My iTunes is a ridiculous mix of genres from the booty-shakin’ beats of hip-hop and rap to the hipster-take-the-wheel emo tunes and even a tiny bit o’ crooning by some of them country-western folk. I listen to music every. single. morning. as I get dressed and put my make-up on and as I dry my nails (I have a whole nail drying dance that I swear-to-god works – more on that destined-to-be-viral idea later) and now I’m really taking my jams to a whole new level of serious with my uber-long commute to work.

I might dance in my car like only all of So Cal is watching. Haters be hatin’ but my booty be shakin’.

My commute also gives me far too much time to think about the lyrics of the music I’m pop-and-locking to, which has led to me this very moment, where I break it all down for you; the very meaning of the hip-hop lyrics you’ve been wondering about.

Just freaking play along like you were wondering, m’kay?

Now before you go commenting like “Oh that’s not even what they’re saying!” Or, “THAT’S NOT WHAT THAT MEANS!!!” Let me tell you a couple things. 1. *looks around* This isn’t your blog. And, 2. I can certainly be down with O.P.P. (Other Peoples’ Perspectives) but this isn’t one of those times.

I ball so hard m*therf*ckers wanna find me. Let me tell you what, Jay-Z. I haaaated playing tetherball against assholes like you. Don’t ball so hard. It sounds painful. Bitch behave? Oh hell no. That shit you say? CRAY. Provocative? Yes. Does it get the people goin’? Yes. BUT CRAY, Jay.

Now Flo, I know that “sometimes (you) get a good feeling” but most guys do; it usually happens first thing in the morning, for starters. It’s cool. But the whole “giving in’s not an option, gotta get it in” has me all arched-brow over here like, you ain’t sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’ right? You talkin’ about gym time? Knew it. *whew*

I just wish Drake had told us what the motto was a lot sooner. I know he’s only 25 sitting on 25 mil, but crap, it would have been nice to know it was as simple as “you only live once” like, yesterday. I would have done EVERYTHING differently. Skeet, skeet, skeet.

I’m just sorry J. Cole can’t be my man. I got high, I got low, I dropped my thang down to the flo’ and… he’s only here for one night? Bullshit. Get right, get right. And to think I wanted to ride around town in his big ol’ raaaaange, nevermind his big ol’ chaaaaains. Damn they don’t make ‘em like that anymore. *sigh*

Oh, Tyga. I know you were faded/faded/faded/faded when you wrote this ’cause you keep saying the same goddamn thing over/over/over/over again. You spit out random shit like “Scarface” and “Dan Marino” without meaning/meaning/meaning/meaning and frankly I’m going to need Botox/Botox/Botox/Botox from wrinkling my forehead trying to get it/get it/get it/get it.

And lemme tell you something, Lil Jon. When the sweat starts drippin’ down yo’ balls, it’s time for you to get off the got-damn dance floor and air yo’ junk out. That’s funk waiting to happen. I’m all for a guy gettin’ low on the dance flo’ (I ain’t scared, I ain’t scared) but aww, skeet, skeet muthafucker, I don’t want to hear about your wonder cheese.

Join me next time as I dissect Hipster Hysteria, classic rock tunes or possibly some boot-scootin’ country.

Insert golf clap here, I’ve officially been at my new job for two weeks. Just long enough to figure out my chaotic morning and nightly routines and plenty long enough to have my share of awkward moments that only I could create.

Everyone is crazy friendly at this company and I’ve noticed how super proactive they are about introducing themselves in hallways, the kitchen area, anywhere – even if we don’t necessarily work closely together. Taking this cue, a week in I decided to do the same over the cappuccino machine (where I have taught people to make foam, OF COURSE) by introducing myself to a man and telling him which team I work on, how I am new, etc. to which he replies, “I know. We met your first day?”

Riiiight. Whoops. And so we meet again?

There are also a fair share of celebrities and producers and Big Names roaming our office and the building hallways and while I’m not one to usually put faces with names (see above), I found myself a little dumbfounded to run into a producer of a show that sounds similar to Lurvivor mid-stairwell.

No, no. Like, physically run into him.

IN MY DEFENSE, who stops mid-step to text? Fine. Plenty of people. But should they? No.

A few days later color me surprised when the whole Hump Island selection suddenly became relevant in a totally YEAH, GOOD LUCK WITH THAT MEGAN kind of way when a certain Bostonian who likes ‘dem apples’ was roaming the hallways.

People, this is why you don’t laminate your Hump Island choices.

Next week I get to meet the co-owners/partners of the company. I think it’s incredibly cool that they do that sort of thing with each and every employee but really, y’all know me, this is just an opportunity for me to see how far I can stick my foot in my mouth.

But seriously, I’m pretty sure there’s not a whole lot worse I can do with my nervous banter since I checked out my bio on the internal site and, heh/blush/cough/fuuuuuuck, what do you know? There it is, all shiny and shit: a link to this here blog.

*waves hi to my new co-workers*

*shifty eyes*

And on the home front, I’m adjusting – and quicker than I expected which is good. So very good. Going from married to divorced to single mom to single working mom… god, it’s been a roller coaster. But I’m really loving this new ride I’m on and am managing to not worry so much about the upcoming twists and turns; it’s refreshing to just enjoy the thrill of it all.

The five year old is having girl problems at school. As in, too many “grills” are chasing him around at recess. “They won’t weave me awone.”

Shoot me now.

At first, as a parent, you selfishly smile as though this – this Kindergarten dilemma as told by a five year old – means something big and telling, like your kid who you always knew was handsome as hell MUST REALLY BE – like, in the eyes of others.

Fine, in the eyes of other five year olds.

Big T wasn’t convinced we were receptive to his angsty problem so he got on my level by dropping a Jay-Z lyric to relate. You know the one. Let’s just say if he finds one more of these little problems to chase him around at lunch, I won’t need to provide 100 of something on the hundredth day celebration at school.

Apparently the problem is real though. A little girl has allegedly gone all Axe-commercial on my son, pushing him up against a wall. (Damn, girl. What’s high school gonna be like for you?) Parents and teachers have gotten involved and I am like HOLY FUCKING KINDERGARTEN, this is ridiculous, but yes, he is cute, isn’t he?

Last night, Big T broke it down, explaining why his problem is all because of us, his parents. “It’s because you make me shower every night and I just. smell. so. good.”

Huh.

So the moral of the story is mommas don’t bathe your sons? Or have I simply learned that my son is the second coming of the Old Spice Man? [I'm on the slide. Now I'm on the monkey bars. WITHOUT USING MY HANDS!] I’d like to think the latter.

No matter, let’s be honest: the important thing is that Big T has learned early on that pimpin’ ain’t easy. Now to teach him how it sho’ can be fun….

HEY. Sometimes we relate better via Jay-Z lyrics. You stick with your duct-tape parenting methods and I’ll go with mine, ok?

At different times in my life I have measured success in varying ways. A good grade in school, seeing my writing published, a win on eBay, getting married, getting divorced, the fire department arriving in time, having healthy children, an interview gone well, buying a home, finding the perfect gift for someone, hearing the word “benign,” not throwing up when I was thisclose, finding the little black dress…

I told you it has varied.

I have made lists to add up my successes and lists to cross them off. I’ve celebrated them quietly and sometimes alone and also loudly and pompously with friends. I have prematurely claimed success when it wasn’t success at all and I have completely failed to note successes when they have sat right here beside me; their legs intertwined with mine.

Lately, with even more change on the horizon, I’m trying to re-examine what success means for me. I am reminding myself to find success in smaller moments too; to allow myself that sense of accomplishment in the finer chunks of time that, in hindsight, carry just as much importance.

If not more.

A little over a week ago, success was in the face of my nine year old son who saw his Pac-Man cake for the first time. This past week, it was managing to take care of very sick boys while being sick myself. Saturday night, it was having the boys sit on the couch and over-analyze the UFC fights with me. Today, it won’t only be in starting a new job, but in letting go of the guilt that goes with it.

There is so much change. And for someone who struggles with the very idea of change, I will count each and every one of my accomplishments – huge and ridiculously small – giving myself credit for every moment I acknowledge and embrace as I face each new thing that comes our way.

This, I hope, is success.

I know, I know… I just did one of these catchy little photo-a-day memes. BUT, when my friend and fellow Friends addict Miss suggested we make a Friends photo challenge I couldn’t resist. The possibilities were endless and it was like, can open, worms EVERYWHERE.*

*A Friends addict will totally get that reference.

But, even if you’re not a Friends fanatic and don’t have every line of every episode memorized, that’s OK [But why? Why-why-why?] – anyone can participate and play.

Miss and I used various episode titles as daily themes which you can interpret any way you would like via photograph. [The highlighted words in red help give you more of a general theme for the day.] You can use whatever kind of camera you want – from a fancy DSLR to your iPhone.

Share your daily Friends Photo-A-Day Challenge photos on Twitter and Instagram using the hashtag #FRIENDSpc.

We’re beginning the Friends Photo-A-Day Challenge starting tomorrow, February 1 but you’re welcome to start at any point and go at your own pace.

Nine years ago you changed my life completely. Nine. I choke on that word. I can’t believe how grown up you are.

Nine years ago, you gave my life an entirely new purpose, filled it with meaning that has kept me strong in weaker times and began teaching me the difference between what’s important and what can wait. I realize it’s my job to teach you, but the truth is, you’ve taught me even more. You’ve taught me about love and gratitude, about Japanese Zeroes and the solar system, about building forts, beating Mario Bros. levels and compassion.

I keep telling people that you’re really coming into your own lately. But that’s not true. You’ve always known who you are – even at a very young age. You’re stubborn, incredibly smart, logical, have a sarcastic wit about you, the gears always turning, a fantastic brother, a natural leader and a sweet, old soul who is wise beyond your years. But lately, you’ve grown more sure of yourself, gained a bit of much needed confidence and the dimples that have returned to your cheeks make me so very proud.

I am extremely proud of you.

I know. It’s not cool for me to say it. You don’t like to hear it. But it’s important that I tell you anyway.

And E, I know this has been a rough year or so. You have been so strong and helpful and honest. I love that. I owe you the same. So just know that while I can’t always get you everything you want, I promise to give you everything you need.

I love you E-man. Happy, happy birthday.

Love,
Mom

______________________
*Song: The White Buffalo’s “The Pilot”

Here are my photos from week two. You can see everyone’s photos here. Or follow the hashtag #TDPC on Twitter or Instagram.

day eight – a bad habit:

day nine – with someone you love:

day ten – a childhood memory:

day eleven – something blue:

day twelve – sunset {the last sunset of 2011, fittingly enough}

day thirteen – with thirteen things:

day fourteen – eyes:

Upcoming week’s themes: silhouette, long exposure, technology, your shoes, something orange, bokeh, faceless self-portrait…

I don’t particularly care to look back on this past year and recollect or reminisce about the good and the bad. In brief, I had hoped for better and I’m grateful it wasn’t worse. And while the weather, in general, was great — it was a hell of a storm.

I don’t know if I’m just that hopeful about 2012 or if it’s that I just need to have hope in 2012, but thank god 2011 is over and the feeling of starting anew is here – even if it is more symbolic than tangible.

Normally I’m not one to set concrete resolutions but I’ll admit to having a few for this coming year. Nothing too lofty; just a few items I would love to check off for me.

_ learn to skateboard with my boys
_ go back to Manhattan
_ learn Russian fluently
_ visit Savannah again
_ learn to play the guitar
_ land a great job
_ learn to dance in the rain

I know. The last one is incredibly cheesy. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read the quote: “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.” and thought “yeah, yeah, yeah” while rolling my eyes, heavy with cynicism and ill with cliche.

Then, after coming across it for the eleventy billionth time the other day, after having a hard day of trying – and failing miserably – to suck it up, it sunk in. The words actually meant something. The quote finally and suddenly resonated and I realized how much it pertained to me right now, in this very moment in my life.

This – right now – is my storm. But I’m no longer bunkering down or looking for a place to hide from the ominous clouds. I refuse to stay inside where it’s easy and safe any longer. Instead, I’m going to face the front. I’m going to seek out the puddles and splash though them. I’m going to get my feet wet, let my mascara run and learn to love to dance in the rain.

And play guitar. And learn Russian fluently. And a number of other things.

And I’m ready.

Here are my photos from week one. You can see everyone’s photos here. Or follow the hashtag #TDPC on Twitter or Instagram.

day one – self-portrait:

day two – what you wore today:

day three – clouds:

day four – something green:

day five – from a high angle:

day six – from a low angle:

day seven – fruit:

Upcoming week’s themes: a bad habit, someone you love, childhood memory, something blue, sunset, yourself with 13 things, eyes.

Just like I always tell my boys, honesty is the best policy.

Wishing you and your families happiness, health & most of all: patience this holiday season.

Love,
Megan & the dudes