Driver’s Ed…Parent Taught!!!

Yes, I have taken on the duties of teaching my daughter to drive.  She has put it off and put it off and I finally got her to start the driving portion IF I TEACH HER.  She said the man at the driving school was a retired coach and he was creepy, so she didn’t want to get in the car with him.  OK.  Understood.  I wouldn’t want to, either. But, now I find myself at 53 teaching a 17 year old how to drive.  Having kids later in life can have weird repercussions.  I should be knitting or baking cookies.  Not holding on for dear life, trying like hell to push my right foot through the floorboard on the passenger side, as if that would somehow magically make the car FUCKING STOP BEFORE WE BACK END (no giggles here, either) A CAP METRO BUS.  Truthfully, she’s doing a good job.  It’s just that I have realized driving is one major step in her independence, and one more major step away from me.  We are going to look at a nearby college next week.  It’s only about 30 miles away, so I think I can deal with that.  I don’t think I could deal with her being hours and hours away from me.  I’m just not ready to let go.  This child has been such a mommy’s girl, her nickname used to be Velcro.  She was stuck to my hip like rubber cement.  Now I feel her moving away at an absurd speed.  She’s gone to plaid. (Spaceballs, anyone?)  My husband is talking about retiring, my daughter’s leaving home next year and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

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Published in: on August 21, 2008 at 2:14 pm  Comments (5)  
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I’m on drugs

Great way to start my new blob, don’t you think?  I actually had a procedure this morning, under sedation, where my pain specialist inserted needles into the nerves of my neck and then heated the needles, thereby burning the nerves.  This is supposed to help with neck/back pain and has been successful so far.  I had a rear-end (stop giggling!) collision about 15 years ago with a non-insured asswipe named Lucky Dominguez, may he rot in hell.  Ol’ Lucky was zipping along about 40 mph and I was sitting at a red light minding my own bidness when he slammed into me, fucking up my neck for good.  Now I’m 53 (shit, I typed 54 and had to change it!) years old and suffer more than ever.  Lucky ended up going to prison on an unrelated charge and every time I go into spasm or have pain, I pray for him to drop the soap so Bubba can make him his bitch.  I’m a vengeful woman.  So, I thought it appropriate to start my blob on drugs, considering my history and all.  More to come on that subject matter at a later date.  

Stick close, my lovelies.  I have some GREAT stories.  After all, I survived the 70s while married to a musician and then a lighting designer for huge concerts, with whom I had the most incredibly awesome daughter!  She’s going to be 29 next month, is married to a great guy and gave birth to the sweetheart of my life, my grandson, Cannon. (He’s TWO!  So cute you could just eat him up!)  Let’s see.  Where were we?  Aw, yes, the 80’s!  I married Amarillo’s most eligible bachelor and found out a few months into our marriage that he was bisexual.  I found out the hard way that my husband was a bottom.  Not something you want to see, trust me.  So, I bounced from the bisexual anchorman into the arms of what I thought was a great guy, a very successful farmer in a small town.  We had a fabulous daughter who is now 17 and entering her senior year of high school.  (What will I do without her when she goes to college??  I’ve been a mommy for 29 years!)  Her dad turned out to be an emotionally battering psychopath who I paid back by rubbing his toothbrush all over his pet iguana, taking special care around the dangley bits.  And yes, he got very ill.  After 12 years of emotional battering I felt it was in order.  Then I divorced his sorry ass and moved to Austin with my youngest daughter in the summer of ’98.  

After spending the 90s dating posers and smegma dicks, I found the most wonderful man and we married two years ago. He’s a well known writer and we have a lot of laughs and adventures.  I’m currently unemployed and felt is was time to start my own blob, after reading incredibly talented moms around the country and thinking to myself, self, you could do that, too.  All it took was a belly full of drugs to get me started.  Thanks, doc. 

I know this first post was like a shotgun blast, just scattered all over hell and half of Georgia, but hopefully after I come down off these painkillers, I’ll start making sense.  Or, maybe I’ll prefer to be like the Talking Heads and STOP Making Sense!  That’s what I’m talking about.  I’m looking forward to purging.  Hope someone finds me and goes along for the ride.  If you don’t like cussing, too fucking bad.

Published in: on August 20, 2008 at 8:53 pm  Comments (5)  
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