When I was younger I wanted to be a mom. I wanted to be a BETTER mom than my own mom. Because I felt like my mom had wronged my entire life and that if I could, I would , be better than her in every capacity of mommyhood.
How old was I?
I was age….
age "didn't have kids."
I wanted to be the best thing since sliced bread in the mom world. It was my goal. My "eat my DUST" mentality.
( when was bread not sliced? Sliced bread must be pretty freaking awesome to those over the age of what? 60 or so? So much so that they still say it? )
How shitty that must have felt for my mom. My single mom, trying to make it all work because my father-- freaking sucked and still does.
Chapter 18 == yet unwritten you lucky dogs you.
But--- to know your daughter hates you.
To come across an end table that your daughter, carved I HATE MOM in.
Because that daughter was so emotionally tormented.
But to not have the skills to help her.
To know you have flaws. That YOU can't even fix, because they are so ingrained in you ---- that those flaws are your life breath.
When all your daughter wants is your love.
I know, because I am now in her shoes. 35 years later. A cruel reversal of fortunes.
Older, with some more perspective on life and certainly still in awe of the awesome sliced bread.
Realizing now , that my mom was wonderful.
That she did the best she could with limited time, money, skills and parental wisdom.
Everything I thought I'd be as a mom.
I am not.
Everything I didnt' WANT to be as a mom.
I am.
The more children I had… the worse I became.
This shit is not easy.
Overwhelmed, underappreciated, alone and a little lost in my own demons… I am drowning ---- in a sea of 3 children with constant needs and their own emotional issues that I just can't find within me to embrace, comfort and wrap my arms around so as to block them from it.
Everyday I feel crappier and crappier in my Job Title.
Just waiting for the big Trump to point his finger at me and say
YOU'RE FIRED.
Because I am not sliced bread and never will be.
Don't Call It A Comeback...
Sigh... I loved him.
Vanilla Ice.
Oh wait.
It was LL COOL J.
Same thing. Right? lol :)
Isn't that a freakin riot that I thought that song was Vanilla Ice's doing when in reality, the beefiest most African Of American males sang it? Typical.
Bass Ackwards is always me.
I'm good with it though.
So as LL says--- Don't Call This a Comeback... I've been here for years.
A few things happened this week that have brought me back to my "dashboard" driving this rig.
1. I ran a twitter party for Mac Kid.
2. Someone asked/ said, "I don't see what the draw is to blogging. "
I said-- me fucking neither.
3. Another person emailed and had the gall to say , Thank you--
to me that is!
THANK WHAT???
For my writing style.
As it had inspired her to write as I do. Freeing her.
* crickets*
Quit making me explain shit and just take my word for it that someone actually thanked me for something.
I will GO GET HER if I need to!
I was very honored to hear that and most of all inspired to dust this shit off and see what was goin on up in here! She was inspired by my writing style---
yet I haven't written jack diddly shit in 8 months.
Ah but grasshoppa.. that must mean she's followed me for more than 8 months.
During my prime of " blogging" primeness.
;)
Yes. She is a groupie. This is true.
Shut up mandy.
Back to my comeback and those questions this week.
Seems odd that twice in one week -- blogs are brought up. I take signs seriously.
Or just like to say that because I seem mysterious and intense.
When actually I'm just off my meds.
My friend Krista-- who many of you know suffered a cardiac arrest suddenly while running at age 35 is alive. She shouldn't be. Grace of God are two words * shit that's three* I have learned since the moment I got the call, Nov 1, 2010 that she might not make it through the night.
Krista is now recovering --- almost 8 months later. 8 painful months after 2 of them -- coma bound.
But if you never met a fighter in your life--- meet my Krista. A CRAZY fighter. Strong.
She's changed my life thinking-- my life emotions, my life choices. She's changed my life in intense ways.
That's why this blog wasn't important for so many months. About 8 months to be exact.
But maybe it's time to start that world domination plot again--- * tapping fingers* and I think it involves writing again. * intense , narrowed eyes*
Does that make me seem mysterious?
I might be back -- somewhat.
Feel free to send me a thank you letter.
Vanilla Ice.
Oh wait.
It was LL COOL J.
Same thing. Right? lol :)
Isn't that a freakin riot that I thought that song was Vanilla Ice's doing when in reality, the beefiest most African Of American males sang it? Typical.
Bass Ackwards is always me.
I'm good with it though.
So as LL says--- Don't Call This a Comeback... I've been here for years.
A few things happened this week that have brought me back to my "dashboard" driving this rig.
1. I ran a twitter party for Mac Kid.
2. Someone asked/ said, "I don't see what the draw is to blogging. "
I said-- me fucking neither.
3. Another person emailed and had the gall to say , Thank you--
to me that is!
THANK WHAT???
For my writing style.
As it had inspired her to write as I do. Freeing her.
* crickets*
Quit making me explain shit and just take my word for it that someone actually thanked me for something.
I will GO GET HER if I need to!
I was very honored to hear that and most of all inspired to dust this shit off and see what was goin on up in here! She was inspired by my writing style---
yet I haven't written jack diddly shit in 8 months.
Ah but grasshoppa.. that must mean she's followed me for more than 8 months.
During my prime of " blogging" primeness.
;)
Yes. She is a groupie. This is true.
Shut up mandy.
How do I write you ask? Without a fucking care in the world. Spelling? Fuck it.
Grammar? Shut up.
Makes no sense?
Don't care.
Do I care if someone in the "resume" world sees my blog.
No I really don't.
No mom, I don't.
My plan for world self domination does not involve someone interviewing me for the position.
It's freeing.
Back to my comeback and those questions this week.
Seems odd that twice in one week -- blogs are brought up. I take signs seriously.
Or just like to say that because I seem mysterious and intense.
When actually I'm just off my meds.
My friend Krista-- who many of you know suffered a cardiac arrest suddenly while running at age 35 is alive. She shouldn't be. Grace of God are two words * shit that's three* I have learned since the moment I got the call, Nov 1, 2010 that she might not make it through the night.
Krista is now recovering --- almost 8 months later. 8 painful months after 2 of them -- coma bound.
But if you never met a fighter in your life--- meet my Krista. A CRAZY fighter. Strong.
She's changed my life thinking-- my life emotions, my life choices. She's changed my life in intense ways.
That's why this blog wasn't important for so many months. About 8 months to be exact.
But maybe it's time to start that world domination plot again--- * tapping fingers* and I think it involves writing again. * intense , narrowed eyes*
Does that make me seem mysterious?
I might be back -- somewhat.
Feel free to send me a thank you letter.
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