- In 11 days I take my exam. That is why you haven’t seen much of me, and you haven’t seen any FTM Friday posts. I apologize for my flakiness. It’s not that the love is missing. It’s that there are only so many times you can neglect real life for the sake of fucking lip balm. Hand salve may be another story.
- But I will return, lovers. I will. And it will be good. Actually I already know what I’m doing next Friday: face wash. HoldOntoYourSeats.
- Anyhoo, my birthday was amazing. As I was kicking and screaming and weeping my way through Victorian literature at Starbucks, shooting death glares at the asshole next to me who wouldn’t stop jabbering on his cellphone (because come on dude, this a public place, you have no right to use it however you see fit! Only as I SEE FIT. Why isn’t the world clear on that by now?), my husband calls me and says “wanna have lunch?” and I’m all “What? Aren’t you at work (an hour or 2 away)?” and he’s all “I got off early.” So he swings by and we eat lunch at a place we’ve been eating at for 13 years.
- Holy fuck that’s a long time. Then we went to my mom’s and she made me my favorite dinner, the one she’s been making me since I was a little girl. (Yes, I’m 34 and I still go to my mom’s house for my birthday dinner. WHAT?) And just like when I was a little girl, I looked forward to it all day, my mom’s cooking. Fried pork chops, rice, and gravy (that will change your life).
- Sometimes I can’t believe I’m that person for 3 little people. They think that about my spaghetti.
Nobody makes it like you, mom. And my heart flips because I get it, and it’s true, and nobody can be my mom making that meal, and nobody will do it just right and nobody will make all of life feel all right, by being her and cooking food. What a love we’ve got.
- And the day after my bday (you feelin’ the love yet?) the female love of my life and I went to Berkeley and hung out all day, just the two of us. We spent 2 hours eating Indian food and more hours buying crap we don’t need (including about 12,000 things from “Daiso,” the Japanese dollar store). But clearly the best part was her trying on a Fubu jeans onesie. AND ROCKIN’ IT. (photo below.)
- Anyway so then it was Easter. Wait. Today is Easter. We did virtually nothing today. It was way better than last year. We visited my brother and his family. We did an egg hunt yesterday for an hour, in street clothes. Today I dressed my kids in Easter garb for literally twenty-four minutes, long enough to take some damn pictures and move on.
- Oh come on. You know you do it…take pictures so you have photographic evidence that all important holidays were celebrated and as a mother, you supported important bonding moments. (So don’t blame me your inner child is all crushed or whatever the hell it is you tell your shrink. We had Easter! We were a good family GODDAMNIT!)
- Okay there’s something wrong with me. Let’s move on to another subject. If you’re bored, you can read an article I wrote over at Allparenting on Victoria’s Secret and its efforts to EAT OUR YOUNG or, even more depressing, you can read about how I instilled in my oldest child a horrible temper. Yay!
- While driving home the other day, my 2-year-old informed me that she wanted to “pop some tags.” Yes, as in the Macklemore song “Thrift Shop.” Yes, the one that has about twelve swear words in it. Parenting win? I think soooo…..
- And, in totally unrelated news, Rocket came bounding into the living room two days ago yelling “The ‘fucking awesome’ song is on!!!!”
So we’re not listening to Macklemore anymore.
I mean goodness, we could have had company over.
“Whatcha know about rockin’ a wolf on your noggin’?”
I need some rest.