I Love Spotted Zebras

Everyday, I begin the day with a big smile and shrugged shoulders, and then I ask, no, beg for just 5 more minutes. That'll be the day. And then on with the Disney channel for my and Stinkyface's morning roll and fly in mommy's big bed. Next, the lion in her tummy growls at me for some banana plum grape oatmeal which leads to a very messy "I'm done" smile.

This is the routine that I would never miss. This routine also leads me to a very "I WILL be progressive" attitude that hurries my getting ready for the day like nothing else has ever motivated me in my life. I want to make the best life for me and Stinkyface, and all the cards are seemingly against us at the moment. This brings me to my philosophy of the day: short term goals and the steps it will take to make it there.

And as I'm multi-tasking a Father's Day gift (which Big Man doesn't even deserve, but we'll get to that) with lunch and planning an itenerary for seven of my closest, furthest away family, I begin to feel the weight of conquering the world in a week on my shoulders. First off, Fathers Day should be exciting and fun, but I'm not looking forward to it at all. And I can easily talk about it because Big Man will never read this. It doesn't grant some instant gratification for him. I actually can't remember one thing that was mine that he ever supported. So after thinking, "Aww, it would be fun and cute to do this craft for Daddy," I get harassed more than enough about how much he misses Stinkyface, even though instead of actually visiting her, he went to Happy Hour. And today, his only employee/best friend/work hours drinking buddy quit, so through my 4 years of experience expected right away that inebriation would once again keep cry baby from seeing his daughter.

And I was right. And every day this will go on, like it has for the past 7 months. A cycle. "I want to make it right." "I'm trying so hard." "I'm done with all that BS." Then a couple of family gatherings, and another slip up, planned or not. This is the life I would have if I made it work with Big Man. Except I'm leaving out the immature games he plays like, "Oh, you talking to your other boyfriend" and so on. (This guy is 30!!) And I'm forgetting to include the fact that I'm the only one who cooks, cleans, makes bottles, i.e. does anything around the house. I never got a break when my sister passed away. Not any type of question about how I was feeling that would take anything more than a superficial smirk to produce. But, we all feel sorry for this. Everyone but him, because, as my blogging readers as my witness, this will happen again.

Now at this point, I'm not going to give him the pleasure of being the point of this blog. I realize I've never layed cement (brilliant craft to choose right??) and my dad is barking at me, "You should have done [insert the opposite of everything I have done]" and I'm thinking, "Wow, I really should have eaten before I started this." So not only am I apparently doing the whole project wrong, I'm starving like I'm from Darfur. No breakfast. No lunch. And, yeah, I do have a wedding to be in in a couple months but this is not the diet I signed up for!! Stinkyface then decides that we're going to do this project her way, which meant no hand print. Only one curled monkey foot and one decent, but too early laid, human foot. Good enough for me.

So now the project's done (and is way better than the shirts Big Man got me for my first Mothers Day...I thought the kid's supposed to give the gift??) and looks so cute I want to keep it for myself. Then I talk to the drunken stupor I call Big Man, and he blatantly, but expectedly, lies about having been drinking, and in his oh-so mature fashion, swears on his daughter with a few extra words inserted for no apparent reason (alcohol will do that sometimes). Now I definitely want to keep this keepsake, but sadly, I've stamped out IN CEMENT a daddy poem. Dammit.

Finally, my sister, who I'll refer to for the next month only as Chicken Poc, tells me that the ticket prices turned to summer prices and we have no idea how we're going to work this family trip out. As if my world conquering needed any more battles. This is seriously the one thing I've been looking forward to for as long as I can remember. I even forgot that I'm going to the Robert Plant concert, but thankfully Mob Bossette reminded me!! But Robert Plant isn't going to fork over the money to send my clan out here to me. So it all hits me like a jegger bomb after no lunch...and then I lose it.

Fortunately, I've maintained a very important friendship with Soul Surfer, through the dislikes of Big Man and Kimmy (please refer to "My Best Friend's Wedding"). And through his reliable wise words, Surfer was able to bring me back to reality. I started the day out composed and optimistic, and because I take on so much, and generally tend to forget my own well being while I try to boost everyone else's. What the hell?? In the words of Poc herself, "Why do I think I deserve this?" I have everything going for me, except the whole making sure I'm happy thing. So in reality, if my mom and dad don't get to see my neice's son (it's too late, I can't figure out the relation) right now, it's not my problem. My problem is getting Stinkyface and me out there so WE can see them in August.

So with the help of Mr. Miyagi and my close family and friends, I hope that I will be able to clearly decipher my own multitasking from my plots of world domination, and realize Rome wasn't built in an hour. I can't ruin my own mood by my sacrificial emotional donation, and I need to raise my standards and hold true. So now, as soon as I figure out how I'm going to get 7 airline tickets under $1500, sign up for school, finish a blog or two, and fold laundry...grrr...screw an hour, I'll have it all for you in 26 minutes and 44 seconds!!!! Can't turn a zebra's stripes into spots now can we....