I don't like things rough. I like them silky smooth and predictable. I like things that are easy to clean up and wrapped in pretty packaging. I like peace and quiet and order and regularly scheduled programming.
The last year has been decidedly rougher than I normally like it. In fact, it's been alot like getting rammed in the corn-hole by an over-zealous cell mate named Beefstick Joe.
But things are starting to look up and when that happens, my disposition will turn from grim exhaustion to sunny optimism and then...WATCH OUT. Rainbows will shoot outta my ass and if you hold your bucket just right, you just might catch some.
Don't worry; I'm actively taking steps toward full-on Rainbow Ass. Currently the only color I'm shootin' is purple. Stand by for red.
The son is currently a hilarious caricature of a teenager. He’s anti-social, monosyllabic and most of all, hairy. Gone is the sweet little thing that would sit on my lap and let me pick which sweater vest he’d wear for picture day. In its place is this insanely tall, awkwardly sullen kid with nothing to say in the morning (“I’m not a morning person, Mom.”) or after school (“Bad day, Mom”) or before bedtime (“Too tired, Mom.”) This kid wants less to do with me than I do with fleas in my underwear.
Yet, there are moments when I see a glimmer of the sweetheart who used to let me tuck him in and who would rush to show me the good grade he got on his spelling test. Every once in awhile, a smile will crack the carefully maintained façade and my heart will leap and butterflies will flit around my head. Then the crack will slam shut, to be replaced with that look that says, “Mom. You are so lame. And so are your stupid butterflies.”
He was such a sweet little man. And I hope someday, he’ll be a sweet grown-up man. I just have to survive the next few years with my butterflies intact.
I love to say "ima rock out with my cock out". It's gender inappropriate, but why should guys get dibs on all the cock talk? Plus, it's just not the same to say "ima veg out with my vag out". Amirite? Yes.
Eff. I haven't written on here since last MAY? I suck harder than Lindsey Lohan on a crack pipe. Lately, people keep asking me why I don't write on my blog anymore. They just won't leave me alone about it. It's called HARASSMENT, people. I'm just sick of it.
Ok, ok. One person asked me one time. But she asked me out loud and with correct grammar, so it really affected me.
What can I say! The past 12 months have kicked my ass, then propped me back up only to kick my ass again. But life chugs on, belching black smoke and dragging my gnarly, exhausted carcass with it like a dead skunk stuck to the tailpipe.
Things have been Grizzly-Adams-hairy, but I'm hoping to be smooth as a baby's hiney again real soon. Luckily, while I've been busy getting the shit kicked out of me, my kids continued to rock so hard, they DIAMOND. So there's that.
I hope to get back on here more often. Maybe something great will happen and I'll re-gain my rosy outlook on life. Or maybe I'll just post angry rants which will make everyone who reads them want to drink a bottle of Drano.
Stay tuned...if you're into that sorta thing. Lol!