I hate leaving my house.
Seriously.
I'm not afraid to leave my house, so unfortunately, I can't be a total loser and file for social security disability, or anything like that.
I can't remember what that disability is called . . . the one where you're actually afraid to leave the house . . . ?
Oh! And, God, I'm sorry . . . I'm totally not disparaging anyone who really has that disability! I know I said I can't be "a loser" and file for social security because I don't have that disability -- buy I'm ABSOLUTELY not saying that someone who does have that disability and has filed for social security IS a loser. Not for real. I promise!
What the fuck is that phobia called?!?
It'll come to me.
Anyhoo, I hate leaving my house.
I hate having to shower. I hate having to put on actual clothes, including a bra.
Ooh . . . I really, really hate bras.
I love sitting in my pajamas all day. I have, like, maybe 4 or 5 pair of comfy PJ pants -- not including the ones I never pulled out of my winter tote box this year. I love stealing and wearing my husband's t-shirts. I hate wearing socks and shoes.
I hate wearing socks-and-shoes. Not just socks. I actually have a couple pair of socks that I adore. But shoes-and-socks?
Yeah. That sucks.
I have cramps.
I do not have my period. Aunt Flo has not visited me in quite some time, now.
And no . . . don't even get it in your heads that's I've got a bun in the oven. There will never be another bun in this particular oven ever again. Not since my baking partner decided to go and get rid of all his ingredients.
Okay, I have no idea if that even makes sense . . . other than in my own head, of course. What I mean to say is that my dear husband had a vasectomy almost 7 years ago. On my own insistence, as a matter of fact! So no . . . no bun in this oven. But regardless, I still haven't gotten my period in a long time. Yet, I still have wicked cramps tonight.
My house is a mess. Laundry is backed up, because I've been having a pretty severe case of the I-Don't-Give-a-Fucks lately. My kids have shit strewn all over the place. The upstairs bathroom is positively atrocious. The downstairs one is only slightly better, but only because it doesn't have a tub/shower. And my kitchen? Dear Lord in Heaven above! It's disgusting. I should take a picture of my stove top for ya'll.
No. I shouldn't. You'd all run for the hills faster than . . . I don't know. Faster than something really, really fast.
Agoraphobia!
That's what the phobia is called! The one where you're afraid to leave your house?
I knew it would come to me.
My 13-yo has sex-ed this semester. Yesterday, as I was cooking dinner, he asked me about anal sex. Then, he asked me if my husband and I have anal sex.
Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw. I honestly don't know how the hell I managed to not die of embarrassment.
The boy also thanked me the other day. He said that participation in sex-ed class is mandatory, and they do a lot of talking in there. He said that because I've been such a great mom -- translation: I've spoken frankly and openly and often about sex with my kids since even before they started asking questions about it -- he's been finding it pretty painless to speak in class . . . where a lot of the other kids are embarrassed and have a really hard time with it all.
He. Thanked. Me.
My 13-yo THANKED ME.
I think this is what it feels like to have a parenting "win".
This is what I say "exit only"
ReplyDeleteI feel your pain. I am slowly digging out of the disaster that ensued when I did nothing but work last week. No laundry, dog hair cleanup or laundry. And I do have my period, and cramps. It is awful this month. And on my anniversary, no less.
I hate showering and getting ready too. Sometimes I drive to the store and drive back home because I cannot go in.
That's exactly what I said! Exit only! Still, there are some questions that come out of your children's mouths that you're never quite prepared to answer.
DeleteLaundry is almost caught up. Though my washer is leaking and my dryer stopped blowing hot air, so I'm pretty much screwed.
Finally got my period, and I'm in so much pain that it hurts to take a deep breath. I want to rip my uterus out with my bare hands.
I've done the same thing! I'll take one of the older kids with me, more often than not, so I can stay in the car.
Oh my shit! He asked if you guys have anal sex?! Oh jeez, I almost peed myself reading that.
ReplyDeleteEverything else about this post, could have been written about me, so I feel where you're coming from. As for bras, they're an evil contraption invented by Satan and designed to make women feel constricted.
Loving the new look by the way. :)
Yep. I honestly don't know how I managed to answer the crazy kid.
DeleteBRAS SUCK! I wouldn't wear one at all, EVER . . . but, unfortunately, if I don't, my boobs hand down below my knees, and it's really uncomfortable trying to walk when, with every step, I'm dribbling my boobs with more skill than Messi on the pitch.
Thanks! I love green. Not so much because of St. Patrick's Day . . . more like in spite of it. My name is more Irish than I am, but I do so love having an excuse to mess around in Photoshop and decorate my home here in the 'verse.
Wow ... it's great that he feels comfortable enough to ask you about things like anal sex, but I feel for you! That must have been an awkward conversation!
ReplyDeleteI LOVE that he's comfortable enough to talk to me about the awkward things! I've honestly always hoped that my kids would feel that they could talk to me about anything and everything. So I tried not to show the awkwardness, but man . . . it was tough!
DeleteWhat the hell did you say?
ReplyDeleteFirst, I told him that what my husband and I in the bedroom was none of his business.
DeleteThen I said, "Exit only!"
He said, "Huh?"
He didn't understand. My 14-yo daughter was laughing her ass off, however.
So we (the 13-yo, the 14-yo, and I) all ended up having a conversation about respecting each others' privacy, and how there are no sexual acts (between consenting ADULTS) that are "wrong" or "right". To each his own, and all that. How when consenting ADULTS love each other, what may be a comfortable sexual expression for them could be completely uncomfortable for other consenting ADULTS, and you should never feel pressured to do something that you're not comfortable doing, no matter what. I must've stressed the whole "between consenting ADULTS" thing a zillion times. Plus, like I always do when the topic of conversation with my kids is SEX, I repeatedly mentioned the need to USE A CONDOM, FOR PETE'S SAKE! each time, every time, every way, without exception, until they were happily married and ready for children of their own with their disease-free spouse.
You don't have to tell, but I wanted to come back and say how nice it looks here.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much, Donna! I'm a little behind on answering my comments . . . it's been a LONG, LONG weekend, and it's not quite over, yet. I HATE when the kids have a long weekend off from school! I never seem to get shit accomplished, and this weekend was even worse considering Aunt Flo's visit (which commenced on Saturday morning, finally) and my dryer acting up. I'm ready to run away from home . . . and I would, if my cramps weren't keeping me in a perpetual fetal position on the couch in front of the television.
DeleteUGH!!