“Your kids didn’t watch the fireworks?” THE HORROR! I can’t believe how angry it made some people that my children missed the 4th of July fireworks. Does it make me a bad mom? I’ve never really understood the fascination with fireworks. Sure it’s pretty. However, the noise is more startling than a shirtless Steven Tyler. In years past, it seemed like a fun time until I had to cover my child’s ear for 30 minutes. Why does it take so long in between explosions? Are there two guys fighting over the display? “Blue!” “No, red should go next!” “Blue!” “Damn it Billy we are going with red!” Then, there is always that one that appears to explode a little too low. You panic and realize you’re the only one that took cover. Or is that just me?
I am not trying to diminish America’s tradition. If you enjoyed the show then good for you! We got home late from a family picnic. It was so much fun watching my husband socialize and eat while I sweated profusely pushing my daughter on the merry go round a dozen times. I see nothing merry about spinning in a circle. Since becoming a mother I get dizzy on escalators let alone rides or playground equipment. Anyway, we stopped on the way home for some grub at Burger King. I didn’t eat much at the picnic. I can’t eat food if I haven’t been to the “chef’s” house. For all I know Uncle Chester is a hoarder with feces piled on his counter top. Who the hell is to say that Aunt Mary (twice removed) isn’t letting her pussy (cat, as in kitten, get your mind out of the gutter) rub all over the sausages. I prefer to eat greasy food made by a teenager with acne and dreadlocks. Anyway, we missed the fireworks. Well, that’s not completely true. We saw one in the sky that an ex-con likely set off from his trailer. So, I’m not such a bad mom after all.