Hi. I’m new here. I’m so honored to be a part of this collective of amazing writers and women – I’ll do my very best to pull my weight. I like to make people laugh, I like to keep it real and I I’m a hot mess a good chunk of the time. But I like to write my life – because even though we are each unique and our own people, so many of our experiences are shared.
By way of introduction, I’m a mom of three young kids, and an avid consumer of social media. My corner here is called hashtagblessed – which is a sarcastic poke at all of the #blessed posts I come across on social media. These posts are usually a perfectly staged photo accompanied by a perfectly scripted description of a wonderful moment. The problem is, ALL I was seeing was those perfect moments. Life can be amazing and wonderful and incredible and filled with “cup runneth over” moments, but it’s also messy and stressful and chaotic and crazy. Where are those moments? No one shows them because we – generally speaking – like to present our best selves. hashtagblessed is here to provide you some comic relief and to show you that those hot mess moments happen to all of us. I embrace it all – the hot mess, the beauty, the chaos and the cup running over. Solidarity, people. Solidarity.
So, with that being said, I’ll share with you a story of a recent trip I took. At the risk of sounding old, air travel just isn’t what it used to be. But, AIR TRAVEL JUST ISN’T WHAT IT USED TO BE. Bah humbug.
On my fight, I was feeling all lucky that I snagged an exit row aisle seat. I even texted my husband and said “Yay! Exit row seat!” all braggy-like. And then fate laughed and laughed and laughed at me.
As soon as I sent the text, the guy in the window seat took his shoes off and put one of his feet up. ON the exit door. Like, really stretched that leg to get it up there. It was super sexy. Every time a flight attendant would walk by, they would tell him to put it down. He would, and as soon as they were gone, he’d put it right back up. Because he’s five, apparently. And apparently it’s okay to take your shoes off and put your damn smelly nasty feet up on display.
Then the dude in the middle seat, who also occupied at least a quarter of my seat, snored like a trucker for the entire flight. His snoring would slowly escalate in intensity until he’d literally stop breathing for a terrifying 15 seconds or so, and then his whole body would jolt and he’d snort crazy loud and wake himself up. Then the whole cycle would repeat.
The first time he snorted, I had just started a rather frightening episode of Stranger Things. This particular snort was so loud - not to mention unexpected - I about jumped out of my chair and very nearly peed myself. The guy across the aisle from me tried to stifle a laugh, but failed. I shot him a look and said “tradesies??” - my voice full of hope - and he laughed and said “not a snowball’s chance in hell, ma’am.” But when the liquor cart came down the aisle, dude bought me a beer for laughing at my expense. We good, dude. We good.
The grand finale was the guy who tried to make it to the bathroom that was right in front of me, but didn’t. Puked all over the floor. Right. In. Front. Of. Me. Literally as the plane was landing. The flight attendant was yelling at him to sit down, and he was fighting unsuccessfully to open the bathroom door (which had been locked for landing), and he turned to tell her and then he puked. Just as the guy next to me crescendoed to another snort. And then we landed. I tried to fold myself into a fetal position but couldn’t, because snort man’s right arm essentially had my left shoulder pinned under it. There was no escape from my hell.
Between no shoes guy, sleep apnea guy and puking guy, I’m out, y’all. Too much peopling. Can’t no more.
Whatever your nest looks like, it's the people and animals in it who make it a home. This page is dedicated to all things family: raising kids, juggling schedules, corralling pets, or navigating changing parental relationships.