When your brother hands you f-bombs

On the day where you find yourself feeling a lot sad and melancholy missing your younger brother gone for the last nine years your youngest brother will call you. You let the call go to voice mail because at the time that he is calling you you are driving up 99 heading home from a very long day at Children’s Hospital Central California with your son. You’re full of Christmas goodwill and love and kindness because singing along to great Christmas music while driving for a few hours fills you up with so much goodwill, love and kindness so you tell yourself you will call him back as soon as you get home. Sure, the last time he spoke to you on the phone it was horrible but it’s Christmas. He’s probably full of the same goodwill, love and kindness you tell yourself.

Um, no.

He might have been as he did say that he was just trying to call me to offer his wishes for a Merry Fucking Christmas, Asshole! I guess my not answering the phone immediately killed it for him.

I am a horrible, horrible person…because I didn’t answer the phone which means I think I’m better than him and I’m a cunt and the worst Christian woman on the planet ever. Even worse I was apparently in tahn, er town, Pittsburgh that is and NOT at Children’s Hospital with my son. I was so says Billy and of course he is right he tells me. I was in Pittsburgh talking shit about him to some skycap…at least that is what my brother tells me. Honestly, how could I not know that I was in Pittsburgh when I thought that I was in Madera. No, he’s not drunk and he is not crazy…he is adrenalyzed. Oh and he is 46-fucking years old and I guess that is my fault too. But he still loves me…he told me so after each time he told me how worthless and useless and disgusting I really am.

Gawd he is practically a clone of Mommy Dearest and the way she has talked to me for the last 50 years or so. Someone has to fill those god forsaken shoes I guess because as long as I have breath in my body and am taking up space on the planet I need to always know what a wasted piece of disappointing crap I am to each and every single member of my family.

Whatever.

My dear, darling, angry, clearly ill brother I refuse to let you hurt me. Well, okay, you have hurt me as you and the rest of the crazy toxic family does in a way that no one else ever could. Still I refuse to let you destroy me or poison my holidays. It’s hard work this year to have Christmas peace, goodwill, love and cheer but I still refuse to let you steal the joy that is mine. You have no right to do so.

  • I have great kids and a pretty fine husband. Billy-boy, you can’t even begin to imagine the amount of toxicity they can wash away…yours…Mom’s.
  • The Steelers won yesterday and the ‘Niners killed it tonight at their last regular season game at the ‘stick.
  • I am blessed with some pretty amazing, dear friends who although are miles and miles and miles away are always there for me when I am at my lowest of low.
  • Today one such friend blessed me with totally unexpected, generous kindness.
  •  As long and as stressful as our visit to Valley Children’s was for Daniel and me it was good…even if it was the day before Christmas Eve.
  • I am running again. Sure I’m running very slow…VERY slow and not very far but after MONTHS of chronic pain and painfully slow recovery I am running again. This morning’s 2½ mile run was perfect.
  • The glass of Merlot I am about to pour promises to be delicious.

You can not steal my joy, little brother. Not at all.

Merry Christmas to you too, Billy!

annoying side effects

Recent message received from iamthefuturee: where can I get some human growth hormone? Or Buy this for cheap?

WTF?!

Curious, I check to see who is iamthefuturee exactly. He is Davon Teaheartt: Dance down, Dope AF, Athletic, Tracknation, Catch Me On Your T.V. Screen, $traight A’s, Ambitious, Talented, God’s gifts, Focused, #I Am The Future.

Um, okay.

Your pictures on Instagram and your writing might suggest otherwise, Davon. Just saying…

WTF?!

Still I answer back: my child comes by his prescription legitimately as it is a medical necessity for him. His physician prescribes it and his insurance provides it. It is not cheap and I certainly would not be injecting it into my little boy every day were it not for the reason that it is medically necessary.

Davon, er, iamthefuturee replies: Sounds like a great parent I completely understand. What does he take it for? & would like to make extra money selling me some?

OMG, WTF!!??

That’s one annoying side effect.

Another is his fingernails grow like crazy…his dirty fingernails.

But he did grow another 1¼ inch this month. So I’ll tolerate the annoying side effects for now.

NaPhoPoMo day 18

what doesn’t the fox say

One of Daniel’s new favorite songs is, yes, What Does The Fox Say. It’s fun he tells me as he tries to teach me the words so we both can sing along together as we do.

What does the fox say?
Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!
Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!
Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!
What the fox say?
Wa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pow!
Wa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pow!
Wa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pow!
What the fox say?
Hatee-hatee-hatee-ho!
Hatee-hatee-hatee-ho!
Hatee-hatee-hatee-ho!
What the fox say?
Joff-tchoff-tchoffo-tchoffo-tchoff!
Tchoff-tchoff-tchoffo-tchoffo-tchoff!
Joff-tchoff-tchoffo-tchoffo-tchoff!
What the fox say?

And I answer back, er, try to.

Ringadingyding ding ding…

No! Mom! It’s Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!
Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!
Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!

Ring ding dingy ding ding…?

No! Ring…ding…ding…ding…dingeringeding…go ahead…say it.

Ringy dingy ding ding…

OMG, Mom! Don’t, okay?

Yes, I am sliding ever faster into the rabbit hole of where I mortify my pre-adolescent son just by breathing…and clearly being unable to sing What Does The Fox Say.

on the walls

Watching me hanging pictures on the wall, Hazel notices that there are NO pictures of her and Fallon…”why, Mima?

Why indeed?

She was a little judge-y in her query kind of like the way she has judged my fashion choices in the past. Still I couldn’t blame her. I would have been upset too if the tables were turned…which reminds me of the fact that there no pictures of me in her home.

Why?

We’ll address that later.

A friend of mine suggested that the lack of pictures of my grandbabies on the walls of the Big Top is actually the responsibility of their parents…meaning that they should be providing the framed photographs and portraits. I would say true. I always provided lots of portraits of my circus clowns to the grandparents until that one time when that one grandparent asked me not to give anymore pictures. I guess the fact that I have so many kids means that a lot of space is taken by all those pictures I had given in the past. I refuse to believe that the grandparent didn’t want pictures of these adorable children because that would be ridiculous. And so I stopped giving pictures of the kids…more for me to enjoy here under the Big Top! But one of the reasons Hazel and Fallon’s parents aren’t showering me with pictures of these gorgeous pictures is because I am the one who takes pictures of them…all the time. Well, I AM the mamarazzi.

And so we go back to Hazel judging her Mima for not having any pictures of her and Fallon on display here under the Big Top.

Well not anymore!

So now we will discuss why there are no pictures of Mima and Papa in Hazel’s house.

overheard under the Big Top #73

Daniel: (while looking through an old photo album) Mom, is this you?

Mom: Yes it is.

Daniel: Dad, is this you?

Dad: No. That’s not me.

Daniel: Oh…

He looks over at me with narrowed eyes as he slams shut the photo album.

I just might be in trouble now and no, it has nothing to do with the awkward that was the formal fashion of 1978. He certainly can’t fault me on my hair. My hair was awesome. I mean look at it. No I think it might be the fact I am standing very close to someone who is not Daniel’s Dad and that guy has his arm tightly around my waist…my incredibly tiny waist…and I seem to be really happy that this guy has his arm around my waist.

Let this be a cautionary tale for all of you parents out there whose kids haven’t discovered pictures and mementos from old boyfriends or girlfriends.

Get rid of it all!!!!

Except you Hollie. You may not come over and try to destroy any pictures of your old boyfriends that I might have.