Excessive Misery

I don’t even want to get into the drama clouding the pastoral existence I’ve so desperately attempted to carve out for my family. Don’t ask and don’t tell, please. I’ll keep mine to myself. You keep yours to yourself and we will pretend everything is fine and dandy like a hard candy Christmas. Leave me alone, I’m doing fine, Just go away, I’ll be okay, Please don’t touch me… (an inside joke shared between my family and millions of SNL viewers).

In the midst of major dramas, there are minor dramas. Each fire is put out in its own turn. We plod determinedly ahead. Considering our real-life, unavoidable drama, I have no desire for avoidable, made-up crises – even if they make me giggle a little.

Now, forget everything I just said because I’m gonna share a wee bit o’ priceless, made-up drama. Due to planning shenanigans (avoidable drama), I unexpectedly attended a field trip with the 9 YO boy’s class today. His unhappiness about water molecules made me giggle a little. Dra-ma!

Clearly, as the photo evidences (noun verb, boo-yah!), I am nothing but a loving supportive mother. I’m hugging him; I have a clear look of concern on my face; he has a kissy mark on his face. Yet he sees me as a mustache-twirling evildoer on whom he wishes doom. Or perhaps he’s thinking, “Kill me now!” Whatever the case, I’ll be ready for your drama in a couple of weeks. In the meantime, don’t be surprised if I laugh at your lack of molecular diversity. ‘k?

2 thoughts on “Excessive Misery

  1. John says:

    honey, this post had me in stitches from the first words. I do so much admire your writing abilities. The photo of you with the “You MUST pay the rent” addition is a real bellylaugh second only to the pouting Parrish. We get the children we deserve and I got the perfect daughter and you got … handsfull. I do not envy your task but I admire your efforts.

    Will your house be dark for Earth Hour? I’ve decided to go with it without any hope that it will matter in the least. It’s just a gimmick, after all, but maybe just maybe one worth my while. It won’t be the most obvious windmill I’ve tried to joust.

    Love you. We get from 1 inch to 1 foot of snow this weekend, they say, so I wanted you to know that if you couldn’t contact me at 8 p.m. Saturday, it’s not because of the storm.

    Love your family — give ’em all big hugs from


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