oh gaaaaaaw parent meltdowns
and when you try to talk some sense, 'do you have kids? then you wouldn't know'
yeah you are
somethings happening to my dangus!
The one I'm thinking of was when a parent posted (on a private group) that she was having a frustrating time with one of her kids. And another woman jumped all over her for saying that. IF YOU DON'T LOVE EVERY SINGLE MINUTE OF PARENTING, YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG.
Seriously? Who loves EVERY SINGLE MINUTE of ANYTHING?!?!? Do married people love every single minute of being married, or sometimes do they yell STOP FARTING OR GO SLEEP ON THE DAMN SOFA! Do students getting their Ph.D.s love every single minute of their research? I love writing and I always have, but yesterday it was bugging the f*ck out of me.
When I was a little girl, I accidentally saw my father's penis because he was sleeping and the sheet had fallen off. Up until then, I had only seen my baby brother's penis which was of course, small and hairless, and kind of cute in that way that all things about babies are cute. The thing my father was sporting scared the crap out of me. I never went into my parents' bedroom again without knocking.
Childhood traumas relived - right here at PWaSoF!
"Right is right, even if no one is doing it; wrong is wrong, even if everyone is doing it." - St. Augustine
Dear Book Thief,
You have now read and returned every single thing I've ever written except for the Plantation novella and the demon erotica I publish under another name. I am bemused.
I am also really bored and one of my Harry Potter chickens died two days ago and my neighbor is doing some extremely noisy house repair work at this very moment. In the rain. On his roof. So amidst the saws and hammering and memories of the gored remains of Expecto Patronum that I found under my fruit tree, I can't concentrate very well. I invite you out to primal Mexican food and primal margaritas* this afternoon since I'm not getting any work done. I will also invite Lady Friend, who works too hard and talks too much, and she can regale us with stories about how delightful it is to be a woman in agriculture, which isn't a remotely sexist industry at all.
So please, drive on over to the Magical Bamboo Forest and knock on the door. I'll trade out my jammies for something more socially appropriate to public, Lady Friend will talk your ear off while I give side-eye to the weird cross-section of humanity that frequents the restaurant, and we can twerk for the waitress to get our primal Mexican feast for free.
* Writing primal before any foodstuff or drink makes it primal.