I see you laughing at me world. Trying to get me down. Trying to get the win. Kicking while I am down. You think you’re funny, don’t you. See how much I can handle. See if you can keep me from writing. See if you can keep me from telling my story. I know what you’re doing. It’s been working. My inspiration has been lacking. My dance ticket has stayed pegged at salsa in the wrong shoes for too many hours on feet that cannot even begin to spell salsa. What I mean is, I’ve been busy. Too busy to notice that I haven’t been writing. Too busy to notice that days have been trickling by at the speed of the newest Boeing jet.
Not only has time just begun pouring through the hourglass, the tests have been getting harder and harder! Sometimes I find that I skip blogging because I don’t want to hurt people’s feelings, or call them out for the world to see, but that really doesn’t benefit me at all. And afterall, isn’t this blogging business FOR ME? Not only that, let’s be realistic… there are not even that many people still reading this post.
I’m a bad friend. I’ve found that to be true. Hurts to say it outloud, or… in black and white… but it’s true. I am a bad friend. I don’t call as often as I should. I forget birthdays, anniversaries, etc. I have an ability to have a friend for a short amount of time, and then eventually drive her off in some way. Usually by being a selfish ass. It’s in my DNA. Not blaming my parents, just saying that’s how I am wired. I don’t have time for most women, they bug the shit out of me. So that leaves me with 2-5 people that I can really talk to at any given time. I feel lonely a lot. Not a pity party statement, just truth.
I get lost looking at the world. I stare off into the distance a lot. Wondering. Daydreaming. Wishing. Time spent in my cubicle feels like I am serving a sentence. Somehow I nearly forget that they compensate me for doing it, and they compensate me entirely too much. Which is weird. But it makes me come back over and over again.
My kids are all doing good, not good, kind of good, kind of crazy, kind of living…. kind of not. Weird sentence, I know. Let’s start with the baby.
Faith (the athlete) has been developing her soccer skills to new heights. She’s fucking really good at soccer. Good to the point that at tournaments, other team coaches have noticed her. There’s been talk of her moving to the Alabama Elite Team, that would play ball for the state, and travel nationally. This is all good. And fine. Except that this is massive, monufuckingmental time commitment. She’s on A Honor Roll. She wants to play college level soccer, possibly Olympic soccer. She also wants to be a doctor. No small feat in her future. She is a funny kid, smart, and determined. But she also has the attitude that follows big shot athletes. She feels like someone should do the small things for her. Like tie her shoes, carry her bag, make sure she’s under an umbrella. Sometimes I want to punch her in the face. All while being so proud of her for knowing that she’s “got it” that she’s worth it. She won’t ever learn to cook. She won’t ever make a Thanksgiving dinner. She’s that girl. She’s a 2015 woman already. She appreciates the women that burned their bras and fought for the right to vote, and she has shown no signs of slowing down as she continues to want to set records and break the rules wrapped around every sentence that starts with, “girls can’t”. But when you ask her to stop juggling the soccer ball in the kitchen, she rolls a mascaraless bright blue eye at me, and flips a gorgeous blonde ponytail as she turns around, and I find myself shooting her the bird as she walks out of the room. But I love her.
Hailey (the drama queen) is a flawless actress. She’s convincing in all roles. She’s funny, and mesmorizing. But her flair for the dramatic is caught somewhere between Heath Ledger, Brittney Spears, and Marilyn Monroe. She’s beautiful and knows it. She wants you to tell her. She wants everyone to tell her. She wants to be talked about. There is no such thing as bad publicity in Hailey’s mind. If people are talking about her, they’re talking about her. She’s wreckless and consequences be damned. But opposite of her sister, she will stop and help the little old lady cross the street. She will play with the crying baby in the stroller. She would notice someone’s tears. Although she cannot see her own. Her risky behavior is enough to keep me in a forever state of mother’s worry, mixed with nausea. One minute I am laughing with her, then at a funny joke she’s told, then I am laughing delusionally in shock and awe at the insanity of her actions. I think this must be how all crazy/genius people’s family must feel. On the verge of insanity themselves just from watching the daily train wreck.
Ryan (The Czar) is a junior through and through. He was born to be a leader. But right now, he’s learning how. Learning how to lead without being the asshole. Learning to lead by example. Learning to lead while walking the right path. He’s getting it. His maturity seems to have come swooping in all in a quick thunderstorm of bad choices he was making. Bad decision, bad results, bad things said by his dad and me. And just like a flower that was being choked out by weeds, he emerged brighter, more beautiful. His patience is growing… dare I say, I can see that the seeds have taken hold of him.
I don’t know when I am supposed to be blogging anymore. Time seems like a really expensive wine, that I don’t have the luxury to buy. I can see it up on the shelf, but I keep having to grab the $3 bottle on the bottom shelf, the one that gives a fucking hangover from hell. I know, I know, these days they pass. The busy ones. I know that. That’s the problem. In like 5 minutes I am going to wake up and be 40…. how the hell do I make the busy stop? Unwind, unravel… without completely unwinding and unraveling? I’m not even sure if I’ve done laundry this month. What month is it? Fuck, I’ve got to go.