You give me perspective.
I remember to feel grateful for what I have, and not just what I lack.
When people starting moaning about how poor they are because their portfolio dropped 37%; and really they aren't poor because they actually HAVE a fucking portfolio and they are moaning from a position of privilege, you write and remind me of Darfur or just the average kind of desperation that we real people struggle with.
And I shut my mouth.
I was at a fundraising meeting tonight and I was actually gone from my baby for an entire 3 hours. And when my husband emailed me on the berry trying to trasmit intense guilt about the lack of nannies and frozen breastmilk I totally rolled my eyes, because I actually was not worried. 25 tonnes of gourmet homemade baby food and twelve boxes of cereal means that life is not so bad peeps. The babe will make it.
(Google thinks that the correct spelling for breastmilk is buttermilk; am peeing with laughter *nevermind* *stupid aside* Sadly they also think that the correct spelling of Darfur is "deafer". Good God who is running Google? YOU ASSMORONS AT GOOGLE DON'T KNOW HOW TO SPELL DARFUR, no wonder everyone there is dying...)
Seriously, there is a point where you wonder if anyone in the real world; the meat world; can handle the real you. The terrible raw honest dead baby crazy lady you. And you try. You trust a few precious people with the real awful you. But they can't handle it. They pretend. They try. They find your blog by accident and they try to be so kind and not tell you that they know all about the real person you are, but it slips and the world is shifted and you just really honest to freaking god wish they would click away and never come back. So you could be you.
In case any of you care, I have a concussion, but not a fractured skull, only because no one has looked with their magic X-RAY machine, or the magic CAT SCAN machine. I also have ADD/ADHD AKA the magic disease that does not exist in the media world, but I'm only saying that so you will quickly unsubscribe from the the crazy lady. The concussion did not cause the ADD, it was already there. Suck it.
Anyway, we finally booked a vacation, but my husband hates me so it may suck a lot. Okay, he really doesn't hate me, but he is kind of peeved with me tonight. Enough? We are going to the Mayan Riviera for March Break, and we are going to an okay fancy-shmancy resort, but not the most perfect one on earth, because it is what it is, and we are going to be happy with what we have and that's good and we got a good price and we need some perspective. My hubs is okay with it finally!!!! Meanwhile, my BFF is driving me insane trying to get us to cancel and go other places, because she is like my sister and worries about us and wants us to have the perfect place. By the way, if you ever have more than two kids and want a vacation online, I know several places that will book five people in a room now. It should be more but really, people who work in the resort industry and have no business to speak of should be more flexible, like sayyyy-be willing to book adjoining rooms, or stick a baby in a room.
BTW, Jackie, who commented on my last post, and is quite welcome to promote herself on my blog, is THE GREATEST MOST TOLERANT TRAVEL AGENT ON EARTH. Feel free to hire her. Anytime.
She will put up with your crazie, anytime. Or at least my level of crazie. Maybe not yours, heh. Cause you just might suck more than me. Hard to believe, but true.
Ok, only kidding, you really are good for me, likely in fact the best therapy evah. Ten times better than the dickheaded shrinks who drive me crazy.
*Just realized that this title is confusing. Regular blog readers please stay because you are good for me, people who know me from real life either political or personal and are secretly reading me, please unsubscribe.*