I haven’t been to my own blog in months! MONTHS! I’ve been busy in a good way. A little UCB sketch comedy writing here. A little writing for a Nickelodeon show called HOW TO ROCK that you should watch Saturdays at 830 PST there. And a little mommying.
Always with the mommying.
Things are good! Raegan and I (for those of you who have been so kind as to follow our exploits) have moved out of my mom’s house and into our own house. Great news! One thing I realize right off the bat: I am much cooler living on my own.
Seriously. I do such cool stuff! I walk to places to eat. Like I’m in a regular TV show! I’m all like, “Oh, I’m hungry. I’m gonna walk up the street and sit in a place and eat and then walk home.” Also, I drink wine while I make dinner. Which I’ve always done but some how it feels cooler doing it in my own house. Oh, another thing I do. REUPHOLSTER CHAIRS ya’ll. Three of em. I got up early, stapled some old ass Guess Jean curtains (that my mom inexplicably owned) to a shitty looking dining room chair seat and kept it moving. Kept it moving! I sit in the chairs! The ones I saved with my staple gun skills.
So apparently, on my own, I am a domestic Goddess. Raegan has her own room. Which I am very careful to remind her is actually MY room since I pay for it. Now, she SAID she has money to pay for it. But then she said she has three dollars. And that room costs more than three dollars. So I feel like I’m not really gonna honor her claim.
That’s the problem with kids, isn’t it? They have no perspective. Raegan told my niece that her late 90s model Toyota Camry (which I’m sure runs very well being a Toyota and all) is “very, very, very old” and that she should go get a “silver Lexus like we did.” First of all, “we” who? Cause I sure as hell don’t remember Raegan at anybody’s car dealership laying down some down payment dough. With her little punk ass three dollars (which, I’m telling you right now. She does not have it. I haven’t seen it. And if she did have it, I’d have been the one to give it to her, so who’s is it?)
Secondly, I’m glad that in her world one can just waltz into a dealership and get a car. And excuse my niece for driving a reliable automobile for as long as she can in our stressed out economic climate. This country is on thin ice! I bet Raegan’s not considering a little thing called a “recession” in her big fancy suggestions that one just replace their “very very very old car” with something new and shiny.
She has no idea what I had to do to get that shiny car she’s bragging about. NO IDEA! And what am I? Fancy Car Buying Lady of Fancy Car Buying-onia? No! My lease was up. Had to replace the car. Got a entry level Lexus hybrid because I got a good deal and it’s gas efficient. Oh, and what’s worse is that she says that the car is hers because she picked it out. Which I will give her credit for. But still man. Like, really? It’s YOURS? So by that logic if I pick out some shoes for a friend then I get to keep them? Or she wears them and I just arrogantly point out every time we’re hanging together that I am Shoe Picker Almighty and technically they’re my shoes?
I’m just sayin’ Rae. Ya know? Damn!
I over heard her tell somebody, “This is my house”. But she said it while lounging back on the couch. Arms stretched across the back of the couch like a little Tony Montana. She said this to a grown person. Basically the tone I heard was, “Fuck you. this is MY house. Kick rocks”.
I said, “WHAT?! Oh no. This is MY house, little girl. And you will not talk to an adult that way.” She immediately broke down (which I’m sure was embarrassing given the bravado she showed a mere few seconds ago), whining, “but Mommy, I picked it out.” There goes that “I picked it out so it’s mine” logic again. I explained that she did not. And even if she did, does she have the money to pay rent in this house? Of course she goes back this non-existent three dollars she has. Which, she has now managed to “spend” on her room, a car and, apparently, a house. Girl, is busting her ass to stretch a dollar.
Point is. We moved! Yay!