May I have your attention please?

I have a huge, ginormous, earth shattering announcement to make!  I'm really a man.  No, i'm not.  But I have been told I have man hands.  OK, moving on….

I'm going to be a published author in a kick ass anthology called, I Just Want To Pee Alone!  A couple of months ago I was contacted by a famous blogger by the name of Jen (i'll give you a clue, she likes to punch people in the throat), about writing an essay for an upcoming anthology about finding the humor in motherhood, so I did, and I actually made it in!  I promise i'll be sharing a lot more details about the book as the release date gets closer.  I can tell you that it will be available this spring and you can buy it on Amazon, Kindle, Nook, and ipad.

Without sounding like too much of a douchenozzle, I have to say i'm so proud to be included in this book with such an amazing group of bloggers!  It hasn't even been a full year since I re-launched Life on Peanut Layne.  I wasn't expecting much when I started my quirky little blog.  Heck, if 30 people read my blog in the beginning, I was jumping up and down.  I'm blown away by the number of people who read my blog today. To every single person out there who has ever clicked on my blog, thank you!  Even if you clicked on me and hated me, I still thank you for even taking the time to click on my blog.

This is the actual cover of the book. Pretty awesome huh?

 I was going to save this story for my one year blog anniversary, but I figured this occasion was a more appropriate time to share.  For those wondering how I got here, let me tell you a little bit more about myself. When I was a kid, I dreamed of being a writer.  In elementary school I was one of the only students at my school selected to go to a local writing conference. The best part was that I got to miss an entire day of school and share my story with a group of other "authors".  I thought I was the shit. Oh boy, did I ever!  I had a writing notebook filled with potential stories.  I was going to be the next Judy Blume or Ann M. Martin.  I was a huge book nerd and instead of going to lunch or recess like a normal kid, I would hide in the library and read during my breaks.  I wish I had time to actually read a book today, but with 5 kids i'm lucky if I have time to read the inserts that accompany a new prescription.

In high school I signed up for a beginners journalism class.  I figured I had this class in the bag, considering I was a gifted writer who attended a conference in elementary school.  Boy was my first assignment a rude awakening when I wrote an opinion piece on a news article!  EEEEK! I have never seen so many red circles, lines and notes on one assignment!  I didn't exactly make a great first impression with the journalism teacher (in fact i'm pretty sure she thought I was a moron), but I re-grouped, did some research on how to actually write a proper news article, and my next article about students dealing with diabetes was a smashing success.  I ended up spending two years in journalism.  A few days before I graduated my journalism teacher slipped me a note that said, "I hope you'll never stop writing.  You are destined to be a writer".

Unfortunately for me my life took an unexpected turn after high school, and my college dreams were put on hold.  By the time I did manage to enroll in college I wanted to be a nurse (bear with me here).  I signed up for several communications classes which were required to get into the nursing program.  For our first speech we had to give a 5 minute introduction speech. It could be about any topic we wanted.  I hate public speaking as i'm dreadfully shy.  Most of the intro speeches were painful to sit through.  People talking about themselves or things they were interested in like which stereo speakers they preferred or basic web design...yawn!  As for me?  I spoke about what I knew best…raising kids!  I wrote a short, humorous speech on the "10 Things I Learned About Parenthood".  I wish I would've saved a copy of it, but unfortunately it's stuck on a floppy disk somewhere (lost in a technology time warp).  I wasn't expecting much, but within just a few seconds of my speech the other students were literally laughing out loud.  In fact they were laughing so hard that I had to shout over the roar of the crowd.  They freaking loved my speech!  I guess it's pretty entertaining to hear that kids can eat Glade Plug In's and still survive.  After class my professor pulled me aside to talk to me.  Worried that maybe I crossed the line with my speech, I was shocked when he proceeded to ask me questions about my future.  He asked what I was going to school for.  I told him "nursing".  He wrinkled up his face and said, "No way! You've really got something.  You were made for the entertainment industry.  You need to be a stand up comedian.  Don't waste your talents. Nursing is not for you".

Everything he said profoundly impacted me, but it didn't change anything.  I proceeded with the medical program and eventually completed a Medical Assisting w/X-Ray Tech degree, but I was miserable.  I hated every single moment of it.  Don't get me wrong! I'm so thankful that there are people out there who love it, because there are dipshits like myself who put a catheter in the wrong hole and need your help, so thank you for doing the job that you do!  It just wasn't for me.

So here I am, not exactly a stand up comedian, but a humorist blogger following my dreams.  Dreams that got derailed but never forgotten.

I will be sharing all of the contributors in this amazing book at some point so please check out my Facebook page for daily updates: http://www.facebook.com/LifeOnPeanutLayne.

Here are just a few of the talented contributors that probably need no introduction from little old me:

People I Want to Punch in the Throat

Baby Sideburns

Bad Parenting Moments

You Know It Happens At Your House Too

Guest Post by 1st Time Mom and Dad

Guest Post by 1st Time Mom and Dad

At 34 I was one of the last of my core group of girlfriends to have a baby.  I mean, some of my girlfriends are already sending their first born off to college, and I am not even sending mine to preschool. Honestly, until I met my husband at 30-years-old, I was not even sure if I wanted kids.  I was happy living my selfish life of work, happy-hour, sleep, work.  I appreciated the simplicity and freedom of spinsterhood.

I can remember when my very best girlfriend got pregnant when we were only 24.  I thought she was nuts. I couldn't understand why she would want to go and mess up a good thing like her twenties by having a child?! Low and behold she did, and then she had another baby, while I was still falling down drunk at keg parties. I was sure my life was better.  Yet, one after another, my girlfriends were making babies.

Then by the time I turned 30, nearly all of my girlfriends were married (some already divorced) with children, and I mean multiple children.  I remember being pissed that at my big 30th birthday bash my motherly friends sat around carrying on about their children, the babysitter, getting home and not drinking to much because they would have to be up at the ass crack of dawn to look after their children.  I was so annoyed that they were having a better time talking shit about their children than I was, at my own birthday party!

Then, four years later, I had a baby.

I look back now on my 30th birthday bash and realize how lucky I am that they made it out at all!  I realize now with their kids being so much of their life, it was inevitable that they would trade war stories and tips and tricks to get the kids to eat or sleep.  I totally get it now. I also have all of my friends back.  We are now, the Sisterhood of the Motherhood.

We all understand each other, well they understand exactly what I am going through, and are happily sharing stories of what's to come with a crazy boy toddler.  We all would jump at the drop of a hat to help each other with babysitting, laundry, picking up medication from the pharmacy... you name it, and our sisterhood would do it to help each other's motherhood woes out!

I love that we have all changed and grown together. So yes, maybe I was a little late in changing over from party girl to mommy girl, but I have, and we are all together again. We laugh and joke and drink wine together again, and understand that we all have to be in bed by 11pm. We also don't judge when one of us shows up to the party with spit-up or a goldfish stuck to our ass.  We are an understanding, accommodating sisterhood.

I have also learned that mothers everywhere, while we do judge a little, we will help each other out.  We also get that your screaming baby in the store is not your fault, we get that you need a hand sometimes and are happy to help.  We are an unsaid club of sisters, always ready to help a mother out! And I am so so so proud and honored to be a member.

Guest Post by Diapers or Wine?

Guest Post by Diapers…or Wine?

I've been wanting to do a guest post for Peanut Layne for a few weeks now, but life got me. What i mean by that is i was eating and crying. I'm Sue, and my blog is http://www.diapersorwine.com/ . It's not helpful. I have no awesome crafts or tips. This is basically me having a nervous breakdown.

But back to it, one of the reasons i totally loved Peanut Layne's blog since i found it was because we both have 5 kids. In my circles, this isn't very common, and is often met with cold stares, loud comments, and the occasional, "Oh GOD BLESS YOU". If I was my Mom (i'm one of 6), i would say very sweetly, "He already has". This always shuts people up. Usually though, I’m like, "It's more fun than it looks. I realize we look insane. It's FUN OK". And that is while 2 are fighting, one is crying for boob (oooh, do i sense a theme for the post?), one is texting, and another one is brushing her red curls into a huge static mess and i am sweating profusely.

Another thing  Mrs Peanut Layne and i have in common? We both have boob monsters. No, this is not an STD. It's not an affectionate name for our husbands. This would be our youngest children.

I go from thinking, "aww, this is so sweet, i'm so thankful that she needs me and is comforted", to, "MOTHER F GET OFF- GET OFF - GET OFF!!!". My husband has given up all hope of getting "his" boobs back. He did try to find me ideas and helpful tips on weaning. But i don't want to put bad tasting liquid on my nipples. They aren't THUMBS. They are my nipples. Nope. I'm good. We'll figure it out. Please Jesus, help us figure it out.

I'm going to branch out and say Peanut & i have both heard it all. Gotten "helpful tips" from strangers or friends on stopping. "You just STOP". "Show them who is boss". "Don't you miss sleep". I just did a huge sigh as i wrote that. We know, people. We know. Yes, we miss sleep. Yes, it would be lovely to live in your magical little world, where you just show small children who is boss, and STOP. But we are kinda stuck in a zone right now where making the screaming stop means boobs. Getting ANY sleep means boobs. Fixing the boo-boo probably means boobs. Yes, sleeping through a night would be awesome. I haven't done that in over 2 years. But i also know my toddler. This little girl screamed for 6 hours, 3 nights in a row when we tried a certain method. And guess what else, she didn't catch up on that sleep she didn't get. Nope. She is the undead. She does not require sleep, unless it is accompanied by a warm boob.

Sure, i'd like to be done with this. Sure, i would REALLY like if she didn't grab her blanket, and start yelling, "Boob, Mom! Boob!" in public. But...this is where we're at.

My husband and i had another talk about trying to wean her, and he - not me - got all choked up when he said, "What will she think is happening when you say no and won't let her?"...so i'm screwed, kids. Mommy will be doing this until she maybe gets peer pressure from her friends that it's weird.

So, just a helpful tip...if you see someone nursing a toddler, just give them a bottle of wine. Just kidding (no, i'm not, seriously get them one). Give a smile. A nod. Something. But maybe don't give helpful tips unless they were asked for. Because we're doing what we gotta do right now. We aren't giving you helpful tips on stuff we don't understand. We're just surviving. And someday, when it's all over, probably we will remember it fondly. I don't believe that last sentence right now, but someday...

Friendly Friday # 19

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Dream a little dream: Guest post by Big A little a

Dream a little dream!

By: Roshni @ www.BigAlittlea.com

So, who amongst all of us strives to be a put-together mom?! Um.....only me, huh?! Well, okay, I freely admit that in years past, I have committed the laughable offense of trying to be a perfect mom! Perhaps it was the pressure of my relatives (in-laws, parents, other random busybodies!), the self-doubts instilled right there at the hospital at watching all the nurses taking care of a horde of babies in cribs without turning into mush, or perhaps it was all the amazing Martha Stewart-like blogs, that talked about teaching their babies sign language, while cooking three course meals, making lace doilies, shopping for high heels and getting the latest manicures, that convinced me that I was falling short and I had better buck up.... like, right NOW!!

Of course, you probably got the idea that it never quite worked out, right! Somewhere while I was cleaning my baby's bottom for the 'n'th time in the day, all the while wondering if there was anything edible in the house, and shoving dirty laundry under the bed, I got that it was a wonderful, but impossible dream that some beeyotches had concocted to make the rest of us feel bad!!

So, I let go of the dream, though it did seem such a delightful dream! I still sigh at the thought of a pretty, uncluttered house, all the while watching my boys systematically decimate the idea in their Star Wars duelling fervor. I giggle at the idea of making gourmet meals, because I have since discovered that I hate cooking! And, my present 'manicure' is 'short and flesh-colored', thank you very much!!

The last time I was congratulating myself about being put-together, was when I did not forget to fix all the lunch boxes, the kitchen was actually clean when I left the house and my son was not late for school......and then I dropped my younger son at his preschool and was about to walk out when I heard his teacher frantically calling me! I walked back to see her slipping something into a plastic bag and handing it to me with a half-smile, saying "I guess you didn't realize that this came along with his bedsheets". I took a quick peek and blushed...yes, it was a pair of my panties. And, even more cringe-worthy, they were not the lacy Victoria Secret ones!!

Hope I made your day with that confession! Wishing our dear friend at Peanut Layne a speedy recovery and hoping to see the rest of you around!

Signing off,
Roshni

Sexy Chat with Kennedy

While lying in bed I hear the familiar buzz of my iphone vibrate which basically means "You've got mail", or in this day in age it would be "You've got email" since who the hell sends mail these days (other than my grandpa who doesn't own a computer).  I try my hardest to ignore it, but my mind begins to wonder.  It could be a blog comment, telling me my blog is the bestest, most brilliant blog they've ever read and by reading my blog it makes them feel smarter and wiser (okay, so probably not likely).  Or it could be Ed McMahon informing me I won a million dollars, except that i'm too lazy to enter the sweepstakes so probably not that either.  It could be…let's face it, it could be anything and that's why it's so damn hard to ignore the beep of an incoming email!

So I reach for my phone which is located directly above my head on the headboard, and excitedly click on the bulk mail folder as if i'm a kid and it's Christmas morning. I know most normal people ignore their bulk folder, but for me all of the good stuff comes to my bulk folder. Perhaps it's because I haven't emptied out my inbox since forever.

To my dismay this was the urgent email sitting in my inbox that was more important than catching a few extra minutes of precious sleep:

Let's Do Sexy Chat 

Annoyed and curious I clicked on the link.  It was from someone named "Kennedy".  Right, and i'm a size 2.

So, here's what I have to say to you "Kennedy".   First off if you really want me to take you serious, it's probably best not to open up your email with, "Hi sexy man". The first rule in sexy chat should be to always make sure you are at least addressing the correct gender.

Second, I really don't want to view your photos because i'd probably vomit up my nighttime vitamins, but if you really, truly insist on sexy chatting with me, "Kennedy" i'll tell you what turns me on.  I'll even type it out for you, so you know exactly what to say to me, word for word.

Kennedy: Let me hire someone to do all of your laundry for you.  This includes washing, drying, folding and putting them away.  I'll even make sure that the wet laundry is placed in the dryer before it's sat in the washing machine so long that it smells like blue cheese and assholes when you open the lid.

Me: Ears are perking up. I'm definitely listening.  Excited to hear more.

Kennedy: I see your husband is working late again.  You sit down and let me cook your family a healthy, gourmet dinner while you sit on the couch and watch TV long enough that your butt actually  makes an indentation mark on the cushion.

Me: Getting slightly turned on

Kennedy: I'll even serve your children dinner, but making sure that you get the first plate of hot food with the best cut of meat. No more stone cold, shriveled up left overs for you.

Me: Hot food? I haven't eaten hot food since my husband had hair.  Tell me more, please!

Kennedy: I took the liberty of helping your teens with their homework.  I also took the younger kids to the park for a while, and let them burn off a bunch of energy, then gave them all a bath. They are already in bed and totally ready to conk out at any second.

Me: Preparing to leave my husband for Kennedy.

Kennedy: I fixed you a chocolate cake to eat while you enjoy your kid free quiet time. I hid it on the top shelf of the pantry so your kids couldn't find it.  I also fully stocked your fridge with Diet Coke.  While you enjoy your chocolate cake, i'll be cleaning your toilets and scrubbing that perma ring of kid funk off your bathtub.

Me: Madly in love with Kennedy.

Kennedy: ……….

Me:  Kennedy? Kennedy, where did you go?  Please come back!  The laundry is starting to pile up again, and i'm almost out of Diet Coke.  My teens are asking me questions about something called a rhombus, and the younger kids could really use a bath.  Kennedy?  KENNEDY PLEASE COME BACK!! Don't leave me….sobs. Well, it was nice while it lasted.  Good chatting with you Kennedy.  I'm guessing this is not the type of sexy chat you had in mind.

I'm Floored: Guest Post by The Insomniac's Dream

I'm Floored

Hi folks. This is the amazeballs and ever tired Sleepy Bard from http://hypnoticbard.blogspot.com The Insomniacs Dream. When I heard about Peanut and her struggles, my heart went out to her, and I wanted to do whatever I could to help. Goddess knows, this community of bloggers has done so much for me when I was down. That's what we do, folks, us bloggy friends, us tweeps, we support each other. The blogosphere is an amazing place full of lots of awesomesauce writers and great friends. I wanted to give back, and so here I am Guest Posting. I wrote this piece a few weeks ago, and it was put on hold while I had my own struggles and wrote my way through them. What better place for it, then here at Life on Peanut Layne.

Since I began writing a blog I have brought you, readers, on a journey. Through a winding path we have laughed together, we have cried together. I have shared a lot of the twists and turns of my life with you. I like to call my blog a humor blog, but life isn't always funny.

You know I can be funny, you've shared some of my heartache and life changing moments with me, and recently, as a Guest Poster on http://parenthetical-asides.blogspot.com/ (parenthetical asides) I shared another side of myself and came clean about my struggles with depression in http://parenthetical-asides.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-only-redemption-is.html (the only redemption is . . . ).

It's been a fun ride, and we aren't done yet! Today, I'm going to share some more of my crazy with you.

I don't like furniture. I loathe sitting on anything that is appropriate for sitting upon. When I worked, I would sit on my desk to talk to people, and on tables to talk to the clients in our day program. Even as far back as when I worked in a nursing home, I sat on tables, even at meetings!

At home, I sit on the kitchen counters, the coffee table, and even sitting here at my computer I'm on a foot stool.

Outside, I'll sit on anything but a chair. Is there a car around to sit on? A ledge? A wall or a fence? Then I'm on it. (No pun intended. I'm not currently on the fence about anything. I am assured of where I'm going in life for the first time in a long time.)

I'll sit on anything else but never furniture.

I especially love the floor (or the ground if I'm outside). I hope I never get so old and crickety I can't sit on the floor criss-cross applesauce. It's my fave.

I could be in a living full of furniture and if I'm not plopped on the coffee table or a foot stool, I'm on the floor. Sometimes I sit on the kitchen floor, leaned up against the cabinets to text and Tweet.

I also enjoy lying on floors. So much so that different floors have come to mean different things to me, evoke different emotions, and invite different activities. I am going to share with you folks what different floors are for.

We'll start with the bathroom floor. This is the floor to sit on when you are hiding out from your children. Take a cup of coffee and your smart phone in there with you, shut the door and lock it, and boom you've got privacy for at least a good hour. (You have to convince your children at a very young age it takes an hour to go #2)

This is also the floor for sex. If you've tried having steamy, romantic shower sex you have probably realized that it's just not what the movies make it out to be. In actuality it's clumsy and awkward. One of you is nearly drowning under the water, the other one is out of the water and freezing. There's height differences to deal with, shampoo bottles falling on you, you're slipping and sliding around, and things are poking you that aren't supposed to be poking you. This is when you throw a towel down on the bathroom floor and get to it. It's still steamy, I promise.

Bathroom floors are also places to have conversations with your girlfriends when you're hiding out from the prying ears of children and/or husbands. Lock yourselves in, turn on the fan, and don't forget the wine! If you have enough wine you and said friend can do drunken bathroom Yoga together.

I've had so many phone conversations sitting on that bathroom floor. It's the one room in the house you can go in and shut the door and everyone respects your privacy.

This is the floor where you camp out with a blanket and a pillow when you are just too sick to lay anywhere else. Tired of the trek to the bathroom every five minutes to puke? Just bring in your bedding and settle in for the night, the toilet is right there! Stay for however long it takes until you are better again.

Have a friend who drank too much and needs to vomit? Are you the one vomiting? Again, a great place to gather with friends. You can comfort and console the drunk, and then either sit or lie on the floor together and re-connect your friendship. (Lt. BFF if you're reading this, this is our place.)

Now we move to the kitchen/dining room floor. A great place to sit with your morning cup of coffee, propped against the counters with your smart phone or a good book.

This is the floor for art protects, big and small, Lego constructions, and army men battles. A place to gather with the kids or some friends and play a board or a card game.  (I can' play games at a table. That requires sitting in a chair.)

The dining room floor is a nice place to picnic with the kids.

I've written in my journals while sitting or lying on my kitchen floor.

This is the floor I lie on to cry when I'm heartbroken and nothing seems like it will ever be alright again. I'm not entirely sure of the reasoning behind this, or when it ever started, but when I'm done, just done, and can't take it anymore, I take it to my kitchen floor. Many of my tears have fallen on those tiles.

The kitchen floor is where I find myself, time and again, sitting in a circle with my friends, wine in hand, laughing at our stories. Kitchens are a place to congregate, we just take to the floor criss-cross applesauce.

Crazy Girl and I lie on this floor together to talk sometimes.

This is also the floor to sleep on when you've imbibed too much. Under the kitchen table is an awesome place to sleep off a drunk. (And I mean pre-children or when they are away of course.)

Also the floor for playing with cats, or lying with them to snuggle and love.

Next on my list is the living room floor. I love the living room floor! I sit there with my snacks and/or lunches to read my books. I lean against the chair, but never sit in it. This is the same spot that I use for writing in journals (when I'm not on the kitchen floor).

The living room floor is also great to gather with friends for games, or to play with the kiddos and their toys.

I absolutely love to camp out on the living room floor!  Bring out tons of blankets and pillows and you can lay on the floor all night for a movie or Netflix marathon. Make a night out of it with the kids and picnic on the makeshift bed, then cuddle in for movies and slumber together.

I had a stint of my life where I could only  sleep on the living room floor. Every night I'd drag out all the bedding, make my spot and lie there to watch TV until I fell out.

Camping out with a significant other in this fashion can be very romantic. Whether your're watching movies, or having sexy times, it's good  times. Build a fort if you're so inclined and bring out the lanterns or light the candles.

Finally, we move to the bedroom floor.

Obviously the floor for sex. Whether you intend to be there or roll right off the bed during vigorous sexy time.

Another floor that's great for sleeping off a drunk. If you just can't make it to bed, fuck it and lay on the floor. There's no judgement here.

This is the floor that loves to gather laundry, shoes, and other clutter, so I don't use it for much.

As much as I loathe furniture I do so love my bed. I love my bed too much sometimes.

I tend to force myself not to hang out in the bedroom unless its sleepy time, or I'm not so inclined to lock myself in the bathroom to talk on the phone, and wish to lie in my bed instead.

I enjoy the floor (and other weird surfaces) so much more than furniture. Am I the only girl in the world who's having this lifelong love affair with the floor?