Happy 100

Welcome to blog 100.

I would like to dedicate this blog, though the contents are pms induced, to Mark. He brought me back into blogging and it’s days like this when I need to the most. It’s coming home to empty house after a bad day at work and you just want to cry. Happy Belated Birthday Mark and I hope all is well with you.

~

On with the blog.

My boss was the cherry on top today. After a long frustrating day I guess all I wanted to hear was “hi, how was your day? How were the kids? How was staining all day?” I didn’t need to tell him that I cracked the front of the bumper on the car, or that now that we cleaned the car it’s evident that I skimmed the side of another company car my first day driving it. I didn’t need to tell him that I had a rough day or that ‘Little Urban Boy’ is a pain in the ass or that the guy who was supposed to be in charge of me while my boss is on vacation is also going on vacation. None of that mattered then and doesn’t now. I’m not his wife and I don’t need to demand his attention, but when I couldn’t have it, that’s what I seemed to want the most.

So about the car, ya, um, oops. I was driving my one kid to the field that he was ploughing and I needed to turn around. I threw it in reverse backed up to the amount I thought I needed and then shifted to drive. Then bam, I hit the fence post. With embarrassment I threw it in reverse again and gave myself what I thought was enough room. It wasn’t and bam again. I could have cried. My vocab was enough to indicate my embarrassment and frustration with myself. B didn’t mention it, and I know that my other kids would have. Thankfully they weren’t with me. B and I exchanged a smile, with a mutual, ‘ya I know I’m an idiot.’ (And the other thing, well who hasn’t accidentally gotten too close to another car while parking?)

The rest of the day and the mood swings I’m blaming on my pms. Most women don’t admit to PMS running their days. And in the same way, if someone said, whoa are you PMS-ing? I’d say “fuck off.” But I can admit to it, and I knew that when I raised my voice to LUB that it wasn’t me, and I knew that when C got on my last nerve, it wasn’t really me either. I’m learning to shake their immaturities off, they are 17 and have no motivation and no reason, no logic and no respect for anyone but themselves. It’s their age I blame and not them. But do I really feel they deserve the Museum of Nature, NO. I don’t, but I’m sick of working and so I’m taking them. Yeah all should be better tomorrow.

Well the beer has begun to blur my vision (not that I’m drunk, merely just temporarily visually impaired) and so I will end my rant and my one hundredth blog. Thanks again for reading.