Big Meanie

Sep. 15, 2008
I don't think kids truly understand how much parents HATE being mean. Well, okay, most parents....I hope. Either way I hate being mean. I hate yelling, putting my foot down, meting out punishments and everything that goes along with it. I would much prefer it if such negativity didn't even exist in the parental job description but sometimes the peace-loving, down-to-earth, joking around and talking to them on their level approach is just beyond the moment. Sometimes the little suckers can only push you so far. At some point, you have just heard ENOUGH door slamming, heard "OKAY mom!" one too many times, been told to wait a minute so they can save their game more times than you can count. You start to feel taken advantage of, as though you have lost control as the "adult" in the situation and need to remind them that it is from YOUR wallet their allowance comes and from YOUR hand the ass-smacking comes....grrrr....I really love my babies but I HATE not having anyone here to take up the slack......

Little, Little Andrew

What a baby. Such a baby. My wee baby boy. Sometimes a normal boy with his pretty blond hair and sunshine smile. Sometimes not. I just don't understand what worries him so much. It happens sometimes that I find him crying alone, little bitty tears on his little sad face. He says to me, "The year is going by so fast and I am afraid I am going to lose you." and my heart breaks. What 11-year-old boy worries this much about losing his mother? Then, Chris will go through days and days worried about the same thing. "What if I lose you?" Does everyone know something I don't know? Where am I going? I don't want to go anywhere! I like it here! It worries me that I am oblivious to some sinister fate.......

old OLD school notebook I found

So, my mom brought over all these boxes whenever they moved a few years ago. Been going through some of them and came across an old school notebook from HS. Very interesting to say the least. I guess I was a funny little troubled soul. I'll post a few things from it. There's one poem in particular that I'm looking for but can't find yet. It was about a certain person I had a certain friendship with back in the day. Not that they mean anything to me now, but it was an neat little tidbit I wrote, if for nothing else but literary posterity....wish I could find it.


This one was probably sometime in early 1993....no title....have no clue what I was writing about....probably wasn't even sober....all punctuation and spelling and grammar is in its original form-
___________________________________

I wanted to go
with you
But the grass
held my air in stone
What disease was that?
I wanted to go
with you
and your elusive butterfly
just so I could touch you
NO.
just so I could laugh at you
NO.
I wanted to love
every vile breath in my throat
I wanted to love
every foreign eye in my cardboard box
I wanted to go
with you
More than my guardian angel
because he ate my shoulder
and you ate my soul.
I wanted to play in the wet cement
but you could only laugh about my
cement disposition.
And you could only wonder what I held
behind my back.
Nothing.
Don't laugh at me, please.
That's what you do best.