Life Marriage Motherhood My Mom

Mom On Fire

Mike put me on a budget.  Wait, it gets funnier.  I actually have to explain what I am spending money on not just to Mike but to an accountant whom I am now referring to as my other husband.  Do you have ANY idea, ANNNNNY idea, how weird it is when another man knows when I wax my lady garden?  Effective immediately: I am longer sleeping with either of them because I am so pissed.   Anyway, I have resorted to purchasing VISA gift cards from the grocery store to hide my expenditures because I don’t have quite enough shit to do everyday without embezzling from myself.

Moving on…I recently went in for a physical because I wanted to see if I was any closer to dying.  Naturally, my blood work came back perfect but it wasn’t a total fail because my doctor greatly amuses me.  Even people in the advanced stages of syphilis would be able to laugh there if their brains were still somewhat functioning.  I was sitting on the examine table in a hospital gown, flipping through a germ covered magazine when my doctor walked in and turned off the lights, carrying a bottle of lotion and a candle.  So awesome.  Relax people, I am friends with my doctor and breast exam foreplay is totally covered by Obamacare.  Anywho…

If you are beating yourself up about being grouchy, or guilty about wishing you lived in a third world country so you did not have to cook dinner every night, or fantasizing about slipping into your minivan and driving far, far away from your children…..stop, you actually might not be as shitty of a parent as you think.  My kid actually CAUGHT ON FIRE a few weeks ago when she leaned over to blow out the candles on her birthday cake.

Fortunately, my mom spends an exorbitant amount of time playing games with her cat (the feline kind, don’t be sick) and has subsequently developed superlative instinctive reflexes.  She reached over and pulled the flame from my daughter’s hair before I even knew what happened.  Annnnd because I wasn’t sufficiently mortified, my mom then casually remarked, “Well everyone was just standing there not doing anything!”  Omg.

Conveniently, a few days later, my other daughter celebrated her birthday.  Mike arranged for a limo to take her and her little friends to tea at a hotel downtown.  I heard the girls’ squeals of delight as the “limo” pulled up to our house.  I walked outside and started laughing.  The paint was covered in scratches, there was a large dent on the side, half of the lights were burned out and there were stains presumably from a 1985 prom all over the upholstery.  I physically rolled down the non-mechanical window and gave Mike the finger as we drove off.

The girls were positively euphoric as they toasted one another with dirty champagne glasses while Justin Beiber blared from a tape cassette deck.  I silently pleaded with God to not let them find a bag of blow or a used condom.  The driver thoughtfully spoke on his cell phone the entire way in an angry foreign language.  Apparently “spoiled white girls” did not translate in his native tongue.  Omg, how mean right?!  WE are on a B-U-D-G-E-T dickhead, otherwise I would have arranged for more suitable means of transportation like public transit.

Okay well I have to go pick my dogs up from the groomers now.  I hope you are all fabulous in this shiny New Year!!!  Much love and slobbery kisses.  XO

 

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