I’ve read a couple blog posts recently that revolved around parents having ‘the talk’ with their sons. They were funny and sweet and guilt inducing.
You guys, I’ve been a bad mom and this is one of my spectacular parental fails.
No. I mean it. I love you.
I LOVE YOU!
See? I can type it. Kind of. I still might not ever post this because it’s difficult. I don’t say ‘I love you’ easily. I don’t love easily. Even when I tell people I love that I love them, it’s rarely an ‘I love you’, it’s a ‘love ya’ or I say ‘I love you’ in a cartoony voice. And if I say it on the phone, then I hang up immediately.
I know I’ve blogged about music before, but I don’t know that I’ve adequately conveyed how important music is to me. I don’t know if I can adequately convey how important it is to me.
I’ve heard two people in my life claim to not like music. Any music. They both confused me and made me feel sad for them. How can you not like any music? It’s like they were already dead.
Yesterday was National Grouch Day. Did you miss it? Well, too bad if you did..maybe next year you’ll remember. What do you want? An engraved invitation?
I celebrated National Grouch Day in the following ways:
Disclaimer – please don’t try to attain this level of grouchiness if you are a beginner. You could sprain an eyeball. Please consult your doctor before beginning any new grouchiness program. You know, or don’t. I’m not your goddamn mother.