There are days when I am nothing but a bitch. This is one of them. Were that lady who sings the “I’m a Bitch” song thinking of me, the words would only consist of, “She’s a bitch, She a bitch, she’s a Bi-i-i-i-i-i-tch!” That just about sums it up. Today I don’t like anybody and I feel hostile about everything. Every. Thing. It’s not PMS, that comes next week. It’s just bitchiness.
My oldest Teen-child seems to think that I am here on this earth simply so that he can argue with me and prove me wrong on everything. The middle She-Goddess is gone for the day so we needn’t even go there. And that little one? He has discovered that he can crawl out of his bed, sneak downstairs and pop a movie in the VCR. Yep. That was the clincher. I was holding it together pretty well because once a day I could put Devon in his crib, kiss his sweet cheek and get some peace for about 90 minutes. No fucking more. I can’t really blame the little guy. I know I am lucky that the jail aspect of the crib has lasted this long, after all he will be three at the end of August. But just knowing that there was a time of day that I could safely rid myself of my Boy-Tumor was a lovely safety net for my ever fragile sanity.
Just an hour before the Great Crib escape Cassidy, Devon and I cooled off at the pool. Devon does have a manly blue fish floatie but once he encountered the pink polka dotted number he refuses to ever go blue again. I think the pink compliments his complexion. But that’s just me. And, yes, I do feed the She-Child. That bikini shot even caught me off guard. She eats like a huge, hungry horse. She is just blessed with some random genetics that obviously don’t come from my side of the family.
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If I say the sky is blue, Elcie will swear it’s orange.
Kids grind you down to the very bone and then the chew on the bones. Your daughter looks like me when I was her age, and my daughters as well. I hated my body for so long because it was skinny. It’s still skinny, with a nice plump roll of fat around the middle, so I’m still struggling to accept my body.
I remember losing the peace and quiet and safety of the crib for my kids. Each time it sucked. Good luck.
Wow ! Great pictures? How did you do that…the ‘collage’ trimmed in pink?
Oh, those were the days that I remember so well. Now, there are 8 grandkids who seemed to have inherited or learned that behavior from their parents.
swamp witch
I often feel as though my bones are being consumed by the offspring. What an accurate description!
Thanks for the compliments on the pictures. I have become a huge Photoshop whore and I lay up the images and then create a background and sample a color from one of the pics for the color. Nothing too big in the photo/tech world, but pretty clever for me.
Eight grandchildren! That’s pretty amazing.
Thanks for reading and leaving notes!
Heather