Living La Vida Alpo

Doing it my way.

Week one of being officially in my own apartment went by in one supersonic, sleep-deprived blur.  But I do remember a few things.  Allow me to impart my hard-earned single-woman wisdom:

1. When a spider marches nonchalantly across your chest on its way across the living room floor and you do nothing but stare at it, you know that a) you're officially home, and b) your lack of screamage says you're growing up all by yourself.
2. Hissing "THERE ARE PEOPLE DOWNSTAIRS!" at a seven-year-old does nothing to deter the screaming, the jumping, the running, and perhaps most of all, the brattitude.
3. People who live in third-floor apartments with a dog are either dumbtards or gluttons for glute workouts.  GUESS WHICH ONE I'M VOTING FOR?
4. Never ever move into your own place without at least one chair.  The toilet does not count.
5. When you're worried about paying the bills, or when your legs have fallen asleep or your back is aching from sitting on the floor, or you're hit all over again with the realization that for the first time in your life, you are truly, honest-to-goodness, on your own, take a look around, remember all the good people in your life that helped you get here, and...

shut the fuck up.  You're doing pretty damn good so far, lady.

Negligent mama - check.

I let Leah spend the night at a friend's house before her first day of school.  Exciting times!  Fun!  Whoo!

Leah's been on a gazillion trips this summer, which means she's earned her official Diploma of Bag Packing.  Usually I can just tell her to go pack a bag and we'll be out the door.  She came downstairs as I was getting ready to take her to her friend's, and I asked: "underwear?"

Check.

"Toothbrush?"

Check. 

"Shirt and shorts?"

Check.  Rolling eyes.

"Shoes?"

Check.  Impatient sigh.

"No, I mean shoes that TIE."

Check, accompanied by a look that says: MOM, YOU'RE BEING BOTARDED AND PARANOID AND DELUSIONAL.  AGAIN.  NOW STOP IT.

So we were all good and I dropped her off, no problem.  Off to work the next day, excited about meeting her bus and hearing all about her first day at her new school.  Sat in the parking lot with other jittery parents, and the big yellow bus rolls up, YAYYY!  There's my little girl!  There's my boy!  How was school?  Did you have fun?  Did you make new friends?   All that yuppie hipster soccer mom/dad crap.

Yeah right.  Not in MY life.

Leah hops off the bus, and my head jumps off my body.

LEAH RAIN, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WEARING?!

I swear to you, internet elves, I did not know my daughter was capable of dressing like that.  Like THAT.  I can't even describe it, I can only point at the screen as I type -- THAT.  My daughter wore THAT. 

And I am such a horrible mother I could only stand there with a smile frozen on my face, absolutely, positively sure the other parents were giggling and pointing at the dumb young mama who didn't know better than to dress her daughter in more than three square inches of fabric.  Hello, junior high.

I've seen women -- grown women who make a living shaking their booty, that is -- wear hot pants before, but who knew shorts with a negative inseam existed?

I'd post a picture, but then I'd feel guilty and icky about posting it and I'd have to pixelate her entire body. 

Now, that's just asking for way too much future karmic debt.  Not to mention the therapist bills for her someday: "So tell me, why are you here today?"

"Oh, because I was raised by this crazy woman who blogged about my life peppered with the word 'fuck' and posted pictures of me that she had to censor.  But it's okay, she did it out of love."

That's right, future Leah.  I did it out of love.  Because when you go to school wearing THAT, love you is all I can do, my precious darling.

A Brief History of Corporate Whining

Love edutaining cartoons like these. They redefine "bitch-slap." 

Oh, yeah, and those of you who have today off? Enjoy.

via Ampersand.

Pantoum for the broken-hearted

I knew I grew up on fairy tales
Even though they were just stories
Read of a happily ever after
And it sucked the wind out of my sails.

Even though they were just stories,
Held them close to my heart
And it sucked the wind out of my sails
The day I woke up crying.

Held them close to my heart
Out of desperation, perhaps
The day I woke up crying.
I turned within and re-read my story,

Out of desperation, perhaps.
Took a red pen to the mistakes I'd made;
I turned within and re-read my story,
Trying to edit my character flaws.

Took a red pen to the mistakes I'd made;
Found it was a lost cause,
Trying to edit my character flaws.
I fell back asleep, smiling.

Found it was a lost cause;
Read of a happily ever after.
I fell back asleep, smiling:
I knew I grew up on fairy tales.

Child mutilation -- no further comment needed.