Tic tac time

You know those commercials where the perfect woman is running around perfectly checking off all of those items from her holiday party get ready list, fanning the fragrance of warm brie-filled biscuit around the entertainment area while ornaments twinkle, and ice tinkles an invitation of refreshment and merriment in a crystal punch glass; checking her teeth for lipstick in a spoon before gliding in a glimmering swish of elegance to throw open the front door all warmth and smiles and then the camera pans to her back side and there, where a skirt should be, are some ill fitting Spanx, because, well, she has forgotten her skirt?  

Well maybe this is your mom. Not your REAL mom, silly. Maybe this is your inner mom. The one who is supposed to make sure that ADULT you gets your basic needs met. I know, I know, some of you are going to have an is she on the Percocets? kind of reaction to the idea that you should be paying attention to your own needs and not just everyone elses’. I refer back to a time when my children’s father was on some serious pain medication for his back, and my phone pocket-dialed my eldest, not just a few letters but rather a long message with actual words some of which were pretty elaborate for a pocket dial, one of which was AIDS and another of which was Transylvania —we’re working up to a pretty good mystery novel here. Anyhow, my daughter’s response was “Mom. Are you on the Percocets?” In fact, I had not commandeered desperately needed medication for personal recreational use. But the expression stuck, and now whenever someone seems to be talking out of their ass we ask “Hey are you on the Percocets?”  

In all earnestness your inner parent is supposed to take care of shit. You’re supposed to take care of yourself. You need someone doing it and most of your real parents are off enjoying other problems by now, or at least have their attention diverted by the aches and pains of sore hips and worn backs thanks to you for sapping their good years. JK we all know you were a gift and deserving of all the love you ever received and then some, but point is, they are no long making sure you get it, the love that is. They aren’t going to make sure that you take a day off whatever the cost before you bite someone’s head off, or eat a Snickers like they teach us to in commercials when we are hangry. They aren\’t going to serve you the green food that rhymes with wedgetable while praying to the God of green things that you’ll take a bite of it and they can feel like good Ma\’s and Pa\’s with the peace of mind that you’re going to make it to adulthood without a peculiar vitamin deficiency induced bone disease because they were lacking a back bone at the dinner table. They are certainly not going to make sure you’re brushing and flossing your teeth on the daily.  

Listen, I know that you are tough. I know that you can run your business or your household while hitting your HITT class on 30 minutes of sleep. I know that your kids\’ lives are an ACTUAL themed park. That you stole Disney Land, or made it LAME-O, which is like COOL-IO but the opposite, compared to the fun and games that you whip up.  

I also know that your worst day can feel less like the holiday party in your panties, and more like that scene from Erin Brockovich when she leaves her kids to sketchy bikers-cum-babysitters, and there are cockroaches running out from under all kinds of things.  

And I also Also know that sometimes the kid who misses Disney is you.  

And all of the not taking care of YOU, can get in YOUR own way, of YOUR life, and YOUR happiness. 

Sadly, because you deserve those things.  

I want you to have those things. 

The people who love you want you to have those things. 

Your inner child wants you to have those things.  

I don’t want you to BE RESPONSIBLE. I am not carrying a pitch fork and sporting a fiery red cape. 

But I don’t want you to show up to your date with the date of your dreams and have them racing home for an “emergency with the family hamster” because your breath is somewhere on a spectrum between cabbage and sewage (which is not your fault and sometimes isn’t even caused by bad hygiene, but point is, you need some attention).  

I don’t want Dream Date to never have the chance to see past your shoulder pads, or your mullet, or some areas of hygiene that you aren’t even aware you have dropped and that list can get puh-retty interesting folks, to the sexy beast that you really are. It’s senseless tragedy, SHAKESPEAREAN, because those things don’t define your character. No one sees you carrying that little ducky safely out of traffic, or going that extra mile to put a smile on a friend’s face. No one sees your cleverness or savviness, when there is soup on your shirt or you wore a gold lame jumpsuit passed down from grandma’s days as a disco instructor because it held in your muffin top. Because you, are busy making the client happy, or the board happy, or the kids happy, and the simple markers of self care have dropped off of your radar. You don’t even know they are missing anymore.  

And I don’t want you to lose your relationship because you have lost yourself.  

Or never make it into one because you have lost yourself.  

Some of you have never learned how to mom yourselves. 

Some of you didn’t have moms, aka healthy moms. Some of you lost your moms. 

And some of you have just lost your way under a world of pressure to show up and shine. 

So this one is for you. 

This week is for you. 

Take a little time to ask yourself, what do you need from Mom?  

Hey, and if you need some help with this, the asking, or the execution, or the follow through or the nurturing? Or if what you need is an ear and some support? 

Well give me a shout.  

I have stocked up on Snickers and I am all ears and love.

— Love Erin

P.S. Hit me up for some support or some information on what and how I do what I do to make your world less complicated. I am working out my fall line-up now.

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