My apologies

I didn’t know that one itty bitty post would turn out to be such a hornet’s nest.

Today’s post about the running-out-of-gas thing and the I-don’t-want-kids-to-turn-out-like-that thing was, in some circles, taken way out of context, and for that I apologize. Especially I apologize to BB, who was mightily offended at a lot of things I wrote. I’m sorry, and I promise to try harder and generally be better at everything in general, not just writing about fights we have. I swear.

Ok, so now I have to wonder…are there other posts I’ve written out there that are just waiting to be discovered so they too can offend? Am I, as someone said to me tonight on the phone, (I’m paraphrasing) “firmly in the ’snark’ category?” My head says that I should really care about that, and to an extent, I do. I care about writing things that my husband finds hurtful and I really will make every effort to make sure that he never reads this thing again none of what I say here betrays his trust.

But my heart says I can’t write if I can’t say what I want. Not be overly melodramatic, but my blog is my catharsis and it’s my way of processing feelings that otherwise get bottlenecked somewhere on the overly-congested roads of my insides, where they eventually turn into anxiety and general gross-ness. I like doing this. I like hearing from you when you read something that you can identify with. This is just what I do.

In closing, my sincerest apologies to anyone (yes BB, even you) who took today’s post in any other way than it was originally intended. My goal here is simply to write, and I will strive to not suck at that from now on.

Seriously.

Why he should have just married his mother

It would have saved him a lot of trouble, I think, what with the massive amount of time I spend yelling at him as if I gave birth to him. (In my own defense, I CAN’T HELP MYSELF.) Yesterday, in a nutshell:

3:45 pm, Me: Hey Dad, you wanna come for dinner tonight? [Backstory: Mom's out of town, feel like I should have him over, safe bet he won't come because he NEVER does.] You do? Oh, well…good. We’re having chicken. I think.

4:30 pm, BB: Running a little late, probably won’t be home til 7:3o or so. What time is — well there you go, looks like your dad and I will get there at the same time.

5:30 pm, Food Lion Checkout Girl: You know, I never made this golden mushroom soup stuff. What’s it like? What do you do with it? And these don’t look like regular chicken breasts. What are you doing with those? You’re not in a hurry, are you? I just need to run down to Aisle 4 really fast…

6:05 pm, Me: Fuckity fuck fuck WHY IS NO ONE HERE TO CLEAN UP THIS HOUSE? Stop staring at me, cats, I AM ALLOWED TO YELL occasionally.

6:25 pm, BB: Hey, I ran out of gas. Can you come get me? In Goldsboro?

6:26 pm, Me: …

6:27 pm, Me: …

6:30 pm, Me: I have no words. I simply have no words.

6:45 pm, Me: Tell me where the fuck you are and why the fuck you ran out of gas. And tell me quick before I reach through this phone and strangle you with my bare-but-able hands, you…you…MAN.

6:50 pm, Me: Dad! Answer the phone! I’m on my way to Goldsboro to pick up Brian OFF THE SIDE OF THE ROAD and I need to push back dinner! DAAAAD!

6:55 pm, Dad: Did you call me, Lizzie? I see 3 missed calls, are they from you? Oh he ran out of gas…yeah, that used to happen to me in the Blazer all the time. See, here’s what you do: you tell him to reset the tripometer every time he fills up the gas tank…Hello? Are you there?

7:15 pm, BB: I’m just not sure that I’d be so much mad at you for running out of gas as I would be concerned about your safety. It kind of hurts my feelings that you’re mad at me. I mean, I couldn’t help it, I swear. I thought I could make it, really I did.

7:45 pm, Dad: Mmm, this chicken looks really good Lizzie. Is that corn over there? Well you know I don’t eat corn. Didn’t your mom tell you that I don’t eat corn anymore? She didn’t tell you that we just had this zucchini casserole two days ago, either? Huh. Well, she should have.

And this, Internet, this RIGHT HERE is why I am not having children. Because odds are, I’d have a boy. And then he would grow up to be like these two, and I’m not sure I could reconcile myself to adding another person like that to the world. I’m just not sure…