First this, from my yahoo home page:

Fire? Porcupines? Poo? Indeterminate substance on floor? Sharks? Superglue? Chainsaw? Wrong end of drill? Lightsocket? Anything your toddler is handing you that has not cleared a visual and olfactory check? Why do we need doctors to tell us any of this? How many doctors? How are they uniquely qualified to specify these things?

My son once handed my husband poo when he wasn’t paying attention. He was taking a bath and handing my husband toys as he sat there reading. It was a game. “H’you go!” “Thank you” “H’you go!” “Thank you.” “H’you go!” “GAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHGRRRRRGGGGGGGG!”

Anyway. Didn’t need a doctor to tell me that.

My mother in law has set the stage for the holiday season by insinuating I was a prima donna. She said someone else in the family was a prima donna, and that’s why I get along with her so well.

Which I don’t, actually. I can “get along” with anyone for short periods of time. It’s what mature people do.

But anyway, she said the first half of the sentence and threw another bit of commentary in-between, and then said the second half, sort of a passive-aggression sandwich. It was well done. I don’t even think it was completely intentional, and she’d deny it if confronted.

She is extremely pragmatic. She equates creativity with irresponsibility and instability. Has a compassionate heart that is at times completely obscured by the clumsiest delivery imaginable. That thing they say, that we marry our parents, gives me such a headache. My husband has told me for years to stop letting her get to me but sometimes I get tired and think maybe she should stop trying.

Here’s the thing that is costing me sleep: If I had it to do again, most days I don’t think I would. Any of it.

I love both of my children so much and I don’t “regret” them – not in the way you will insist I must mean. It is possible that a series of questionable decisions can leave you standing in a pile of shit holding a couple of things you love very much – and that those wonderful bits of happenstance aren’t going to save you from the pile of shit. That whole thing about “every choice you make taking you to this moment so regret is pointless” is both inarguably true and utter shite if you are trying to justify a life.

Oops. Went a little dark there. Sorry.

Sometimes I am more successful at beating back the demons than others.

Pizza’s here, and I have another coat of paint before I sleep…..

I keep forgetting to add this….click for more things to read…..







3 thoughts on “This is a Stupid Title

  1. Poo in the bathtub foreshadow for the shit youll be handed later that will make it seem like a pleasant moment. Classic.
    Never good enough for her baby and in so not for anyone else. Mother reasoning. The four Pulitzer and two Nobel you worked for and the brain surgery done this morning is in no way comparable to some jackass you never heard of pushing in a lighbulb. Wasnt even a screw in.

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