What's Your Name Again?

I do not like my name. I never have. I was with my sister and her husband at Starbucks a few weeks ago and, after telling the coffee dude my name (he had to ask twice - what is it? TASHA, smart guy...ugghhhhh), I turned to my sis and asked:

Do you ever feel strange saying your own name? Like, it's almost uncomfortable?

Sister: Yes, kind of, I guess.

Her husband then turns to me and quickly nods his head in agreement. His name is Jeff. And, being the funny guy he is, when the coffee guy asked for his name, he casually said...

Paul.

So, when the coffee guy called out "Paul!" my sister and I couldn't help but giggle. I bet the coffee guy thought we were laughing at him....

I LOVE this idea of using a stage name.

To plead my case, let me give you a few examples of why my name annoys me.

- When I tell a stranger my name, I either get "Ohhh, my neighbor's dog is named Tasha! It's such a pretty name!"

Pretty enough for a dog. Uh huh.

- I thought that was a black girl's name?!

Did you seriously just say that to me?

- Before I got married, my middle name was Kay. Tasha Kay. Years back, I asked my mom...mom, why did you pick Kay? Is it a family name? Did you have a friend that you used to love and adore named Kay? Is one of your favorite authors named Kay?

You know what my mom's answer was?

Mom: No, it just sounded good.

That's it? No family significance? No loved ones? Just...sounded good?

Meh.

Here's another reason-

- I visit Panera often (I heart Panera). Once you've ordered, they ask for your name to call you when your food's ready. Most peoples' names are easily called when it's time....

"Dianne!"

"James!"

"Shaniquah!"

Then it's my turn....

"Asiago roast beef with chips!"

Aww shit, that's me.

So, from now on, I'm going to give strangers my "stage" name instead.

A name that no one will tell me their dog, cat, lizard or worm is named.

A name that everyone can pronounce....because Tasha is fucking hard, right?

Taushie?

Tisha?

Trisha?

Tara?

Mother effers.

Yes, I'm white.

Yes, I'm human.

And YES, that's my name and NO it's not short for something.

It's Tasha. Like Natasha...without the "Nah." Seriously, I've suggested this to people before.

I haven't decided what my stage name will be, but I'm open to suggestions. Preferrably something that won't make we want to kick someone's ass after I say it to them....

Shit My Kids Ruined - The Housewife's Version

I wish someone would have told me that, once you have kids, you have to wait a realllllllly long time before you can have nice shit again. Like furniture, for instance.

Do you know parents with say, toddlers, that have "nice" furniture? Nice as in no food stains, scuffs, teeth marks, marker pictures, etc. on them?

Yeah, me neither.

The hubs and I went shopping for a dinning room set recently and it went kind of like this....

White padded seats? Um no, the kids will destroy that in less than a week.

Chairs that have lovely, but delicate, legs? Um, no.

Smooth, waxed table top? Fuck no. Take one fork to that top and it's ovah.

Nothing left to browse? Alrighty then...next store!

We just needed something sturdy, wood, and didn't have light-colored fabric anywhere attached to it...and preferably something that could handle a kid getting on top of it and practicing his tae kwon do on....

You should have seen the sales lady's face when I said that.

Jack uses our living room couch as a trampoline, and has even mastered a front flip on it. Sweet. You know what kind of material our couch is? Microfiber. You know why we bought that couch? Because it's easy to clean. No other reason. Just that.

I miss having nice stuff. The Hubs just bought me a beautiful new leather couch for my office (I'll show you on my next video blog!) and I've forbidden the kids to even breathe on it.

No sitting on that couch...it's MINE!

Ava, get away from that couch! Jack, no tae kwon do near that couch! It's MINNNNE! I will scream it like a banshee.

But do you think the kids listen? Nope, not really.

Not only do the kids eventually ruin our furniture, Ava thinks that everything that's mine...is hers. Occasionally I will catch her in my makeup, or jewelry, and she even strutted down the stairs wearing my hot pink undies on her head once.

Just a teensie bit awkward.

Ummm, Ava honey, you look so pretty. Now go take that off... (but I admit I was tempted to take a picture for blackmail when she's 15)

If you've read my profile, you know I love lip gloss. I have them scattered all over the house. And, for the past few years, I've had to hide them. Why? Because Ava EATS them.

The final straw was when I picked up one of the tubes, proceeded to spread it on my lips, and a bunch of cold, stinky, slimy slobber came out. Grossssssss.

Ava! You cant eat my lip gloss. It's bad for you! And it's MINNNNNNE!

But mom, it smells like food.

Great.

I wonder if poison control has ever taken a call about a girl eating her mom's lip gloss?

So I imagine the day when the kids are older, and I can buy new furniture because I like it, and not because it's sturdy and already recessed. I imagine the day when I can leave my lip gloss and earrings out without fear of never seeing them again. I imagine the day when I can walk into the kitchen and not find trash on the floor and a half-eaten waffle on my laptop.

I figure I only have about 20 more years to wait.