So, if we are telling the truth here, I panic when I go without writing for more than a few weeks. I try not to force it if I don’t have anything to say. I do a spiral and think to myself that all these words and all these years spent to were just a mediocre writer’s desperate cry for help. Come to think of it, that’s probably the truth. Huh. Sometimes the material just falls into my lap. Today was the day my big lap was filled.

I am a morning person. I don’t get as much done in the a.m. as I used to but I still love waking up an having it quiet for a few minutes. Very few most mornings as 3b and my girl converge on my space around the same time. I become a short order cook around 6:30 am each day. I can go into waitress mode like I have PTSD. 3b like his cinnamon toast and coffee in silence. My girl like her oatmeal while commenting on the news and begging me to let her change it. It is her commenting that I will tell you about today.

3b and my girl tell me that I am two people. Morning Honey(3b) / Morning Mommy(my girl) and Afternoon Beast. It is indeed true. I am one hangry bitch past a certain point most days. It has been a topic of conversation daily for months now since my girl decided she loved having 3b around as they can conspire against me. It is a very annoying alliance.

My girl was especially smart-mouthed to day. She came downstairs today and asked me, “So, what do you have going today?” No joke. I ignore the question and ask her what kind of oatmeal she wants. She tells me and I make it. “Not too thick”. I look in at her with my Billy Idol sneer. She is hysterically laughing. I plop the bowl in front of her and tell her to enjoy my mood. 3b leaves and it is just her and I. I had extra time this morning so I have a third cup of coffee and sit with her. We are watching a commercial for some dance show and she states to me that she misses her “dance career”.

Me: What dance career?

MG: Look it, lady, I was the best 7 year old in that 5-year-old class.

I shake my head.

Me: You are an idiot.

MG: It is not my fault you would let me go competitive. I got stuck in that class for two years.

Me: Okay, J.Lo Panza

Then she goes into thought for a minute.

MG: You’re gonna want to get on making my lunch. Make sure there is a vegetable. I like crunch.

Me: (Laughing) Keep it up. You are lucky I am in a good mood.

MG: Yeah, about that. I was just thinking about something. Hear me out. You know how they have those dry erase boards in the Price Chopper that say how many days without an accident.

Me: Yeah, so what?

MG: I was thinking that we could get one and put it on the fridge and call it the “Outburst Board” and that way every time you go a day without an outburst (or mentioning menopause) me and 3b can keep track. At the end of thirty days, if you go outburst free you can get a prize. I would suggest a swear jar, but let’s be real.

I was dumbfounded. This was some of the funniest shit I have ever heard. I couldn’t believe I was being taken down by a 12-year-old. MY 12-YEAR-OLD. Yup, she is my kid and my mother is looking down(or up, depending) and laughing her ass off. I once told my mother that if she kept up her shit, I would trade her in for a newer model. I was 13. My mother cursed me that day. She laughed, of course. I’m a funny broad. It is only fitting that after the shock wore off that I almost peed myself laughing.

Me: WHAT?

MG: You heard it. You will have to buy the dry erase board. I’m broke.

Yes, this is indeed my daughter.