it’s a new and exciting kind of monotony

… THWACK-I’ve been slammed with adulthood. Crap.

NW013

I know it’s been a stupid long time since I’ve been here, and for that, dear BlogSurfer.us (you’ve even changed your name! you sneaky little scamp), and readers (those of you whom there may or may not be), I do sincerely apologize. But here’s the thing. Life has been kind of, erm, fucked lately. Like, laundry-list-o-stupid-shit fucked. Some big, some little, some shrug off “meh” stuff, some “holy god you’ve got to be kidding shut the fuck up or I’ll do it for you” kind of stuff. And all the while, I kept thinking, I really need to write this. I really really really need to sit and write. But did I? Nooooooo. Did I curl up in the corner and cry like a baby? Yeah, a couple of times (ok, more than a couple times. Quit rolling your eyes, you lunatic of a sister, you). Did I seek solace in a few other places that shall remain nameless? Oh my yes. (You can stop shaking your head Professor, most of it was gin and tequila.) But did I sit down and write? Nope. Not a single freakin’ word. And wasn’t that the whole point of this blog in the first place? Uh, yeah, it was.  Carving out this little word-cave was supposed to give me a place to spew whatever blech I needed to so I wouldn’t have to slide into it and swim around until I was covered in the muck and dreck and dripping with ick. ‘Cause that shit is harder to get off than the sticky  shit that comes with the Easter hams. thankyouveryfuckingmuch.

And so here I am, we are, after a summer full of family drama/trauma, one kidlette in kindergarten and another in preschool, and a husband attempting to heal from back surgery. What? you say. Do explain! Drama? Trauma? Surgery? And what about being slammed with adulthood? That sounded painful! Yeah, well… there’s no one to play nurse-maid for ME, so slap a fucking bandaid on it, rub some dirt in your eye and get back in the game. Right? Fuck that, it fucking HURTS!!! And I’m TIRED! And everyone in this god forsaken house (which, by the way, hates me on some base level, but we’ll get to that later) is either broken, sick, 4-years-old, or some evil combination of the afore mentioned maladies.

Someone made the comment to me recently that “sucking it up”, although it is not technically a psychiatric term, really ought to be simply for it’s descriptive perfection. And she has the qualifications to say this, by the way, the MD after her name and everything. And she’s not one of those half-assed psych docs who get paid insane amounts of money to throw drugs at people without ACTUALLY doing any REAL therapeutic work with them. She’s a give-it-all-you’ve-got kind of doc, and dare I say human being in general, and I get to say this because, well, I’ve known her for that many years and through that many evolutions. But back to the “sucking it up” thing… So she makes this comment to me, and it was (is) so fucking appropos of the last couple of weeks.

(And yes, I know that EVERYONE has to just suck it up and get on with things, so don’t start finger waggling and head shaking and thinking Oh lord, here she goes again, all this Poor Me song and dance again because A. I’m venting here, that’s what this is for; B. Really? You think this is self-indulgent? and 3. Even those of you reading this who might 1. know me, 2. be related to me, or 3. think you may have some sort of strange stalker-esque soul connection with me, you still don’t know the whole story, so judge not lest ye be fucking judged. M’Kay? Yes, I’m a little touchy ’bout that. It’s an issue. I’m working on it.)

Moving on…

I had a point, there was one when I started this, although I think it may have morphed in the two days since I started writing. I was going to give you a sort of “best of” (hah-best of-more like blooper reel) recap… the reunions with two friends I haven’t seen in almost 20 years that made me feel indescribably loved, the family reunion that was strange in a California-meets-North Dakota in Montana sort of way (just think about that one for a minute, you’ll figure it out… it IS that descriptive, and it IS what you’re picturing… probably… just add elderly farmers and ranchers), and the annual family vacation that quite literally crushed a large part of my heart, twisted a medium sized chunk of my brain, and sucked just the smallest bit of my soul right out (no, not exaggerating on that one, and it all happened in the span of roughly, 0h, 10 minutes? 15?Families can be just so super duper sometimes). And then of course there’s the beginning of kindergarten, which is, dear Professor, beginning to atrophy The Girl’s brain already…

And then of course there’s The Husband’s back surgery and consequent convalescence, which does pretty much throw off my whole fucking day. As a person who is NOT built for constant companionship,  this constant companionship is driving me batshit. I keep thinking it wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t so broken, or if he was handling it better, or more helpful while he’s here ALL FUCKING DAY, but mostly it’s just that I’m The Mom. And at this point, I’m The Mom to a kindergartener, a preschooler, and what amounts to a college kid living in the basement. At least he’s not as stoned as he was before the surgery, and yes, he does help with the kidlettes, but there’s too much yelling. Too much impatience. Not enough love. Doubles my work, makes everyone feel like shit. Kids, me, Husband, everyone.  It’s like walking a very tight, very thin wire in bare feet-it cuts, and you bleed, but you have to stay up there and balance because you finally made it up there, you managed to get all the shit balanced in your hands, on your shoulders, and you’re keeping your eyes closed because if you open them you might not see the end of the wire-there might not be anywhere to set anything down. So yeah. I’m tired of sucking it up. And I’m just tired. Really fucking tired… and thirsty. Where’s the goddamn gin?

NW018

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