After work I like to curl up into a little ball on my bed and cry like a little bitch while rocking back and forth repeating, ‘i want my mommy’.  Last night the girls wouldn’t allow me to do that because each one had something really important to tell me and kept bursting into the room.
Now, I’m not really sure if they got together and collaborated this prank, but they have been talking a lot quieter than normal.
“Whhhhaaat?” I keep asking them when they talk.
They repeat what they said and I swear, they don’t increase the volume to which they are speaking…they just talk slower as if they they are talking to someone sitting there with drool coming out of their mouth and blinking rapidly.
“Don’t talk SLOWER, talk LOUDER!”  One of those little shit mumbled something about ‘hearing aides’ when walking out.

Last night they wanted to go to the go-carts and race. My head hurt and I felt sick, but because Kara’s boyfriend is in town visiting, I thought I would pull it together.
I don’t talk about Kara’s boyfriend because I will get shit for allowing her to have a boyfriend who lives 2,000 miles away and that she met on the internet. They have been together for about 2 years and try as I might to break them up, they have stayed together as if the stars and moon destined them to be together and all that soul mate mumbo-jumbo.  Her relationship is stronger than my last marriage and who am I to point fingers and tell her she can’t date someone she met on the internet?
He sold his car to come to California for new years and then again for her junior prom.  He’s a good kid, but he’s scared of me, and for good reason…I will kill him if he hurts my daughter…and I might have said exactly that and some other choice words before I really knew him.  He’s also scared of my boyfriend who threatened to send him home in Ziplock bag if he messed up.

Kara insists that he’s funny, but because every time I walk into the room he wets himself a little bit, I have never seen this ‘funny side’ of him.
This visit, he’s getting a little more comfortable hanging out with me.
We were in the car last night and Kara let him ride up front because she no longer has the fear that at any point, I might open the door and push him out. She was in the backseat with her sisters singing every song that was on the radio, OVER the singer.
I kept changing the channels hoping to find a song they didn’t know, but when I realized they are the human equivalent of a radio station music vault, I turned it off and to make a point I said loudly, “FINE! SING TO ME!”
Patrick in a broken, scared voice instantly started singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

The little shithead actually made me laugh so hard I started to cry.

He’ll fit in just fine.