Three On Thursday

My daughter. Oh, how I love her. She’s always been a beautiful light. She radiates.

Except when she whines or wants something.

Since early school years, all the way back to preschool, mornings are from hell with her. When she was little, she would screech that she wants braids NOW. And she would not stop screeching until she had those two braids twisted tightly in her hair. Also, she had two or three dresses that were the only things she would wear. They were adorable dresses and she looked like a doll in them. If they were in the wash, because I’ve always sucked at keeping up on laundry, then the screeching would commence, assuming it stopped after braids were perfected.

Once the morning headache ritual was complete, she was angelic for the rest of the day. Her teachers loved her. There was no separation issue when I took her to school. All the classmates fought over who was going to play with her or sit next to her.

The years passed. Too quickly, might I add.

This screeching…it still goes on. Only, every morning, she screeches that she has nothing to wear. And she screeches because she can’t leave the house to be driven to school until her hair is wetted down and redone (she washes it the night before but because it’s so curly, she despises how it looks in the morning).

She demands that she needs more clothes. And in all honesty, she does. But, every single time I’ve taken her shopping, the outcome is unsuccessful. She doesn’t like anything. I take her everywhere from Kohl’s to Nordstroms, because their prices aren’t much higher than Kohls, which…I hate their clothes there. I take her to every store in the mall.

She hates everything.

So, I don’t buy her anything and she has to make due with what she has. Which, isn’t much. Because why? She doesn’t like anything. Anywhere. Ever.

Rinse. Repeat.

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I’m writing this book (see chapter on the previous post). I’m obsessed with the story line. I keep thinking of new characters, plots and ideas. It’s going to take forever to write this thing.

So, last night, after writing for about an hour before bed, I shut down my computer. A girl has to sleep.

Before I fell asleep, I had a brilliant, outstanding and phenomenal idea for a chapter in the book. I told my husband about it and also stated to him that, perhaps and even though I’m so tired, I should write it down. He told me not to worry about it, he’d remember it for me.

We crashed. I’m sure there was loud snoring and louder farting involved.

Alarms rang. Parents and children got ready to start the day. Whining and screeching rang throughout the early morning home, most likely waking the neighbors in the process. Kids were dropped off to school.

Finally, alone, Mommy called Daddy.

Me: “So?”
Him: “So??”
Me: “Remember last night?” (get your mind out of the gutter)
Him: “Um, no.”
Me: “That thing I told you and you told me you’d remember. Do you?”
Him: “What thing?”
Me: “For my book. That idea thing. Remember?”
Him: “Um, no. Someone died or something?”
Me: “NO! No one died. It was a great idea, motherfuckinggoddammit”
Him: “I’ll call you back.”

Have I heard from him?
NO!
Someone remind me that he is older than I am. His memory is worse. And I should just lean my lazy ass over the side of the bed to pick up my notebook!
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The third thing?

Yeah, I have no recollection of what I was going to say here.

Today is Thursday though, right? At least I remembered that part.

And hey, look, this IS three things on Thursday now!

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