Marie Barone is my Mother In Law

Its a story old as time: Boy meets girl, girl marries boy, new mama secretly hates girl.   When I started dating again I had all these questions I asked before a boy was ever able to walk through the first door.  It was a list.  A big list.   What I didn't ask, because in my first marriage I never dealt with this issue was, do you have a mama and are you close and is she crazy?  Now before I go any further we should note for the record, I don't care if Mother Theresa is your mother in law, she's crazy.  All moms are crazy.  I fully admit that I am crazy as a mother.  I feel bad for my son's future wife, it will not be pretty.  She won't be good enough and she won't fold his clothes the right way.  I'm not going to worry about Baby Girl's future husband because Big Chief is going to take care of that and have the hole already dug.   There was not a lot of interaction with me and Big Chief's mama before we were married.  She came to the house a few times and I tried really hard to impress her by making dinner one night and just trying to keep my big Yankee mouth shut.  There's a huge cultural difference between Big Chief's southern roots and my obvious sarcastic no filter Yankee ways.  The southerners like to remind you of that fact, they're still mourning the loss of the war.  A lot.  However, I have accepted their artery clogging sweat tea and their ability to bless hearts into my life.  I think to reciprocate they just let me come to Thanksgiving dinner and eat fried turkey and bloated corn (which is apparently something called hominy, don't eat it, you'll just embarrass yourself in front of your new in-laws by spitting it in a napkin and then falling over from a seizure).  I'm getting there with the blending, slowly.  It's a crap shoot on any given day whether they like me or not.  Now I just show up with booze in the trunk.

Once the eloping took place I guess you could say that may have set the tone for things to come for a few years.  I had a huge wedding the first time around and well, that didn't quite work out.  So for me, another big wedding was embarrassing and just didn't seem proper.  I knew he wanted one and to this day, I do regret not doing it for him.  When she found out we were engaged she was ecstatic, I think.  And she didn't miss a beat.  Our little wedding of just friends turned into a huge catered event with a fruit fountain and a band and I freaked out.  Maybe if it had been a nacho cheese fountain, I wouldn't have gotten the fevers?   So, we eloped.  His mother missed out on her only child's wedding and I as his new wife didn't realize how this affected her until many years later.   I think as a general rule biological mothers and daughters have their own turmoil but they've been dealing with each other's special brand of crazy for so long its normal.  When you add the mother in law's special brand of crazy, well, we as girls have a natural tendency to be a little territorial and therefore, that's a whole new level of cray cray.  There's a lot of jockeying back and forth on who's his #1 girl and who has the say.  We went through many rocky years of ups and downs and emotions and my feelings are more important than your feelings.  And Baby Boy was over in the garage drinking a case of Busch Lite yelling: "y'all are stupid I'm out of this".   He still does that.  And that's why I put sour cream in the mashed potatoes.

At some point the crazy kind of slows down and evens out.  We just start getting along.   Maybe its a new moon, a new addition with the granddaughter or we all up'd our meds?  My mother in law gave me her prize winning baby boy approved home made from scratch cupcake recipe complete with the homemade icing.  He loves mama's cupcakes.  It was even laminated!  I knew the tides were turning and we had hit the moment in our lives where maybe the petty fights were gone.  So, I sat out to make those delicious vanilla cupcakes to surprise him with.  I was so excited.  Now, I'm not a baker.  I can mess up a microwave brownie in a mug.  But If I could master these cupcakes, man OH man I was going to be money.   So I made them.  Decorated them.   He came home and bit into one and I knew right off the bat....something was wrong.   So I took a bite.  OMG what is missing from these, their awful.  I couldn't figure it out.  I had made them straight from her recipe.  I'm looking around the kitchen, I double checked all my measuring devices what was going on?   I don't know?   I went back to making box cupcakes because I don't know what happened.  Later that year she gave me her famous sausage ball recipe, the holy grail of recipes in his family, minus the baked mac n cheese I'm still working on!  Now y'all if you've never had a sausage ball, its like you've never lived a full life.  It's comfort food at its best.  900 balls of Bisquick, cheese and sausage baked and it goes straight to your waistline.  And you won't care.   The first batch I made burned and dry?  OK, do another batch, the balls were not balls they fell apart and melted on the baking sheet.   What the hell, YO!

As I'm sitting there sulking one night because well, now I'm gonna hear it.  "That's OK baby boy, mama will make you cupcakes and sausage balls".    I started scrolling through the TV channels pouting and irritable and came across Everyone Loves Raymond.  And the light bulb went off.  I'VE BEEN MARIE BARONE'D!!  There is an episode where Debra desperately wants to make Ray's favorite meal that only Marie has the recipe for.  She brings her a box over with the recipe and all the ingredients so it will be "perfect".  Only its not.  Its awful.  And Debra can't figure it out.  And as she's boxing all the stuff up to take back to Marie the label falls off one of the herb bottles, it was not the correct herbs!  Marie had faked the label so the dish wouldn't taste good.  So I called my mother in law and told her what I had made and read off the list.  Everything was good.  It was all the same.  You can imagine how heart broken I was that my streak of being the world's worst baker was all on me.  Again.   And then it happens, later that year she's at my house and she's going to make sausage balls.  She grabs my recipe that she typed and she says..."Deana RAE, I didn't put the milk on the here, oops" and laughter.    Now, she claims this and the cupcake snafu was all an innocent accident but I know, deep down....Marie Barone is my Mother In Law!!!  OH we laugh about that now...but one day, oh one day.........

At one point in our relationship while Big Chief was deployed over the big pond I decided I would paint our house and ask my mother in law to come help me.  She's kind of a self proclaimed jack of all trades handy woman.   So I wanted to look like I knew something and wasn't just some dumb girl. I got the bright idea of prepping the house before she got there.  I was going to putty holes and sand. I dropped my cloths and got busy that night before she got there.  I filled, puttied and scraped.  I even got out the paint and decided I'd do the hall and surprise her with one room done.  She rolled in and took one look and said...Deana RAE, you're not going to be painting, you're going to watch Baby Girl and bring me something to drink.  And it came out exactly how you read that.  Judgment.  So that whole weekend, I was the gopher.  She painted my entire kitchen, dining room, hall (again) and living room along with the 12 foot sky light ledge.  AND then she told Big Chief how she refused to let me handle a paint brush and she painted his house.  We all laughed it off....I see what you did there Marie!

Many a time she has asked for my special mashed potato recipe, I always laugh a little and think to myself....should I????  But I don't because you see, that would be obvious.  Oh no, my payback will be much more deviant than that.   I have to say in all reality as far as Mother In Laws go, even though I'm not sure how they're supposed to work or fit in, in the grand scheme of things, I think I probably did OK.  I look back over the years and I see that there are many things I could have done different. I think she probably would say the same thing too, probably not to me,  or baby boy, or out loud but to Jesus, she'd probably tell Jesus.  We have 2 things in common that can't be denied: I love her son more than anything in this world and try to take care of him and keep him alive and we have the BEST kids (grand kids for her) in the entire world.  We don't always see eye to eye on the spoiling of the tiny humans.  And our fashion sense for how Baby Girl should be dressed is sometimes on different ends of the spectrum.  So for her when she buys Baby Girl anything with fringe, I smile and put it on her when we're around Yeehaw (yes she calls herself Yeehaw...pick your battles ladies) and we take pictures of proof and then the next week I breathe a sigh of relief.   I will never be more grateful than I am with the love and acceptance that she gave my son.  She came into his life when he was 5 years old and she immediately called him grandson.  She loves him as her own and when there were times I didn't think I could get out of bed this year or wanted to see another day, she was there.  She would have dug a hole or two if I had asked.  No questions asked.  She has been my second mother.

So now, when we go visit and she tells Baby Boy she made him cupcakes, I smile, because I know that's home for him.  And we all just want to have a little home sometimes.  She makes me feel welcome there too, she even puts chocolates on my pillow.  I know that sometimes its very hard for her to feel that bond with me.  Its because I'm a cold Yankee (according to baby boy) and my lack of wanting to be touched or hugged.  (They're huge huggers...its awkward...I don't know what to do with my hands!)  I came from a family that doesn't hug or say I love you or show outward affections.  I do love Yeehaw, in her own special crazy kind of way.  I'm very blessed and lucky to have someone in my life and my children's life that has been so welcoming.   Without her, I wouldn't have my best friend and my life long companion in this world.  So for that alone, I am forever grateful.  I hope one day, she looks back on our time together and at some point I made her smile once or twice too!

I have FOMO with my YOLO!

I like to think that I'm pretty hip on the scene.  I know all the new latest fashions.   I watch all the cool TV shows.  I'm a foodie snob.  Long gone are the days of the McDonald's Royal With Cheese being my go to meal.  My 8 year old daughter eats risotto.  We're cultured up in this Castle.  But as of lately something has been missing in my world.  I didn't know what it was.   All I knew, was that after my walks at the park I would come home and just mope and lay in the dependa staple (yoga pants and husband's unit tee shirt) and eat Boy Scout popcorn and golden Oreos.  A lot of Oreos.  I live an hour and a half from the beach but making that drive just seems like such a commitment I'm not willing to invest in.  I've been trying to go to Target for weeks.  Now you know it's serious, I haven't been to TARGET in WEEKS.   The devil is probably ice skating.

And then I saw it, right there in black and white on the intranet.  Scott Disick is having feelings of FOMO!!!  WTF is FOMO?   I know the obvious question is why are you entertaining Scott Disick?  I have no real good answer for this.  I've found myself deep in the rabbit hole of KUWTK and I can't get out.  So I latched on to Scott.  Don't Judge Me.   I pulled up the urban dictionary and naturally FOMO-the Feeling of Missing Out!  OH I have this all the time.  ALL the time!  Usually it has to do with me not being at Target but here lately I've really had a bad case of the FOMO.  Who knew someone took the time to make it an actual "thing".   I'm sure it was a Kardashian, Gah, do they have to have their hands in everything??  I obviously have FOMO over that too.

Big Chief has went back to a daily routine so I'm here alone most of the day.  And the first day I was really excited about that.  But then I realized that I had no excuse for not mopping my bathroom floor now.  So I went back to the ugly brown chair and moped.   I used to love being at home.  Being Big Chief's trophy wife in my own mind.  Having lunch every day with the girls downtown.   But that's not me anymore.  I had independence in Little Mexico.  And free access to the Nordstrom account and no one said a word to me.  I've got FOMO for Nordstrom.   I've been pursuing work since April.  I live in small town USA here at Fort Rucker.  You can imagine that the major FOMO of Enterprise, Alabama is, well, LIFE, we have FOMO for Life here.  Its a beautiful place, a quaint little town.  But this girl longs for the City life.  I need to be able to wear my Stuart Weitzmans to Mellow Mushroom without judgment and stares.  I need to go to a Mall that's not Walmart.  Sometimes I go to Publix and peruse the deli aisle and sneak pinches off their freshly baked breads and loiter.  I can also BOGO and not get FOMO!!!!

I had applied for a Paralegal job here.  I was so excited when they called me, it was exactly what I had been doing in Little Mexico and the people were so nice.  So nice that I had no idea when they told me they would call me in a week to start that that was the South's way of saying, HAHAHA, we're never calling you again.  And they didn't.   But that's not even the most peculiar thing that happened.  I went in for my first interview.  I was in proper interview attire.   I wore a nice Michael Kors winter weight knee length safari dress with gold buttons and a gold belt, matching inspired Valentino studded pumps.  (doesn't inspired sound so much better than....BCBG knock offs!)  I had my Fendi handbag and I rocked that interview.   They called me back for a second interview.  I knew, I had this!!!  1 hour before my interview began I received a call from the agency booking this job and they said to me: "Whatever you do, don't dress up.  Don't be so professional.  They're very casual.  Just be.  Casual.  Ok?  Can you do that?  Don't dress up!!!"  I immediately experience FOMO!   I have too much of my grandmother in me, how do you not go to church or to a job interview and not dress up OR professional.  Now this was a challenge.  So, I went with the trendy Fall burgundy tee shirt swing dress with the Burberry Scarf, cute sandals and my basic monogram Louis.  Look people that's as dressed down casual as my inner self could deal with.  I walked into the interview again, met the attorney and then he introduced me to his.....Wife.   We talked about my experience, my goals here, my kids and the schools.  It was going great.  And then they never called me again.  I'm not sure who got hired there, but I'm assuming they did not have the September Vogue to guide them.  So much FOMO.

However, along with the FOMO I realized that I needed to embrace YOLO.   You Only Live Once!  I know that one was easy but it saved you a click in the urban dictionary.   I decided to embrace the YOLO.  So I took the plunge.  A new me.  I joined Big Chief's razor of the month club!  Gone is my pretty pink 3 blade razor with the aloe strips that never helped anyone.  I threw caution to the wind and took the plunge.   I have to say I was skeptic, but my eyes have opened and I'm a believer!  Not too mention we save a little money there on the Dave Ramsay budget and that always makes Big Chief's eyes sparkle just a little bit.  Next on the list, I let the tiny human pick what she wanted to wear to school for a week.  This one only lasted for a week because when she came out wearing neon orange track shorts, an American themed spirit shirt and Michael Kors beige flats I just couldn't do it anymore.  You can only YOLO once and there was no way I was going to have FOMO over this YOLO!   My inner sensibilities and my now very famous instagram picture that the very Nina Garcia actually commented on, said I had to shut that down.  So that was a YOLO fail.  But I tried.

I've made a decision that with this year being almost over and new adventures awaiting us in January that I'm going to make a dedicated decision to ditch the FOMO and do more YOLO.   I'm sure by January the cool kids will have come up with something way more clever but until then, I've ordered myself Ice Skates, a bedazzled leotard and a feather hair clip.   I'm going to YOLO the hell out of Upper State New York!  

Woman Lives in 90 sq. ft. Apartment in NYC....This isn't even big enough to house my Handbags! Lord Help Her!

As I was out walking this morning and enjoying Mother Nature in all her splendor and my shin splints I was telling my girlfriend, fellow Cav wife, that I've been in a slump with my writing.  It's like all the magic had left my finger tips and I let people get my in head that I shouldn't have.  I've really been at a loss of things to share or give my unwanted opinion about.  And then today, while sitting in the ugly brown chair watching last night's episode of Project Runway it was if it fell in my lap.  And literally it did.  I was thumbing through my Facebook feed and reading fellow bloggers and came across this article and I knew...I had to share with the world.  I want to thank the fine folks at the website....People I Want to Punch In the Throat!  You made my day, and helped me find my mojo again.  Gracias!!!

I'm scrolling through and I'm immediately hit with the title:  Woman lives in 90 sq. ft. apartment in NYC.   Wait, what?   Well, naturally I had to step inside and see how she lives.  What can I say that you aren't already thinking???  There are people in this world that are a little different, a little eclectic.   We definitely need those people.  Then there are people who for whatever reason, I'm not sure should breathe the same air as the rest of us.  Now, I'll be the first one to tell you that on any given day I fluctuate between those very 2 categories.  This woman, no.  Just no.

We meet Felice and she begins this little 5 minute video standing outside her 90 sq. ft. NYC downtown Manhattan apartment.  She wanted to live in Manhattan but didn't want to pay to live there.  Makes sense, don't we all???  So a friend of hers talks her into this cracker jack box of an apartment, or as I like to call it...a coat closet,  so that she can be near Central Park and all that NYC has to offer.  And libraries.  Don't forget the libraries.  I can tell you that me and Felice nor her friends would be buddies in real life.  AND if any of my friends suggested this equivalent to living in the trunk of my car in the park, I would be throat punching them.  She is so excited to introduce us into her tiny world and I can't lie, I'm excited to see this.  Felice is a professional organizer.  I had no idea that was a profession.  I mean, people really hire someone to come put your shit in boxes and shelves.  Its clear I have really squandered my years and imagination.   But this is good to know so I can add the numerous years of army moves and organizing my daughter's Barbie and Shopkins, to my resume!

Her "main living area" consists of a desk, a chair, a computer, shelves to the ceiling for all her organizing, a small window and a rug.   There is no kitchen.  I repeat, there is no kitchen.  But hey, you're in Manhattan who really cooks anyways, right?  But seriously folks, even Carrie Bradshaw had a kitchen and there was wine and saltine crackers and one pot.   She does have the college dorm fridge that she has to stock every 3 days and she has a toaster oven that holds her bananas.   This is place is so small you couldn't fit a side of nachos from Taco Bell in there.  She has one make shift closet that fits a couple of coats and shirts.  I'm already thinking to myself, this wouldn't hold 3 of my handbags...this is NO BUENO!  And then she takes us into the biggest room, the bathroom.

I almost had a panic attack watching this part.  She goes on about how big this bathroom is and quite frankly she thinks its getting bigger.  I'm fairly certain that Felice smokes a lot of weed.  You have to sit sideways on the toilet so you don't hit the linen cabinet or the tub.  In order to get in or out of the tub you must climb over the toilet and hope you don't take a header into the sink.  And I'll quote Felice..."you only take one shower a day anyways soooo".   I hope organizing spaces doesn't make her too sweaty, otherwise........  Now, I can tell you my first thoughts with this bathroom situation is this....what if you have the worst case of flu, the kind that has you puking and pooping from both ends at the same time??? We've all been there.  We've all huddled naked on a bathmat crying in our own shame once in our lifetime.  I'm not sure if that happened in this bathroom if you would ever recover from the physical or emotional trauma.  I'm glad she's a good organizer, she's going to need those skills when she's trying to clean up her own bodily fluids with the 1 square of toilet paper and wash rag that will fit in there.  I mean, I literally was at a loss over this bathroom situation.  I need to pray for her right now.

Next we moved onto the final room, the bedroom.  Its a bunk bed/loft.  There's no sitting up in this bed, I'm not sure she really has room to crawl in and out of this bed but she did.  Which leads me back to the bathroom situation.   Can you imagine having to climb up and down that ladder if you have to throw up in the middle of the night with that dreaded ebola flu???  She'll never make it down those stairs.  You know what else isn't happening in this apartment, sex.  No one is getting laid in this apartment.  There's no possible way that anyone is getting lucky there.  People who've had sex in Fieros had more room than she does.  She lays in bed of a night and reads.  And openly admits she has panic attacks due to feeling like she's in a box and that she might fall out of the bed.  Which the bed has rails.  I'm not sure if falling to her death in the middle of the night from a bunk bed should be her biggest worry at this point in her life.

I'm positive that Felice is a lovely individual and we could learn from her and her conservative living.  She doesn't live over her means and grew up being taught the value of a dollar.  I admire that.  Big Chief suggested once that we could sell everything we have and move into an RV for the last few years of his Army career and we would be financially set to build the house of our dreams and have all this extra income in our pockets.  But I like living happy and married and he likes living without me yelling at him everyday.  So, I think we are doomed to live the American dream, in debt, but with really good shoes and handbags!!!!!  So to you Felice, I say Rock On in your affordable $700 a month Manhattan apartment!  You're living the dream, and no one can take that away from you!!!

Here's the link to check out her video, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did!! And please, let's discuss this...what are your thoughts about this space????  Woman lives in 90 sq. ft. apartment