I had a big blog post planned today to dissect my fifteen seconds of fame from my appearance on CNN Headline News this weekend.

Then my eardrum burst.

Ya. Spontaneously. Without any warning.

Who knew that something so tiny could cause incredible pain? I’d have eased my misery with a swill of medicinal mommy juice but the glands in my throat seemed to have swollen so much that I can barely swallow.

It’s like the Universe has put a pox on my head. My husband says it’s because I didn’t show enough cleavage on the video tape.

I dragged my sorry arse out of bed to make an emergency appointment with the local doctor. Pox or not, I need to have the giant red hot spike removed from my head. I need drugs, dammit.

So I hobbled to the kitchen to get the phone book and dialed the local clinic.

“Hi,” I croaked, “I’m in desperate need of medical assistance. I need to see the doctor as quick as possible and I’m willing to grease some palms to make it happen.”

“What’s the nature of this visit?” a bored receptionist yawned on the other end of the line.

“Well, sometime in the middle of the night, tiny little demons visited my bedroom, crammed a rod of fiery pain into my ear, bursting my ear drum and followed that up by pouring hot acid directly into my throat. They then did a little voodoo chant while holding hands and dancing around my bed, wishing for all the snot in the world to congregate and rest inside my sinuses. I think I’m dying.” I manage to croak out while raging white hot pain emanates from my ear.

“I see. So you’ve got a cold.”

“No, I’ve got the pox. A cold doesn’t cause this much brain damage.”

“Uh, huh. I can’t fit you in until late this afternoon. Name please?” I can hear her clicking away at her typewriter while she is chewing gum.

“Tanis Miller.”

Pause.

“Tanis Miller, the REDNECK MOMMY?” She asks, somewhat incredulously.

“Um, ya?”

“I saw you on CNN last night! I couldn’t believe someone I knew was on t.v!”

“Um, thanks?” I coughed. I was starting to see stars swirl around my head. “Is there any way you could squeeze me in any earlier? I’m really sick.” Heh, I’m not above capitalizing on my new found fame.

She laughed and for a second I thought I was in.

“Honey, you get yourself on Grey’s Anatomy and introduce me to McSteamy and I’ll let you pick your appointment times. Hell, I’ll even drive the doc herself to your house. Until then, you just have to wait in line with all the other rednecks we see.”

Damn.

So much for my fifteen seconds of fame. Guess one redneck ’round these parts is the same as another.

My kids and I have been talking about goals and dreams and life expectations a lot lately. I think it has something to do with Fric and Frac witnessing Exam Fever in their school with all the high school kids wandering around with looks of worry and stress marring their pretty zit-filled faces.

My kids are slowly starting to realize school eventually stops becoming less about recess and eating glue and more about grades and learning.

Poor suckers. Eating paste is so much more fun than studying for physics. At least, in my world.

My daughter talks about wanting to be a doctor and helping little kids like her little brother. She is starting to put the pieces of what she will need to do to make this dream come true together and she takes her schooling very seriously. I have no doubt that whatever it is she chooses to do with her life, she will accomplish it with her laser-sharp focus and superior intellect.

She gets that from me. Heh.

My son, is less focused. He doesn’t have a specific life dream as of yet except for winning the lottery and playing video games all day. While I tell him it’s good to have a dream, perhaps you should plan on a way to you know, feed yourself. Because the pantry doors under his momma’s roof are going to be permanently closed once he’s 18.

We talk about what they like to do, what they don’t like to do, what interests them and so on. Inevitably, the conversation turns to me and the choices I’ve made with my life.

“What did you want to do with your life before you got knocked up with noodle heads had kids?” my son asked.

I wanted to be a ballerina, a neurosurgeon and a literary professor. All at once. I was always very realistic with my goals.

“Did you always want to be a couch potato, supported by the hard-earned dollars of your very own sugar daddy?” my daughter asks.

No. But I’ve since readjusted my thinking on this subject. It’s much more fun to spend your dad’s money than working for my own.

“Don’t you want to be a real writer instead of a blogger?” they wonder.

No. I prefer the fake writing status I’ve mastered thus far. Cue rolling of my eyeballs.

While I love my kids and want nothing but the very best for them, sometimes I wonder if I should have worn that iron-clad chastity belt my daddy had made for me when I hit puberty.

I keep telling my kids that whatever they choose to do, they can accomplish with a little hard work. I want them to know that their future is unlimited as of right now. All doors are wide open for them. All they have to do is believe in themselves and grab the brass ring.

They generally roll their eyes at me and tune me out. I’m just not cool enough to pay attention to. Nipple rings and a few tats aren’t badass enough for them.

Sigh.

This weekend, it’s all gonna change. This weekend, I’m finally going to be cool in my kids eyes. Or die trying.

No, I’m not going bungee jumping or anything extreme.

I’m just going to be on t.v., talking about my boobs. If there is anything my kids respect at this age, it’s the power of the television.

This weekend, I’m gonna be a rockstar in my kids eyes, proving to them that if you believe in yourself you can do anything. Including suckering a national television producer into thinking you’re cool.

This weekend, I’m gonna bask in the glory of my thirty seconds of fame. I’m gonna use those thirty seconds to cram every bit of parental advice I can think of into my kids heads while they are still listening and paying attention to their cool momma.

We all know that fame doesn’t last and children have the attention spans of gnats. It won’t be long before all they hear when I speak is “waaa waaa waaaaaaa”.

So if appearing on television is what it takes to get my kids to take me seriously and their dreams seriously, I’ll do it. Because it sure beats running down main street naked with my ass on fire, which was my next idea.

***If you would like to watch me make a public arse of myself, tune into CNN Headline News (CNN’s sister station) and watch News To Me, this Saturday and Sunday. It airs at 730p, 930p and 1230a both days. Eastern time.***

****EDIT: For us Canadians, please check your local listing. The times are very different. Darn Yankees.****

There are moments in life that are so unexpectedly sweet that when they happen you can’t believe your good fortune and you spend the rest of your day smiling and shooting rainbows out your arse.

Like when you take out an old coat and find a crumpled twenty dollar bill inside a lint filled pocket.

Or when you buy a lottery ticket and actually win something. (Because that is totally possible. They keep handing out those free tickets just to sucker you back in with false hope.)

Or when your daughter scores the only damn goal her team has seen this entire season and it’s made only sweeter because she’s playing against kids four years older than her and twice her size.

So sue me if I jumped up and down, cheering and screaming like a raging soccer mom lunatic. That little victory was hard earned and made sweeter by the ability to brag that it was MY daughter.

Ya. We She rocks.

I love those little unexpected gifts life brings. It’s like finding a pretty little chocolate resting upon on the pillowcase of life. (Okay, so that is a horrible analogy, but I never professed to be a poet.)

Those little nuggets of goodness are all the more sweeter now that we know just how dark life can get. I tend to cherish them harder and hold them closer than I ever did before our son died.

Which is why, when I received a phone call from a dear family friend, I wrapped myself in the unexpected glow of warmth and thanked the Universe itself for my latest unexpected gift.

This gift was even better than watching my daughter’s triumphant smile after her victory on the soccer field. This gift was even more precious than the time I was snooping and found unexpected photos of my son in my friend’s photo album.

This gift made me smile and then weep with joy (and only a bit of sadness). This gift was a reminder of a life once lived, a love forever shared. I can’t believe I didn’t even know it existed before that phone call.

Video footage of my darling Bug. The ONLY video footage that exists in the world because we were too poor during his life to be able to afford a video camera to capture his beautiful soul.

(If only we had a crystal ball back then and knew how important it would be to document his moments. Sigh.)

Now I have him, captured forever alive and cranky and in his glory. For a few brief moments I get to experience my son’s sweet kisses and remember the warm feeling of his sweaty hair and how he clung to me for comfort for a few minutes. Not that I forgot, but it is so wonderful to see it in front of me instead of just inside my head and heart.

Because now I can share it with you.

You never know what sugary surprises life has in store for you.

You also never know when a bad haircut and forgetting to wear any lipstick is going to come back and bite you on the arse.

I’ll just try to over look that. How bout you do the same?

**Note: The video is around four minutes long. Just click play under the big screen at the bottom and his piece will start. **