A tiny "deep breath and move on" moment....

I needed to escape for a little while tonight. Lucy and my person decided that a windowless jeep ride to some little place they love for a couple of beers was in order. It is a wonderful thing to have people who always seem to know just what you need, or maybe they needed it too. Either way its good to have be warned this post is heartfelt but a beer induced kind of heartfelt.

I would like to thank the bestie (I have referred to him as the ex-bestie in earlier blogs, but he isn't. He will be my bestie until the day I die.) for teaching me how a person should be loved. For teaching me that I am worth being loved that way. For teaching me that it's ok to want that kind of love and to not accept anything less. I hope that you have found the person that will love you this way and that you are their one, because you of all people in this world deserve it. Know that there is someone always rooting for you.

To all other blog readers if you have found this kind of love. Hold on and don't let go. It is a hard thing to find, my friends. I think I will take my broken heart to bed, sleep off these few beers and continue my search tomorrow. Hopefully I wont wake up and feel the need to delete this post and thank God for spellcheck! It is your friend!

Here we go...

This week the Bug has found her...I can not find the words...give me a second...I will say whatever I want so I can hurt you because you are my mother voice, for lack of a better term. I have been preparing myself for this, but yeah...

On Wednesday night she put my dining room chair through the plasma television. Since she can't move the couch or chair in the living room she uses a dining room chair when she is playing the Wii.

Me: "I have told you a thousand times to stop making the chair rock. Now stop before you break your arm, or worse the chair."

Bug: "Funny, mom."

Me: "I do not have the money to replace it when you break it! I'm not trying to be funny!"

Bug: "The table has scratches on it anyway. A new one would be good."

This does not phase me. She is typically a smart @$$. (ha! Like my mother can't figure symbols out. It makes me feel more respectful, don't judge!)

Me: "Stop it or you can sit on the floor!"

I will warp us to 2 hours later in the evening. A hysterical Bug comes in my room crying the chair finally fell over and through the TV. I politely ask her to go to her room. I then call her dad and inform him in a raving lunatic rage that I am going to kill her. He says that even though a deduction in child support payments would be nice, he can't allow this and somewhat calms me down.

The next night I give her her sentence and she completely loses it. I mean full blown crazy. I will just do a nutshell version for you.


The last part throws me but I do not let her know this...

Me: "Good. It means I'm doing my job right."


Me: "No you're not."


Me: "Can you fold a load of clothes first?" (Sidenote: I slept with my bedroom door locked and haven't decided if I will be getting rid of the kitchen knives or not.)

She runs up to her room, slamming her door and proceeds to makes sounds resembling a howling dog until she falls asleep. I call my mother and apologized for every hateful thing I said to her when I was a kid.

In her defense she did come to me the next day and apologize saying she didn't mean it. I accepted and told her she is most certainly allowed to hate me, it will be natural over the next few years, but the next time she says it out loud she will be grounded until Hannah Montana (c'mon I had to use a reference she would understand, there you go judging again!) had grandchildren.

Conversation over dinner...

I made spaghetti and meatballs tonight and I DIDN'T MESS ANYTHING UP! GO ME! Alright, on to the real story...let me set the scene...

I have finished eating and while the kids are finishing up, I'm wiping things down, putting things away...yadda, yadda, I'm throwing something in the garbage can the entire trash bag folds into itself and falls to the bottom of the can. I say to the kids...

"The next time I buy trash bags that aren't Grippers (much love to the Hefty inventor of this product!), slap me! Well, unless we are poor." (some weeks we struggle more than others...sigh)

The bug pipes in "Wait, if we aren't poor...why are we eating spaghetti?"

I just look at her.

The grumpy teen answers "Ummm...normal people eat cooked meals all the time. Normal people do not eat McDonalds four nights a week."

I just look at him.

After deciding not to throw meatballs in their eyes and start a massive food fight (because I would have to clean it up, otherwise "It's on like Donkey Kong" comes to mind), while shouting "NORMAL KIDS WOULD NOT COMPLAIN ABOUT EATING MCDONALDS!!" (where did I go wrong), I shake my head and go load the dishwasher.

I will now add teach the kid the value of a dollar to my To-Do list and try not to dwell on the possibility they were both switched at birth...