The kids went to school this morning with all the
excitement of prisoners starting work camp.
Seriously, it was ugly.
and
Speaking of ugly.
See those scowl lines on her forehead?
Last week I posted about aging and about my scowl lines.
I hate them and I see them all the time.
Then my kids came home on Tuesday night.
MIRACLE of MIRACLES
my lines disappeared.
Every time I looked in the mirror I looked miraculously 25 years old.
I had no lines whatsoever.
I determined that I was so happy and relieved to have my kids home
that my worries (and worry lines) disappeared.
Then yesterday afternoon I got a text from Stanley.
He said he was planning to spend the night in the nest last night to help with school. I didn’t say anything because it was actually supposed to be his night anyway but I have hogged the kids exclusively since they got off the plane on Tuesday night. I sent him a text back saying okay but that I needed to stay to get them off the first day. All fine, all right.I go in to pee and
KABOOM!
I look old as dirt again.
Stanley is bad for me.
Plus he is soft spoken and gets irritated as shit when I say,
“Pardon?”
He mutters then has the nerve to get irritated with me for asking
him to repeat his dumb self.
I don’t like him at all just in case anyone was wondering.
He’s mean and a pig = Mean Pig.
I complained via text to my mom about his mess
prior to their trip and she texted back
SSTINKO.
which in mom text means Stanley is stinko.
SSTINKO alright.
, I made The Boy climb on the roof and sweep off the tree
mess and clean the gutters yesterday.
I was not popular.
The Boy was muttering about “Dad does nothing around here.”
Apparently SSTINKO is a general consensus.
I want to send him a memo that says,
“Your ass is not a hat. Please remove head from orifice.”
I need to charge Botox to the nest account.
Oh my gosh Bryan does that soft mutter then complain thing too! It used to drive me absolutely insane, and we had some real arguments over it.
Him, very softly: Mumble mumble
Me: I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you, can you please repeat what you just said?
Him: (louder) You never listen to me!
Me: I’m listening but you were speaking softly and I couldn’t hear. I’m asking you to repeat yourself because I care what you said. I want to hear you.
Him: NEVER MIND. You don’t care anyway.
Me: Wait – I care! Please tell me!
(This conversation can continue for ages. And ages. 13 years, even.)
That was then. This is now:
Him: Mumble mumble
Me: I didn’t hear you.
Him: You didn’t listen!
Me: Okay. I have to go – have a great day!
😉
What was the expression I heard a few decades back that used to make me bristle? (“You’re only as old as the woman you feel…”)
Uh-huh.
As old as dirt? Well hell, some dirt is pretty damn new if you ask me. Stop looking at your forehead. Cut bangs. Fantasize. Plan for a steamy shower à deux when you can send the kids, um… somewhere.
I know, I know. Easier said than done. I remember years…. yes, years…. of furrowed brow, beating fists, and long long long nights of feeling old as dirt from lack of, um… agreeable company.