Attempting to reset

In an attempt to reset back to a state of therapeutic acrimony I have a few thoughtful quips for today. Hopefully, you have started to discern that my bitter wit is a cope mechanism . And this particular portal of vent, prevents me from actually speaking my inner dialogue. No, that's not accurate either. This blog serves to help me decompress or otherwise not burst in to flame when I begin to suffer from "stuffing it" for over long periods of time. Not that anyone who has been in my recent company would accuse me of "stuffing it". To my defense- as of late the gut wrenching pain of what the world has had in store for me, and who the world has chosen to ram it down my throat, has been more than any natural born human (read- NOT Jesus Christ) could possibly bear out with much of their sanity intact, much less with any grace.

Thoughts going forward:

There are two theories to arguing with me. Neither one works.

Mess with me again, and I am likely to switch your lasix for tic-tacs when you're not looking.

Do not walk behind me, I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me, I may not follow. Do not walk beside me either. Pretty much, just leave me the hell alone.
Unless you're Marko. Then stay. And quite possibly, get naked.

baby girl returned home

Nothing irreverent there.
When I look at her I am just deeply grateful and relieved.

When I consider the gaggle of contributing cast...
Just deeply wounded and profoundly resentful. And authentically, beyond reconciliation. Players have been warned. Cross me how you will about many other things, but momma bear is not to be appeased this time. Things have gone too far. Your overwhelming entitlement ends at my door.

I'm now on day 37 of my time in captivity...

Still no solid word on the hostage negotiations.

Nothing like being held emotionally hostage by your child. "stay the course" and "do the right thing" start to sound like lip service.

Strung out on Mommy worry. Luckily, I'm negotiating with one (developmentally appropriate) narcissist, and several other monkeys.

Something has got to give, people.

counseling session with the blue:

When an officer advises you that "the next time she acts like that, you can, and probably should snatch a knot in her ass" do you ask for clarification? Specific guidelines? Mitigating criteria? Or is this a feel your way through and go with your instincts kind of moment to be worked out with DCS later?
Aikido training wasn't offered with my prenatal classes. (read: "the art to defend, whilst also protecting the attacker from injury") As it appears, this may not have been purely ideal, but quite possibly necessary. Didn't get any martial arts training, cage fighting tips, or boxing ring etiquette at any point during my pregnancy. Got no game in physical fighting skills at all, as it would turn out.
While admittedly, the referees of my childhood were much more liberal with the adult use of the occasional smack down. And, while I can recall finding that balling in to a fetal position under a table is a viable tactic to warding off kicks of motherly instruction- I guess I didn't take notes well enough, to effectively apply them to my own mothering. Unless of course you count olympic screaming.
Upon reflection, this vacuum of physical fighting mastery, may account for my development of epic sarcasm and withering eat shit looks, free of charge. Guess when lacking in one area, nature's compensatory mechanism kicks in to even out the playing field.
Or maybe, not discounting Darwinian evolution-in-leaps, some things just skip a generation.

Of note: I am done playing with the "adult" fool idiots in my family. Those I conceived, birthed, nurtured, and that I love with some otherworldly strength- those I inherited with the love of a man who supports my every heart wrenching episode- I will continue to engage them in their crazy dance around a ring. I will, over and over and over again, work to reconcile. I will invest with my heart, my experience, and my tears (at the detriment my sleep, my blood pressure, and all the like) in pointing out the path to maturity, self sufficiency, and a giving-hopeful-fruitful life.
The rest of you can go find your own Mommys.

Family

I am wishing my gene pool wasn't so shallow.