“It was an emotional wedding, even the cake was in tiers.” Cake, cake, cake, let them eat cake. Fuck cake man! I am one of those yes, the tiny percentage of people on this planet… More
Racers, please start your engines.
Now before you go and throw me in the typical redneck, white-trash, NASCAR loving, Tennessee bare footed gal stereotype- ah hell, go ahead put me there! It sounds like I would be surrounded by an interesting group of folks. I do love my NASCAR race and if they makes me TN white-trash, i’ll accept the title. Seriously though, I am not an aggressive driver & maybe since i’m not, car circle seems a little more dramatic to me than maybe the next mom.
Here’s my thing… wtf is the point in punching the gas to move up less than a foot in line & cut the old lady off who is patiently waiting & let’s about 20 cars cut line every single day. What happened to southern hospitality folks? Bless em.
This 2017/2018 school year has pretty much made me their bitch. I was, not anymore, spending literally majority of my day being a shuttle service for my kids all over Jackson just to get them all to/from school. Three different schools, three different kids, & only one household. Here went the run down of timing
7:15: Middle School- drive time from house 20 mins. (Closest Middle School with a Yes Program)
7:30: Elementary School-drive time from Middle School- 15 mins
ok, alright, I know your like pffff that’s not bad, what a whinny baby.
8:30: Pre-K- drive time from house 20 mins. (Closest Pre-K program to our house)
Return home drive- 20 mins.
Mornings weren’t bad, other than driving all over town when your not a morning person….sucks! Keep in mind, this was all prior to me going back to work. Fuck, I couldn’t work who would shuttle the kids around? By the time I made it back to the house, busted fucking ass getting all the chores done so I could actually make sure the real important shit always happened; let me break it down for you:
Priorities in our household for school nights
- A home cooked meal will be prepared & we will all sit down at the dinner table together & eat as a family (only exemption; Wednesday’s are cheer practice-pizza or hot dog night but still required to all eat at dinner table as family)
- Every Tuesday is family night (either a game; outdoor activity; movie night with popcorn; etc.)
- Bed-Time is at 8:00; 7:30 all three children are required to have “alone time” to wind down & stop bugging each other
- We alternate room each night but we all gather and pray together as a family & then individually tuck each child in afterwards
Those moments are treasured & held with the highest priority in our home. I didn’t have that growing up but damn I don’t see how anyone couldn’t just adore every moment like that with their children. I may have to be strict & be that mean ass Mom most the time to keep order, but in those moments I get to show them Mom isn’t so bad & show them love & attention.
Back on track. NASCAR CAR CIRCLES; afternoon schedule. Now this was the part that fucking really sucked.
1:30- Leave House – 20 min drive- Middle School – wait fucking forever just to get close to the school because people sit there for fucking hours just to be in the starting line up of the chaos, fuck that. Then wait on the Yes teachers to walk my son out to my car. Most days I would be blocked in my the buses cause of the shitty parking layout & lack of observation that this shit was planned poorly.
who the hell knows what time I left Middle every day- Drive 20 min. to elementary school. Would wait almost 45 mins. because I did not have the time to make it all the way home & drop off Chase & pick up Lex in time. 45 mins in the car with my autistic son, not moving, oh he’s also a teenager so hes angry, a lot for no reason made the wait tense. Usually made it threw line about 3:45 leaving me with damn choice but to drive like a NASCAR driver because if I didn’t, Tater would of been moving into the Pre-K because I’d never make it there. Arriving back home around 4:30. FUCKKKKKKKK all that running.
Took us all the way til October but here was the solution:
Mommy got a job!!! Took months to get it in the works but the special needs bus drives all the way to our house and picks Chase-a-roo up. Downside, he has to be loaded on the bus at 6:00 a.m. He’s not feeling that so much but he loves riding the bus. win/win with a tiny downside. Lex rides the bus. Pick-up at 7:30 Of course they dont offer transportation for children under the age of but I drop off Tater on my way to work (i get to work an 1/2 an hour early; oh the fuck well its better than all day NASCAR). John is home to greet Chase off the bus, they run grab Tater to make it back home just in time to greet Lex off the bus in the p.m. Hell Yes, NASCAR season came to an end for the Davis household.
P.S. – also let me fill you in on the interesting things that happen thru out 2017/2018 car circle for us
- I hit a rooster. Yes, this school is in the middle of town & i have never seen any kind of foul/birds/wild game ever in that part of town
- Trunk caught on fire on the infinity
- Trunk caught on fire a second time on the infinity
- Smoked out the whole damn car circle from the massive amounts of smoke rolling from under the hood of the infinity
Yes, we are currently in the market for a new ride. I’m pimping a rental. Mommy is loving the amazing ass gas mileage on the Hyundai. Woot! Woot!
Stay tight to the wall when taking curves & may the force be with you.
“You know you’re a mom, when you totally understand why Mama bear’s porridge was cold”
The 411 so you’re not reading some creepers blog you know nothing about
“Ain’t no drama, just a loud & proud cheer mama!”
Surviving the sass 101
“Sugar & spice & everything nice; that’s what little girls are made of.” HA! That is the biggest crock of shit ever. Yehhh, maybe while they are sleeping. You may believe this is a true statement. Do you by chance have the title of cheer mom on your many alias’? If you do, you already know. If not, let me enlighten you. Most little girls have sassiness running in their veins, I think they are born like that. There is an epidemic of the sass level raising in your child by like a million percent. Cheerleading. Cheerleading will take your already sassy thang and transform them into professional sassy-na-tors. You must prepare yourself for the transformation. Yes, Mom’s this means you have to step up your own game and raise your level of sass into overdrive or you will have met your match & there is not enough wine in the world to help cope with out of control sass.
Being a cheer Mom rocks! It’s an open door to all different styles of Mommy’s to have a chance to really enjoy it. The overachiever mom can multitask and plan everything down to snacks for competition day to making practice charts for home to make sure she gets enough practice in to accomplish the perfect herkie. The underachiever mom (raises hand) can barely make it to practices on time & hoot & holler at competitions as long as she gets her cheerleader to the coach or a member on the team before they have to hit the mat. Myself, I prefer to sit on the sidelines & let her coach do her thang. Lex is a competitor. She always strives to outdo herself. If my husband keeps the boys for cheer competitions and practices, I find a spot away from all other human beings in the stand, relax until it’s time for her to perform, go get seats close to the floor when it’s go time, scream my ass off because i’m the proudest Mama there (yes, we all think that) until I lose my voice, tear up because she is such a good sport & is supportive of her teammates, & after awards load her up, feed her good, & 9 out of 10 times she snoozes for the rest of the day. Shit, I’m a Mom of three…. if she’s got this, I’m going to take some chill time cause if you don’t snatch it when the opportunity shows up, you lost out on that one & maybe in another 5 years you might get another chance. Of course, this doesn’t apply to you Mom’s that have a great support team like Granny’s, Aunts, Besties, & babysitter’s. You are the few, the proud, the elite, & let me be the 1st to say “YOU GO GIRL!” Our support team consists of….maybe my Mother one night a year…& she usually calls 1/2 way thru the night…”uhhhh something came up, my forgot I had a spray tan appointment”; “At 11:00 pm at night?”; “uh huh, sorry honey I just can’t put this off, how soon will you be here? Don’t forget to swing by the ATM & get me cash. LOVE YOU!” I know i’m not alone, so for all the other Mommy’s who know the fucking feeling, stay strong, they might go to college or get married & move out one day, then you & your hubby might get a date night.
Have you seen a pattern with my post? I can’t keep on topic for shit!
disclaimer: Sass may not only increase with your athlete, cheer moms can construct the S-Virus. If this happens, they may become intolerable.
So you make a cheer mom friend the 1st month of practice. Your thinking sweet, we can carpool, we can drink wine & bedazzle shit while our kids keep each other occupied, & we can sub for one another if the other just fucking doesn’t feel like dealing with society today.
Then you start noticing chances in your new cheer mom friendship that aren’t so fabulous….like …actually i’m just going to jump to the only thing that really grinds my gears…. YELLING AT MY CHILD. Sorry, not sorry if you are that mom that does that but chill the fuck out, they are kids. You are forreal being a bully & teaching your child its all about the win instead of teaching them to never give up & always try harder. So far, I have NOT had to call my husband to bring bail money, but I’m sure if you continue to follow my blog, I’ll title that post “Told ya so”. & oh my, when two cheermom-ster’s go toe to toe. Shew, you would think these heifers have been training for the UFC. I wont lie, I watch! Save the drama for your mama, but who says mama can’t at least get ring side seats to pass the time with someone else’s dramatic hissy fit?
Before we joined a cheer team, Lex was a dancer for 4 years (lyrical, hip-hop, jazz, tap, & contemporary) I’m sure this next statement is not true for everyone but “Dance Mom’s” the show, no no no no, not where we were. Those ladies were the shit! No drama, helped one another, laid back but still worked extra hard, & got together to have a few drinks at nighttime at the hotels during the competitions. They were nothing like the “Dance Mom” show. Cheer Mom’s gone wild, like I have witnessed in the last two years….they are vicious! They would crew up those “Dance Moms” on tv and spit them out & then make them pay a clean up fee. #savages
Needless to say, whatever floats your boat, do that. I don’t give a shit, what you do with your time & if it makes you happy & you feel good about it, who cares what anyone else thinks. DO YOU. but…but… if your style of “cheer mom” brings even a watery eye from sadness, disappoint, embarrassment, or any negative emotion….all I can say is “bless your heart” because now you have no choice but to be introduced to my opinion on how I feel about the situation & I will recommend buckling up, the ride will be bumpy. I know 99.9% of Mommy’s feel exactly the same as I do, You don’t mess with my babies. Nope, I don’t like to unleash the beast, but there is no other option when it comes to my whole world, those three kiddos.
If the sass is strong with your one, may the force be with you.
“May your coffee be stronger than your toddler.”
Grounded at the age of four
Go ahead and pack his bags and call Maury Palkovic, this little tiny sized bad boy needs some “get right” in his life. We all get a warning about “terrible twos”. Then you survive that, and all those same Mommy friends are like “ohhhhh no girl it’s not the age 2, it’s terrible three’s”. Your thinking to yourself you need new Mommy friends cause these are bullshiting you. Hell, I even began to question my sanity, they are just fucking around and making me stress about a whole year just to get some giggles. Nahhh, they wouldn’t do that…or would they?
I even had an advantage, cheat code to parenting tips….so I thought. I’ve spent the last ten years of my employment history as a Director for an Early Education Center. I was working with age groups that ranged from 6 weeks – 11 years. I thought I had the upper hand. HA! Karma’s bitch ass showed up and was like “all your tricks and that high dollar education you’ll be paying off for the rest of your days wont help your ass one damn bit. Good Luck SUCKA!!” Give me almost any other child in this world that I didn’t give birth to and I can do miracles with. Now with the three that belong to me, i’m doing good to get them to get out of bed in the mornings, on a fucking weekend….at 2 p.m. FYI: My sailor mouth was not operated during business hours. After ten years of customer service, let’s just say that’s to thank for my curse word daily usage to triple.
Ok, back on topic. This trouble maker I got, shewwweee. I just knew karma would atleast cut me a break after surviving the toddler stages with two prior children. SMH, you already know where this is going. I barely, no joke, barely survived my daughter’s toddler days. The rollercoaster of emotions had me to the point of no return of ever regaining sanity. Let me give you a little background information on Justin Alias: Tater. He went from being such a caring, well mannered, easy peasy lemon squeezy child to wreck-it-raplh over night. I mean, age two-easy; age three-walk in the park; age four-Baby boot camp needs to come get his little tail right the hell now. I’ll just let you use your imagination on the multiple incidents that led up to the one week grounded from literally EVERYTHING, the week of the most extreme case of boredom any little boy has ever experienced.
I have one word, that is every parent of little boys biggest fucking enemy….
a construction toy consisting of interlocking plastic building blocks.2. Sudden death if contact to bare feet occurs
FUCK LEGOS MAN! I throw them away every single day of my life. If I see one in the floor, directly to the trash it goes. Well here’s the thing about legos, they are like magically objects that multiple and implant bad ideas in your child’s head to never pick them up after they are done playing. Oh, and to also make sure to leave them right directly in Mommy’s path to the bathroom in the middle of the damn night, cause that seems like a great choice right? I automatically turn into the tasmanian devil the moment my foot touches those evil things. I tried banning them from the house and of course and the next birthday party fucking Grandma buys a 10000 set for each kid just because she thinks shes spoiling them. Ugh! Come on now, i’m not going to take them from them after they have been gifted by super granny. Inside my brain, a amber alert to be on the look out for feet destroying minions will be in the facility for the next 6months. Let me say this as nicely as possible, again, FUCK LEGOS!
Every parent has totally different techniques and focal points when it comes to their parenting career. Everyone has their pet peeves so no two Mommy’s hardly ever have the same exact routine or rules. In the Davis household, rooms can be played in and get messy but MUST be tidy before bedtime. Toys are only allowed in children’s room’s, play room, or outdoors. I can forward you the disclaimer and contract I made them sign for said rules. JK JK No need for a contract in writing, I wear the crown in this hizzy.
Truthfully, this was a rant about my hate for legos underlined with the reminding factor that my preschooler is needing a come to Jesus meeting about how things work. My husband texts me at work the other day informing me Tater is grounded for an entire week for EVERYTHING. I spent the rest of my work day pondering what the hell kinda ruckus has my son created but I dare not ask, I knew I had to accomplish something at work and not stew all day on Tater’s latest mischief making decision. Unfortunately, there is a no “adult word” policy at my new career path either. It was in my best interest to get the 411 after arriving at home.
It’s been a month long struggle with Tater, of trying our hardest to find which direction to go with him when it comes to declipine. He had gone straight King Kong on his bedroom, like toys-r-us exploded inside that cluster fuck of a room. After time and time again of warnings, time-outs, previous groundation from certain things, and many of those cliche “blazay, blazay” lectures. The messy room thing may not be a big deal to some but when you have had this rule in place for years and not once had an issue with him getting this chore done, this is a code red. Taking care of your things and respecting your parents/elders are two key points we make sure our children understand are very important life lessons that help them grow into respectable adults. On top of the down right breakage of the rules, talking back has become his instant go to when reminded of his responsibilities. Pshhh, Mommy don’t play that!
One week (including weekend) of being grounded from toys, tv, ipads, any electronics, and no candy rewards for completing chores. Only thing this boy was allowed to do is homework, coloring/drawing, or go outside & play. He has been bored out of his damn mind. I don’t get today’s generation. I lived to play outside. This child has gone outside three times in a week to play because his father & I made him!!!! Of course he has a blast once we get him past the threshold of the mysterious backdoor leading into the wild unknown, called the back yard. SMH.
He survived, despite severe technology deprivation and temporary insanity due to extensive boredom. Hopefully, we can mark this one in the record books as lesson learned. Make good choices, get rewarded; make bad choices; consequences WILL follow. We have to go thru this will all of our kiddos, some easier and short lived and others long and drawn out and harder than Harvard’s exit exam but we survive. Its rewarding knowing you are helping mold their values and goals for the future. They are each their own so incredibly original and different persons. How fucking lucky I am to be able to watch my little loves develop into what they truly are meant to be.
In conclusion: Things could’ve been so much worse or this may just be the start of my journey with Tater and the road of making bad choices. The beauty in it all is I will never give up on being their Mommy. I will never not give it my best. I will always & forever be dedicated to being on their team. If you are struggling with behavior issues with your child, never forget, you may feel like you totally are failing and not making any progress, shut that shit up because Rome wasn’t built in a day. Just never give up on them, they need you, even though they have no clue they do. Remind yourself, your fucking amazing and grateful to be their Mom and start the next day anew and make it your bitch!
may the force be with you.
Perfectly Dysfunctionally Normal
I have come to find myself following the masses of “bloggers”, just like I said I never would. The reasoning behind the soon to come madness and hysterical entries is point blank and simple, only this kinda shit happens to our family. Public service announcement: if you’re one of those prim & proper, judgemental, PG rated mothers, you are reading the wrong blog. You’ll have your patnies in a wad before you finish this sentence. No judgement though to all you by the book, house-wives of “whatever county you live in”, kudos to you for being able to be that type of role model for your children. That’s fabulous. As for me, and many other mommy’s out there (i know I can’t be alone) Fuck that! I can’t handle being a full time alarm clock, chef, maid, taxi service, full-time employee, wife, teacher, referee…… holy shit, I can’t even begin to finish the list of titles I obtain on a daily bases without running to the liquor store for reinforcements. Yeh, yeh, I know you reading this are adding your own titles to the list. It’s exhausting ass shit being mom!
Let me tell ya’ll something though, even though my eye-brows look like caterpillars who were exposed to radioactive waste because pampering myself isn’t on the schedule and I can’t tell you the last time I went to the bathroom without little hands sticking under the door, I ADORE MY BABIES!!!! Being Mommy & Wifey are the best titles I’ve ever/will ever have in my lifetime. Hands down, my soul purpose in life. I may not keep my cool 100% of the time, or show up for ANYTHING on time, and I probably will drop at least 15 F-Bombs before breakfast, my babies & my husband will always be taken care of by yours truly. There are no such thing as the unicorn they call “sick days for mommy.” I may bitch about all the task I have on my agenda but hearing “I love you mommy” at the end of the day when all the chores are done, melts my heart into a fucking puddle over and over again, each day.
Oh, excuse me, where are my manners (yes, I do have them and know how to use them.) Hello, I’m Jennifer Davis! I share my wonderful home with my extremely amazing hunk of a husband John, my typical rebellious, tech-savvy, “my parents aren’t cool anymore”, totally fantastic 13 year old son, Chase aka Chase-a-roo, my know-it-all, sassy, little but fierce, mean as hell, extremely hard headed, beautiful, ELITE cheerleading 8 year old daughter Lexis aka Lex, & my dinosaur loving, lego stashing, non-listening, old skool country music loving, 4 year old son Justin, aka Tater. Oh hell, I almost forgot we are technically Davis, party of 5 & 1/2, we have our old ass, toothless, 14 year old, heinz 57, K9 companion, Loletta Chakeeta aka Lola.
So the post to follow this opening teaser will be jammed packed with the crazy ass adventures we experience on a daily basis plus my non sugar coated, definitely not for the faint of heart opinions, and many of the juicy topics we all bitch and moan about but need that reassurance that we aren’t the only one. No worries ladies, you’re not the only one wearing keds waiting for the day you get to live on easy street and slide on some magical glass slipper or some shit.
Til the next time,
may the fucking force be with you.