Blabber, Blabber, Blabber

On May 17th J. and I will be married for 10 years. I can now collect his Social Security if he divorces me. He may. Some very lovely friends of ours have taken the kids for the night so that J. and I can celebrate our anniversary. I think that I am a very hard person to do something nice for, because I keep asking, "Are you sure?"

Anyhow, as I sit here I think about the past ten years. We've moved a lot and had two kids. It's been good. We are alone in the house right now. He's asleep. Hope the evening gets better. A. has a softball game at 9:00 tomorrow morning. She won't be going due to the fact that I am a sleep whore.

Sunday is Mother's Day and I think that I am one of the few mothers in the world who likes to spend the day WITHOUT her children. Just more proof that I am not a GM. J. really wants me to go to his mother's house on Sunday. I just keep telling him, "She ain't my momma." He's trying to use guilt. You gotta have a conscience in order for guilt to work. All I want for Mother's Day is to be left in peace. I have to finish grading the exams, so I'll probably just take a nap.

The $7.00 Clinical Strength Secret doesn't work. DAMN!! I don't smell as bad but I am still sweaty. Maybe I need to look into Botox. Nothing like having botulism shot into my armpits. At least they would not have those unsightly crow's feet.

My friend Flopsy asked me if I would allow my children to be photographed for her magazine. The story is about cooking with kids. My children will not understand the concept. I don't understand the concept. I asked her if she wanted C. in an AC/DC shirt flashing the devil sign. She thinks I'm kidding. I think maybe I should become a stage mom. At least then all my yelling would have a purpose.

C. has moved on from heavy metal. As we were walking up to school yesterday he began to sing, " Get on down, get on down." which then led to "I ain't no holler back girl". In the middle of the sidewalk, he donkey kicks. I think this boy may end up a wigger instead. Or a drag queen. So, instead of the mullet and the Trans Am, I need to concern myself with the pimped out Honda Civic, with chrome wheels, a gold grill in his mouth and corn rolls basing NWA. OR, stealing A's underwear and lip synching to "I've Never Been To Me". Oh, the possibilities.