Suburban Goddess

I am desperately trying to snap out of the funk I’m currently in. I’m quite sure it’s hormonal, but even being able to recognize that fact doesn’t help me to alter it. I don’t want to contribute to the misery around me, but quite honestly, the misery around me is what’s dragging me down.

We all have trials in life, I know this. Everyone is fighting a battle of some sort. It’s funny how I recognize this now, when before I would grow really annoyed at people who seemingly bitched about nothing. l’m sure many people could look at my life now and say the same thing about me; I have a good life. Hell, I have a great life.

So why all the funkiness?

I’m not quite sure. Perhaps it’s the weather. Perhaps it’s the lack of inspiration. Perhaps it’s the lack of interaction; the less I talk to people, the funkier I get. (Conversely, the MORE I talk to people the more irritated I get as well… it’s a very thin line.) I do know this; I am blessed, and I am holding onto that thought with everything I’ve got right now.

“What are you doing?”

“Stuffing paper.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes someone elses’ job easier.”

“Why do you have to make their job easier if it makes yours harder?”

“I don’t know. Corporate policy, I guess.”

“If it were me, I’d drop all the paper on their desk and let them deal with it.”

“I can’t do that. They’d probably cry.”

“Tell them get over it.”

“I can’t. It’s not politically correct, and I’d probably get a call from HR.”

“Well here’s an idea; drop the paper on the desk with a box of Kleenex. That way you don’t have to do it, AND you’re being SENSITIVE to their needs.”

“This is why I love you.”

“Hey! You! Beep beep! Go!”

“Did you just say ‘beep beep?’”

“Yes. I didn’t want to beep beep at the guy in front of me, because it’s the guy in front of HIM who’s not going anywhere. I was telepathically telling him to honk his horn.”

“You what?”

“I told you. I was using traffic telepathy!”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Laugh if you want… it worked!”

“Do you know why we celebrate Christmas, Alex?”

“Uh huh. It’s Chesus’ birthday, and Chesus and Christmas Boy fly all around the world and bring presents to all the good kids.”

“What about the bad kids?”

“They gotta go in time out and eat carrots.”

I had an old G4 that’s been collecting dust in my garage, so I decided to pull it out, dust it off, and set up a “starter computer” for the kiddo.  Within 30 minutes, she was able to boot it up successfully, log on, and launch her Dora game.

(blink, blink)

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; the kid can rip through apps on my iPhone like it’s nothing. But I realized I might have created a monster when she took a break to go to the bathroom.  I clicked through the second hard drive, trying to remember everything that was on it, when Alex barked from the doorway:

“Mommy, don’t mess up my ‘PUTER. That’s MY ‘PUTER. You can play with your LABTOP.”  And if there were any misunderstandings, she walked over to where my laptop lay plugged in. “Here, Mommy.  Here’s YOUR ‘PUTER.”

I can see my mother laughing already. Soon, my daughter will be blogging about ME.

“What would you like for Christmas, Little Miss?”

“A faithful spouse.”

(awkward silence)

“I’d settle for Hugh Jackman in his Wolverine costume then.”

(more awkward silence)

“How about a new blender?”

“Ho! Ho! Ho! Well, have you been a good girl this year?”

“Crap, Santa, do you have any idea what I’ve lived through this year?”

“Look, lady, I got a line of kids here…..”

I KNEW he was a FAKE SANTA.