I Don't Know What I Am Talking About

At some point in my life I would wake in the morning and my face would light up at the white covering the ground. A snow day. I would anxiously run to the living room, flip on the television and stare intently until I confirmed that I had no school. Then rush back to bed. Under the covers, snug and thrilled.

Now, it is a nuisance. Not the first time, the first snowfall of the year my daughter and I stand and watch out the french doors, the flakes fall and we comment on how beautiful it is smiling at one another.

Tonight as I watched the local news, the weather person announced with a stupid fucking grin that normally we would have 10.4 inches of snow at this point in the year, instead we have had 21.8, with more coming Saturday, Sunday, Monday and again later next week.

When did I stop enjoying this? Is it an adult thing? I don't think so. I still like other kid things. I like to read children's books sometimes. Where The Wild Things Are is still one of my faves. I sit and color with my nieces. Or play dolls with them. Play tag in the back yard during the summer. Catch lightening bugs and put them in a jar to make a lantern, with holes in the top so they can breathe, until they die, hehehe. Doing somersaults for the kids in the clown house across the street. Cart wheels and playing football with my son and his friends. I can't stand listening to the music that I grew up with (I mean, really, who the fuck is still listening to the same fucking music year after year after fucking year.....?)

I am an adult in the sense of running a household and raising children and sustaining relationships and the like, but otherwise, I am still rather proud of my ability to be somewhat childlike. I am mature, but I am also in touch with my inner child, thankfully not afraid to let that child out to play. Out to run on the beach, roll in the grass with a dog, play dodgeball(another game I really suck at).

But I am noticing things that I don't enjoy anymore. Snow is at the top of the list right now. Next up is definitely dishes. I used to jump up and ask to do dishes. What. The. Fuck. Was. I. Thinking. Did I really not ever grasp in that tiny mind of mine that I was going to have to do dishes for the rest of my cursed life? Offering to cook dinner, begging actually. Jeeezus!!?? I think maybe I was hit on the head a lot as a kid. (I should definitely bring this up at next neuro visit, ask my mom if she has been hiding ugly abuse secret)

The real big one that I have noticed is I used to offer to watch other people's kids liberally. Honestly not minding. Now, oh hell no. I am so picky about what kids I will keep, I am like one of those private schools you have to apply for when your kid is one if you want them to attend during their high school years. I kid you not(Zing! Pun, you never know when they are coming, hahaha). I can count on 3 fingers the people I will babysit for, and even then, I want advance notice. I'm not particularly worried about my belongings, no terribly expensive art pieces sitting around the house, doubtful these kids are going to chew through my shoes. I just don't like other people's kids any more.

Let me see how to put this. Well, it's me, so I will be blunt. They are fucking brats, for the most part. Undisciplined, timeouted, mommy said no'd, this is a bad thing'd, I will only tell you so many times'd fucking out of control brats. Let me break it down for you like this. My friends Ami and Penny will not hesitate to discipline their children the first time they do something wrong. I don't mean beat the living shit out of them, but something consequential is being taken away, they are in TROUBLE, none of this, I am going to say your name and make a sad face bullshit!!! You know, actual trouble. The kind that requires mommy or daddy to take 5 damn seconds out of their busy schedule to be a parent. Crazy, I know, but some people still do that.

So yeah, sorry, but I used 2 names, which leaves a few people out there going, "Hmmm, I wonder if I am the third?" Well, keep wondering, I will tell you that I only counted people who live close enough to actually ask me to watch their kids, so that excludes you, Vic, cause you know I adore Jacob!

On the exact opposite side of this, I have a ridiculous amount of patience for the kids in the clown house.(I swear there are 47 of them, one day there were 4, next day there were 7, then suddenly, BOOM, bright light and 47, some magical shit that hairy 400lb man beast wrapped in a towel can do over there) They have virtually no yard at all and anytime I am outside in the spring/summer/fall, they ask if they can come talk to me or play in my yard or even if I will move my car so they can play basketball on my son's basketball court. Something about knowing that the only attention they get is from drunken idiots makes me forgive them for their bad behavior and feel bad for them. Plus, I am pretty sure the 9 year old is watching The Pick Up Artist on whatever channel that show was on, because he was spitting mad game at me by mid-summer. Smooth one, he is, all slick, explaining to me I was way hotter than any of the girls his dad dated (umm, man beast, hello???!!) and that maybe I should give him a ride in my car one night, we could slide back the sunroof and check out the stars. Oh yeah, he's a keeper, that one!

Then there are the kids who are friends with my kids. Some of whom I love. Some I just can't get a feel for what they are really like. Which makes me not like them. I have pretty good people instincts, if I can't peg you, it's usually because you're shady. I can deal with shady, but I don't want shady anyfuckingwhere near my kids, keep stepping. I will cut somebody over them. Stabbity just doesn't do it justice. I will go Manson up in this bitch, and I'm not talking Marilyn.

The other thing is total, oblivion style drunkenness. Lost my taste for it. Well, maybe I did. I am fairly certain. I can't really test my theory right this minute because my anti-seizure cocktail(we always call it a cocktail, sounds more appealing than copious amount of pharmaceuticals required to keep my brain from acting out against my body) sort of prohibits my alcohol intake. Plus, when I do imbibe a little, Wicked Pen seems to have a fucking remote access breathalyzer implanted on me and magically starts texting me to bitch at me. (yes, yes, I know it's out of love and concern, blah blah di fucking blah) But, the last couple of times I got my drink on before "the episodes" began, it just wasn't the same.

Not sure when all of these things lost their luster, or if I am merely going through a phase, but I know this, I still LOVE the ocean, love the feeling of opening that sunroof and driving really fast when the stars are out(sans 9 yo PUA), I love quiet nights at home with a bottle of wine and good movies, I love nights out at the club with lots of friends and loud music to dance my ass off, I love warm, sunny days on my deck with a brush in my hand and a blank canvass staring back at me, I love brutal, sarcastic humor that some people will never understand and others will laugh hysterically at, because a joke that everyone gets well, it just isn't that fucking funny to me!