Friday, October 23, 2009

safely stowed

I just wrote a poem. I'm pretty sure it sucked, actually, now that I'm reviewing it in my head, I know it sucked, a lot. Actually, it blew. I didn't send it to anyone to look at like I usually do with my arrogant fiction. That shit is good. The poem will be my little secret. It's a last resort when I have nothing to do but I need my brain to move a little.
I could always try limericks. I've given a good show with those before, but only while texting drunk.
There once was a girl from Mass......
Anyway, the poetry is vaulted for now. The children are somewhat safe on their schoolbus, although I wonder about the little boy down the street who is ten and continues to threaten all the kids on the bus that he's going to bomb them. That's what I want my kid hearing first thing in the morning, "I'm gonna bomb your house." Nice. It's different when I say "If you don't brush your teeth RIGHT NOW, I swear to god you won't have any." My kids think that shit is funny. It's odd, I'd be scared of me in those early morning hours of pure chaos and low caffeine levels. But they somehow don't trust that the little boy won't kill them "with a bomb". There is a part of me, the animal mother part, that wants to get on the bus with them, walk up to the f***ed up kid, pull a grenade out of my blue mommy-bathrobe (which I do not yet own) and yank the pin and shove it in the kid's mouth, whispering in a gravelly voice, "Don't f***ing mess with my kids, man", and watch him crap himself when he realizes the grenade is a dud. I made that part up actually, I don't know if it would be a dud.
See, I make his bomb fantasy look like a tupperware party.
Being a mom is like balancing a cupcake on the nose of a rabid panther.
Well, my dinners have been interesting this week. My mom made lasagna yesterday and sent me home with half the pan. I'm eating it in small 2"x2" squares.

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