Nap Attack

I’m a napper. I haven’t always been, but God damn, I just love me some naps. I don’t even have to be tired, it’s still one of my favorite past times every single time I make the decision to lay my head down when the sun is still up.

No shame. 

It seems like naps get a bad reputation. Nappers are not lazy, we just find joy in closing our eyes and ignoring the world. Sure, I could read a book, work on some writing, or clean the house… but sleeping is so much more satisfying. Judge me if you will, but I try to nap at least once a day. I took a nap this morning. 

If you ever watch a movie with me, expect to tell me how it ended because sometimes I can’t even control my napping – it just happens. Most of the time, I don’t even feel refreshed when it’s over, but I never regret it.

Sleeping is something I’ve never struggled with, it’s never been an issue. Give me a concrete floor and a pillow and I’ll be snoozing in no time. My sympathies go out to people who have a hard time getting to dreamland, I can’t relate at all. What’s it like to try to fall asleep? Why can’t you just close your eyes and fucking relax?

I don’t know if it’s because my brain is always going a million miles a minute but I can take a quick 10 minute snoozer and have the most vivid dream. It’s like, Oh, I feel like going on an adventure – Imma nap. 

I urge all of you to embrace a good nap once in a while, or everyday, at least once a week. Make it a habit and list it as a hobby, most importantly don’t feel bad about it.

Motherhood

Motherhood differs from parenthood. Women grow that thing in their stomach and then push them out in a dramatic, painful, amazing way. I am not taking away from the dads out there, you also deal with things that we as moms do not… but we’re fucking the best. It’s just the way it is.

I’ve been a mom for over a decade and it’s brought me more joy, pain, fear, and happiness than I ever thought possible. To be frank, bringing my son into this world was miserable. Thirty-six hours of labor, for them to just cut the damn offspring outta my stomach. I requested the c-section at noon and it happened at 10:40pm that night. I’ll spare you the rest of the grody details.

My son has taught me more than any book or teacher ever could. I am a more selfless, aware, and compassionate person than I was before he entered my world and for that I’m thankful. We’ve had our ups, downs, and in-betweens but at the end of every single day, I’m proud to call him mine.

I used to think that parenting an older kid would be easier than the younger kid phase, but I was wrong. It’s not harder, per say, but the worries and challenges are bigger, just like him. I used to get paranoid that he’d fall and hit his head, or put a foreign object in his nose or ears, now I’m worried about his emotional stability and what is going on when I’m not around. Who he is spending his time with at school, and if his mouth is already as rotten as mine when I’m not within earshot.

He doesn’t hold my hand anymore, but he still catches my blown kisses I throw in his direction and slaps them right on his heart. The day that stops, will be a sad day. I’ve watched him grow up with each of his decisions, good and bad, into this independent man-monster. Sometimes he’s rude, sometimes he has an attitude for no good reason, and sometimes he tells me I look beautiful. Each of his quirks unique to him.

He’ll be in middle school next year and then high school. Eventually, I’ll have to wonder if he’ll want to hang out with me when I can no longer force it upon him, and he’ll have girlfriends who probably won’t live up to my expectations. It goes by quick, some say too quick, sometimes not quick enough. I’ll take each day in stride and trust that I’ve done my job to make him a functional member of our society.

“There’s no way to be a perfect mother and a million ways to be a good one.”

– Jill Churchill

Lies I’ve Told

I’m a liar, but let’s be honest, so are you.

If you told me you’re not a fibber, I wouldn’t believe you. I consider myself to be a bit of a recovering liar, I’ve become way more truthful in my thirties, but these little ones always seem to skate by.

I’ll be there by [enter time here].

Can’t wait!

Exercising on a regular basis starts tomorrow morning.

I’m going to start watching my mouth.

I’ll call you back.

I know, I totally agree!

Next week Tuesday? Yeah, I’d love to hang out.

No naps today.

Gosh, I wish the rain would stop so we could go outside.

I’m going to set goals and finish [insert anything here] in a timely manner.

I’m going to bed early tonight.

I actually really enjoy eating healthy.

I understand.

This is not vodka, it’s water. 

I’m late because [enter any excuse here].

I totally heard you, I was just thinking about it.

Wasn’t me.

I was just joking…

I’m on my way.

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I have no idea who said that.

I am going to finish my book by the end of summer.

Don’t worry about it, we’re cool.

I didn’t say anything…

Let’s go out for one, but I’m not getting drunk tonight.

I’m going to get all my laundry done and put away today.

I support you no matter what.

We’re gonna get school supplies shopping done early this year.

This is a judgment-free zone.

I don’t have anything to wear.

I didn’t get that text.

I don’t know that person.

I’ve never stalked [insert anyone I’ve ever encountered] on social media.

It’s just a guilty pleasure [that I feel no guilt over whatsoever].

I’m not going to eat this entire frozen pizza.

I don’t lie.

“I’m the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life. It’s awful. If I’m on my way to the store to buy a magazine, even, and somebody asks me where I’m going, I’m liable to say I’m going to the opera. It’s terrible.” 
― J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Kindness

I’m an openly kind person, I view people as people and it really is that simple.

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Probably your face right now, but hear me out…

There are people in my life who put up with my wackiness. They 100% accept me for my loud voice, my rotten choice of words, and my filter that doesn’t exist. I want to be that person for other people. Everyone should get to have those people who put their unique traits on a pedestal. The biggest right that we are given as humans is the ability to be 100% true to ourselves. Society has fucked that up; judgement has fucked that up.

In my late elementary years, in a school I had just started attending, some of the boys in my class coined a nickname for me: linebacker. 

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What I should have done when they called me that.

Sure, my shoulders were broad, I already knew that but I was legit shook over it every single time. I liked football, I was aware that the linebackers were the stocky ones, the solid ones. There are people who are torn down way more than I was in the sixth grade, but the gist of it is that I never want to make someone feel that way.

I get no joy out of making someone uncomfortable, it’s actually the opposite. I will make myself uncomfortable before I shove an intentional, or unintentional, difficult situation on someone else. I’m super fucking nice.

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Don’t let this post make you think I’ve always had this outlook. I’ve had my moments of bitchiness and have absolutely done my fair share of unkind things. I used to make prank phone calls to teachers, pretending to be another student (the true victim), and ask for private tutoring. That’s fucked up. I have also sabotaged relationships, others and my own, and felt little to no guilt over it. Why was I like that?

I’ve fallen into the judgment zone and I’ve said some harsh things, I’m human, but it’s never felt good. Accepting folks for who they are, their struggles and achievements, are not mine or yours and that’s the beauty of it. Maybe your hair is less than normal, perhaps your awkward stance is there as a wall, I don’t know your story until I ask and actively listen.

Often times I wonder if others look back on their life and wonder what the hell happened? Why did I act a certain way? Why did I do those shitty things? I don’t have my own answers to those questions, what I do have is clarity. I know who I am, who I want to be, where I envision my future, how I want to be remembered when I’m gone – and at the root of it all is the kindness.

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Jenny, Jennie, Jenni, and Jen

Being given a common name is a vicious cycle. My dad’s name is Darwin, but he goes by Jim because his middle name is James. He then went on to name his children, Catherine, David, and Jennifer. I named my son Bennett because it seemed unique at the time, only to find out I’d failed miserably, there was another one in his first daycare, along with an Emmett…which is close enough.

In school, I wasn’t a fan of there being so many of us in the same class.

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We’re everywhere. We dominate in my age-range, sixth grade was the year it started bothering me though. I started out as a Jenny, but then I met Jenny and went to Jennie for a very short time. There was already a girl named Jennie Wagner and not only did I not want to share, I especially didn’t want to share with her. I’m sure she’s a lovely person, but it was sixth grade and I thought she was prettier than me so, in true girl-fashion, there was a distaste for her. That’s how I became a Jenni.

My maiden name allowed my initials to be JLo… like the Jlo. That was one of the few reasons I felt a little sad changing my name. It wasn’t serious enough to hyphenate…but I do miss telling people not to be fooled by the rocks that I got, cause I’m still Jenni from the block.

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As I got older I morphed into a Jen, even my mom calls me that. However, when I went back to waitressing after taking a decade off, there was already a Jen. So here we were again. I put Jenni on my name tag to differentiate between the two of us. I hadn’t been called Jenni on a regular basis in years. Now, as a thirty-something, the majority of people in my life would call me just that, Jenni.

Moving onto something else, am I supposed to pretend I’ve never been spoken to in Forrest Gump talk before, every single time? Not to mention I wait tables, making my exposure to strangers, more specifically, the jokesters to be borderline excessive.

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I’ve been told that my Grandma had a say in my name, and to just throw this out there, I do not dislike my name. Do I wish it was something more unique? Yes, I’d take Juliette, Janessa, or Josephine (middle name Potter) over Jennifer all day… but I’ll take Jenny, Jennie, Jenni, and Jen… it could be worse.