“Moooooooommmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyy, Kayden hit me again and stole my dolls!” screamed Tasia.
I can’t take this anymore. I can’t breathe. My children are monsters. My ex-husband ran off with a want to be model and they are both living high on unreported income, and my boss wants to sleep with me. Oh, and my toilet leaks. And my bank account is overdrawn. And the cat just puked on the counter. And the fish is dead in its tank. Sigh.
I slowly get out of my bathtub where I have been attempting to hide for the last 10… actually 13.5 minutes. Might as well enjoy every second of it, getting out and back into my life is going to be traumatic enough.
All dressed now and ready to face this latest kid catastrophe. Turns out to be nothing, really. My son stole two barbies and flushed their heads down the other toilet. Hmmm, maybe this is why the stupid toilet leaks. Ok, on to taking the kids to the ex. About time. I really need a break.
I take the kids to my ex’s house. Yes, he has the house we used to live in together, at least until Bambi (yes she is really named Bambi) decided that being a receptionist was more interesting in my bedroom. Still not quite sure how that one made any sense. That’s ok. I like my little, leaky, cheap apartment much better than having to come home every night and seeing where my marriage ended. Yes, Bambi, so nice to see you again, too. So happy that I can come drop my children off in what was supposed to be my life. So happy that you are pretty, perky, and have a rack that Dolly Parton would be jealous of. My kids love you because all you do is give them stuff and I have to say no or take it away from them. You are so very nice all of the time, never yelling, never wanting to strangle people, always smiling. Ok, sigh again. yes I can see why you are living here instead of me.
On to the bank. Have to get some money for a few groceries to try and last the rest of the week. You know, some Ramen Noodles and lettuce.
Who is that guy? I have never seen him here before. He is a looker. Good thing I dressed up today. Hmm time to turn on the charm. It’s working. He is looking. Really, you want to take me out? To Paris for dinner – let’s go! This can’t be happening to me. I am the grouchy, lonely, non sexy mom. So I walk with him out to his car. About this time I realize something is wrong. Granted there is a limo, but this seems more like a get away than a date. Why do I have this feeling in my gut?
Oh, well. It’s probably just my over active imagination telling me there is no way someone like this could ever be interested in me. Good thing I just got paid, I really don’t want to stop at my apartment in that crummy neighborhood. Just tell him I will get some new clothes when I get there. Or maybe I can talk him into buying me some. That would work, right?
At the airport now. He is buying tickets. What is this text from my daughter? Be on lookout for a guy that just robbed a bank? Huge reward? Well hello. Next call 911. Wow the police are here. He is arrested. I tell my story.
By the time the media is done with this and I have my reward, I can finally live in a place with a non-leaky toilet, a yard for the cat so he doesn’t puke on my counter anymore, and I can even buy boobs and look like a Bambi. Wow, life has changed. I am now “cooler” than Bambi in my kids eyes because I caught the bank robber. Wow how life has changed. Now if I could just not burn dinner while I am trying to write this story, do laundry, help with homework, and fish more doll heads out of the toilet. OK, maybe it is not so different.