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Sick Momma


When you’re a momma whose sick, it stinks.  When you’re a single momma whose sick, it super stinks.  You lie there in your bed, all congested and snorting listening to the vicious arguing amongst the two children in the next room. The slamming of doors, the name calling, death threats etc …. oh yeah, they are out for blood those two! You’re weak, you’re weary and you can’t seem to get the gumption to actually get out of bed and snag the instigator.  Which, by the way, I think is Jake.

Oh yeah, he’s been in a foul one for the last three days.  It started on Saturday to be exact.  That’s when his friend came over to hang.  Now when I first heard Friend was coming over, I said “whoa whoa man, I don’t know if I’ll have time to go get him and take him home, after all the child lives 30 minutes away.”

“Oh you don’t have to, he’s driving.”

“Driving? Friend is driving? What exactly is Friend driving? His scooter, skateboard, wheel barrow?”

“Ummm. Funny, mom. Friend has his drivers licence. And a car.”

I begin to perspire.

“Well, who in the world let him do that???” I ask, my voice all quibbling and such.

“His mom did it. Like MY mom is supposed to do it …and hasn’t!!!!”

Dern these 16 year olds can be mouthy!!!!! “My fault?? It’s my fault that YOU haven’t mastered he art of driving?? It’s my fault that YOU catch a wheel every time you back out of a parking space?? It’s my fault when you park on the curb making the car so whompsie and one sided, I’m sure we’re gonna flip over?  I guess I’m the one who causes you stop in the middle of a busy road to ‘let that poor guy out in traffic’ when we almost get smushed by 10,000 cars in the process? Jake, I don’t think you’re ready to drive on your own. White knuckling the steering wheel and profuse back sweating is not the norm, honey.”

“Yea, I know.  it’s all your fault. You won’t let me drive enough.”

“My fault????????” I feel my temperature rising. “Excuse me mister, but you really haven’t shown that much interest and it doesn’t help that we live across the street from everything we could possibly need.”

Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…of all the nerve!

Then Jake continues to growl about how I’m holding him back, crushing his self esteem…..yada yada yada.

Uhhhh.  yeah, sure.

Then he starts running his smack about something……  40 hours of driving and how I, yes I was supposed to get some sheet to log in his driving hours.  “Whoa, dude!! I nothing!!!  I got my drivers license 100 years ago and I am not responsible for you getting your 40 hours sheet!!!” (Whatever in the heck that is!!!!)

So, more doors slam and Jake is off to his room to think up evil names to call me.  At this point, my nose is too stuffy to call the drivers license place so I lie back down and awake to breakfast in bed, Izzy style:

At least one child still likes me…for the moment….


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