The chickens have come home to roost OR Italians love with hate

One of the wonderful things about writing a blog is that it is incredibly therapeutic for me. I have always used my writing as a means of processing my thoughts and the things that happen. And of course, laughing heartily at myself and the absurdities of motherhood.

That said, I actually forget others might read this blog... really. I assume sometimes I am just writing, but like so many of my students in the upcoming generation learn the hard way- the interwebs, she is PUBLIC. Even if you set things as private or approval only they can find you and read your blog. And it may be a stranger. Old stalker ex. Student with no boundary understanding... or YOUR MOTHER.
Crap.
So.... I have a tendency to forget that my mother is increasing her skills as a interwebs user. She's on here, folks. Be aware. And likely reading this right now with that thin-lipped disapproval I love so much.
Hi Mom!
What this blog is about is that yes, I say (er, well WRITE) and then think often. I put my foot in my mouth so many times I often forgo shoes to make it easier. Still, nothing on this blog is EVER meant to harm or upset anyone. Yet, it will. And this is life, ladies and gentle... er, guys.

My phone conversation with my mother, at which time she revealed that she did, in fact, READ MY BLOG (yikes) was fairly awkward. I sweated. Then I explained it all very simply to her. It goes like this...

Mom- You mentioned me a few times. BLAH BLAH BLAH ( I say this not in disrespect but as truth- I only heard the sound Charlie Brown's teacher makes. I was thinking OHJESUSOHJESUSOHJESUS).
Me (articulately)- Uh... uh... what blog?
Mom- thewholemotherload
Me- Oh, well, gee... BLAHBLAHBLAH...(no idea what I said. Then this nugget of gold.) Mom, you know Italians love with hate.
Mom- What? What was that?
Me- Yeah, I always say, Italians love with hate.

It really is true and a little sad, but thank JESUS it is funny because she cracked up! 40 plus years married to my beloved father and she had never thought of that.

Phew. Crisis averted. I think.

Crap I hope she likes being featured in my blog.

Ah well. Enjoy your time in the spotlight, Ma. Trust me, the girls are doing crazy things as we speak and it will only be a matter of time before I write all about Potty Training, Sex Education for young girls and why lady parts are named many odd things. Until then- have you called your mothers lately?

lots of LOVE!
- Amanda

Mothers are very distr- HEY STOP TOUCHING THAT!!!

Hello, readers!
   So, I wanted to talk for a moment about how distracted mothers are on a constant basis. We women have, as the meme I liked so many times on facebook says, mentally about 2400 plus browsers open AT ONCE!!! Double that for a Mom. Sorry, I won't speak for Dads. I cannot. I a MOM. Have you read the name of my blog???

So anyway, I am a teacher as well. I am a writer, clearly (tosses unwashed hair over shoulder lamely)). I am promoting my new book that is hopefully decent. Amazon- Nora Waite. Check it out! I am also the resident maid, laundress, cook, hairstylist (but not my own. weird) and etc. Thank GOD for helpful men who have evolved from caveman brain or I would never accomplish anything. And... my house is messy and laundry is clean, not folded. You take the good, you take the bad... sing on your own time.
  Still, I have several blogs going. Only this one is partially going, the other I promised I would do. Well, I challenged my co-teacher in a BRAVE manner like I am awesome and he has routinely showed my shit up. He is much more regular and interesting than me. Plan backfire! Plan SUCCESS! I cannot decide. His blog is pretty great. He had also blogged previously so neither of us were newbies. I love to challenge myself. I struggle with the finishing part. Secretly just like my children in that regard. SIGH

So anyway, I often remark to people... usually people I know. Uh. At least I hope they are people I know. Otherwise I am just like my own mom and talking to random strangers crazy enough to make eye contact (or open the door to JWs! haha). NO. NO. I am pretty sure I know the people usually. Anywho.... I always remark that mothers rarely finish a sentence.

And thus, dear reader-friends, why I blog. I can be a comedian here and turn a shitty moment into a kaleidoscope of thrills (read my post from last spring about a terrible poop experience). I can rant on and on and don't have to make sure my husband has not fallen asleep while I am talking. I can be this other, more fun and in my mind, yes if not attractive then at least clean, ME.
I heart words. and blogs. and YOU for reading.
WHEE!

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twitter- @apminaker

I am not perfect and neither are you

So here it is... Not a rant, but a wake up call. I am a chubby mom. I am apple shaped and it could be worse. For some reason I cannot name- ok, I could but I don't have time this morning as I get ready- I have learned to hate the way I look. It has taken me almost 36 years to hate myself, starve myself and obsess every minute and then in the last few years since children learn to reverse the loathing. 

When I looked like this at 18, I hated myself the most. The thinner I got, the angrier I was that I was not thinner- and let's face it, starving yourself does not send you to nirvana. However, this happy memory was tainted with how unfinished I was as a person and how desperate I was with longing. I haven't hit nirvana yet but here is me now, days from my 36th birthday. Twice the time, twice the experience. Marriage and kids, degrees and less travel than I would like but still- this face says I have lived.

As a mother to three girls, I want them to NOT self-loathe. They need to put themselves together and be ready for their chosen professions but try don't have to be Gisele-beautiful for me to be happy with them.

Oh, of course not, you think.

Uh huh. So why do you expect yourself to attain that status? Why are we women striving so damn hard to be supermodels? You are not 17 anymore? Stop trying to look that way! Let it go a little and enjoy becoming a person with wrinkles and a grey hair in your eyebrow you cannot explain. I am not saying be unhealthy but I am saying please be more realistic. Driving yourself batty over the pounds you must lose does not communicate to your daughter, sisters, friends that you care about WHO you are, but rather HOW YOU LOOK. Sorry, Ford Models probably wont be knocking. It's ok. Let it go.

  In defense of Gisele- that girl is gorgeous and admitted in a photo it takes a team. It is her JOB to look that amazing. We buy her magazines and secretly wish to look like her yet I hear lots of hate press about her. "Who does she think she is?" This is where feminism comes to die, my friends. Not in a song a guy sings  about good girls toying with sexuality but in our cruelty to one another. 

  We women are a force! We go to work with raging cramps and get it done, for less pay than others. We have babies and then proceed to raise human beings with others or alone.

  If we stopped buying in to the physical stereotypes and catty teardowns, what else could we accomplish? Woman president? More peace, less war? It is endless possibilities.

Every day you get up, look in the mirror and make a choice. Don't discard all personal hygiene- not my point- but are you only getting ready for someone else? Are you driving yourself crazy and no one expects you to look like you think they expect you to look? What is happening while you are cruel to others and yourself? Are you missing out on the authenticity of life?

It is a brief time we get. I choose to stop hating myself and be a kick ass teacher. It will make me a better wife/mother/ human.

That is what I believe. What do you think?