I’m Barrie…I’ve always been way too stubborn for my own good, strong willed, and a major pain in the ass. If you ask my mom, I have been like this since day one. I was always the kid that refused to sing happy birthday and insisted on making a crabby face for pictures. “Don’t tell me what to do” was my catch phrase, and still is to this day. Every family has one…for them (and now the Bismarks), it is definitely me. If that wasn’t enough personality for anyone to deal with, with time, I learned the skill of sarcasm, which has become my main method of communication. It’s the only way I know how to deal with all the idiots and assholes I keep encountering as I make my way through this world. So please, as you read this, be sure to use a sarcastic tone to get the full effect. 

Rather than say I’m crabby or insensitive, I like to think that I am real and easily unimpressed. The Urban Dictionary description of “Barrie” is realist bitch. That pretty much sums it up! Why sugar coat everything and pretend to like people? The world is a scary place. We don’t live in Candy Land and I see no reason to pretend that I’m perfect and pretend to love everyone and everything. If you prepare for the worst, you are less likely to be disappointed. That’s how I have always lived my life. Most people are just genuinely assholes and out for themselves…or at least the majority of the fools I have met thus far.

Even though I am the realist bitch, I’ve always been responsible, followed all the rules, and thought that I made the right decisions in life. Where did all that get me? Absolutely nowhere. I have found myself trapped in a life that I once thought would be very different. At one point in time I was going to take over the world…now…I’m just too exhausted and stressed to do anything. 

When I was a child, I couldn’t wait to be a grown up and be a mom. In my child-like mind, it was SO much better than being a kid, a teenager, or even a college kid. I had absolutely no idea what being a grown up really meant. I thought it was all about driving a car, having credit cards, wearing make up, and making my own decisions about what I wanted to eat for dinner. I thought having kids was going to be all fun and games and like playing house and babysitting. Turns out, it’s not really as great as I once thought. This so called life has made me into a gigantic ray of sarcastic sunshine to anyone who knows me.

I’m not sure when it actually happened or what the turning point was that made me realize it, but I just woke up one day and realized, this is it. This is life. How can this be it? What had happened to me? What happened to all those dreams I once had? How did I become a thirty-something working mom with three kids? Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband and kids, but there are times they drive me completely crazy and bring me to the brink of insanity. It’s been “one of those days” for about 8 years straight now. Sleep deprivation, living in filth, and being flat broke is now the norm.  Between work, kids, and just life in general I am worn out, burned out, and pooped out. I’m not the mom I imagined I would be. Before I actually had kids, I longed to be the perfect mom. The stereotypical suburban stay-at-home mom that volunteers at the kid’s school, brings homemade cupcakes to baseball practice, and shuttles their kids around all over town to different fun activities…wearing my giant diamond ring and driving my Range Rover. But you know what? That’s not me at all, in fact, I don’t even want to be that. I have learned over time that image means nothing, it’s pretend. Your actions, that says it all.
During my most recent life transition, I have learned that people talk a good game. But honestly, damn near everything that comes out of most people’s mouths is complete bullshit. Life, work, relationships, its all a big mind game. People love you until they are threatened by you. So, knowing that, I choose to be real. I’m not perfect. I’m not rich. I’m not tan and I don’t wear Lulu Lemon workout clothes to the health club every day. I’ve definitely made mistakes (man, have I jacked some stuff up). You know what else? Sometimes, I’m not even a nice person. I’m the yeller and screamer when I get frustrated. I’m the obsessive worrier that over analyzes absolutely EVERYTHING.  If I think you’re a moron, you’ll know it by the look on my face. I just can’t hide it. My kids call me the fun hater, maybe I am. I am pretty sure “no” or “stop that” comes out of my mouth every time it opens…or at least that is how I feel. My parenting style is “if you are not barfing, bleeding, or dead you’re fine.” I’m sure the perfect moms at the park judge me. But you know what? My kids are alive, happy, smart, and healthy. So I must be doing alright.

So there it is. When did I get like this? Who the hell knows. Is life ever going to change? Who the hell knows. But this is it. All I can do is embrace the shit storm and carry on.