Ramblings from a Frazzled Woman: 1st Anniversary Edition
We lose socks and coins, which are never to be found again. We lose notes, numbers, pens and pencils. We misplace glasses and keys for days. Why is it so easy to find all of the weight we lose? Does it have a compass? Why does it always return on hips and not breasts?
Drinking soda may cause one to gain weight but some of our drinking water can kill us.
Some things sure seem backwards.
Shouldn’t a number two pencil really be the number one pencil? It seems the most requested pencil of all teachers should step up to its earned position. But perhaps my perception is incorrect.
If you think it’s butter but it’s not, throw it away!
We have 911 to call in case of an emergency. I believe we should have 711, just in case we’re feeling down and need someone to talk to. Perhaps 711 can offer information so we won’t ever need to use 911.
It would be a nice gesture if 711 offered home service. They could come and hold your hand and keep you from having a twit-fit or provoking a terrorist attack. It would obviously depend on each person and each specific problem.
Have I mentioned I have a thirteen year-old daughter? The only reason I bring this up is because, after another year of careful reasoning, I’ve come to the conclusion that a lobotomy is in order, though I’m not sure if it should be for my daughter or for myself. My energy sources are so drained that if I were to stick my finger in an electrical outlet, it would just make me normal again.
I had plans on being a ‘cool’ mom. I now hope she never sees me naked because I do not want to see the look of youthful disgust in her eyes. Also, If she thinks I’m going to continue to make her bed for her, she’s got another think coming. I’m so easy to get along with but I’m about to pull an all out and out twit-fit that will place all rebellious teenagers in the fetal position again.
Other annoyances include moments when my sciatic nerve goes out. Oh, some call it the sciatic nerve. I call it my psychotic nerve. Same thing. When it goes, I go and pretty soon the whole family is gone.
Which brings me to wonder, if I am made in the image of God does that mean God is frazzled at times? Probably not. I bet God never had a kink in his hip or felt the need to take a Xanax to ward off an anxiety attack. But I suppose the Creator needs to keep it together in order to keep up with all of us. Can you imagine having over six billion kids to be responsible for?
I only have one and I’m in dire need of 711 now. Either that or soon I will strap myself in a fashionable, white straight jacket and hop to the nearest mental facility. And I don’t want drugs. Oh no. If I am to have a breakdown, everyone is going to hear and experience it. We’re in this together and if I’m going down, you’re going to watch.
Perhaps, afterwards, I will be able to enjoy a good nap.
