Damn Teenagers! Or, I mean, Damn Teenager!!

Okay, so I know I need to add the next post to my 642 Things, but I’d rather rant tonight. Yeah, yeah, I know you’re all desperately waiting for another entry (here is where I would enter in the word NOT, but I am not twelve years old anymore, but I will just hope you get the sarcasm instead), but I just gotta rage instead. Plus, what came up for this prompt ended up highly X-Rated and I can’t write it until I check into into wordpress’ rules on X-rated blogging. Maybe I should find an alternate site for the next post in the meantime…. But, I digress. What I wanted to do instead was bitch and complain about this little shit of a teller in Walmart. And yes, I’m calling some fifteen-year-old kid a little shit because he obviously stirred something up in me that I did not like. But let me start at the beginning…. I was on my way to through the till when I decided to pick up a treat for my children seeing as it’s spring break and they were all pouty that they had to go to karate (“It’s spring break! Why do we have to do anything!”). Originally, I had picked up mini eggs for them, but then thought to myself that maybe I shouldn’t always get them food as a reward. Maybe I should find other things so when they get older […]

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Hate is Such a Strong Word

My cat hates me. Well, she’s not my cat, she’s my son’s, but I’m the one home with her all day; the one who feeds her, who saves her from the dogs, who talk to her, who suggested getting her in the first place. And do I get any thanks? Hell no. Not only that, but she likes/tolerates (she is a cat, after all) everyone in the family…EXCEPT ME! I walk into a room where she’s been sitting quietly and she jumps down from her perch and leaves. I pick her up and she instantly stops purring and clamors to get away. I talk to her and she gives me the stink eye. So fine, if she wants to be like that, I’ll just hate her right back. Isn’t that the way it goes? And yet, I can’t. I often chalk it up to her being a cat, they’re supposed to be like that, aren’t they? And I take solace in the fact that my dogs trail after me all day and look pathetic when I leave and then ridiculously happy when I return. They love me, so it’s not that I’m unlovable. It’s obviously the cat’s problem. But that doesn’t mean I have to like her. Or be nice to her, right? I’m not talking about the cat. Well, I am, but I’m not. The cat is so reflective of the rest of my life. Over the past couple […]

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Oh Monday, my Love

“You never know how much you love something until it’s gone.” “You never know what you had until you’ve lost it.” “You can’t appreciate what you’ve got until you no longer have it.” And so on, and so on. That can be such a depressing quote, or, it is so often used in sad situations. When a loved one dies, when a relationship is over, when the world ends and you no longer have the amenities of modern living. Or, like us this weekend, no power or water for 5 hours at -35. But it can also be so uplifting because you can truly appreciate the thing you love so much more when you get it back (assuming it can come back, so obviously I’m not talking about death or the apocalypse right now. Although, even that is open for discussion. Just not here, today.) Like, you forget how amazing a cold glass of water can taste until you’ve hiked through the desert for hours with an empty canteen. Or you forget how much you love your dog until he comes bounding up at you like he’s been waiting his whole lifetime for you, even if you’ve only been gone fifteen minutes. Or you forget how truly amazing air conditioning is until you’ve spent several hours at 40 degrees (celcius) with 100% humidity. In those cases, that quote can be pretty amazing. When you remember how much you really did love it. Like […]

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The Crushing Pain of Conforming, aka, The Terrible Task of Parenting a Savage

Okay, this is one of those blogs, that inevitable one where a parent must write about their child. This is that one, I think. I’m never really sure until I get to the end. This morning I was packing my son’s backpack and found his homework sheet that he’d (ahem, finally!) remembered to bring home from school. At first I got ready to get angry at him because I thought he’d forgotten again, that this was last week’s homework sheet and he’d forgotten to bring home the current one for the third time. Why? Because it was completed. Every blank space was filled in. Every math question answered. He had nothing to do but review. Whaaaaaaaaaat?!?! This is not normal for my son. Homework is a struggle. School is a struggle. Sitting down for five goddamn minutes and paying attention to anything is a struggle. Except Lego and Video Games. He’s got that mastered to an art of hours-long mind-numbing focus. Which is why I don’t think he’s ADHD. And why he’s not medicated. But also why some days I really wish he was if only to make the struggle that is school a little easier. Why must school just be something to survive? To get through? Why must I dread going to pick up my son and facing the teacher to hear of the daily transgressions and messes he has accomplished while let loose among 29 other 7-year-olds who are […]

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