Hey there, Boo-Boo Bunny,
How’s the organic, free-range life treating you?
Not so good?
I take it you’ve had a change of heart with your recent post touting CVS and their quick med clinic. Whatever its name is, I forget, but it doesn’t matter. When your kid is burning up with a high fever, all those hoodoo-voodoo methods don’t work or matter.
Hey, I get it. I’ve had to put my kid first many, many times. Setting aside my personal feelings or beliefs or values for his/her safety and well-being. I don’t blame you. Take the money off the table, grab the sponsorship dollars, and do what’s right by your baby!
Happy weekend!
The UnAffectionate Blogger
227 Comments
Poopy Daddy commented:
What’s happening with you? You’re getting softer and softer. I predict a crash and burn soon. Bring back your old self.
“Mom? Can we go for pizza?”
It’s the Saturday after we arrived home from Florida, and Gabby’s been in front of the TV for hours. I haven’t run in days, and I’m curled up in the chair, pretending to watch whatever shit she’s watching, cup of coffee in hand.
“I don’t know,” I say, lying. We can’t go for pizza because I don’t want to get dressed. Actually, I can’t get dressed. I’ve been in the same yoga pants for two and a half days. I’m disgusting.
“Maybe we can go to FunZone?”
“Not today, baby girl.”
“I’m bored.”
I’ll give it to her; she hasn’t asked for Reid. She took my excuse like a champ. On Thursday, I sat her down and said, “Reid’s having some problems at work, and he’s going to be really busy with it, so we may not see him for a while.”
More lies. I think that was the last time I showered and changed pants. My own actions are eating me alive.
“Why don’t I call Lizzie’s mom and see if she can come over? And then I’ll order you a pizza.”
My little girl jumps up at this idea and dances around the room, and the sight brings half a smile to my face for a second. Yes, my heart is broken and I’m a fucking mess over a guy, but it’s not only that one thing. I’m not that pathetic to let a breakup send me into a downward spiral. It’s what I’ve done with my life; how I’ve made money at the expense of others. That, right there, is destroying me.
My life is a shitstorm.
Of course, I miss Reid. His touches. His words, his abs, and his cooking. I’ve cleared my browser history on my laptop, refusing to look atGrill and Groom. Delia’s texted me at least a hundred times, and I respond every time, “I’m fine.”
For once, she’s not worried about James or talking about her dull stay-at-home-mom life; she’s concerned for me. Except, I don’t want it.
I’ve created this, and I need to fix it.
Leona knows I’m avoiding her, and she’s allowing me the space. Probably because she’s disgusted with me too. She told me to come clean, and I didn’t listen.
I look at my emails, half expecting to see something to Andrea from Reid, but that’s wishful thinking at its best. He’s done with me, and the sooner I get my thick head to believe it, the better.
I decide today’s the day. Lizzie’s mom drops her off, and I order a large pepperoni pie. While the girls are doing their own thing in Gabby’s room, I make a plan.
It’s a different kind of Tell Day.
Happy Monday, Readers.
Like I often say, TGIM. Time for routine, the weekend behind us, and fresh days ahead.
