Fall Basturz and Being Thankful

7 Nov


Fall is my favorite time of year.  It nestles closely to warmth of Thanksgiving and Christmas as the best times for me.  That said, I figure it could be a good time for me to start writing again.

Where to start with the catching up?  Hmm.  I guess I could start with how much I enjoyed my summer.  I was unemployed following graduation for the entirety of the summer.  Allie and I got to spend so much time together.  It was incredibly nice to have so much time to devote to her.  She is 8, and I have been in school for nearly the entirety of her childhood, as I went back when  she was 8 weeks old.  It was a do-what-we-want kind of summer. We slept in when we wanted.  We went to bed when we wanted.  We had dinner when we wanted. We took off to my mother’s home in Florida when we wanted.  And that Allie, she is by far the best road trip companion.  She is even rather lenient when it comes to who gets to control the music, and she never leaves me hanging by nodding off to sleep. She just sits there copiloting our way to our destination and chatting it up while also debating what all of the other people are doing in their cars.  She’s even good with making up imaginary stories about their lives, which keeps things interesting.  “Oh, that lady?  She is a business woman.  She’s running late to her meeting. Her clothes were wrinkled.”   Or, “Mom, we can’t stop there. That place sounds like somewhere that would have hairs in the food.”

It was perfection, really.  I’ll admit there were times when I was frustrated that I was unemployed. And by frustrated, I mean that some days I probably resembled someone who had been sucking on a lemon. However, I will remain eternally thankful for the time I got to spend with her, and also thankful that I didn’t take the wrong jobs or end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.  We had such a nice time, and I was sad to see her return to school.

Shortly after Allie returned to school, I got a job.  Yay.  So I’ve spent most of my time working, and we’ve been adjusting to the role that plays in our lives.  It hasn’t been an easy transition, but we are getting into the groove of it all.  I’m very lucky that Allie has a lot of family members that love her and make sure she is well taken care of when I’m working late or weekends.  In spite of it all, Allie and I can pretty much handle anything.  I feel that by saying that I am inviting some monster of a disaster into my life  Like karma will be like, “hey girl, I know you blogged that you can deal with shit.  SO HERE YA GO.”  But should that happen, like I said, we can deal.  I have faith in the methods behind our madness.

Anyway, in recent Allie anecdotes and possible parenting fails, we were backing out of a restaurant parking lot recently to find out we were completely blocked in by a truck that decided to park perpendicular to us.   When he finally moved and let us out, he pulled around the opposite side of the parking spots and cut us off in a fashion that could be described as dramatic.  I was slightly frustrated, but nothing compared to Allie,  because she yelled from the backseat, loudly, “BASTTTTTTURRR!”

There were a few ways to handle that.  I could yell at her for attempting to curse at someone and name calling.  But I’m not much of a yeller, and first I wanted to clarify.  “Allie, did you mean to call that man a bastard?”

“Oh, is that how you say it? Bastard?  I thought it was just bastur.  Like b-a-s-t-u-r with no d on it,” she replied.

“Well, it’s bastard.  B-a-s-t-a-r-d.  Also, it’s a bad word, and probably not something you should call someone in just any situation.”

“Oh, I didn’t even know it was a bad word.”

Now that you have read the part where you know that I corrected my child for yelling profanity at a man through closed windows, and also read the part where I corrected the profanity she used.  You should probably also know this:  I was honestly just glad the kid didn’t know the correct term.  I was just glad she didn’t know it was bastarD with an -ard.  That said,  I’ll be very candid and tell you that I do occasionally let some road rage profanity fly.  It’s rare, but it happens.  So I was just happy that there is apparently one word I am not abusing when someone nearly causes me to wreck.   Someone may be the reason I slam on my brakes and fear that the vehicle will be propelling through them, but  when this happens, I am apparently not using the word bastard.  My child didn’t know it was bastard. ‘A’ for the day!  Sometimes, particularly in parenting, it’s the little things.

Hmm. What else?  Allie was a nerd for Halloween.  Her costume was mostly made from clothing items she already owned.  I asked her what that said about her, but she didn’t really appreciate it and had nothing to contribute to the conversation, unless you count snide snarls. We also purchased the additional costume accessories before knowing that she was only allowed to go dressed as a character from a  book within her reading level.  So we just found a book character that her pre-picked outfit already resembled.  We ordered the book with two-day shipping and luckily she resembled Fancy Nancy and had added a tutu to her costume. Last minute parenting win.

As for me, I’ve been trying to limit the thing in my life that I can only be snide about.  Like, for instance, every year I always spend my November being thankful for things once a day on Facebook.   People apparently get really bent out of shape about this, because by mid-November or late November there are hateful statuses about looking forward to December so that people are no longer thankful.  I usually just keep doing it, because I’m a thankful person and most of the time it just makes me giggle that people find thankfulness, of all of life’s issues, to be a punk about.  I don’t think anything in this life is guaranteed, and I’m well aware that while I’ve worked exceptionally hard to get where I am, I could have been born someone else without that drive.  I could have not had parents that encouraged me every step of the way.  I could have not woken up with the daily urge telling me that I needed to do something with myself that in some way helped the greater good.  I could have WAY less to be thankful for, in fact I could have nothing for which I could be thankful.  However, that isn’t the case.  I generally sit around in awe that this is my life, and I get to wake up with Allie, who is awesome.  I get to be her mom.  I get to see nice patients.  I get to help people.  I always have groceries (provided I take the initiative to go to the store). I have heat and shelter.  I have people that love me, and for that I’m thankful.  I’m just a thankful person, and I will likely continue to be that way until the day I die. And if there is ever a day I am not thankful for something, I hope someone will ask me what   in the blue hell is wrong with me and, just maybe,  possibly smack some sense into my face.

Before I get off my soap box, I would also like the say that I generally assume that if people being openly thankful for things bothers someone  enough to complain hatefully about it, as if it were a real problem, they’ve probably just been wearing their sandpaper panties too long, and are beginning to chafe. And now, it’s all full circle, because I’m sitting here thankful again that I’m not all chafed from sandpaper and meanness. (Yet.)


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