I Just Want to be Perfect

Yesterday was my birthday. All my life, birthdays have been filled with anxiety and a little bit of disappointment. Partially because of my Clark Griswoldian dreams. I have hope. I believe in magic. I think anything is truly possible. And I imagine the most perfect of days for any special event, holiday, or vacation. I’m basically Riley from Girl Meets World.

Riley has Rileytown, a place where all her weirdness and happiness comes from. I have Chrissy’s World, where skies are pink and I am cool (with all my weirdness and happiness).

Riley has Maya, a best friend who stands up for her and loves her for who she is. I have Katie, who threatens to hit people over the head with a Corona bottle if they don’t stop teasing me or hurting my feelings.

It’s a good life. And it’s all mine. And for some reason, unbeknownst to me, a birthday never goes by in which I don’t cry at least once. I’m not saying this so you’ll feel sorry for me. I’m just explaining my weird little world for context.

So, yesterday, Brian took me out for breakfast and we planned our birthday adventure. We went home for a bit to digest and watch Game of Thrones. He took a nap (because I woke him up early to eat breakfast), and I called my mom for my annual cry.

It was at this point that Mama Bear offered to help. We were talking about Delilah, our beloved pool, who went to the pool graveyard in the sky a couple years ago, and how I could have been swimming while Brian napped. She asked if I wanted to go to one of the public pools in the area. My response was a mix of fuck no and lazy.

And be around all those people? I would have to shave my legs!

Mom knew I was right, and so she offered to left me come run through her sprinkler in her fancy, new, plush backyard grass(they sodded last year). I started laughing.

Come on! I’ll even do it with you!

At that point, I couldn’t stop laughing. It was uncontrollable and perfect. Everything I needed. I just kept picturing two grown women running through a sprinkler. I’m still laughing.

Brian woke up, and we took off for our adventure. A canoe rental in a beautiful hidden glacier-formed lake in the middle of suburbia. It was awesome!
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After our canoe trip, we walked around the lake, chasing geese. Brian kept telling me to leave them alone, but it was his idea to find them when we were on the canoe!

Once they left the lake, they wandered the grounds, just like we did. And they were so cute! I loved them.

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Afterwards, we met my parents for dinner at one of my favorite restaurants, Greek Islands. We drank wine, ate snacks, and they sang Happy Birthday to me before presenting me with a non-cake dessert and a birthday candle. All a girl wants on her birthday is to make a wish. Which I did. I’ll let you know when it comes true. We passed around the dessert, which was unbelievable coconuty custardy goodness, and my dad got the last piece.

As we nommed on our split dessert, Dad realized something was amiss, and he spit out the pink birthday candle. Apparently, he didn’t realize it wasn’t edible until it was too late. My parents and my boyfriend are pretty much the best. They know just what to do or say to make me laugh and give me the best birthday a Clark Griswold girl could have. A few tears turned into a magical day. Riley would be proud.

In the spirit of imperfection, I also wanted to tell you about a book that debuted this weekend. A book written, in small part, by yours truly. 37 co-authors produced the 4th book in the New York Times best-selling Pee Alone series, I Just Want to be Perfect. When Jen Mann invited me to contribute, I died a little bit with joy. It was the perfect title for me to be a part of and I hope you’ll all join me in reading this magical book of horrifying, hilarious, and true stories of women who try and fail at perfection.

I Just Want to be Perfect

You can find I Just Want to be Perfect in print and digital forms on iTunes, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon.

Netflix Stream Team

This post was created as part of my work with Netflix (shameless plug excluded) as a member of the Stream Team. I received a device on which to shamelessly watch Netflix and an annual membership to stream all the streams I can stream. I binge watched Girl Meets World this month, and boy was I glad I did. Riley and I have a lot in common…you know, since I’m perpetually a 12-year-old girl. I had a Netflix account before the Stream Team, and no one pays me to say nice things about them. If you have Netflix, you understand. Even Mama Bear is obsessed with them.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Sometimes I Cry

Last night I had a major meltdown. Major. Meltdown.I bawled my eyes out for an eternity. I still have some wicked puff surrounding my eyes, and that’s not pleasant for anyone. Let’s hope some coffee and eyeliner will do the trick. (Disclaimer: Brian did NOT make me cry. He was actually very good about the whole thing…even though he keeps telling me that it was some serious crying and that normal people only cry that much when someone dies.)

Of course, I started thinking about myself and crying. It’s been a long road of emotional skydiving in my young life…for mostly stupid stuff. But not all. When I was really young, I cried a whole lot. I remember hyperventilating more times than I can possible recount. My mom would have to stop yelling at me and try to calm me down so that I didn’t die. As you may have noticed, I was a pretty dramatic child.

Then I got a little older (grade school) and nothing in the world could make me cry. My favorite movie was Steel Magnolias, and I had a girl crush on Julia Roberts (in all her Shelby-pink glory). I may have only been 6 or 7, but I loved that movie…and couldn’t understand why it made Mama cry so darn much. My grandpa passing away didn’t even trigger a tear.

I used to tease my little brother ruthlessly for his tears. He and Mom would watch movies and cry together…and I would just look at them like they were crazy. I was hardened. At 7, I was ready to take down the world. I had been teased for not being as cool as some of the other kids…I was a little chubbier than some of the other kids…and everyone loves to tease the chubby kid…So I didn’t cry…I’ll show them. Some day.

So I remember the first movie that made me cry. It was a movie called Fluke…about a man who dies and is reincarnated as a dog, who goes back to find his family. I was 13…and it was about the saddest thing I had ever seen. I bawled like a baby. I bawled like I hadn’t cried in years. I was a hot mess.

Then, throughout high school, I would get stressed, but I didn’t cry much. Except when Leonard DiCaprio died…both times. Although I have to say, that I can’t stand Claire Danes’ crying. It’s ridiculous. Even now, 15 years later…she still has the most ridiculous fake cry. It makes me so frustrated! Because I love her in every other aspect of her acting career. Just not the crying.

When my first boyfriend came around my junior year of high school, that was when the crying really started. Apparently, I had been right to stave off the swarm of suitors (LIE) and stay without a boyfriend…even though my mother was convinced I was a lesbian at 13…(Just because I do not want to talk about boys with my mom, does not a lesbian make. I still love you, Mom!) I saw all of my girlfriends crying and whining about dudes…and I wasn’t down with that. I was a busy girl.

Why I Cry

So boys made me cry. A lot. The Goat. The Ethiopian (AKA Tex AKA Johnny Cash AKA The Rockabilly Greaser). 6’6. The Chiropractor. The Scorpion. The Old Guy. Tiny. The Pike. The Bartender. The Drug Addict.  The list goes on and on. I look forward to introducing you to them.

And movies make me cry.

And sad songs make me cry. (And happy songs, too-depending on the memory they invoke.)

And Disney makes me cry. In a good way.

And death and illness make me cry.

And I’ve just become this wave of emotion that cries a lot. Happy or sad. Tears.

I don’t have any images of myself crying…but I’ll leave you with my favorite video ever.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!