High Fives and Cussing

You might be having PMS when you get to work after no sleep and you realize you left your delicious Christmas-y flavored coffee in the coffee press on your counter AT HOME, and you cry in the car. You actually lie your head on the steering wheel and you cry. Because of a coffee.
You might be having PMS if you’ve watched nothing but mushy love Hallmark Christmas movies for 24 hours and you decide that you need to date a harmonica playing barista. Preferably with his own coffee shop, but whatever, you’re not that picky.
You might be having PMS if the sound of ice swooshing around in your kid’s drink of water makes you want to MOVE. Houses.
You might be having PMS if your underwear keep sliding down inside your jeans and you have to keep reaching down inside the ass of your pants to jack them back up and you really want to punch someone EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
But you don’t punch anyone, because that would be wrong. You choose to wipe your tears, deep breathe, and know that tomorrow will surely be much better…a new day, with new underwear.
You stop crazy coffee crying and you strut your ass into work. On time. With cute hair. WHAT? Yeah, you rocked it, girl! You are damn impressed with your ability to get your shit back together.
You high five yourself.
You sit down at your desk and take a big ol’ drink of icy cold water to wash down some drugs, and the water does that sploosh directly out onto your face thing and even gets you in the maa effn’ eye.
Fuck it. I’m punching people.
Yours, with high fives and cussing.
Nicole xx

Take a nice long soak in my bath water

Today marks eight years since I’ve had my mother to talk to, and I so wish I could ask her what she remembers about the days when Barbie and I took a dip in her bath water…

 When I was a little girl, I remember getting into my mother’s bath water AFTER she bathed. I would play with my Barbies while she got ready to leave for work as a bartender, our face cloths laid out on the sides of the tub as beach towels, and the tub the Barbie’s ocean; I can still smell the Ivory soap and her Patchouli perfume, and remember how I longed for my cheeks to be bronzed and glowing like hers. Yes, she “highlighted” long before all the YouTube beauty gurus taught us how.

 As I got older, I realized I was basically bathing in the filth she washed off her own body, but at the time, it was perfection.

And then last night, I was soaking in my bathtub covered in bubbles, reading my wet puffed out book, and my daughter popped in to tell me three random riddles, because a peaceful bath is non-existent with children, and I am totally okay with that. After a far too lengthy discussion about why I cover my boobs with a cloth, and how she is not impressed with inheriting my nipples, she asked to get in my water, after I got out. At first I thought…oh Hells naw. I’ll run you a new bath. And then I thought…hmmm…my damn water bill has been outrageous, and it never killed me when I was little…so yes,  my sweet girl, you can hop on into my dirty bath water.

While she bathed – which included a full 360 naked spin with legs in the air – we talked about make up, and skin care, she told me funny stories about her friends at school (who are pure awesome), she razzed me about my dating track record, and she asked me to put her hair into braids for curls the next day –  and I wondered what my mother and I talked about when I was exactly my daughter’s age, taking a nice long soak in her bath water.

Today marks eight years since I’ve had my mother to talk to, and I so wish I could ask her what she remembers about the days when Barbie and I took a dip in her bath water. I cherish that time that I got to spend with her, just the two of us in the bathroom. My kids almost always come in the bathroom with me when I’m getting ready for work, or getting ready for anything really. My daughter swiping on my lip gloss, telling me my brows look super fly. My son complaining about how the hair spray makes him unable to breathe, and usually playing basketball in there at the same time. It’s not a very large bathroom and some days it drives me crazy to have all three of us crammed in there. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that those are our moments.

I hope you will take some time today to enjoy those little moments, my sweet readers. For, as they say, someday you may look back and realize that they were actually the big moments.