I am not the girl in a country song...and neither are you, most likely.

I love country music, and I have ever since I was a little girl. Recently, I realized that I have so much country music downloaded, that if I combined it all, it would make a six hour long playlist that spans three decades. I also love the new music, even the music that was portrayed in blogger Grady Smith's 2013 viral video, "Why Country Music Was Awful in 2013". In April of that year I listened to Florida Georgia Line's "Cruise" on repeat for three weeks straight, no joke. I think Jake Owen probably wrote the best descriptor of sexual tension ever made in his song "Beachin'"("It's a hundred and three between her and me and only ninety-two in Daytona"), and seriously, it doesn't really even need to be stated, but I love me some Luke Bryan.

Until today, I never thought about the fact that it might be an unrequited love, but now I'm certain: country music does not love me back. I usually turn on my itunes radio while I'm getting ready in the morning, and while I was putting on my makeup today I noticed that the last three songs I'd been listening to referenced "tan legs". Right in a row, three unrelated songs by three different artists talking about some chick's hot tan legs. And that's when I realized, I am not the person being sung to in these ballads. Imagine my shock! I had been singing along with these tunes and not one of them was singing back at me or women like me. Although there are numerous references to blue eyes, not one song mentions pale legs or freckles, and most are not aimed at brunettes (unless they are "señoritas" and therefore have the prerequisite tan legs). They don't sing about how their woman's intelligence turns them on, and they don't sing about tall girls. This is not the only way I don't fit into the country music stereotype. I can't bait a hook. I am a terrible (and I mean seriously terrible) shot. I have worn heels to a pasture party. More than once. I cannot tan at all, I only burn. And I can't shoot whiskey (thanks, Carrie Underwood, I'll have another mojito now). However, that was the first time I have felt disconnected from the music that formed so much of my youth and heritage.

Photo Credit: Tammy McGary

I remember I laughed so hard when I first heard Maddie & Tae's "Girl in a Country Song" a couple months ago. I got the giggles because it points out how similar all the new music is in a way I hadn't ever noticed. That song is ballsy (and no, the irony of that descriptor is not lost on me). Both those girls are tan and blonde, so it would seem that even the girls who do embody the typical country song muse are getting a bit tired of the stereotypes. I understand why they exist, I can't imagine that a song about a pale, freckly, smart brunette who sucks at hunting is going to be a number one hit in this genre (unless it's written by funnymen Brad Paisley or Blake Shelton). What I can say for the bro country music is that these guys know their target market, that's for certain. I don't mind not being the girl in the country song. I resigned myself long ago to the fact that I'm never going to look like Barbie, and that's okay, but I do have a problem when musicians start leaving all the artistry out of being country music artists, and sticking mostly to the business side of the music industry by writing formulaic songs.

Part of the problem is that these songs don't ring true, because most of these guys are actually married, and so they are no longer on the prowl for these elusive tan-legged beauties. I love the pictures painted by the bro country music because I've lived them. I've been on those tailgates and down those back roads. That part is widely identifiable for anyone who spent their youth in the South, but there are more things in life to sing about than just hooking up with the farmer's daughter and dancing in the headlights. Fewer songs like Brad Paisley's "I Thought I Loved You Then" are being written than about the more exciting (but much more short-lived and shallow) beginnings of a relationship. One artist who usually defies these norms is Tim McGraw, and yes, I know he's been around for a while, but there's a reason for his longevity. He may have made his fame with songs like "Don't Take the Girl" and "Something Like That" but he also sings about more taboo topics like abortion ("Red Rag Top") and he sometimes sings about <GASP!> getting older, ("My Next Thirty Years", "Live Like You Were Dying"). This is a versatile artist whose music spans the wide range of emotions in the human experience. I'd like to hear more musicians branch out beyond the temporal pleasures of youth. No matter how many records those songs sell, life goes on after high school and college, and there is so much more to sing about.

You had me at Merlot...

So it's no secret that I have a wine fixation. I refuse to use the term "addiction", I CAN QUIT ANY TIME. So imagine my excitement when I encountered the "Un-spillable wine glass". Y'all. It's an adult sippy-cup. Why can't I ever come up with something so simple, yet so essential, and finally make my millions? Oh...probably because of all the wine I drink. Welp. Better stick to writing.

Haikus

My friend Kristen told me of the most hilarious Haiku ever, so I memed it.

First Annual Abrahamsen Princess Ball

This morning after I had gotten back from my run my two little princesses were playing dress up. Bella had donned her ol' faithful Aurora dress, and Vivienne had asked to wear her "costume" (a princess Belle dress she wore this Halloween) and they wanted to dance "like at a ball". This whole thing sort of snowballed out of control at that point. The first thing that happened was I created a dance floor in our (mostly) unused formal dining room by moving the table and chairs. Then the girls needed "princess dance music". Did y'all know iTunes Radio has a Disney Princess station? Well now you do. Once they were all set up and dancing in their ball room I just had to participate. Long story short, my husband came home to find me in an old bridesmaid's dress, twirling with my girls. I can't believe I never thought to do this before. 

Passive Aggressive Note To A Mom I Don't Know

Dear Mom,
   
Yeah, you. You know who you are. And you know what you did. You were at that place where I was, and I perceived you as a threat. You did/said something wrong, and looked at me sideways. Though I don't know anything about you I will spend three pages on my blog berating you about how you don't know me. You don't know my struggle. And the struggle is real. I have stuff to do, and things on my plate, and I can't just be who you want me to be. I allowed our brief interaction to spoil my day and now I'm taking to my blog/social media accounts to shame the shit out of you. At least thirty people will wonder if this blog was written about them, and have no vehicle through which to explain their side of the story. I will take my ruined day and proliferate that ruination over half the population of the United States. The people who identify with me will then be rude and irate to people like you, and create even more tension in the unending Battle of the Moms. I didn't have the guts to talk to you in person, but I will go home and hide in my darkened house with the shades drawn and eviscerate you via the written word and then plaster it all over the internet. The pen is indeed, mightier than the sword, and in the same breath I will tell my children that bullying is wrong, while setting an example of exactly how to bully, anonymously and with excessive cowardice, everyone who is not just like me.
   
Eventually, the people like you will write their own blog and post it all over social media explaining why I am actually the one in the wrong. In reality, all forms of mothering are valid, but we will only be concerned with page views and likes, and that is how we will determine the winner. But for now, I am the first to post, so suck it, bitches.

Sincerely,
Passive Aggressive Mom

I wrote this as a satirical response to all the "Dear lady at the playground/pool/mall" blog posts I had been seeing that chastised someone for chastising someone else, but I feel that that is an incomplete narrative without stating that we should live our own lives and not judge one another. Instead of ruining someone's day, maybe take the time to realize that you don't know someone else's journey, and either say something kind instead, or just don't say anything. And if someone is rude to you, respond with kindness instead of going online and spreading more hatred. I watched a beautiful video today that showcases all kinds of moms, and I would like to share it here. It is a Similac ad, but it is also very touching and portrays a lot of truth. Let's love and support one another, moms.

What Would You Have Done?

   

I just got home from an experience so poignant that I felt the need to blog for the first time in about seven months. I have started working from home, so most of my free time is devoted to blogging or social media for my client right now, which is why this blog has fallen into neglect. But I digress.

Bella started school this Fall and it has been tough to adjust to the new schedule and all the requirements placed on her as a Kindergartener. I found myself feeling that my own inadequacies would end up causing my child to fail or miss opportunities. It's always so awkward to me, as I am a bit of an introvert, to be forced into a social situation like school where people expect you to say "Hi!" and be friendly and talkative. That may have affected what happened today.
   
On the first day of school I drove up to get Bella because I am stupid, and had no idea that driving to pick up my child would be a 45 minute ordeal. Since that day I have driven up to the side of the school, parked on the curb and walked up to the school. I park on the opposite side so I exchange a friendly "Hello!" with the crossing guard every day. It's always the same lady, a sweet, tall elderly lady who probably has a grandkid at the school, or could be a retired teacher for all I know, there's not a lot of time for conversation in the cross walk.
   
Today, on the way back from getting Bella, we were waiting to cross the street and a little boy came up and started talking to the crossing guard. I have seen her banter with children pretty much every day and she seems to know the older ones pretty well, so I didn't think too much of it when the first words out of his mouth were, "Really?! You start letting cars pass as soon as I get up here?" he sounded pretty jovial in his tone. The words, though rude for a young child to direct at an authority figure, were said with mirth and I assumed he was joking, and she did too, and responded, "Well, that's the way it goes sometimes." But the next words out of his mouth, though still spoken with mirth were not so jovial. "That makes me think you are a useless poop-nugget." She and I looked at the little boy in shock, and she looked at me, and then back at him, and said, "What did you say?" He repeated it, albeit slightly quieter. I was completely stunned into silence and unable to find my voice as she looked agape from him to me and back, finally she said, "Do you want me to talk to Mr. O'Conner?" (he's the principal). Quietly the boy replied, "No." So she said, "Then you better not say things like that to me again." As we started to cross the road again I said to her, "Well I think you are doing a fantastic job." to which she replied, "Thank you!"

I felt completely sick to my stomach about that exchange, and wish I had said something to the little boy, even though he isn't mine, and even though he did seem to be joking. I don't know what made me clam up when normally I would put on my teacher voice (I'm not a teacher but I have a great teacher voice) and scolded him until he apologized. I wish I had at least pointed out that what he said was rude and that he should have respect for her and all adults. I wish I would have asked him how it would make him feel if someone said something like that to his own grandmother. I really feel like I missed out on a teachable moment not only for that little boy, but for my own children and I think that is what bothers me the most. I wish I had spoken up.

All I can assume is that maybe it was a learning experience for me, so that I will have time to contemplate this, and know how to handle those situations in the future. When I really started to break it down, it did seem to me like maybe he thought he was being funny, and when you look at the insult, the worst part of it is the addition of the word "useless", which is actually a very cruel thing to call a person. It made me wonder where he heard that insult, and whether it had initially been directed at him. Had someone called him a useless poop-nugget? If so, who? An older sibling? An adult in jest? I wondered if he found it funny or upsetting when used toward him. I have found, from raising my own children, that kids will call a person a name, laughing uncontrollably, but if that same epithet is hurled at them, they will be upset by it. I don't know whether this is short-sightedness, hypocrisy or outright spite.

I think the crossing guard handled the situation admirably, I just wish I could say the same for myself.


Photo Credit: Ross

If I Die Before I Wake... It's Because of This Face Wash

L'Oreal could use the tagline
"I MAKE DEATH BUBBLES TO SUFFOCATE YOU",
but I don't think it would market well.

So, this year for Christmas, I got some new face wash in my stocking. Don't laugh, Santa is getting a lot better, I used to get ball-point pens in my stocking. This stuff was anti-aging and made by L'Oreal so I was pretty excited to try it. And don't get all judgy about my use of anti-aging products, this is the South and we practically bathe in Oil of Olay. Although I was excited to try it, I was never really impressed by it. It comes out of the tube a pure, opaque white, and then slowly expands, kind of like hair mousse. When you start washing your face, it becomes exponentially more foamy than you would have expected, think Palmolive on steroids. Also, it claims to be "exfoliating" but since the cream itself is completely smooth, I can only assume the exfoliants are chemical in nature, which freaks me out a bit.

No matter how much Noxzema I used I never
ended up looking like Rebecca Gayheart.

My standard modus operandi when washing my face is to do as the Noxzema girls did and splash water all over my face and then work up a good lather in my hands before scrubbing my pores. I generally end up completely swathed in face wash foam, so I have to keep my eyes and mouth tightly closed at first to avoid getting the soap in my eyes and becoming a screaming, flailing squid of pain. I've still got to breathe though, I'm not Michael Phelps, so after I get all foamy I usually open my mouth and gasp for air for a second and then continue scrubbing. (And no, I can't breathe through my nose or I end up snorting the face wash like some kind of awful, soapy nasal spray that burns my sinuses. IT BURNS!)


This particular brand makes these really inconvenient, enormous, indestructible bubbles, and last night when I opened my mouth to inhale, it created a soap film that covered my entire mouth. I was, unfortunately, unaware of this, so when I tried to breathe, I inhaled a massive chemical face wash bubble. It coated the inside of my mouth and I swear to you I felt it pop on the back of my throat. I have probably never been so assaulted by the chemical nature of a product I use as when I got this nasty slop in my mouth. I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but the inside of your mouth really doesn't need exfoliants. I was spitting and gagging and coughing and just generally sounding like I was dying, so much so that I woke my husband up from sleep and he, being ever so concerned, popped his sleepy head in, eyes half open and demanded "What are you DOING?" Oh, nothing, don't mind me, I'm just choking on my face wash.

This is my favorite, it hasn't tried to kill me once.

I have never had a more harrowing experience with a personal hygiene product. Suffice it to say I won't be buying this one again, and will be giving Santa very explicit instructions next Christmas. I normally use Olay Pro-X cleanser, it has a gentler exfoliant and doesn't make giant death bubbles on my face to suffocate me. I could probably write a sonnet about how much I now hate this L'Oreal product, except I have no desire to study the rules of iambic pentameter again.

My Funny Valentines

Bella enjoys her Valentine's Day treats!

Valentines day has always been a fun time, but it's getting even more exciting now that I have little girls to shower with love! Today was no exception, Vivi and Bella got some new toys, and were allowed to eat chocolate BEFORE BREAKFAST! Then I made them a special meal of heart-shaped strawberry pancakes! They were super sticky afterwards, so they got to have a pink bubble bath, and they are now all decked out in their Valentine's day best! Later on we will go visit my best friend from my childhood, Ashley, and her daughter Alexis, who is Bella's best friend. 

Vivienne loves her pancakes!

To make the heart-shaped strawberry pancakes you simply add 3/4 cup of chopped strawberries and 3 drops wilton pink gel food coloring to pancake batter (however you prefer to make pancakes, I use Aunt Jemima's pancake mix) I cut a heart out of the middle of each pancake using a cookie cutter. Next, I put strawberry jelly between each one, and drizzled honey over the top, and finished the whole thing off with a sprinkling of powdered sugar! The girls really loved them!

Heart-shaped strawberry pancakes with honey!

My Epic Pinterest Fail and the Ensuing Discovery

Have you ever walked into a store and just been hit over the head with a glorious aroma that makes you want to weep angel tears of joy? I have always wondered how certain retail establishments get their mystical, magical fragrances. Recently I came across a pin that said that I could make my own house smell like Williams Sonoma simply by sautéing some lemon, rosemary and vanilla, so I gave it a try last week.

Now my house smells like a
Willams Sonoma that's burning
to the ground

My experience was not precisely what I expected. The lemon and rosemary overpowered the vanilla completely, even when I put in double the amount of vanilla. Instead of smelling like a pricy purveyor of pots and pans, my house smelled like I was preparing to cook some fish. So I decided to dump some brown sugar in the mix to amp up the sweetness. I never achieved a Williams Sonoma scented house, even though I simmered my mixture for an hour. It smelled vaguely nice if I stuck my head over the pan, but the smell was not permeating the rest of my house as promised. I decided I would burn off the rest of the liquid and then just throw the lemons and rosemary in the trash, so I turned the heat up to high to boil it off quickly. As always happens in my house, I was distracted by my children and completely forgot about my pan of aromatic vegetation and sucrose until about 20 minutes later when I smelled smoke. I ran into the kitchen and found the contents of the pan on the verge of spontaneous combustion, so I quickly turned off the stove and doused the pan with water. So now, instead of a lovely aroma that evoked visions of shopping and copper utensils, my house smelled like a rancid volcano erupting with scorched lemons and burnt sugar. On top of that, I was stuck with a saucepan that had half a centimeter of charred sugar cemented to the bottom.

I tend to find humor in my foibles, I don't get easily embarrassed by my failures, so I turned to Facebook to share the hilarity of my idiocy and get ideas of how to salvage my one and only quart sized saucepan. My best friend's brother reminded me that oven cleaner could be used to remove bad scorches from pots and pans as well as ovens, and I just happened to have some! So I ended up using Easy-Off to remove the scorches, and burning candles to get rid of the nasty smell... which is what I should have been doing in the first place rather than trying to extract essential lemon and rosemary oil on my stovetop. So if you are ever curious if you can make your house smell like your favorite retail establishment, I would highly recommend a trip to Yankee Candle instead. And the next time you create a tiny Mordor on your stovetop, remember my Pinterest fail, and turn to Easy-Off.