald head. He loved it. He hated the wig. He was super cool and told me that I had a great head. (I've heard this a few times. Wtf did ya'll think my head was going to look like? Caved in on one side? lol) Anyways, I told him that I felt like a boy...he told me I did not look like a boy and rocked the look (pretty sure he was playing with my emotions! lol) and if he didn't think so he wouldn't say that. Then told me how cray it was for him to shave his head for the first time. Anyways..he told me no more wigs. So..I walked outside and put my wig back on. I was embarrassed!! lol Then he came outside and told me to take it off. So I did! (You don't want Dana pissed at you.) More conversation came about and basically he told me he made a huge donation so he says he better not see me in a wig at work. And I couldn't argue at all. SO since then...no wigs at work. And it is SO hard!! lol (But then I was upstairs outside his office today and he told me that he liked to see the no wig look, then rubbed my head, so it is obviously worth it!)

This very same day that Dana got on me about wearing wigs, the movie My Sister's Keeper (the book was even more amazing btw) came on and as sad as it makes me, I have to watch it every time it is on. When it came to the part where the main character didn't feel pretty (as she was trying to pick out a dress for a dance) it kind of hit me that I was being a little bitch. I mean this is probably how thousands of girls feel!! So I felt super guilty and it kind of put things back into perspective.

NOW...I still really dislike my lack of hair and feel really self conscious. BUT I know it is going to grow back, so I am feeling better about it. I really didn't think it would bother me that much, but it really has. So I am definitely not as great of a person as everyone thought I was. When I start to feel like shit about my head, I remember all the little boys and girls who don't have a choice and are sick on top of everything else and think they look ugly....when really..they are the true heroes and most beautiful people ever.

On the positive side...on days like today when I wake up 15 minutes before I need to leave the house, the lack of hair really helps!! Also...I am saving a TON of money on hair products, cuts, and colors. Money that can go towards high heels. Which we all know I need more of.

Bald, But Not So Brave

I have started and stopped, typed and deleted, and opened and closed this blog about 16 times. I have been trying to do this for over a week now and it isn't coming together like I wanted it to. Writers block already and I'm not even a real writer. It is pathetic.

As you can see from the picture above, I am bald. In January I joined the St Baldrick's fundraiser in an effort to raise money to find a cure for childhood cancer. The incentive to donating money is that I will shave my head. People donated (Thank you all SO much) and I shaved my head. I raised $6,040.00 (HUGE shout out to Dana White for donating 5g's!! How awesome is my boss??) and the St Baldrick's fundraiser that I participated in raised $233,733.00. And that was just ONE venue in this HUGE fundraiser. So we did good.

I would like to say that I did something amazing. That it was inspiring and did some good. But I don't exactly feel that way.

This is how I feel....

I met my best friend in third grade. She came into my class wearing a hat over her bald head. I heard she had cancer, but at 9 years old I didn't understand it. I had no clue what white blood counts were or the immensity of chemotherapy. I just knew she was a cool girl who got to wear hats, had the best clothes, and was nice. This little girl changed my life forever.

Kayleigh was diagnosed with neuroblastoma at 16 months old. Most of your reading this are parents, so I want you to stop and think about this for a second. Imagine your baby at 16 months. Hell, imagine your baby now, whether they are 6 months old or 26 years old. What if that was YOUR baby getting diagnosed with cancer? I can't imagine. It pains me to even think about my kid having the flu, let alone cancer.

Anyways...the fact of the matter is...I spent summers jumping on a trampoline with her, played Barbies with her, and had so many sleepovers with her that I was probably at her house more than I was at my own. (Sorry Dori and Dan!! lol) She never once complained about being sick or tired. I never saw her cry or get mad about the disease she had. I never heard her say she was scared to die, or that she even might die. I never heard her talk about the fact that when she got older the chemo may have ruined her chances to have babies. Or even the fact that she might not live to see that day. I mean really? I know I complain any time I have a freakin' runny nose, this chick was taking medicine that is poison to your system, she didn't say a thing. She was brave. And amazing.

The St Baldrick's website always told us shavees that we were heroes...but in all honesty, we aren't. We are not heroes. We are raising money for a cause that needs it. We shaved our heads when thousands of little kids don't have a choice. These kids not only lose the hair on their heads, but their eyebrows and eyelashes. We had a choice. They did not. It doesn't make us brave or heroes to shave our heads...it makes us lucky. Lucky that we can do this. Lucky that we have choices like this.

Cancer is an awful disease. It is heart breaking to hear of anyone getting diagnosed with it no matter what the age. What is really awful are these innocent children who are diagnosed and have not even had the chance to experience life. I think about Kayleigh and how she missed out on junior high and high school, prom, finding love, having her dream wedding, and experiencing the amazing rush of holding your baby for the first time. Things that girls dream about from the age of three. She is my reason for shaving my head. She is the reason for raising money to find a cure for a disease that is stealing the lives of little kids who deserve a chance. Who deserve to see all of the things we take for granted.

Once again...thank you to everyone who donated. And thank you all for your support. I might sound like being bald is no big deal, but it has definitely been a big change. (I'll blog more about that eventually) And if anything, I hope this at least makes you stop and think for a few minutes about how lucky and blessed you really are. And if you have babies...send them a text, give them a call, hug them extra tight...because they deserve it and because no one is promised tomorrow.