just another manic Sunday

SUNDAY – a day of rest, a day of worship, a day for football lovers, and an important day for women who take the beloved birth control pill.

Today was my special Sunday, when my next cycle was set to begin, as the empty spinning wheel dispenser told me. And what a surprise…as of 1:30pm, I hadn’t even called in my re-fill. Procrastination at its finest.

After finally placing the order at 2:00pm, I took a mental note of the pharmacy’s closing time, 6:00pm, and made the conscious decision to wait til after the girls’ naps to pick it up. They never sleep past 5:00pm, so we would have plenty of time to get there before closing.

Due to hyperactivity and a couple blow-outs, the standard 2:00pm naptime became more like 2:45pm and finally, by 3:00pm, ALL three of the Godwin Girls were sound asleep. On this particular Sunday, Steve was gone at a commercial casting session, and I was nursing a slight hangover from last night’s celebration for my friend’s 40th birthday, so I took the opportunity to catch some zzzz’s myself.

Periodically, throughout my nap, I groggily awoke, took a moment to figure out where I was, determined all was well with the world since I wasn’t hearing any unseemly noises on the monitor, briefly questioned the time but didn’t bother to actually check the clock, and fell back into my deep, deep glorious slumber.

Ultimately I awoke to Lexi’s cries and as I went to pick her up, my eyes glanced at the clock: 5:35pm.

CRAP!

I swiftly picked Lexi up, ran downstairs to call the pharmacy, all the while trying to coax my brain out of the dense fog it was wading in, and trying to figure out my most efficient plan of action. Do I try to get all three of us in the car and to the pharmacy within 25 minutes?  Do I try to get a hold of my doctor and have her call it in to a different pharmacy with BETTER hours? What should I do?

Ring Ring…Hi, I have a prescription I need picked up TODAY, but I have two kids and don’t know if I can make it there by 6:00pm. Is there any way you can leave it at the Albertson’s customer service desk?

No, we’re not allowed to do that.

Ok, well then is there anyway you can just stay a few minutes late? It would just be a few minutes.

No, they make us leave right at 6:00pm.

Ok, well then can you call it in to a different Sav-On?

No, all our locations close at 6:00pm. But we open at 9:00am tomorrow morning, why don’t you pick it up then.

Inner Monologue: Ok, Little Miss Unhelpful, Uncooperative, Unfriendly Thang…

You clearly:

#1 – Are not on the pill so you don’t know the RAGING hormonal rollercoaster that ensues after one skipped pill

and

#2 – Do not understand the imperative nature of preventing an oopsies.

I looked at the clock – 4:43pm.

Ok, we’ll be right there.

I dashed upstairs, woke Lily out of her deep sleep, threw sweatshirts on all three of us, told Lil to grab her flip flops as I grabbed mine, buckled the kids in their car seats and we were off.

It was 5:51pm.

After 8 minutes of praying to the Green Light Gods, driving like a cautious bat out of hell, and cursing the m-f’ers who were taking their leisurely Sunday late afternoon drives, we barreled into the parking lot, parked the car and RAN into the store. There I was, no make-up, hair disheveled, a kid under each arm, with my tank top being pulled down in the front by both girls who were hanging on for dear life. It was a SIGHT to be SEEN, I am quite sure.

As I reached the pharmacy counter it was 5:59:30. The rolldown doors were all shut except for one little area where the cash register sits. I saw the pharmacist standing, arm crossed, scowling, as he mouthed the words here she comes.

Huffing and puffing I reached the counter, Phew, I made it.

What’s your name? Said the same unfriendly gal, in the same unfriendly tone.

Godwin, Burt-Godwin. B-u-r-t. (This is where the whole hyphenating thing gets a little tricky).

As she fetched my prescription from the fancy hanging rack, I said, kinda under my breath, my stanky dragon wine hangover breath, yet still kinda loud enough for them to hear…

I’m gonna need to switch pharmacy’s ’cause this just isn’t working out for me.

No reply, from either the grumpy pharmacist or the unfriendly, unmarried, apparently celibate clerk.

I swiped the card, snatched up my prescription and proceeded to do a happy dance with Lil and Lexi in the aisle.

We made it! Woo Hoo. High-fives, fist bumps and hugs all around.

From there we walked around Albertson’s to pick up a few essentials, and my mind raced with all the things I could have said to clerk. I should have asked her if she has ever been on the pill, or if she has ever heard of BENDING the rules a little for a mom who needs to catch a much needed break.

Right then I saw her at the end of the aisle.  We caught eyes and I thought, oh, here is my chance.  We were walking towards each other.

Inner Monologue: I’m gonna say something…here I go…she’s gonna get a piece of my mind…

I stopped right in front of her and before I could say a word, she held up her right hand and dangled a set of keys.

Are these yours?

Oh…yeah, thanks.

I told you, I always misplace my damn keys!


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pep talk to myself

I am in need of a major pep talk.  Like a Coach Taylor from Friday Night Lights pep talk.  Like a stop whining, get over yourself, let it go, keep your chin up, the world doesn’t owe you anything, look at the bright side, just do it pep talk.

Like a Dad pep talk.

The hubbie is fairly good at them, but he’s got a lot on his plate right now, so there’s no need for me to be all bummer, woe is me, on him. Plus, hubbies in general are known for throwing in that one innocent, idiotic comment that colors everything black and turns all the pep into poop.

Here’s my situ…Besides the funkety funk funk I’ve been feeling lately, I finally heard back from the representative of the first major celebrity I’ve gone after for my book project. I won’t name names, but let’s just say she’s uber famous and she writes a blog that rhymes with POOP. So the good news is, I finally heard back.  The bad news, and the reason for the needed pep talk, is that it was a THANK YOU BUT NO THANK YOU reply.

So, though I’m very happy with the progress of the book and VERY OPTIMISTIC about its future, I just hit my first hurdle, and it hurt.  And though I’m sure there will be more along my journey, I am just taking a moment, on the inside, and on this blog, to have a pity party.  A SHORT one.  No balloons, no booze, no bad karaoke. Just taking a moment to think why would I be stupid enough to think this mega-star would have anything to do with my book. And then, in turn, question what I’m even doing trying to get a book published when I have no experience whatsoever.

So to combat my negative inner monologue and kick those nasty pity-party-going thoughts to the curb, I will deliver my own pep talk, to myself.

Here goes…

Mare,

First of all, this doesn’t mean I/you won’t be able to get another notable person(s) to contribute.

Secondly, I/you don’t NEED celebrity contributors anyway. Though it would help to have a big name associated with the book, and it was our original idea to have notable contributors to show the universality of grief, it is not ESSENTIAL to the core purpose/message of the book.

Lastly, and most importantly, just because her “people” said no the first time around doesn’t mean I/you should give up hope on her and shouldn’t TRY AGAIN.

I remember seeing Maria Shriver on Oprah a few months ago (in fact I wrote about it here). She said it took five years of asking to finally get Bono and Gloria Steinem to speak at her woman’s conference.  She said, I tell people they might as well say yes to me the first time around because I’m going to keep asking until I get a yes. Granted, she’s Maria Shriver, a Kennedy married to the Terminating Governor of the glorious state of California, but, I’m Mary Burt-Godwin of Mama Mary Show fame, married to the one and only G-Money, and what?

Ok, Mama Mary Pity Party officially over. So now I will turn to the five things that have given me inspiration and hope today.

#1 – Lexi’s luscious laughter, even if she is keeping me up at all hours of the night.

#2 – This photo my hubbie took at Balboa Park a few weekends ago; Hope and glory in full color.dsc_0365.

#3 – This email from a dear friend’s sister in regards to the book project.

Mary, This is a wonderful project you are working on.  I look forward to reading the book when it is finished.  My father’s death was very difficult for me partly because I was not sure how to deal with the grief that I had.  It triggered so many feelings that I know I am still dealing with.  I think this project is such a great idea and I am sure it will be helpful to many women dealing with loss.  Thank you for doing this.

#4 – This photo of my dad, which arrived in the mail, randomly, from my Uncle Jim.  He found it as he was going through his things and sent a copy to my sisters and me.

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Pretty handsome fella.

AND

# 5 – This a card I found, given to me by my dad, at some point, years ago, when I needed a pep talk. As I’ve mentioned before, he was incredibly considerate when it came to sending cards, always with a caring, thoughtful handwritten message. I have many of them saved in a scrap book, and this one is my favorite.

The outside has a illustration of a cat (not the reason it’s my favorite) and says:

If you need a push, a pull, a tug, or just a hug…

And the inside, pre-printed message says:

I’m here for you.

My dad’s message:

It’s helpful for us to occasionally ponder Abraham Lincoln’s Road to the White House:

1831 Failed in business

1832 Defeated by Legisation

1833 Failed in business again

1836 Suffered a nervous breakdown,

1838 Defeated, defeated, failed, failed, defeated, etc.

1860: ELECTED PRESIDENT.

Mary, You have what it takes to achieve greatness, even if that amounts to nothing more than the realization that you have been a good person who has tried her best. Love Dad.

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So here I go. Trying my best.

Good talk.

gettin’ giggy with it

Does anyone else get a little giggy a few weeks before their birthday? Well I do, always. Every year. A few weeks before my birthday I start to act a little bitchier than usual, a lot more introspective and whole helluva lot more judgmental of myself and pretty much everything around me.. like the way my hubbie chews his food. Well my special day is right around the corner and today it dawned on me…no wonder I’m a complete hot mess.

So on top of being a little stressed that my hubbie’s work got cut to part-time and beyond exhausted since Lexi is both teething and double ear infecting and therefore up all night, I’ve got the friggin birthday blues.  I’m not really blue, I just feel blue, does that make sense?  I really have nothing in my life right now to be blue about… this just happens to me every year and I’ve learned to accept it.  It will pass and I will greet the new number to be added to my existing 3_ with a Coke and a smile. Bring it on!

But in the meantime, I am completely short on brain power and am worthless when it comes to this blog. I have started at least 4 different blog posts and saved each one as a draft, because I just can’t muster the brain capacity to complete a decent post. Any minute brain power I have is going to my kids my book project and to composing emails to the IT genius who is helping my re-vamp my site (new snazzy Mama Mary site should be up next week – woo hoo – Thanks Hunter!). So for all of you faithful readers, stay with me…It just may be awhile  before I can “make it work,” Tim Gunn style and write anything worth a darn.

I’m off  to bed now, and for the love of everything good and holy, I pray for a decent night’s sleep tonight. Sleep changes everything…except my age.

Pennies from Fallon

A few years ago I flew to New York to visit BFF Mariana with the third of our Three Amigos, Amy.  I was 3.5 months pregnant and just beginning to experience the ever-so-delightful perma-nauseum that accompanies the miracle of pregnancy.  As we slowly rolled out of bed on our first morning, jet-lagged and starving (yes, I still felt hungry through the nausea, it’s a wonderful combination), Amy and I debated our options for our morning meal.  Mern had already headed to the hospital for her shift, so Amy and I were left to our own devices.  It didn’t take much time for us to decide we were in need of a New York City bagel…STAT.  Good thing Gramercy Bagel was right across the street.

Here is where the conflict of my story comes in…Through the pukey hunger pains I needed to contemplate…Do I take time to put on make-up, brush my teeth, comb my hair and make myself presentable for the inevitable New York City Star Sighting or do I just throw on my nappy, stanky, airplane-stenched jeans and take care of my grumbling tummy and growing fetus?  This may seem like a no-brainer but to me it was a difficult decision of epic proportions:  On one hand… I RARELY go anywhere without make-up — at least my brows, mascara and lipgloss – and particularly if there is a chance of seeing a friend, foe, ex or celebrity. Vain?  Maybe. Precautious?  Yes.  Silly? Completely. But that’s the way it is, or at least was before I had kids.  On the other hand…Hunger and I are not friends, particularly when I am pregnant.  So the insatiable baby in my belly won and against my better judgment, and everything I stand for, I threw on the stale jeans, whipped up a pony and we headed for food. As I trepidatiously stepped into the elevator, Amy noticed my reluctance and said, “Don’t worry Mare, who would we possibly see?  We’ll only be gone a minute.”

Do you know where this is going?

We moseyed across the street to Gramercy Bagel with the cool New York air in our unkempt hair and before either of us landed both feet in the door, we saw him.  Hot hotterson funny man, even with a beanie, flannel and the “I partied pretty hard last night” eyes, Jimmy Fallon.  We looked at him, and immediately whipped our heads back at each other. Without a word we knew it was him and I knew I was going to KILL her when we got back to the apartment.  A mental image of my browless, glossless, nappy haired countenance made me shiver…Are you kidding me right now?  I patted my pockets in hopes of finding at least a tube of Bonnie Bell chapstick (cherry maybe?) but to no avail.

Disgruntled yet star-struck and sweaty-palmed, and still starving, we got behind him in line.  He was thowin’ out fist bumps and “what ups” to all the homies behind the counter. They knew his order. He was a local, a regular.  We were in his territory and I was beyond, beyond…Not sure what I even ordered.  As we neared the register, he dropped a penny.  Pretty sure it was a magic penny. Or in the very least a funny one. So there was the penny on the ground.  I wanted sooooo badly to say something witty, clever, memorable.  Then he would look at my cute baby belly (not the browless face) and make a comment like, “Oh, you’re pregnant, you should name your baby Penny?” Or something witty like that.  And that would be our moment. But no.  That’s not how it happened.  The penny fell between Jimmy and Amy.  She picked it up and gave it back to him and he said “No, you should keep it for good luck,” or some shit like that.  Being the attention hog that I am I poked my head around her and tried to speak, but all that came out was, “Good penny, luck you, hee hee.”  Oh for shit’s sake!  This is my moment with Jimmy Fallon?

But then I realized, oh ya…I’m married, happily, and to a hottie by the way.  And…on top of that pretty important detail, he’s a SUPER DUPER famous guy.  And he ordered two cups of coffee, probably to take back home to his lovely fiancé.  But yet… it was a brief fling in a bagel shop. And it was a fun story.  We smiled all day.  And continued to look for him, once we had our make-up on.  Just in case…

I’m telling this story tonight, on the eve of a VERY IMPORTANT DAY TOMORROW…
1)    My sister Laurie’s Birthday – Happy B-day LaLa~
2)    My friend Flo is having her second baby girl – Go get ‘em Flo!

AND

3)    Late Night with JIMMY FALLON begins – With special guests: Robert DeNiro and are you ready for this one…JUSTIN TIMBELAKE…What??? Can you tell I am bursting out of my skin with excitement right now?

Good luck Jimmy, knock ‘em dead!

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my two girls and the five senses

It’s been awhile since I’ve participated in San Diego Momma’s PROMTuesday, so since I am once again, in bed, in the dark, lying next to my sick baby girl, I will take a few minutes (not more than 10…that is the rule) to write about today’s topic:

Write a character sketch of someone you love (child, partner, pet, mentor, etc.). Detail this person, let us see him or her through your description. Maybe you want to “show” your loved one through action and movement, or perhaps you are viewing him or her in repose. Either way, get down to brass tacks and give us the one you love through your writing.

Lily & Lexi — my dears, my dolls, my doves, my delights , my dy-no-mites —

The color of sunshine

Music to my ears

Soft to the touch, exquisite, finer than china

The smell of rain: pure, clean, fresh, beautiful, joyful

Edible

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Proud Mama Mary

Today, I’m a Proud Mama. I’m also a Proud Mary, but that’s a totally different post.

Lexi is finally crawling. She’s been commando crawling for a few weeks but this past Friday, on our weekly jaunt to LEGOLAND, she crawled for the very first time. And Mama was able to capture the moment on video.

And Lily, my 2.5 year old, is becoming wise beyond her years. She’s adding more fun phrases to her repertoire by the minute. Some of my favorites:

Oh for sake! Apparently I whisper the myriad word(s) that go between for and sake.  Good for me.

If the fuck is stuck then take me down. This is a line from the Fireman show at LEGOLAND, however the line is “If the TRUCK is stuck…” she has a fhing for substituting F’s for T’s.

I’m gonna freak out.  This time the “f” is in the right place and is in reference to any number of things from getting a lollipop at Frader Joes to seeing Zoe on this morning’s Sesame Street episode.

And my favorite…
Mom, can you beat me? I hope the lady next to me in the parking lot of REI didn’t hear that one. What she means is, can you race me? But she say’s beat because every time we race I say I’m going to beat you. Do you think that will hold up in a court of law?

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And of course I’m proud of my creative, loving, kick a** husband who gave me the best Valentine’s Day gift ever. I’m still on a high from the video. I’m secretly hoping it will become a YouTube sensation so the world can see what a f’ing genius he is. Wanna see it one more time?  I do…

I’m also proud of myself for going to Target last week and exiting the store having spent less than $100.00. Being lean in the pocket book is probably the only place I’ve been lean lately, but hey…I can only handle one resolution at a time.

I’m off to set my dvr for the Academy Awards. This is usually one of my favorite nights of the year — I get dressed up, pop champagne and bust out the wedding china — but this year I’m a little apathetic because 1) Tropic Thunder is the only movie I’ve seen in eons and 2) I really don’t get the Hugh Jackman thing. Maybe tonight will change my mind.

A Love Letter

A few months ago, one of my fave fellow bloggers, Mrs. G at Derfwad Manor, posed the question…what is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to you?

Here is my answer…

My Valentine’s Day Love Letter from my husband.  Check it out…