I wrote this three years ago about my brother. I got a call today, and well... It's been a shitty day.

This poem is dedicated to Tom- The only man in my life that I allow to 

break my heart, over and over again.

Here we go again

That’s what I say as I hang up with you

How long will this one last

What else will you promise to do

You said you’d remove people from your life like Megan

She’s gone today

But I know she’ll be back again

With her always comes the pipe and the pills

The disappearing act

The battle of the wills

I hate her. I hate all that she’s done to you

She’s installed a darkness.

Confirmed you an addict through and through.

I know there was no gun to your head.

You know other addicts,

and how their life is led.

You’ve seen first hand all the faces you’ve totally let down

The wrinkles in her forehead, and now a permanent frown

I’m sad to say

I’m starting to hate you too

How different my life would have been,

if there had been no You.

How do keep faith in someone who always proves you wrong?

How many times should I believe your story?

Your list of excuses is wide and long.

So tonight I’ll go to bed and promise to clearly assess

the fakery that I keep up, trying to hide my emotional mess.

Desperate to be honest, when faced with questions about you,

I’ll someday express feelings that are harsh, bold and true.

“He’s an addict, and he does what addicts do.

He doesn’t care about me, and probably cares less about you.”

“Unless you’re a pipe, or a pill, or a needle that will take him away

Don’t have expectations.

Who knows who he’ll be today.”

“He’ll let you down and make you cry.

Feeling like a fool, because you asked him to try.”

“No.

I don’t know where he’s at, who he’s with, or what they do.

Someday I’ll know. Someday I’ll care.

But not today.

And, “No”, I’ll say, when they ask me to be true.

“No.

“I don’t know YOU.”

Preschool Line Vigilante

I learn new things all the time. I wasn’t born this goddamn brilliant, you know. I think it’s important to be humble, and accept that everyday offers something new to learn. Here are some things I’ve learned recently. Get ready to receive this gift of my brain.

1. When someone on a cell phone walks into the room and sees you (or you walk into their room), and the next thing they say is “Uh..yeah…so…… anyway…” Rest assured. They WERE talking about you. They were likely saying how annoying and fat you are.
2. No matter how old I get, the word “pubes” always makes me laugh.
3. Few things are as frightening and vicious as the line at preschool pickup. New moms, you have been forewarned.
4. I just realized that I’m probably not ever going to be super famous, and this makes me drink more wine.
5. When you’re at home doing Mom stuff, and, all of the sudden, you can’t hear your kids, something very bad is happening. The lack of noise is like a silent alarm that these harbingers of destruction have just completed their most recent project. Within seconds, you are going to have a Chernobyl –caliber meltdown. Locate booze immediately. 
6. The Magic Eraser is not magical…at all.
7. The scary bug in the corner of the laundry room is plotting… I’m not sure what he’s plotting, but it’s clear it will be epically diabolical. It played dead until I was inches away, then it lunged at me and laughed maniacally. It's now in a new corner. Avoidance is key when it comes to all insects.
8. I am an Oxy-Clean junkie. If it says Oxy-Clean anywhere on it’s label, I will purchase it. No questions asked.
9. Uggs are just expensive lazy shoes. They’re just an incremental step from leaving your house in a robe and slippers. Uggs say “I’m a recluse who just emerged from my carpeted cave and have no idea what the weather is like out there, and what footwear would be most appropriate, so I’m just going to go with these snow boots, and hope that it’s not snowing.”

10.    I’m reading a book about an Iraq war veteran who is now a vigilante against the drug war. I just know I would be an AMAZING vigilante. If you need some covert ops stuff done, I’m pretty sure I am the woman to call. Trust me. I wear Uggs.

11. I'm not smart enough to figure out how to cut/paste/link/import/ bedazzle from Word, so my spacing has gone to shit.
12. I am smart enough...It's probably laziness. Yes. Laziness. I wear Uggs. I only clean my bathroom mirror like once a month. I'm lazy.
 

PB & Js for Dinner

I’ve come to a startling realization in the last week. I can’t cook. No really- I can’t cook for shit. I can make toast, providing the toaster isn’t having a greedy day. I can make a pb& j. I can also make a quesadilla. I had to add that last one because it sounds somewhat exotic, and therefore impressive. Oh, and I can cook and make a baby, but I’m pretty sure that one falls into a different discussion.

Long, long ago, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and my knockoff Guess jeans were totally radical, I took a Home Ec. Class. (Read- I was REQUIRED to take this public humiliation.)  “Hmmm”, I thought. “This is strange. Why are we learning about a stove? Everyone knows the “beep beep’ noise of a microwave is FAR superior to the “click click” of the stove knob. Then I learned that Red Baron made a frozen pizza that you put in a stove. That changed my attention span…a little. That’s when I learned about pre-heating… and the temperature at which plastic melts. (YAY!!! Science AND Home Ec!) Well, I managed to make it to week 2 of Home Ec when they introduced ---You know I’m going to interrupt myself for a sec-  Shouldn’t this class be called Home Maintenance, not Home Economics? Where is the industry within someone’s own home? Where is the retail shop? But I digress-----  Anyway… I burnt my cake. I was the only one who burnt my cake. Complete humiliation. I could crack an egg better than Erin Madison, but Erin’s cake didn’t look like hammered dog shit. Embarrassment was causing my neck to burn, and my Hypercolor shirt to change to purple. I would have hidden under a desk but most of them had these strange sewing contraptions on them and I would have poked my eye out or something. I just stood there next to my non-rising burnt craptacular cake. Mrs. Lawson took pity on me, and made a comment about how my cake might have been “perfect” if not for my extended bathroom break. That didn’t stop her from trying to torture me, weeks later, with the sewing portion of the semester. The term “creative and imaginative” always seemed to follow me outside of Art class, but never garnered me anything more than a worried and confused smile from teachers.  

There is a point to my story- I had absolutely no talent to cook at this age or at my current one. I once heard a man say that “the woman who can truly feed your appetite for food, sex and laughter is the one”. That’s somehow stayed with me. I know that in order for my husband to forget what a goddamn tragedy I am in the kitchen, I need to be a sexual dynamo, and put him into hysterics. I've also learned that, unfortunately, these two can collide at the same moment. I won’t go into detail. 

So here I am with two skinny kids and a hungry husband. I find myself surrounded by women who seem to have this drive (and talent) to make food.-to literally go into a kitchen, pull stuff out of the cold box thing, and put stuff in pans. Magically this turns into food. Someday I will be driven to learn the magic. I will probably have to take a class… or classes. I will probably have to make a cake. I just hope that I don’t have to sit next to Erin Madison again.