Yes, in this day and age I’m sad to say that books are still being banned. I’m re-posting this photo I took some time ago of banned books attacking me (yes that really is me under those books. Enjoy and fight book banning wherever you find it!
Since we’re being real here, I am a terrible mother. I do not say that like all mom’s who want other mom’s to say, “Oh no you’re not.” I know I am, and I usually keep it to myself because others will eventually know I am too. Others will try to say that I’m not but there won’t be any conviction behind the words.
This is serious. I truly mean there aren’t enough years left in her little life for the amount of expensive therapy she will need to recover from me.
Here’s an example. My mother-in-law gave us tickets to The Grinch Who Stole Christmas and my daughter was being kinda naughty that morning. So I told her that if she didn’t shape up the Grinch was going to come off the stage to steal her and I wouldn’t stop him. Well, unbeknownst to me the Grinch actually does come off the stage during the performance and run through the isles of the theater.
Yeah. We were in row 2. He ran off the stage right towards us and my daughter starts screaming, because her mother terrified her. She was clutching onto my arm like she was being sucked out of a hole in an airplane. You can’t comfort that kind of scared. And a six year old doesn’t understand, “Mommy was just kidding. Ha, ha!”
Then there was the day she hurt her knee. We were in the middle of nowhere and she had hit it pretty good, so my instinct says we need to get ice. So I pick her up to get her in the car, and hit her other leg on the door. She screamed all the way home. So now we have two ice packs. She is in desperate need of a bath so I think I’ll get her in the tub and bathe her that will help calm her down. Yeah, I dropped a cup on her head while washing her hair. So she cry’s. Then I cry. Then she strokes my hair and sings me the Laurie Berkner song, “I’m not perfect.” (if you’re a parent you’ll know that one – if not see below).
Believe me a six-year-old who has had double kneecapping and cup dropped on their head trying to comfort you for your crappy parenting does not make you feel good. No it does not. She’s doing it because she knows.
This happens all the time. I think running the space heater is universally understood to mean someone is cold, so this conversation always seems like a pointless waste of my time.
I should probably start out the conversation by blurting out, “I have Hashimotos disease and I can no longer regulate my own body temperature.” That might save me from a lot of bizarre encounters where other people try to convince me that I can’t be cold because they’re not.
To all the well meaning among you please let me assure you that 1) I am cold 2) you telling me you’re hot will not change the fact that I’m cold and 3) I really am COLD so get over it.
No where in the above conversation did I say it was cold in the room. NO! I said I am cold. It’s a personal thing. I am not judging you for sweating all over my desk so don’t judge me if I need to put on a sweater and run my space heater.
Why do you think I care if you disagree with the FACT that I am cold? Why do you think I care about anything you have to say about my personal choices? If I want to wear a snowsuit when it’s 90 damn degrees outside what business is it of yours?
Please let me thank you for all the unsolicited advice. Please know that I’ve heard you. I know what you are saying to me. But I still don’t care. I am cold.