you're so last summer.

Spotify’s ‘Throwback Thursday’ playlist this week is curated by none other than Dashboard Confessional to ‘mark 20 years of music that shaped the emo scene!’, and I’m suddenly transported to the cozy confines of my college radio studio, WRFW FM, in River Falls, Wisconsin. Or WRST FM, in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Pining for my life to begin. Mourning the losses of loves that never began. Feeling such sorrow and pain for crushes that I never really had to begin with. It’s comical, really. How self absorbed and clueless, protected, from the ‘real world,’ I was in those tiny Wisconsin college campuses. Listening to burnt cd’s, scribbled in marker. Dashboard Confessional. Get-up Kids. Taking Back Sunday. Saves the Day. Sunny Day Real Estate. Straylight Run. Thursday. Reggie and the Full Effect. Alkaline Trio. All this pop-punk/emo/mish-mash. I was positive, meant something. My undereducated, overapplied fluorescent eye shadows. Fakeass furry winter vinyl coat from the Mall of America. Chopped, overgelled, flippy spikey ‘punk’ hair. Eyebrow piercing, then later, lip piercing. (and if I need to be completely transparent, completely unnecessary and highly regrettable, double nipple piercing. This 5+ year breastfeeding mother is so not impressed).

I remember having less than $100 to my name. Sitting in dusty dorm rooms, listening to Limewire. Posting ‘deep’ and overly personal and lengthy blog posts on MySpace, wishing I had me an emo boy to take me away. Scrimping pennies to see shows at First Ave in Minneapolis; and then later, scrimping dollars for gas money to drive to the Rave in Milwaukee, where I’d be on the guest list for whatever flavor of the week emo band it was that burned in my veins.

It’s so funny. And adorable, maybe? I wish I could go back to college me. And give her a big shaking, hug, or crisp $20 bill. And tell her to fucking enjoy it. The freedom to nap. Living with best friends. Opportunity to exercise brain cells. Yearn. Because now it’s just not the same. Sure, you still dream as an adult. But mostly just about your next opportunity to go to sleep to dream for real. And man, I wish I could live with the same nonchalant attitude when my bank account falls below my safetynet level, (which might have an extra couple 0’s in it these days).

It’s like I’m being taken back in time, not quite 20 years ago, but almost. And does that make emo music ‘oldies’ now? Am I really that old? Did time really fly that fast? I’ve met tons of people, established myself as an individual and matriarch, professional, and hopefully, friend at this point in my life. But I still can remember the taste of powdery microwaved cheesymac, and bitter sweet sting of UV vodka. prepping for hangs at the 'basketball house.' (not to be confused with the 'football house.')

My five year old has started reporting current events to me. He was singing ‘old town road.’ He keeps name dropping ‘john cena,’ like that’s supposed to mean something or impress me. he told me how ‘ebreebody’s talking about how kobe Bryant passed’ yesterday at bed time, which led to a discussion on what ‘passing’ means, and what ‘famous’ means, and why everyone is interested in a deceased basketball player. All of a sudden, the kid’s a teenager? And I’m old? And not hip with the current times?

Ah. And I’m not even 40 yet. But I guess I’m closer to 40 than 30?

What a world.

Now, get off my lawn. I’m listening to ‘screaming infidelities.’

empathy and a black eye.

below - a text i sent to a trio of (childless) girlfriends that i think freaked them more out on my behalf than getting my point. funny, in retrospect - all of it. but i'm SO PROUD of Holden. The boy is amazing and brilliant. 

You guys. Max just beat the shit out of me midtantrum by chucking a 'little critters' (love that lil guy, lol) book at/in my eye and I lost my chill, sobbing on the floor with a black eye. (Period in T-2 days). Vin had Holden console me while he handled max. Rubbing my back, Holden says, 'mom, I know having kids is hard.'

WTF. THE BOY IS THE MOST EMPATHETIC WIZARD ON THE PLANET. he proceeds to ask me if I'll 'be ok by myself for just a minute,' and then goes to the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water. Says 'i bet that really hurts, mom.' (empathy, again). And then pulls out the old distraction trick by asking me about the art on the walls. Got me feeling better just like that.

Meanwhile, max is Macaulay Culkin to Holden's Elijah Wood and refuses to apologize. How did I raise such a good kid???
Ps- I'm all good, just shook from Holden taking better care of me than anyone else, ever, lol.

pictured below - the culprit.

happy new year.

boy party.

aside from a three month stint in college, i never imagined myself living in a household full of boys as the sole female. yet, here i am. sure, one is my 'partner,' and the other two are my 'children.' but still. that's a whole lotta penis and fart humor.

i came home from work last evening, my first day back in the office after a long overdue break, (SIXTEEN DAYS!), to find all three of my gentleboy/men companions shirtless, fist pumping to some distorted metal record, shoveling spaghetti in their faces. after a bemused smirk/eyeroll combo, my heart melted a bit, and i grabbed a fork to dig in. they're a flurry of emotions, all three of them. anger, humor, frustration, anxiety, attention seeking, wrestling weirdos, busting each others' faces up, either ending up in a big ole pit of belly laughs or overexerted sobs. 

i clean their clothes. i provide their snuggles. i keep us all on track with appointments and social obligations. i give them love. 

i also have not urinated in private in 5+ years. i don't know if it's any different with girls or not, if this is a standard parent thing, or if we just are too lax with the discipline of privacy, but i always have a crowd. it's funny, considering both of my sons demand 'privacy' when they're dropping a deuce, yet i'm not permitted the audacity to request the same favor. 

there's always pee on the toilet seat. the floor. i wipe their asses. 

if i'm in the bathroom for more than 3 minutes. (using the toilet, applying make-up, showering, etc.), it's guaranteed i'll receive company from one of my three male roommates. usually, they'll even bring toys. plop themselves down in front of me on the floor, (me, mid-tweeze on my bikini line) - 'WHAT YOU DOING MOM?'

'nothing. pooping. peeing. privacy please?'

'WHY IS THEIR BLOOD IN THE TOILET MOM?'

'leave me alone. go find your dad. privacy please.' 

'I SEE YOUR BOOTY BUTT MOM.'

'great, i don't need to worry about you inheriting my poor vision, now move along.'

i mean, on one hand - is it annoying AF? of course. hell yes it is.

on the other hand, i try to keep a sense of humor about it and cram all the knowledge i can in their little brains while i have their attention. as soon as i start explaining the concept of 'private boundaries,' 'public vs. private parts,' 'the importance of understanding consent, particularly around women,' or my personal favorite, 'it's not bloody poop, it's menstruation, which is why mommies are cranky and have tummy aches every month and how babies are born. . .' i've found that this method is much more effective in garnering my desired privacy than 'please leave and shut the door behind you.'

i can't wait until these little assholes are in their teen years. i'm going to storm into the bathroom every chance i get. crawl up in their beds and demand cuddles at 3 am. demand that they play with me and then climb on their backs and faces when they're preoccupied. 

but i also appreciate that these minor inconveniences and invasions of privacy are fleeting. sooner than later, they won't command my undying attention or company. sure, i'll be able to use the bathroom in peace, but i'll miss the shirtless boys, fist pumping to spaghetti night, telling me they love me times infinity.

so i'll just continue to smirk and roll my eyes and soak up every minute of it.