Divorces & Downright Naughty Infants

Today I went to the optometrist for the first time in 6 years. I believe we've been too damn broke for me to be so blind that feeding the medical industry beast is evil and we should all try to do it less. Thus why I'm having my next child under the dining room table. By the by, now that I can actually see, I have to tell you that you simply must do something about those roots. Yikes. Go buy some Clairol or something.

Anyway, I've been nursing a pair of 30 day disposable contacts for 6 years and the optometrist was so impressed that he gave me my contacts absolutely free. He was almost giddy he was so excited about what I had managed to do; what a dork. On the bright side though, I think I made medical history for something other than my uterus. I also ordered a pair of glasses just so you know. They're quite cute. Summer said I looked like a slutty secretary.......... so of course I immediately bought them.

I am currently going through my yearly bitter phase over my parent's divorce which should end sometime mid-April. I schedule this yearly and plan to stop as soon as things are the way they were supposed to be with my Dad hitting my kids with canes and running over their feet with a wheelchair and my Mom teaching them macramé and forcing them to color in the sunlight until they get migraines. Everything is all upside down and I have found the best way to not be permanently disappointed over this is to set aside 1/4 of the year to be quite snarky and irritable and then just not think about it for the rest of the year. My siblings should try this by the way; scheduled bouts of bitterness and depression keep it all in check thus leaving the rest of the year open for things like cotton candy and shark documentaries. I'm just saying............

Also, while I have your attention I would like to share with you that my youngest child is a wretched little beast. Mind you he's absolutely darling with all his "rolls of love & happiness" (read fat rolls) and is quite affectionate in his own way, but he's rather wearing over all. He scratches, pushes, pinches, pulls, grunts, squawks, and generally disrupts everything within a 3 mile radius. I lose handfuls of hair a day from his yanking it out and my face looks like I fought a ghetto battle for Juicy Juice and lost. I'm sure he'll grow up to be absolutely lovely, but for now I'm having a t-shirt printed up for him that says "My Mom Calls Me Birth Control".