I hate when my mother is right.
Well, not really. An incredible woman, no post secondary education, other than life itself, and not always an easy one. Hell, she raised me.
I don’t let her read this blog, as a matter of fact, I told her that my blog is called blogzilly … now she is really worried about me. And Ken, she’s pissed I you someone missed Mother’s Day. But I digress …
How many times has someone said to you “Are you going to make it?” or “Are you going to be alright?” or “How do you do it?” Questions we all get until, of course, we go berserk and take out a dozen school nurses on their way to a school nursing convention with a nuclear tip surface-to-short-yellow-bus ballistic missile … oops, digressing again.
So, “are you going to make it?” The typical answer to the question is “Do I have a choice? Of course I will make it.”
Mom asked be today if I was going to be alright.
Of course mom, I don’t have a choice.
Of course you do.
Huh?
Of course you do. You can either handle it the best you can, or you can fuck up. That’s always the choice.
Did you just say “fuck up”?
Yes.
I adore you. When did you get so smart?
Somehow we make it through, and don’t fuck up too bad. Usually. But we do chose how we do it.
I hope Pearlsky loves me as much as I love my parents.
(And thank you, Elizabeth. Amen.)
I love your mom too.
I love your mom, too. And you are welcome. Although I regret not adding Pearlsky and you to the wishes for prayers. You know I am. Amen.
Hey, can you ask your Mom to please stop writing me harassing e-mails? I’ll remember next year I promise. But her birthday? That’s up to you. How can I possibly be expected to know that?
I think you and I must be roundabout the same age, cause I am also all too familiar with the short yellow buses, and they were no big deal to me when I was a kid, but note to self, don’t mention them in any IEP meetings in the future…they bring such meetings to screeching halts and some of the women then look at you as if you are Sasquatch.
I’d gladly donate one of my boys (MY boys, not my actual kids…you’re a guy, you know what I’m sayin’, the ladies might be like WTF…ANIMAL!!!!) for that second to last statement of yours to to be answered to your complete satisfaction.