I don’t want to talk to you right now. I don’t want to talk to you because I don’t have anything nice to say, and I was taught to keep my mouth shut at times like these. I honestly believe that things will work themselves out, so why whine about something that we will put to bed shortly? Well, because I promised to. I promise to blog every damn day this month, so you are going to get the truth.

And the truth is that I just want to crawl under my kitchen table right now. I fear for the decisions my son is making, but underneath that is my mother. At the bottom of every drama is my mother. It is always my mother. I’m just gonna be honest here: my mother is bat shit crazy. I don’t care who knows it anymore. I’ve told her before, drama follows, and then she forgets it, ignores it, or what ever it is that bat shit crazy people do with information that they don’t want. I’m pretty used to it.

But there’s another part of it. I’m mad at you. Yes, everyone one of you who has a mother. A mother that you didn’t have to spend your entire life taking care of. That your earliest memories aren’t of holding her while she cried. A mother that doesn’t suck the very emotional substance from your body and then demand every last bit of your soul, only to tell you that it is not enough. A mother that doesn’t cause drama and then look at you AGAIN and ask ‘how did this happen?’ A mother that you can to turn to. No, not every second, but that you know, when the shit is hitting the fan, will stand by you, instead of you having to take care of the situation and HER. Yeah, a mother like that.

And I think everyone of you that have that suck.