Slightly Insane Mom

"All mothers are slightly insane." –J.D. Salinger

Archive for the ‘All About Me’ Category

October 17th, 2017 by Molly

Protected: Me, Too (A Partial Accounting)

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February 8th, 2017 by Molly

Welcome to the Psych Ward: Bend and Spread ‘Em

Congratulations! You just tried to kill yourself! You’ve won a one-way ticket to the inpatient ward of Shady Pines Hospital. Oh, don’t worry! You won’t be here forever. Only until your hospital-appointed psychiatrist whom you’ve never met decides you’re well enough to leave. But enough talking! Step right this way…

This is our conference room. First, let’s go over some paperwork. This one is where you sign waiving your right to leave of your own accord. Next, you’ll waive your right to sue us should anything go awry in your treatment. Oh, and here is where you sign your consent to let us restrain or sedate you if necessary. Lastly, this is where you sign to waive your Second Amendment right to ever again purchase or own a gun. We understand you never owned or wanted one anyway, but one can never be too careful, can one?

Louise Fletcher and Jack Nicholson in “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”

Now that that’s out of the way, it’s time to kiss your loved one goodbye. You’ll see him again in a few days during visitors hours. Alright, now just step through these doors. I know the door seems heavy and the locking mechanism is rather loud, but it’s all for your protection, we promise. We wouldn’t want you trying to leave now, would we?

Next, we’ll have you turn in those hoodies you packed so we can cut the strings out, and all the long socks, and all of your makeup and personal hygiene products. Maybe we’ll give you some of those back. We’ll see. We don’t want you hanging yourself by your crew socks, of course!

If you could just step right into this room over here, take off all your clothes, and put on this hospital gown… Now, we’ll need you to open your mouth and stick out your tongue. Now squat and cough. Next, bend over and spread your buttocks while we shine this flashlight on you. And please, try not to feel violated. It is for your safety, after all.

Here you go, into your new room! No, there’s no bathroom door, just a foam-and-vinyl flap that sometimes stays shut. But don’t worry, the men and women who stay in this hallway try not to pay attention to what happens in the bathrooms. And here is your roommate, Angie! She talks to herself and snores like a chainsaw, but other than that, she’s quite nice.

Since you’re new here, you won’t be allowed to leave the ward for meal times. But it’s turkey dinner night! We know it’s not optimal, but it really is for your safety.

Here are the phones. If you want a handset, you need to ask at the front desk. After all, you could strangle someone with the cord or beat someone to death with the handset. So, for your safety, you’ll have to ask for permission to use the phone.

Well, that’s about it! Enjoy your stay, try not to make Angie angry (she’s a little temperamental!), and of course, here are your meds. Welcome to the psych ward!

January 4th, 2017 by Molly

All the Things I Couldn’t Say

You’re probably familiar with the movie Finding Nemo. There’s a scene where Nemo’s dad Marlon brings Nemo to his first day of school. All the other fish dads are there at drop-off, and when they see Marlon, they say “Hey, a clownfish! You must be really funny! Tell us a joke, clownfish!” But Marlon can’t, because he’s got his own problems to deal with at the moment.

That’s how the past couple years have been. I recognize that I am funny, and I have a particular voice, but I’ve been through some things over the past two years that I’ve been unable to put into words using a comedic slant. This post is about those things. It’s just a short list, with more details to (hopefully) come on some of the items.

Maybe, or maybe not, I will someday tell you about:

  1. That time when I lost 125 pounds in nine months, and lost my sense of self in the process. The feeling of not recognizing the person looking back at me in the mirror. The sense of being scared of what I have become. What happens when moving around in the world no longer feels the same when all the padding has been stripped away. How differently I got treated once I lost weight, and my inability to reconcile that with what I know of both strangers and familiars.
  2. Moving to a new town. Being flat-out broke in a wealthy town, like Slums of Beverly Hills. Relocating three kids. Panic attacks galore. The difficulty of making new friends. Moving to a new town, hoping to put past friendship pitfalls aside, and discovering I carried them with me anyway.

    Natasha Lyonne in Slums of Beverly Hills. Approximately what I looked like on moving day.

  3. That time I had myself admitted to the psych ward, making this possibly the most prophetic blog name in history. The things they took away from me. The door that locked behind me. The rights I signed away. The people I met, with their cuts and their bruises and their scars, outside and in. The surprising feeling of belonging and the regret to leave.
  4. A diagnosis that changed my life, changed who I am, how I see myself, and yet, made everything make sense. History falling into place. The friends I lost because of my mental health, both the ones I pushed away, and the ones who dropped me when it all got to be too much. Medications. Brain changes. Life disrupted. Having to put everything on hold, including caring for my own children, to care for myself for a change. Realizing just how fucked up I am. That time I wondered how many Tylenol it takes to kill a 145-pound woman. See aforementioned psych ward admittance.
  5. That time my son sustained such a bad concussion in gym class it made his brain bleed, and he was hospitalized for two days for observation. How amazing his gym coach was through the experience. How his principal didn’t bother to call. What it’s like to realize your son doesn’t recognize you. Misplaced, illogical guilt that is the burden of all mothers.
  6. Realizing my second son, Mr. Mischief, is a Special Snowflake like his brother. See aforementioned motherhood guilt.
  7. Random medical crap. Fucked up thyroid. Fucked up headaches. Bloodwork and ultrasounds and biopsies galore.
  8. Losing my last two grandparents in the span of less than two months. Gaining a long lost cousin. Family memories, and the heartbreak of realizing all that I’ve lost.

So that’s my short list. 2016 sucked. I’m glad it’s over. But maybe I’ll get my act together with blogging this year so I can tell you more about some of these things, and possibly get back to my old clownfish self again.


August 29th, 2014 by Molly

New Adventures

I don’t exactly know what happened, but something in my brain snapped and I decided to go back to school. Maybe it was one poopy diaper too many. Or perhaps the realization that I can sometimes go DAYS without reading or thinking anything more intelligible than “When’s the next episode of Project Runway?” Whatever the case, I’m going back to school for a second Master’s degree (because I guess the first one didn’t stick?).

The program is online, which will allow me to be at home with Mr. Mischief for the next few years, at which point I’ll go back to work and the kids can fend for themselves unsupervised, living off PB&J, running wild through the neighborhood, and trying not to burn the house down. Or maybe I’ll have my mom come and watch them. I’m still working out the details.

I also decided that I needed a new hobby, so I started selling Jamberry (check it out! If you haven’t seen these things, they’re vinyl nail wraps that come in oodles of adorable patterns. I’m a little obsessed. Look how cute my nails are.


And now you know why there’s been radio silence on the blog lately. That, and back to school season for the bigs has kicked my butt. Sgt. Snowflake starts school next week, thank log, so hopefully I’ll have a smidge more time to write.

April 24th, 2014 by Molly

25 Things

It’s a somewhat half-assed tradition in the blogosphere to begin one’s blog with a “25 Things” post, a random list of facts about the blogger. And because I fully endorse half-assery, here is mine.

1. I love reality TV. The Dude and I watch Survivor and Amazing Race religiously. I love cooking shows like Top Chef, and guilty pleasures like Real Housewives of Orange County.

2. I met my husband on eHarmony, after taking their “29 Dimensions of Personality” profile quiz and forking over $49.95. I was matched up with him, and some meathead from Orlando named Tony. Tony’s profile pic involved a pair of wraparound shades and his skin had the pre-cancerous glow that only comes from the finest tanning beds. I think I picked the right guy.

3. I live in a shitty 70s split-level. It’s a constant source of angst for us. Home ownership is one of the most highly overrated aspects of adulthood.

4. I have three tattoos: two horrid 90s tribal things, and a Celtic motherhood knot, which I will probably think is horrid in 20 years, but right now I like it.

5. I have read the entire Outlander series 3 times.

6. I dabble in crafty home decor stuff, but nothing more advanced than spray painting and recovering a dining chair.

7. I swear like a fuckin’ sailor.

8. When we moved into our house, it had landscaping that I’m fairly certain was designed by Dr. Seuss.


9. Remember when you were a kid and you would get ZOMG SO EXCITED!!! when the mail came? I still get excited about mail.

10. I love pop music. It’s stupid and inane and sometimes misogynistic, but dammit, sometimes I just want to back that thang up.

11. On a similar note, I’m fascinated by twerking. I can’t do it, but I wish I could.

12. I adore David Sedaris. I once met him before a reading, and he gave me a shout-out during the show. It was one of the most exciting moments of my life.

13. Jobs I have had in my lifetime: register person at Bed Bath and Beyond; assistant manager at The Body Shop; closet planner at The Container Store; dental office assistant; real estate office assistant; associate editor of a local environmental magazine; middle school English teacher; associate editor of an 8th grade Language Arts textbook. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

14. I wish Caillou would die a slow, horrible death.

15. I once got busy in a Burger King bathroom.*

16. I have a MENSA-level IQ, but am occasionally flummoxed by my daughter’s first grade math homework. Damn you, Common Core! Damn you to Hades!

17. I wear two wedding rings: mine, and my maternal grandmother’s. Gram was a big part of my upbringing. She passed away in 2008, and I was given her wedding ring. I love having a daily reminder of her.

18. I love Frozen far more than my kids do, and get excited whenever they want to watch it.

19. I’m obsessed with Grumpy Cat. I wish scientists could clone her. That’s not too much to ask, is it?

Thanks, Grumpy Cat!

20. I can’t keep Nutella in the house. I will eat it like it’s my job.

21. I adore my minivan. I’m sure that makes me a super-square soccer mom, but I don’t care. My Hottessey has heated leather seats, a moonroof, and an entertainment system. When I drive that van, I am a baller.

22. I prefer my coffee cold-brewed, over ice. If you’ve never experienced cold-brewed coffee, try it, you must.

23. I lost an organ after each of my first two kids. When my daughter was 1 month old, I had an emergency appendectomy. When my first son was 3 months old, I had my gallbladder removed. I always joked, “Jeez, if I have a third kid, I’ll have to have my tonsils out, haha!” I didn’t lose any organs after kid #3, but I did have to have an emergency c-section 6 weeks early, so I consider that time served.

24. I say “totally” a lot, and I call everyone “dude.” On a semi-related note, I frequently quote The Big Lebowski.

25. My right pinky fingernail is significantly larger than my left pinky fingernail.


*Not really. I just always wanted to quote “The Humpty Dance” in context.