my 13yo daughter, she of the stay-at-home mom wah wah poem…just dissed me.  as thanks for babysitting her younger brothers as they slept, hubby gave her $20 for us to go see the Twilight movie, since she adores the books.  I called her to talk about when she’d like to go.  She doesn’t want to go with me, she wants to find a random friend to straggle along with.  now, i understand 13.  hell, i REMEMBER 13, which is weird to me.  i realize it’s not supposed to be real goddam cool to hang out with momma.  but this is the lamenter of maternal presence i speak of here.  what gives?  i’m fairly hip, homies.  i dont wear mom jeans or put my hair in curlers or drive a mini van.  IM ONLY 32 FOR FUCKS SAKE.   for a minute there, i thought the kid loved meeeeeeeeee waaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh


im at work, busy but oh well i need a mental break.  found a secret-y type poem my 13yo daughter wrote today, about how much happier she would be and how great her life would be if i was a stay at home mom.  now, peeps, lets be realistic.  how smashingly fabulous it would be to not have to work!  and i have an SUV!! bonus! so when we get evicted, we can all camp out in the car….that…well…how cool….no.  so now im stuck between a rock and a guilt place.  i dont understand whats taking my dayshift transfer so mother effing long, but my kids are showing me more and more that its taking TOO DAMN LONG.   this sucks.

i celebrated my birthday a couple days early today.  went to an awesome smorgasbord with my mom and kids, then to the gift shop, then to a great little amish thrift store.  i dont understand why my 5yo chooses to make these birthday outings as aggravating as possible.  hes generally very well behaved in public, no scenes or whatnot, but for the second year in a row, the child is determined to make me halfass wish i was barren.  the running around, the incessant touching of expensive crap i dont want and cant afford, the sobbing meltdowny fake-out i get when i insist he hold hands with me and just knock it off already.  of course the grannies and sweet amish ladies dont know those are crocodile tears, i end up looking like a complete bitch.  also, an idiot.  AGGRAVATION.

ok, what the hell….

so.  while perusing the blogs i happily stumbleonto on a regular basis, i decided okie dokie i can do this.  a la peanut butter sandwiches, welcome to my blog!  I’ma bit of a gamble on whats going to pique my interest on a given day, but the old standbys i’d have to say would be trying new recipes, historical fiction books, norah jones, beer, aggravating the hubby and kids, and an unfulfilled desire for travel to places you need to up your meds to go to.  if seeming randomness spiced with annoyance is your thing, we’ll get along just fine. 

ps.  i work in a prison, i type all dang day.  after a few years, i got lazy with punctuation and capitalization.  feel free to take away my birthday if it bothers you.  slainte!