Today’s guest post is brought to you by a seriously fierce and funny bitch who spends every day gazing into the dank abyss of celebrity and calling its denizens out on their bullshit. Please put your Internet hands together for the snarky, blarky*, and utterly fearless Megan of The Hollywood Sigh!
*Yes. I made this word up. Wanna fight about it?
Somewhere during my time as an adult, my life has become exceedingly ordinary. I had kids and bought a house and a minivan. I sit on the sidelines at football and baseball games, bake cupcakes and pies to donate to school bake sales, and host themed birthday parties that are best described as “Pinterest done barfed up in here.” I wave at my neighbors and make small talk with the mailman. I make holiday dinners even if they’re just for the five of us because our extended family is thousands of miles away. I keep house (poorly) and manage the lives of five people.
If someone had told me ten years ago I would be a stay-at-home mom with all the accessories stereotypically associated with the title, I would have laughed. Not because I find anything wrong with the traditional family dynamic — I truly believe in that whole “different strokes for different folks” thing — but because it didn’t seem like an avenue I would take. Sitting here a decade later, I’m still not sure I fit the mold… even though from the outside looking in, it appears that I’m sitting firmly inside it.
So what keeps me from feeling entrenched in the mundane — and often scoffed at — role I appear to play in my life? If we follow the “role” metaphor and say “all the world’s a stage; and all the men and women merely players,” I can say unequivocally that my life is a fucking gag reel.
I trip a lot. Sometimes over stuff, most of the time not. I run into walls regularly and fall off beds. I accidentally throw oven mitts down onto the heating element and start small fires. I’ll lift the beaters out of the batter before turning off the mixer. I’ll answer the door brushing my teeth and take the dogs to the groomers without remembering to take off my Crest Whitestrips. I’ll answer a call with “Ow! Fuck!” because I all but threw my phone at the side of my head trying to put it to my ear.
I have kids, three of them, and all boys. I am as flawed a parent as there ever was. I laugh when I’m scolding them. I’ve flipped them off behind their backs. Sarcasm and humor are rampant in our household, both of which occasionally backfire. I spend a lot of time hoping to Cheez-Its my kids don’t repeat things at school that they’ve heard at home. On my current prayer schedule is that no one answers a teacher’s question with the movie title “Showgirls” (don’t ask).
I’m THAT mom with the minivan — the one who pulls up next to you at a stoplight doing car choreography to ‘N Sync or forgetting to censor the word “fuck” as I sing along horribly off-key to the Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage.” Yes, I do take requests and no, I don’t care what you think.
Yeah, I do the Martha Stewart birthday parties but if you hit me with your pool noodle light saber, you can bet your eight-year-old ass it’s on like Donkey Kong, no mercy given.
I mentioned waving to the neighbors. I’ll also ride my five-year-old’s Big Wheel around the cul-de-sac while the lot of them are outside taking care of their immaculate yards or seeing their book club ladies off. (PSA: The seats on those things aren’t padded for shit.) I gloat loudly when I win at HORSE and will absolutely make noises to put you off your shot so you miss.
All of these things may seem in and of themselves fairly normal on the abnormal scale. I’m not claiming to be a special snowflake or to feel differently about my life or place in the universe than anyone else. I’m certainly not bagging on the ladies out there who don’t feel the need to counteract the content of their lives with a little absurdity because, while we all may be women, we’re not the same woman and truth be told, that’s probably a good thing.
Because I hate taking turns on the Big Wheel.
Megan is the site admin and primary contributor for thehollywoodsigh.com. She has an irrational fear of dinosaurs, a sweet ass minivan, and the inability to move without hurting herself. She has three sons and her hobbies include reading, writing, and having Taco Bell for dessert.