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The Gifts I Hope My Dad Gives To My Boys

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The Gifts I Hope My Dad Gives To My Boys

My teenager was forced to emerge yesterday from his dark hole of a bedroom because it was the first day of summer break, and we had to go get his passport renewed.  

Just a few days before, I'd stood on the front porch, bantering with him as he walked out to his car, watching him pull out and waving goodbye to him as he left for one of his last few days of his junior year.  

He hates when I do this.  

"Why do you do that?  It's so weird," he'll say in a tone that makes it clear he's disgusted by the whole thing.

Stealing Cookies and White Supremacy: It's All Just A Misunderstanding

An awkward and alarming email came through from my son's teacher last week, saying he'd been caught stealing cookies in the lunch line, and could I talk to him because it seemed a bit out of character.  

I assured her I'd speak to him right away because - as I mentioned to her - everyone knows that stealing cookies in the lunch line is the first step toward a lifelong pattern of crime.  One minute, your kid's pinching a few cookies, then you blink, and they're all grown up, showing colors and throwing gang signs.

Before I could get to the bottom of my kid's new hobby as a shoplifter, I visited with one of the other moms* waiting for our kids after school.  I mentioned my sadness and concern over my child's dark turn toward crime, feeling like she couldn't possibly understand my strife.

I was wrong.

Murder-Suicide? Or Just Avoiding The Phone?

Running around this morning, unloading the dishwasher from last night, tossing dirty socks into the laundry basket, then picking up throw pillows from the floor, which is where they spend 97% of their time, because my children are trying to kill me, so they intentionally take them off the couch and toss them to the floor on the daily, I thought to myself, "I wonder how Mom and Dad are doing?"

It's been a while since I've heard from them.  

Not that I ever hear from them.  We only talk if I initiate the call.  And when I say "call," I'm referring only to my dad.  My mom doesn't talk on the phone.  If I want to have a conversation with her, it's almost always through texts, which is pretty funny when you know the back story.

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Press Release: Local Author Debuts Humorous Memoir

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LOCAL AUTHOR LAUNCHES DEBUT HUMOR/MEMOIR

“Metamucil screwdrivers: the middle-aged mommy’s favorite way to kill two birds with one stone.”

 

LEANDER, TEXAS, April 20, 2016 — Local marketing consultant and freelance copywriter, Kristan Braziel, of Leander, will debut her humorous memoir, You Should Write A Book! True Tales of An Unstable Life, at the Blockhouse Creek Owners Association BBQ Cook-Off.  

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It's A Good Day To Be Alive

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My inner dialog this morning as I stretched myself awake:  "Hooray!  It's a school holiday, so no early rush to get lunches made!"

Followed immediately by:  "Booo, it's a school holiday, so the kids will be home with me all day." (don't judge me)

Then, "Hooray!  It's Friday, so we can sleep in the next two days!"

Followed by, "Booo, I have a dentist's appointment this morning."

I'd been awake for 25 seconds and I'd already been taken on an emotional roller coaster ride.  

I trudged downstairs to make my beloved coffee, then went back up to get ready for my day.  I reached for my contact solution, tipped the bottle over, and poured my perfectly-brewed cup of coffee over my unsuspecting contact lens.

Cat-like Vapor Lock (and other stress-induced oddities)

How are you under pressure?  God willing, you're better than I am.  

Despite having years of experience as a professional counselor (and by that, I mean that I had years of professional counseling), I still have a weird vapor-lock response to out-of-the-ordinary stress situations.  

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5 Songs I Will Love & Sing Forever

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A few months ago, I got a new car and I feel a little silly saying it, but my favorite thing is the trial account of XM Satellite.  The best channels are 80's on 8 and 90's on 9, and I toggle between the two stations losing myself in the memories the songs from those decades brings back.

I'm sharing a handful of songs here that I'll love and sing forever.  These aren't in any particular order, because I love them all for very different reasons.  Enjoy!

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9 Pet Peeves That Don't Include Beef Jerky

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I challenged myself (because that's what I need, is another challenge in my life) to write a blog post every single day for a month.  Then I took it down a notch (because I'm all about lowering my own standards), deciding instead to write a post every single day - Monday through Friday - for a month. 

The last 24 hours have been spent brainstorming topic ideas that range from parenting, to how-to's and hacks, to books and product reviews.  Nothing's off limits, I'll write about anything (this is a not-so-subtle request for ideas - what do you want to hear me blather on about?)

Instant Confidence Booster: Think Of All The Idiots Out There

As you probably know, I'm in the process of publishing a book, You Should Write A Book!, which is thiiisss close to being ready for the editor.  It's taking longer than it probably should because I keep coming up with more to add to it.

I have stories to tell, y'all.  I can't wait for you to get your hands on this tell-all.

The back-end stuff to writing a book is what takes so darn long.  Getting the stories written and organized is a pretty big job, sure.  But the editing junk, the design junk, the publishing junk, and the legal junk... that's what takes forever, and I'll be honest: it's sometimes a complicated process.  

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The Problem With My Husband

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I love my child.  I do.  My love for him far surpasses the hatred he has for writing.  And he has a deep, dark hatred for writing.

Bizarre irony, don't you think, considering his mother has a desperate, twisted love for writing?

He's in second grade, now.  In kindergarten, I'd get calls from the teacher saying my son gets distracted during writing practice, and doesn't get his work done.  We chalked it up to his age. 

And the fact that he's a boy.  The maturity thing, you know: boys mature slower than girls, blahblahblah. 

Kanye's Freak Flag

I've never been a Kanye West fan.  His music doesn't appeal to me whatsoever, and he always goes off on some tangent, usually at the cost of someone else, which is a big turn-off for me.

Usually his antics make me sort-of shake my head in astonishment, then I go on about my business, continuing not being a fan of his.

I don't spend any more time on it than that, mainly because I don't like to spend my time on negative energy, but it's also because I have my hands plenty full dealing with my own crazy, thankyouverymuch.

But I have a few issues with his latest rants.

Let This Be A Warning To All You Young Golden Goddesses

My dad is technically English (he moved to the States when he was about 5, so he doesn't have any of that fun accent, anymore.  He still uses some of the colloquialisms, though, like the word "bloody," as in, "I couldn't get a bloody cab to save my life!"  Or "knackered," as in, "I had way too much to drink last night. I'm completely knackered today." But none of these things sound quite right without the support of an English accent.)

With that English heritage of my dad's - thus, of my own - we probably have some Scottish down the lines somewhere.  I've submitted my DNA to Ancestry.com, and I'm just waiting for the results so I can find out if I was switched at the hospital, and really belong to someone wealthy and with no history of mental health issues.

Hug Your Sweet Little Ones Tight (because they turn into a-holes before you know it)

Y'all. Oh my goodness.  A few weeks ago, I submitted an article to Listen To Your Mother, a live production that celebrates motherhood through original readings performed on-stage by their authors.  

If you're one of my subscribers, not only are you a superstar, but you got advance notice of my submission during January.  You might remember me asking your advice on which article to submit.  

The leader, by far, was the one I wrote about my teenager, so that's the one I sent in. 

I've had my fingers crossed for weeks, hoping I'd get an invitation to audition, and I got it, I got it!  My audition slot is on February 27th, and if I'm selected, I'll perform for a live studio audience on May 7th.  

Kristan Braziel LeBaron.jpg

Kristan (Braziel) LeBaron is an author, writer, marketing professional, and the voice of the blog, Bring Mommy A Martini. Mom to two hilarious boys: one in college and the other in middle school, she writes “real mom” stories on life with anxiety & depression, and choosing happiness as a daily practice. She lives outside of Austin with her two sons and two lavishly kept dogs.

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