May 21, 2013
Fuck that day
I was grocery shopping with all three of the darlings this week. Madpeople, I’m getting so good at this. A man even stopped us to comment that it was nice to see a mom shopping with her kids and not looking completely frazzled and bent, but instead laughing and being happy and calm. My response was to laugh. I clearly remember blogging about being completely overwhelmed and fighting with assholes in the store last year. I think it took me a solid year and a half to get used to being a single mom.
When we arrived at the display which holds the hummus and cheese, I reached down and pulled out a tub of hummus, and checked the date as I normally do. Good till July 5, 2013. Immediately an electrical shock ran through me and I felt my asshole quiver. D=Day. Son.Of.A.Bitch.
I’ll count this as my first warning that D-Day is fast approaching, no matter what I do. There’s no stopping the calendar. The arrival of June brings our wedding anniversary, Father’s Day, Dave’s birthday, and then D-Day…all in a span of 30 days. On my next shopping excursion I need to buy some big girl panties to get ready for the onslaught. Maybe this year I’ll go for a nice thong. I’ma try not to wear depends and be in the fetal position with a pack of lit cigarettes in my mouth and one of those silly drinking hats on…you know the kind that holds a gallon of Tito’s vodka and has two straws going directly into your word hole?
Yesterday I was lying on the bed with the littlest darling. He’s so insanely cute that I was trying to figure out how to just eat him up. I was tickling him and he was laughing the cutest laugh that has ever fallen over the earth. Then all of sudden “Dave” flashed across my mind. It was intense. I quickly pushed it away, as I am so good at doing. I didn’t skip a beat….I said nothing….just kept laughing and tickling. In that instant baby darling went from laughing to crying. Just like that. I scooped him up and asked him what was wrong. “I miss daddy” he cried. Shivers. The veil was lifted for an instant. We are still too wounded.
The two littles are already done with school, and big darling has only a couple days left. I’m so excited to spend summer with these boys. Please remind me of this in August when I am lamenting that I haven’t had four minutes to myself in three solid months and I am mere seconds away from clawing my hair out and running wildly down the street while babbling incoherently. At the very least, remind me to drink more or get a prescription for medical marijuana.
In other news, I stepped on a dead rat while barefoot the other day. Actually, it was just the rat head and tail, the middle part of the body must’ve gotten eaten. I realize this will cause many of you to believe that I live in a garbage dump. I swear I don’t. I had to quickly spray bleach on the bottom of my foot. Then I had to pick up the body parts and throw them away. Ya hurd me? I had to handle a fucking rat. Big darling assisted for moral support and to hold the flashlight. I put my hand inside three plastic bags and picked it up like I see people doing when their dogs shit in my yard. Through three bags, I could still feel the squishy-ness of the rat flesh. Through three bags I still thought I could feel some moist rat guts. I will never get used to doing that kind of thing, and I will curse Dave like a motherfucker every time.
As soon as I walked inside I found baby darling in the bathroom wiping his own ass. Why does baby darling think he’s an ass wiper? He’s always thought he was one. When middle darling used to yell for me to come wipe him, I would have to sprint really fast to the bathroom in order to beat baby darling there. I would usually enter to find him running towards the soiled ass with a piece of toilet paper the size of a dime.
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