Giving whole new meaning to the phrase “white trash”

* photo credit to

There’s one thing I’ve realized about working night shift. You don’t always make rational decisions. When you are at work and sleep deprived your ideas seem brillant. For instance, taking a selfie with a trash can sounded like the coolest idea ever. Until I got home and put that plan into action. Then, I realized my neighbors don’t work with me. They are not going to understand why the hell I was doing a photo shoot with the trash cans. All I did was give them further proof that I was the inspiration behind Sonic’s Whacky Pack!

Before we get to that embarrassing situation. Let’s take a little ride in the time machine. To where this original idea came up. You see I was on my 3rd 12 hour night shift. I hadn’t got much sleep before I came to work. And basically I walked into what we like to call a “shit show”. Basically, you don’t know which way is up and which way is down. But hey you have 12 hours to figure that shit out. Call lights are ringing like patient’s are competing on a final round of Jeopardy. Everyone has synchronized bladders. Meaning everyone has to go to the bathroom at the exact same time(On a side note they really need to do a scientific study on that ). Bed alarms are going off because some patients like to see how fast you can really run. As much as those go off. I ‘m really baffled how I’m even fat! But let’s not get off track here. And let’s not forget about the admissions that roll up during the pandemonium. I mean I love trying to welcome a new patient then hear a bed alarm go off. Then, that meet and greet turns into a “Hi/Bye/Gotta go/but I’ll be back soon” session. So, basically it’s a typical night when you work in healthcare.

But even in the chaos there’s still time to debate important matters. Like if that thing you lug to the curb on trash day is called a “Trash Can” or “Barrel”. I mean this is a legit question. And became a hot topic in between nursing duties. I call it a trash can and my friend calls it a barrel. This is what a barrel looks like to me…

And this is a trash can…

And since I always have to be “right” I felt it was my duty to show my friend the light. Or to be more accurate the trash. And this is where the idea was hatched to do a poll on what we had. A trash can or barrel?

Simple enough? Probably! But in true Kari fashion I decided I needed to do a selfie with the trash can. So, here I am. Early in the morning. It’s like 4 degrees outside. I have no jacket( because obviously I like to live on the wild side and not look at the weather forecast). And I’m standing on the curb trying to get the perfect photo with our trash cans. But when you don’t have a selfie stick and are trying to get 2 wide objects(meaning me and the cans) in the shot. It can be a tad challenging. So, there I was holding the camera up and to the side. I even tried lowering myself a little to fit it all. But in reality you need a damn engineer degree to make it work!

Meanwhile…. across the street. A curtain is discreetly pulled back so Karen can show her husband that their neighbors were really white trash! Congrats Karen! Way to solve that case. Now, can you help me out and vote for trash can!

Funny how hitting snooze can cause the apocalypse!

photo credit to

Love fb memories. This one from 3 years ago makes me so happy that I don’t have to get kids off to school in the morning. My condolences to the rest of you going through this still.

It’ s offical I HATE MORNINGS. There’s a damn good reason I work night shirt. Because being up when the sun is rising is some serious bullshit.

Seeing the kids have had the last 3 days off due to snow. I wasn’t prepared for getting up. I actually slept through my alarm the first time.And that’s hard to do. When that things goes off you want to jump out of bed and take cover because you think you are under attack. But somehow this morning it didn’t phase me till it went off the 2nd time. And even then I laid there wondering why it was going off at this god awful hour. Then, reality set it. And so did the profanity and the jumping around. Trying to disentangle myself from my blankets while getting dressed in the dark was fun. But in crisis situations like this. There is no time for lights. And to add insult to injury my teenage daughter was not up Well, Well looks like you will be sporting the “I just got out of bed look” because there’s no damn time to make yourself look presentable. But don’t worry baby. You are so rocking that bedhead.

The only kind of day you don’t want to be doing the morning shuffle is when the roads still suck. Ya, forgot about that minor detail. And looking at the temp. of 7 degrees this fine morning. I’m not thinking this ice rink that my street is buried under is going to melt anytime soon. And that assumption was proven when the radio confirmed only a high of maybe 32. And chance of some light snow this night. What the hell does that mean? And what the hell is wrong with the weatherman. Dude you are predicting the damn weather. Not your wife’s menustration cycle! ” There’s a 10-30% chance of some light snow tonight. But nothing like the heavy snow we got earlier this week”. Feel like sticking a big maxi pad on my driveway.

It’s funny how a simple thing like not hearing your alarm can set everything into chaos. Skylar was late to school. Which meant we were late getting home. So, instead of Josiah having all the time to get ready. I was like a drill seargant…GET DRESSED! HURRY UP AND EAT! BRUSH YOUR TEETH! THERE’S NO TIME TO PLAY WITH THE DOG! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T FIND YOUR OTHER GLOVE? DO YOU KNOW HOW COLD IT IS? YOU WILL FREEZE TO DEATH(with that last saying I almost wanted to cry. Oh, my god I sound like my mother). Poor kid. And so not only was I psycho. I was dropping and breaking things because I wasn’t paying attention. Got in a fight with a baby gate. Okay I do that every morning. That thing brings out the tourette’s in me. I really don’t know how I managed these years ago with my kids. Because let’s face it. Those things are like fucking rocket science! Thank god for my 7 yr. old grandson(everyone should have one of those)cause he put it up in 2 seconds flat. Such a show off. Really I was just pretending to be stupid. I knew how to put up a damn gate. I didn’t need no 7 yr. old to show me. Ya, right!

But the real climax to this wonderful morning. Is when I’m trying to get out the door with Josiah. I was going to drive him to the bus stop since it’s so damn cold. Well, I had the genius idea to let the dog go outside. Ya, that was frickin brillant. Because puppies are like children. They sense when you are in a hurry. So, he deided that it was playtime. And did I mention this time we were playing “Let’s taunt mommy and make her gag” “That’s right ladies and gentleman I got frozen shit in my mouth.” “Let’s see how fast this bitch can run now.” Ya, that was me chasing the dog and yelling this moring. And swearing like a sailor. Because did I mention I only had on my crocks. And that little fucker couldn’t keep on the path his daddy dug out for him. Oh, hell no. He kept faking me out and diving through the snow drifts. But eventually this old broad outsmarted him. And got him. Even with wet socks, a red face, and difficulty breathing I still declare it a victory. That was until I get the dog in the kennel and yell at my grandson we were going to miss the bus. Well, that fell on to deaf ears because he wasn’t there. Oh, ya. Somehow the “I’m taking you to the bus today just let me get the dog” went in one ear and out the other one. Either that or he was betting on the puppy. And decided he didn’t want to miss the bus. I finally caught up to him at the bus stop. But against his horror made him wait in the jeep with his nonnie. There went his cool status. Oh, flipping well. If you are going to head out in this kind of weather with no hat(you know that thing I kept telling you to get so you were ready to go) jacket not zipped up, and thank god you at least had on your gloves. Of course, you will be stuck sitting with the old lady. I want my grandson. Not a frozen Hans Solo. Besides how would I explain to my daughter how come her son is stuck in a block of ice on my watch. Don’t think so mister!

Well, all the kids are at school. Satan is taking a nap. And I think I’m going to go make a 2nd cup of coffee. Because I sense it’s going to be a really long day. By the way spell check in not working. So, get out the red ink pen out on this catastrophe of bitching!

Talent is when you can Sing and dance while cleaning. But can’t walk up the stairs without tripping!

*throwback to the days where I could do my “Flash dance” impersonation without shaking the house!

Do you know what I like about Facebook memories? That apparently I do the same annoying shit but on different years. Today, my singing traumatized a stranger who walked into my house by mistake. Not my fault she caught me in my pajamas with my hair sticking up while belting out Wrecking Ball while sweeping! It’s my husband’s fault for leaving the screen door open and not locking it! Bet the lady really hates her friend Sara now. Since she gave her the wrong address and made her walk into the World’s worse Talent show! And after reading this fb memory I realized 3 years ago it was my husband that was a victim to it!

The real definition of a snow day: The ability to be trapped in the house with your spouse and not kill them. I know the feeling is mutual right now. You see I have to listen to music when I clean the house. But I can’t blare it today because he’s watching t.v. So, I have my headphones on. Well, that has given him a headache. Because apparently I can’t sing. So, I’m off key, jack up half the words, and can’t hold a key. Who gives a shit! This isn’t American Idol. What am I suppose to do. Clean and pretend I’m on lip sync battle? Who the hell doesn’t sing when ” Hey Mickey” or “girls just wanna have fun” come on(yes I’m on a 80’s station)? That’s okay. You don’t want to hear my loud singing voice? I’ll just open all the curtains and give the neighbors a good show. I’ll pretend I’m in one of those old 80’s break dance movies. Or Elaine from Seinfeld. I have no problem breaking out the leg warmers since apparently singing is banned! So neighbors please don’t call 911. I’m not having a seizure. Im just dancing and dusting. And hubby….How do you like me now? Still 💘 you. Even though I’m thinking about pouring itching powder on your side of the bed when I finally make it at 4 in the afternoon. LOL

Snow days are the only days teachers are appreciated!

This showed up on my FB memories from 8 years ago. I thought it was fitting for all those parents across the country now.

Let’s have a moment of prayer for all the mom’s who found out their kids wouldn’t be going to school today.May you still have your sanity left and didn’t have to resort to sticking velcro to your kids and attaching them to the wall.May the weather be warm enough for them to return tomorrow.Amen!Now,go generate money into the economy and support your local liquor store.

*On a side note I would like to say, “I feel your pain right now!” Being trapped in a house with kids who have cabin fever will be one of your greatest tests as a parent. Either you will come out a victor or you will end up in a padded room. May the odds be in your favor!

This is probably how mid-life crises begin….You blink and your youth is replaced with ben-gay, icy hot, or Aspercreme

photo credit to saying

*This blog is dedicated to my dad who just turned 70. And is really feeling it. This will definitely not make you feel better. But maybe you can reminisce about the good old days…Your 40’s! And to my daughter Skylar for believing in me!

One day you were the “Youth Gone Wild”(Now, people don’t get that reference. Because that song is on the fucking CLASSIC Rock Station). Now, “I lost my car in the parking lot” is your new theme song. You begin to ponder how you got to this point in your life. It’s like one day you were counting down the days till you turned 18(because being an adult sounded as magical as owning a unicorn) And now you are facing assault charges for punching the cashier who asked if you wanted the Sr. Discount. You have aches in places you didn’t know could hurt. The woman in the mirror looks familiar but has crows feet around her eyes, gray sprinkled in her hair, and age spots on her face. Who the hell is this imposter?Because in my mind I’m like 20. But the mirror is showing me I’m 20×2+3. When the fuck did my age become a damn math equation?

Alanis Morisette’s song, “Ironic” comes to mind. Ironic because of how you spent half you life trying to act and look grown up. Only to be scrambling to erase signs of it. I mean I use to make myself look older by wearing lots of make up. Which in reality I looked like I escaped the circus or a street corner. But in my eyes I was so “mature”. Now, I wear make up for a whole different reason. To transform my face from looking like a character on the “Walking Dead”.

Back then you padded your bra with toilet paper. You could have bigger boobs and blow your nose at this some time. Now, you are smart enough to buy padded bras. But if you are flat chested. Guess what ? You are still flat chested! Now, you are just the proud owner of a bra that looks like inflated airbags went off in your chest. But on a good note at least your boobs will never melt away. Of course, I’m still trying to figure out this even still an issue. I mean my mom swears she finally got boobs after she had kids. I’ve decided my mom is a witch who tricked me into giving her grandkids. Because let me tell you. I had 3 damn kids! And the only things that didn’t grow on me were my boobs!

I always was self conscious about my body when I was younger. I would kill to be that kind of “fat” again. In case you are wondering that was 120 pounds. What would the old me think if I told her that her fat ass weighed close to 180 pounds now. Bet your ass she would spit out that pop tart. Funny how when you try eating like you did when you were younger. You still can but it’s like the food is laced with super glue. All those calories stick on you. Those dimples you always wanted on your cheeks. Finally show up. In the wrong spot and definitely more than 2.

Back then I use to lather my self in baby oil to get that ultimate tan or as people call it now days…skin cancer. Now, days I lather myself in lotions that are supposedly going to make my skin firmer and the cellulite will go into hiding. Like some kind of witness protection program. Like you saw some bad things done to this body. Like unhealthy eating habits. But the owner isn’t ready to admit she’s at fault. So, she’s looking for someone to blame. And you Mr. Cellulite are on her hit list. So, instead of working out to control those “Matrix”(slow mode/freeze frame)parts that like to jiggle and take awhile to catch up with the rest of your body. You spend you money on these miracle lotions.

Back then you use to scrub your face you avoid an acne outbreak. Because obviously one zit had the power to keep you from leaving the house. Now, days you put all sorts of shit on your face. Because if you see one more wrinkle you will loose your shit. And no one! And I mean no one!! Can know that you aren’t 29!

Back then you use to dye your hair to be cool! Now, you do it. Because you are tired of counting gray hair like a stripper with her dollar bills. You don’t want that many damn it! The only thing that doesn’t make you cry is seeing 20 year olds doing that silver/gray look. I see these kids and think, “Are you fucking stupid? Why would you want gray hair now? In 20 years you will be dying your hair so much you will be lucky if you don’t go bald and look like Mr. Clean. afterwards!”

Back then you couldn’t wait to move out of your parents house. Because you were tired of people telling you what to do. Well, good news kids! You won’t have your parents running your lives anymore. Oh, no there’s something better. It’s called bill collectors. They are the ones that make sure you go to work day after day. Week after week. Why? Because they are the mafia version of your parents. IF you owe they will find you and collect in any way possible.

Back then you couldn’t wait to be old enough to not be carded. And when you did start getting carded for cigs and liquor you got annoyed. Now days, when they ask for your I.D. you almost jump over the counter and give the cashier a big smooch. But since you don’t want to get arrested. You refrain yourself.

Back then my mind will filled with unrealistic ideas of what getting old looked like. I wish it was what I expected. But as I’ve discovered Life finds humor in proving me wrong. Because let me tell you I never imagined bending over to tie your shoes could become an Olympic event. That I would ever see the appeal of polyester pants with elastic waist(Hello! Don’t have to suck in your muffin top to button your jeans? Sign me up). That walking up and down stairs has you huffing like you just ran the damn Boston Marathon. Or that I would have to rub “old People’s cream” all over my body so that I can get out of bed every day!So, kids enjoy your days growing up. Take it and absorb every endless day. Because you won’t ever get those days back. You will have plenty of time to “grow up”. And let me tell you…It’s not all it’s cracked up to be!

On a side note I would like to just throw out a little suggestion for all those innovative future Shark Tank contestants out there. Can you event some kind of hologram mirror. So, I can still see my 20 year old self when I look into it. I miss that crazy bitch!

Sometimes you should just stick with fish sticks and avoid “fancy” seafood restaurants.

*this memory popped up on fb. Funny thing is this happened 3 years ago. And we were planning to go there tonight or tomorrow to do a late bday dinner for my husband. Think they’ll still remember me? Hopefully there’s not a picture of me at the hostess stand. So, they know not to seat me. Want to know why I’m Leary about showing my face at Red Lobster? Read that embarrassing story below.

Life Lessons #998 and #999.

#998-I have decided that all food should come in crab legs. Think about it. If we had to work that hard for everything we ate. We would all be skinny bitches.

#999-There has always been a reason that I never eat food that requires using tools in public places. I obviously forgot that reasoning and had what I would like to call a momentary lapse in judgement. I decided to veer from my safe eating shrimp platters and venture to the “big boys” menu. I mean I love imitation crab meat. But have always steered away from the real stuff. Due to a irrational fear of making an ass out of myself in public. I mean I could always picture the scenario playing out. I would finally attempt cracking open my food. And somehow I would loose control and my food would fly into some prim and proper lady’s lap. And then their would be the public outcry of letting someone like me in their fine establishment. Yes, I have an overactive imagination. So, due to this fear I’ve always played it safe. But why should I have to keep depriving myself of the real stuff. So, tonight I decided to live dangerously(and the location of our table helped with this decision. If any food did fly from my plate. I had an escape route in place. We were right by the kitchen. I could make a fast break through it if I had a bunch of ladies with pearl necklaces chasing me down for staining there Vera Wang dress). The first sign that this was a really bad idea should have been the fact that they give you a plate with tools. Okay, People! I’m the Poster child for trailer park Barbie. I’m not some kind of surgeon here. I don’t even know what the hell those things are called. They looked like plyers. But not quite.(this would be the #1 reason I’m forbidden from my husband’s tool box). So, I watch my hubby. And decide if he can do it. Anyone can. And it wasn’t so bad. I was cracking and pulling. And enjoying the tastes of fresh crab. That was until my husband told me there was also meat in the huge looking claw pieces. Well, hell. I almost let all that go to waste. So, as I was trying to claim the big prize. I end of putting a little too much muscle into it. And knocked over my Bahama Momma(that’s like some major alcohol abuse). And to add fuel to fire. I’m so embarrassed that I start choking on the food I have in my mouth. So, there I am trying to clean up my mess, choking on my food, and I see a hand reach over with a bunch of napkins. Asking me if I’m okay. Of course, I wouldn’t get lucky by this little mishap going unnoticed. Oh, no the manager came to save the day. So, now I’m still cleaning up my mess, choking, turning 50 shades of red, and trying to thank him. While my husband tells the guy, “I can’t take her anywhere”. So, I finally recover and tell him thanks and explain that I don’t get out much. He leaves then our server comes over to check on me. By this point I’m thinking why don’t they just make an announcement over the PA system. “Will everyone please direct their attention to the girl with the flower. As you will see she demonstrated why certain people should stick with the kids menu.” So, I’m thinking I might be banned from Red Lobster for a little bit. At least until my husband forgets this embarrassing encounter. All I got to say for future date nights…Hello McDonald’s drive thru.

A mom who has been there. And has the straight jacket to prove it!

Photo credit to MGM Studios/movie Overboard/Goldie Hawn

My idea for today’s blog was inspired by a couple of people I follow on social media. They were both having one of those days. Where you are either feeling like the worse mom in the whole world. Or you are 5 seconds away from loosing your shit. And their posts really resonated something in me. I could relate to every word and feeling they expressed. Because I have been there. I’ve done that! And have the gray hair to prove it. So, this post is dedicated to all the mothers out there who feel like failures. Who feel like they can’t go on. I’m here to tell you. It will get better. You will survive!

When I think of what motherhood looks like. I always picture Goldie Hawn’s character from Overboard. The “comatose”look is the face that every mother has worn. It is the feeling that there is nothing left of you. You have officially been emotionally drained. And if it wasn’t for the “miracle” of alcohol. You would have already ordered your pink straight jacket from Amazon Prime(because you need that shit like yesterday)and booked your room at the “Looney bin”. Because at this point a padded room sounds like your ultimate dream vacation.

I mean it doesn’t matter how much unwarranted advice people give you. Or how many “parenting” books you read. None of that shit is going to save you. And if you are looking for them to save you. Then, you are already drowning. Because I’m here to tell you that you are going to fuck up. And not just like in one big event. No, you are going to screw up left and right. You will question how anyone let you become a parent. Because let’s face it. There are no requirements to let some human being slide out of your hoo ha like it’s at the damn water park. And the worse part is this child does not come with an owner’s manual. I mean my damn jeep comes with one! Yet, this tiny human comes with no instructions what so ever! I mean when you go from being the kind of person who could never remember to water house plants. Yet, you are now suppose to remember feed this little person. It’s kind of intimidating. There should have been some kind of manual that slipped out with the placenta. You know something along the lines of how to raise this little person, keep your sanity, and make sure they don’t end up in a orange jump suit one day book. And the chapters don’t even have to necessarily have to be in that order!I mean is that asking too much life?

Remembering to feed your kid or clothe them isn’t even going to be your biggest challenge. No, you will have to become a master negotiator. You will have to learn how to talk down a little child on the verge of a major melt down. While in public no less. You will have to learn how to get gum out of hair, crayon marks off walls, and how to scrape melted blocks from your oven. And you know what? If you are a new mother you are lucky in one sense. I didn’t have the internet when my kids were young. I couldn’t just google how to get your kid’s tongue unstuck from a flagpole(okay luckily that didn’t happen). I had to figure it all out on my own. But let me tell you. My first child was the one where I discovered all the remedies to fix a lot of these disasters. By the time the next 2 were born. I was like, “Bring it on”. Well, in theory I was that bad ass. Don’t be fooled. There were plenty of days when something new would come up. And I would be like, “These can’t be my kids! I obviously just work at Satan’s daycare”!

There will be plenty of days that you will feel like a failure. Left your 5 year old at school. Yup, can check that one off the list. Loose your kid in a store because you turned your back for one minute. And they somehow become a master illusionist and “disappeared” in a clothing rack. Ya, nothing more fun than walking in panic circles and yelling your child’s name. While everyone stares at you like you are a lunatic. And once you find them you don’t know if you want to hug them or beat their ass. My most epic fail was the time I stepped out of the house and got locked out. Did I mention I left my infant in his walker. He was in the kitchen with a baby gate to block any escapes. But when I looked through the window I saw he made a prison break. I couldn’t see where my child was. Just a knocked over baby gate with stairs looming in the background. Well, let’s just say the word “panic” had a whole new meaning that day.

There were times that I thought they were in on the whole “let’s take a nap” thing. Only to wake up to an empty bed and a house that looked like it got ransacked. And it’s always fun when your young kids decide to give themselves haircuts. You know everyone is judging you then. “So, you let your kids play with scissors? Wow, you have some stellar parenting skills there!” There will also be days where you just don’t have the strength to argue with your child. So, you will let them go to school looking like Bozo the clown. Or show up in a blizzard with no damn jacket! Those are the days the battles were lost. But needed to recover your wit.

And these are just the younger days. I could write a book on the teenage years. But I don’t want any new mother’s to “eat” their young. I promise you will survive those days too. But that’s a whole other blog. But I just wanted you to know that through all this. You will survive. I know because I have. That’s it’s okay to think you will never get the mother of the year award. And that is perfectly normal for you to question if your kids “college” fund should turn into their future “therapy” fund instead. Because if you didn’t have these fears then it would mean you didn’t care. And I know if you are fretting on your posts. Then you do care. And that means something. Because a mother’s love is the greatest gift you can give your kids. It doesn’t mean you have to be perfect and have all the answers all the time. But it means knowing you will make mistakes. That somedays you will be rocking your self back and forth in a corner wondering if you should forgo normal arts and crafts to teach them how to turn their toothbrush into a weapon. Because with all the phone calls you get from the school principal you just know your child is going to be in prison one day. And that toothbrush will be the only thing to save him! Mom goals right there people. Nothing says, “I love you” like teaching them to survive in the prison yard!

And on those days where you think the spawns of Satan are too much. Just remember it’s all worth it. Because nothing is better than hearing three simple words, “I love you” spilling from your child’s mouth. From the crappy breakfasts they will make you to the questionable artwork they will happily give you. These are the moments where you know that in your child’s eyes you are their world. And I tell you what. There’s no greater feeling. I might not have been the best mother. I didn’t bake cupcakes for the class or volunteer for field trips. Because most to the time I was working to provide for them. But I would like to think that at least my kids love me enough to never put me in a fucking nursing home. They might know not to do that too because I threaten to come back and haunt them. But I would like to think it will never happen because they love me and that I didn’t totally suck at being a mom!