What I really want to say Wednesdays

So a fellow blogger, The Whispering Writer, has a piece she does every Tuesday called "Hey it's ok". Once upon a time, when I had time, I would write a post that I could share with the "Hey it's ok" theme.

As of late, I find myself swamped with a new part-time job, which requires lots of take home work, i.e. grading. Add to that a Boy Scout Troop in full Christmas tree sales and getting ready for Klondike...and, and, and... I don't have the time to write on Tuesday, or any other day.

But I love my blog. More importantly I like the fact that I can get it out there and someone might read it and find humor in it.  Or empathy. Or the need for a straight jacket. It's all the same.

Despite my lack of time to write, I am not at a loss for topics and things I would LOVE to share on my lil' o' blog. What I mostly want to share is all the crap that I keep bottled up. Shit I don't say but would love to just blurt out. Inappropriate comments, rants, and just straight up truths that would blow most people away.

Oh wait! Why can't I say these things on my blog? It's my damn blog, right? And the world is ending in like 16 days according to the crazy ass Mayans, right?

So here it is. The premiere of:   "What I really want to say Wednesdays".

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         When we were in school, and still now, we tell kids "There is no such thing as a stupid question." Well that is true when they are in elementary school, and it might be true sometimes on occasion in middle school, but high school... different story. There are stupid questions. When they ask those dumb questions I just want to say: "Did you really just ask that? Seriously?" Today's example: "Do I have to take notes?" What I actually said: "I would advise you taking notes unless you have a really good memory, and that is a whole lot to remember." What I wanted to say: "Of course you should take notes! How the hell else are you going to study? It's not like you bring the book home with you." See that was a stupid question.

         I volunteer for my son's scout troop. I coordinate their activities and collect money and such. It isn't a hard job, it's just incredibly time consuming. Last night I had a parent who wanted a "back briefing" of all that he had missed. I asked if he was getting my emails, which I send out with all the information. He answered: "I have pages and pages of emails that I have not had a chance to check. So I will probably not get around to looking at those." Ummm... ok. I asked if there was a work email that I could send it to that might be easier to check on a more regular basis. Answer: "No. I don't want to get my roles confused." Da' Fuck? Really? Ok. So I asked if he or his scout were connected to our Facebook page. Answer: "Not really a Facebook guy, and the boys don't get on often enough because they are usually in trouble for something."  What I said at this point was:"Ok well let's see how we can get you up to speed." What I wanted to say was: "Hello asshole! I have offered at least 4 different modes of communication, all of which you turned down! What part of 'this is a volunteer position' is difficult to process? Maybe I can send up smoke signals. How does that sound?" Didn't say it. Instead I just sat there and answered the 50 fucktillion questions he had. Did I forget to mention he wasn't the only parent who needed something that night? Fucktard.  *sigh*

       To all the Army officers who have no idea how to truly lead and make what should be an easy existence in a very small elite Army unit, I living hell, my thought for you is YOU SUCK! I hate playing the grip and grin game of niceties. I hate having to pretend I like you and that you don't make my husband's evening a rant session about whatta douche you are. I hate the fact that you make people wish they were stationed in Iraq instead of being here. I just want to scream: "You're an ASSHOLE! And I hope Santa shits down your chimney this year!" Instead I am relegated to "Hello Sir. How's it going? Oh Merry Christmas to you too, sir! So lovely to see you again." BARF!

Yea.... that is What I really want to say.....

Thank You Baby Jesus for giving me a head-mouth filter that works when I need it to. Amen.
       

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Dry humping my last good nerve

Teenage daughter.


That's it in a nutshell. Need I say more? Probably not, but I have a feeling you want more so here it is.

This teenage daughter wasn't all bad, at one point I liked her, actually enjoyed her company. Now her mere presence makes me want to punch her in the face. Yea yea, a bit violent, but I have raised/spawned this teenage witchy monster, and I am now paying the price. So if I want to punch her in the face, I feel entitled to those feelings. I feel entitled to do it, but I am not sure how that plays out in family court. *chuckle*

Anywho.... she was recently in FL visiting her bio-dad. While she was there she got her driver's license. Not a problem, she can drive in the states. Great! Bravo! Rock it out!

HUGE problem here in Europe!

For starter's she has only been driving for like a hot minute. I have grey hairs that are older than her driving privileges; grey hairs that have been plucked and regrown, older than her driving experience. I have forgotten more about driving that she has experienced. She literally had her license for 4 months before we moved here to Germany, and she hasn't really driven that much in the last year and a half.
Uh huh.

So there's that.

There is also the extensive test you have to take here. I mean 150 signs you have to learn, extensive. There is the speed limit, which is about 80 mph, on average. There is the fact that driving in Europe is totally different than stateside driving. Merging, traffic circles, and all sorts of other shit.

Oh wait! Yes, the biggest factor of them all..... insurance. We called USAA to get an estimate of what it would cost us to add her to the insurance. *drum roll* It would DOUBLE our premiums! DOUBLE! Just so she can drive. Best part of all, she can't drive a stick shift, which is Hubby's car, and she sure as hell ain't driving my NEW car.

So having said all that... she approaches me this morning, and says very matter-of-factly that next week I need to take her to get her USAEUR driver's license (United States Army Europe). I CALMLY ask her what for. She responds so she can drive. DUH! I calmly told her everything I just mentioned above. She huffs and puffs, and says: "I'll figure something out." What do I say: Nothing. Why? Because at that moment kind words escaped me, and I was channeling some evil spirit who wanted to pop her head like a grape. So I did what any (in)sane mom would do, I walked away. What did I want to say: "Figure something out? This coming from the teenager who wanted an iPhone...had to have it... made a deal to pay for her $80 a month cell phone plan, who now finds herself over $500 in the hole? Thank goodness we pay that fucker or else it would be turned off! Maybe what you need to figure out is how to get a mutha freakin' job! Oh wait you don't think you need one or that you should have to pay your cell phone since we make enough to cover it! You over privileged brat!" 

Does her audacity end here? Nope.

We took her visit a college recently in Georgia. Did the tour and when it came time to see the dorms she was impressed. Hell! I was impressed! They were phenomenal. So we look into the bedroom of this 2 bedroom apartment type dorms, and she says to us: "I don't know about this one. It has been years since I have slept on a twin sized bed. I am not sure how that's going to work."

I wish I could tell you she was joking. That she was like: "bahahaha! Just teasing!" She wasn't.

I thought I was going to have to peel the Hubs off of her. He was ready to come unglued. We didn't raise her to see the things she has as an entitlement, but more of a privilege, a gift we give her out of love and a desire for her life to be better.

Despite that, she truly believes she is entitled, deserving. The nerve.

The straw, the camel, broken back.... Twitter. If you read her tweets, you would think we were the most horrendous parents to ever have walked the face of the Earth. She tweets #fumingatyou, #ihateyourguts, #fml, #cantwaittoleavehere, and all sorts of other hash tags about the injustices of her life.

Same girl who doesn't have a job, doesn't have any real chores, doesn't have any responsibilities other than her grades.

All I can say is that if her intent was to make empty nest easier for me, BINGO! Mission accomplished.

The winds of change are blowing in a storm, and I don't mean the kind that blows in Julie Andrews to spoon it away with sugar and a nifty carpet bag. I mean the kind that takes you someplace where you gonna wish you could click your heels to escape.

I have one nerve left and she is not just dancing an Irish jig on it, she is dry humping the shit outta it.

Watch out folks.... Momma's gonna blow.

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