Diary of a Wimpy Mommy - A Guest Post from Merima Trako

Hello, friends! Over the next few weeks, I am away for my wedding and honeymoon, so I've invited some of my favorite writers to keep you entertained in my absence! Enjoy!! 


I am a mother of two boys. They are healthy and happy, cute and smart, which is probably the most dangerous combination you can have. Many would say that I am lucky, which I am, but what they don’t know is the shenanigans that can come out of the two little monsters I brought into this world.

Case in point, last year when my older was six and younger four, my husband texted me a picture of the older with a massive cut on his lower lip. I was at work, and as every mother would, I panicked. I packed up quickly and rushed home. By the time I got home, the bleeding had stopped, and I managed to pull the wound together with two small band-aids to help it heal without too much scarring. I gave my son a hug, and I asked him what had happened. He told me how he and his brother had found a bungee cord in the garage and they were pulling at its ends on a hill behind our house. At one moment my four-year-old let his end go, and it rebounded to hit the six-year-old on the lip. After a lecture that they should not be playing with adult things, I asked my son what he’d learned from the experience. He said with a solemn look on his face: “ I learned that I should let go of the bungee cord, FIRST.” Not what I had in mind little buddy, not-at-all.

There were other incidents like this, mainly two of them trying somehow to hurt each other, unintentionally and mostly due to some not-so-smart decisions they both made. I am sometimes surprised how they both managed to stay in one piece.  

Another important thing to remember is that little kids will not hesitate to embarrass you in public.  Recently I went to the store with my now five-year-old. I bought a cake for my birthday and two candles (numbers 2 and 5). It was supposed to be a joke ( I am not 25 years old, but a decade older). The cashier scanned the cake and asked if it was my birthday. I said with a grin, “But of course, I am twenty-five, can’t you tell?” I was happy with my little quip. My little one turned and pronounced aloud so that the entire store (and maybe even people in the parking lot) could hear that I am certainly not twenty-five, but thirty (something) years old. We all laughed, some shoppers looked at me suspiciously, though, judging this deceit of cake candles.

So having two kids taught me to always be on a lookout for an object that could potentially become a dangerous toy. I don’t understand this notion that kids nowadays have no imagination. Mine have too much of it, they will think of all sorts of ways to use the most innocent inanimate objects as torture devices on each other.

I’ve also learned that my kids are not my friends. I cannot tell them any secrets, even the simplest ones, like my age. They will tell everyone. They’re the worst friends ever. If I were in high school, I would not invite them to my birthday party.

You also cannot say to your kids that you love them, they will use it against you. “But mommy, you cannot punish me, you love me.” They have no shame, these little monsters.

They are little divas. They want specific haircuts; shirts tucked in a certain way and pants of only one certain length. Girls are divas you say, well, you have not met my boys.

In a few years if you meet me on the street and I am muttering to myself about dirty socks, and muddy shoes and the smell of dirty feet and soccer uniforms, do look kindly on my disheveled mom-look and remember: I am raising two boy-monsters.


 

World According to Blam is a collection of opinions, poetry and short prose, written by Merima Trako. She lives in Connecticut, USA with her husband and two children. An Engineer, a mom, an ex-refugee, Bosnian, she views the world in a unique way, exposed to various settings and experiences in her life.

 

 

 


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I'm Just Saying, I Wouldn't Mind Meeting a Husky Wearing a Fedora.

So, I had this plan, right? I was going to meet my best friend, marry him, and live happily ever after. All of this was supposed to happen by the age of 23. See, the original plan included me bumping into some handsome guy in a college class or in my dorm hall and we'd have some awkward interaction, followed by a series of coincidental meet-ups and hang outs, which then blossomed into something we both couldn't ignore:  Love and obvious sexual chemistry. Stop laughing.

In my defense, I have a family with an uncanny success rate when it comes to love. Two of my siblings married their high school sweethearts, the third sibling met her husband in grad school and never looked back, and my parents, who are still happily married after almost 35 years, were engaged after 5 weeks of knowing each other, despite the fact that they lived on different continents.

So... my expectations were skewed as a child.

Me? I'm in my mid-twenties and I live with my dog on 100 acres of forestry. No husband. No boyfriend to speak of.

You see, Duckies, it turns out that life has this way of kicking your plans in the balls and then walking away without a second thought.

That whole best friend for a husband thing didn't exactly work out, which is fine, because I actually kind of love my life right now. That being said, I'm not exactly hoping it stays exactly as it is. I mean, I still would like to meet SOMEONE.

So, what's a girl who lives in the middle of nowhere to do?

She's gonna fall down the rabbit hole of online dating, Duckies. And she's gonna drag her bestie, "John Hamm," right down with her.

That's right: We went boy shopping. Let's be honest, folks, that's what online dating really is. I sift through profiles like their on the clearance rack at Target: "Ugly... ugly... ugly... oh this is cute... oh, no... way too small*... Nice, but not my style..."

*I'm referring to his HEIGHT. Get your head out of the gutter. 

So last night, after some wine for me and lots of coffee for John Hamm (she's studying for law school finals), we ventured deep into the Internet... and this is what we found (and then shared on Facebook for all of our friends to see... - Hi Mom!):

 

John Hamm's Facebook Status: Late night coffee and helping Emelie boy shop on the Internet. I'm super high on caffeine and judging people.

The comments:

  • MeThere are so many unfortunate people on the Internet.
  • JH: 
  • "Pixie Stick": I mean, that's how I met mine. You'd better start posting hilarious quotes asap.
  • Me: Pixie Stick - so many dead fish.
  • Me"Oooooh.. he's cute. WAIT. 5'7". HARD PASS."
  • JH: "I'm just saying, if he uses the word 'loquacious' in his profile, he's probably a tool."
  • Me: "He owns his own clothing line and has a neck tattoo. Total winner."
  • PS: ... From now on, just assume that I "like" every quote you post. 
  • PS: Oh, I think I know that neck tat/clothing guy ..... wait, maybe there's more than one of them out there. God help us.
  • Me: "This guy started out seeming nerdy and sweet... now that I'm looking at his profile in more detail, I'm realizing he might be a murderer."
  • Me: "Okay, this guy seems like a tool, but he has a Husky and it's wearing a fedora... can I use this site to meet people's dogs?"
  • JH: I just found a guy who looks like a cross between Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaghey, it's like the cast of True Detective got together and had a baby."
  • Me: "LADIESMAN646 IS LOOKING AT MY PROFILE"
  • JH: I'm thinking about creating a fake profile and just calling it "Catfish" because this site keeps cock-blocking me.
  • Me: Whaaaat? This guy's favorite book is Mansfield Park?
    JH: No. False. No man's favorite book is Mansfield Park
  • Me: He's kind of cute. I mean... I wouldn't kick him out of bed...
    JH: Mostly because that's a rude thing to do.

He-owns-his-own-clothing

Graphic User Interfaces for Life.

I've been thinking about the importance of friendships a lot lately. I think that companionship is an extremely important thing to be good at in life, and maybe that's because I'm terrible at being alone. When people ask me what my worst fear is or what I think Hell is, I always respond with "being alone for the rest of my life." That used to be in regards to romance. Some days, it still is, but it's expanded way beyond that recently.

For as long as I can remember, I've had this terrible habit of making my entire life about The Boy. Whatever boy I was in love with at that point in my life, he was all that mattered. I used to think that was something really wonderful about me. I was kind of an idiot. I still can be, but that's not the point.

The thing is, though, that at the end of the day, the most important person in my life thus far has been my best friend, "John Hamm." I met her under really odd circumstances in my basement when I was 14 and we've been through and survived everything life has thrown at us up to this point together. There have been amazing years where we have talked every single day. There was a good year and a half when we didn't talk at all. I still referred to her as my best friend throughout that whole time, and I wish I could say that it was because I knew we would be okay, but I think it was more that I refused to accept that we might not be. (That's an entirely different self-reflection point.) Luckily, we made it through that, too.

 

bestbians2

Our friendship survived - even thrived - throughout college, and when we both lived in Europe. It survived us living together (just barely) and now, it's surviving as we're both settling into our lives in different states. Granted, we're only a few hours away from one another, but she lives a busy city life full of law school, and I live a quiet country life full of bookshops and small town crowds. Our scenes aren't exactly the same anymore.

By many standards, John Hamm and I should have faded away a long time ago. We should have graduated college, found boyfriends or husbands, moved to new places, started new lives, and referred to each other as "My best friend when I was in college." I mean, that's how these things usually go, right?

But we haven't.

See, the thing is that while I was always making my life about The Boy, and when John Hamm was feeling hurt about the fact that I couldn't seem to understand that, she never abandoned me. She put up with my bullshit and even pointed it out to me, because she knows she's the one person who can say that to me, and I'll listen.

Boys have come and gone. Boys will keep coming and going. One day, maybe, a boy might even stick around, and that will be a wonderful day. I still want that, because I'm human and a Jane Austen fan who loves romantic comedies. I'm never going to stop wanting that.

To be honest, though, I'm at a point where now my biggest fear is being without my best friend. Not having a best friend at all.

And John Hamm and I will continue to go through our own hills and valleys with one another. Some months, we'll talk every day and it will be great, but let's face it: We're at the beginning of our adult lives and things will only keep getting more and more insane and busy and full of other people, and maybe one day one of us will get married and have children (human or non-) and things will become even more packed with chaos. Our lives will be all about schedules and deadlines and sticky little fingers covered in mystery substances.

I hope to still call her my best friend throughout all of that. After all, we all need someone to turn to when the boys are driving us nuts and even when they're making us feel wonderful. We need that person to tell us "Hey, look at your priorities. Hit the brakes for a second and just check your route before you make a really wrong turn down a one-way street." I'm actually lucky enough to say that I've got a few of those in my life, which might mean that I'm a little more screwed up than I should be.

I guess what all of this rambling is supposed to say is that friends are important and I hope you all have a "John Hamm." I hope you all have that person in your life to talk to and go through it all with. Romance is really important, and it is a wonderful thing to be cherished and sought after. Best friends, though, are a whole different type of relationship and they take just as much care and passion as romance does.

That's why John Hamm and I make a point to meet for lunch one Sunday a month halfway between our respective cities and spend a whole day together with one another. This past time around, we got to talking about this very subject, and when I got home, I texted her to tell her how much I appreciate her:

Me: <insert long heartfelt speech here about how much I love her>

JH: Haha, thank you. :) I know we're good. I love you too.

Me: Call me whenever, okay?

JH: Ok. Same goes for you.

Me: Thanks. We're forever.

JH: I know. We're GUIs.

JH: Good...

JH: Autocorrect win...

Me: I was about to ask what that meant.

JH: No. I mean it, Emelie. We are graphic user interfaces.

Me: Until the end of time. :)

JH: :)

And I really mean that, Duckies. I really, really mean that.

What Happens When We Talk About Boys.

Okay, so last night, my good friend Lemon and I were sitting at the bar having a drink when we spotted this mega attractive guy at the table behind us. Naturally, we went into creepy mode and started trying to sneak pictures of him to send to our best friend John Hamm, who just recently moved out to Boston and abandoned us all. All of said pictures came out blurry and accomplished nothing other than embarrassment.

blurrybreakfast

So, anyway, John Hamm is dating the head chef at this restaurant (where Lemon and I also work). You haven't met him yet, duckies, but we'll call him Snape because... well... he kind of looks like Snape... if Snape showered every once in a while and smiled sometimes, too. Plus, he cooks amazing food, which is kind of like being a potions master, right?

Anyway... back to the blurry yet attractive man at the table and our texting conversation about him.

Lemon: Snape thinks he's gay... :( This has thrown us into second-guessing.

John Hamm: What, hot guy?

Me: No... Snape. Duh.... Like... you're his beard.

John Hamm: Ho boy... This is awkward.

Me: I think he and the sous chef are running away together.

I'd like to take a moment to point how just how quickly we got derailed from talking about the hot guy here. And no, Snape is not gay. That we know of.

Lemon: Now I'm paranoid... Because he is NOT gay in my head... Hot guy. Not Snape.

John Hamm: I'm just going to have to vehemently prove everyone wrong when he comes out here.

Me: GROSS!!

Lemon: Soooo... As witnessed by no one?

Me: Or everyone....

John Hamm: I can make you guys witnesses, but I feel like you wouldn't like that.

Lemon: ...do I get popcorn?

Me: And tomatoes to throw at you guys?

John Hamm: That's your prerogative.

Lemon: Can we yell "boo" when necessary?

Me: And applaud when deserved? Golf claps only, of course.

Lemon: Yeah, we don't want to distract you.

John Hamm: There will be no booing, as it will be spectacular from beginning to end.

Me: Oh!! And we can judge it "Dancing With the Stars" style!!! I want to be Bruno.

Lemon: I'm Len!!

John Hamm: You'll need a third.

Me: Um... Gumby. Obvi. He can be Carrie Ann.

John Hamm: Aw! He'll be enthused for me.

Me: But he'll critique your foot work!

Lemon: That means we get scoring paddles... Which you are prohibited from utilizing. Get your own! Oh! and I will use a cranky British accent!

Me: Yeah! I'll work on rolling my R's and getting all animated with my shoulders to the point of not being able to stay seated.

John Hamm: Just hang out with your mom for a while.

Me: Truth.

Lemon: This conversation took a strange turn...

John Hamm: Strange, but true... Also, it started strange.

Lemon: Eh, more or less.

Me: I can't wait for the Internet tomorrow...