Not So Blonde

Motherfunker

I’m really tired (hate when the kid has practice on Mondays - bleh) so I’m not going to stay long. And plus, Major League is on and I love this movie.

Mother’s day was pretty chill around these parts. After plans of actually doing something, the day kind of went nowhere. The kid played his new x-box game off and on most of the day (he did clean his room - thank GOD, Hallmark and whoever else made up Mother’s Day for that particular gift). R and the kid both gave me cute cards, R made his famous pancakes and good scrambled eggs.

I say he made good scrambled eggs because R can mess up some eggs. He puts too much stuff in them and I, for one, don’t like real “savory” eggs. Maybe some ham, maybe some cheese … that’s it. I don’t need onions, sausage, PEPPERONI (yes, he went there - a few times) in my damn eggs. I think since it was Mom’s Day, R restrained himself with the eggs. Even the kid liked them.

The only thing that put a damper on the whole day (other than the teen and R only getting me 1 bottle of champagne for mimosas), was that R was kind of in a funk for pretty much the whole day. No, it had nothing to do with me. When you get to be my age (young grasshopper) you get a little tired of blaming yourself for every emotion a man feels, every moment he’s having it.

I’m sure whatever R was feeling funky over, was a good reason… I just wasn’t one of them. I have to say it was irritating, though, considering last year R stole my Mother’s Day thunder from me by having his birthday on it… and now he’s putting a damper on the day again by having a ‘tude.

The thing that bugs me about R and his funks is he never admits he’s actually in one. If you find yourself a) short with people b) walking out of a room in a huff WHILE someone is talking or c) saying kind of, sort of borderline “mean” things… guess what? YOU’RE IN A DAMN FUNK!

I don’t mind, really. Except for a nice day here and there, my life is pretty much always a funk. Not that I’m actually down about something every single day but I can and will give you at least 5 things I’m currently bitching about. So people may THINK I’m in a funk when really, I’m just a bitch and I like to complain a lot.

On those days when I’m extra testy or rude or nasty, (I guarantee, right now on a stack of bibles) I will say to R, or the teen (or whoever else I subjected ME to) that I’m sorry and I’m in a funk.

R? WILL NEVER ADMIT IT. I see the signs, I see him get testy, I see him stomp out of a room and I? I take a deep breath. I’m a grown up! In a real! Grown up! Relationship! We’re not going to fall for this! What have we learned all these years, and from all those losers we dated if we fall for THIS? We’re sooo better than this sorry display, aren’t we?

Yes, we are!!! I count to 10 (FINE, 20) and I stomp my foot, raise my fist to the ceiling and murmur: I refuse to fall into the man’s funk trap! He will not catch me falling for this! Not on Mother’s Day!

I put a smile on, walk out of the room, dust off my extra sweet voice and I say: “Honey, is there something wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’M FINE”, comes the barked reply.

“Oh. Cause you seem a little funky.”

“There’s nothing wrong”, he says with a fake, forced chuckle.

That’s the scariest part of all, that fake chuckle.

I decided to cut my losses, left R on the couch and the kid playing x-box and came into the bedroom. Ordered a chick flick, did my toe nails (OPI Sonora Sunset), took a long hot bath, ate some cookies… and called it a motherfunking day.

P.S. I EVEN made dinner. So THERE. That’ll show him. *blows on nails*

P.S.S. Juuuuuuuust a bit outside… I love this movie! Night all.