Real Thursday

I don¹t know what it is, but, as far back as I can remember, I am in kind of
a Œscrew you, world!¹ mood on Thursdays. I¹m a little less likely to fake
it, more likely to show my true colors, which aren¹t necessarily
rainbow-like. More like, grey, brown and black. I don¹t feel like trying
so hard to be even keeled and nice. I am less likely to be diplomatic. I
left today with my teenage son begging for money, so that he could go to
lunch with his friend, Bob. This, after I shopped for groceries until the
fridge barely closes. I have an assembly line of dirty clothes I¹m washing
in my room/work room (more about that, later). I demanded that he continue
the pace, and keep washing and DRYING laundry and leaving it on my bed.
³But, I need moneyŠ. NOW!² Click. I left, and listened to ŒSoul Man¹ by
Sam and Dave as I peeled out and drove to work. That¹s the brakes, kid.
Here¹s my black, brown and grey Thursday, right back at ya, babe.

I know that I probably make life a little too easy for my kids. I know I
do. But, and, I can hear Dr. Phil clearing his throat about now, Œlet me
finish, Dr. Phil¹, their dad killed himself. Their mom nearly died of
breast cancer. Ok, I know, we all need limits, boundariesŠ. I know, I know.
But, let me repeat: their father killed himself. Their mom, who is all
they have left, nearly died from breast cancer. Life is hard enough. A five
spot or twenty, here and there, isn¹t going to destroy them.

But, last night, I did feel a bit like a maid. I fed 8 kids turkey, mashed
potatos and gravy, green beans. They snarfed it up. And, they were playing
poker and trivial pursuit. It could be worse. They could be out making
meth or screwing around in the back of someones car. But, they were home,
eating turkey and playing trivial pursuit. I will miss these days. I will
miss the laundry and the dirty dishes and the half empty pop cans and the
phone ringing constantly. All that chaos spells LIFE, to me. When I was a
kidŠ. I would not even let kids in my house. My house was not a friendly
place. My house was a house of confusion and pain and anger. Who would want
to share that? I was more or less the kid eating turkey at someone¹s house.
That was me. I was grateful for a place to go, to get away. So, things
have moved full circle. Here I am, paying it forward. Right?

Now, I wanna talk about girls. My daughter morphs into a bitchy, catty
creep when she is around two other girls. It¹s a mathematical miracle: two
girls = no problems. Three girls = tears, rolling of eyes, cat fights,
secrets, and, last night, a mom coming to claim her daughter and leaving. I
hate this. I don¹t even want to claim her when she acts like this. Laying
claim to a friend is very risky business for Œtween girls. Keeping things
above board and getting along is a little like the peace talks in the middle
east. One has to work very very carefully, choosing just the right words,
the right look, etc. And, my daughter doesn¹t have it down yet. She can be
mean. I had the 3rd girl go home last night, too. And, my daughter,
between sobs said that it was my fault, that, there were Œ3 of us¹Š.. I
replied, ŒCan you count to 3? Can YOU count to 3, then it isn¹t my fault!¹
Then, she said she hated me and collapsed on her bed. An hour later, she
apologized and was fine.

I guess for a grown up woman, three can spell a bit of trouble, too. I
don¹t know that I¹d call a 3rd friend a Œbitch¹ using text message, but, it
is difficult to hang with two other friends. Someone invariably gets left
out. Someone doesn¹t quite get the joke. Someone wasn¹t there, when that
funny anecdote was shared. So, it happens with adults, too. I guess the
only way to make it work, is to fake it. Pretend that having two friends
that don¹t¹ really gel togetherŠ. Together. Pretend that you weren¹t at
that lunch when that funny story was shared, or, pretend that your feelings
aren¹t hurt that the other friend knows where your 3rd friend keeps the
salsa (on the back shelf in the fridge!) We just fake it more. That¹s the
difference. But, the feelings are about the same.

I do like, though, that my daughter hasn¹t learned yet, how to fake it. No,
I don¹t want her to be a bitch to other girls. But, I like that she is real
and raw. What is that saying, making your insides match your outsides. I
guess that¹s it. When do we morph and have our insides NOT match our
insides? When do we hide our true feelings? Well, for me, not on
Thursdays.