Thursday, March 6, 2008
Yesterday I got caught up on my husband's cousin's (stay with me here) blog. Hers is a blog about her little girl that she's been writing since pregnant, basically to keep family from far away up to date. I am not particularly close to her, though I probably should be since they live nearby. But then, I'm not particularly close to anyone in my husband's family, am I? In any case though, I am riveted by her blog. She writes candid and intimate details of her life without censoring. If I were a stranger, her blog would tell me not only her address, the type of car she drives, what her and her husband do for a living, and the floor plan of her house including a list of everything worth stealing, but also the list of anti-depressants, sleeping pills and other drugs she regularly takes. Now, I'm all for being truthful. Hey, usually it's funny 'cause it's true, right? But this is a little annoying, sad and dangerous at the same time.
Whatever, now that you have the full backstory here-the real reason for my post is that she blogged about how her little girl and her were watching some cheesy/schmucky (lord strike me blind if next year I am eating these words when Kip demands this) kid's video about going off to dreamland. When asked if she would like a dream the kid responded yes "one with puppies and sunshine, bon bons and Gucci and gin." Oh, wait-that was my dream. Anyway, it was something sickly sweet. Apparently, her mommy used to whisper this to her when she was younger and having bad dreams. So...my question is: What the heck is my poor, poor son going to want to dream about??!?!?!?!
Last night when he was crying and crying and I knew it was because he was over-tired, I told him to stop his bull-shit and go to sleep. Previously I have said things like "C'mon you little shithead" and "you have a shitty bum". Sensing a theme here? But the buck doesn't stop at the shit. I'm full of curse words. Now, I was raised with a lapsed-catholic mother who's idea of bible study was screaming "Jesus, Mary and Fucking Joseph!!!" when you forgot your lunch, so I come by it honestly. But I don't remember cursing inappropriately until I was an adult myself. Am I giving my son dreams of rank toilets and street-fights with my potty tongue? Should I seek some therapy to kick my bad-word habit? I stopped biting my nails years ago by putting a rubber band around my wrist and snapping it every time I brought them to my mouth. That shit hurt. So I may have to invest in one of these "swear boxes" (check out for details http://www.iwantoneofthose.com/swear-box/index.html) that will hurt less and let me buy more shoes.
But then again...I may swear, but I am sane. Cousin is on those multiple post-partum uppers, so the marshmallows and balloons and bubbles (oh-my!) make sense. Before I do anything drastic I'll wait and see what she blogs when the Zoloft wears off. For now, I'm sticking with shag carpets and Manolo Blahniks and Marijuana (things I tell my son that dreams are made of). Or should I say: "F%$king and Sh&!ting and A*!holes!" (oh-my!).