Let’s trade

I have reached the age where old men are hitting on me. It’s all downhill from here. I was at a gas station when a man, who appeared to be in his early 70’s, attempted to flirt with me. I wasn’t wearing my wedding ring. Nor was I wearing a t-shirt that said, “I heart saggy balls.” The depressing part is he actually thought he had a shot with me. Kudos to him for having confidence, but I may cry myself to sleep tonight.

It has been a week of heartbreak. My 5-year-old daughter wants a new mom. Actually, she asked if she could trade me for my mother. “Grandma could be my mom,” she said while having a tantrum because she was overtired. What’s the difference between tired and overtired? People who are overtired become real motherf*ckers. During this phase of exhaustion the individual is hostile and cries over everything. (Wikipedia needs to update its definition.)

My daughter was sobbing because I put the wrong pajamas on her. She wanted to wear Rapunzel, not Tinker Bell. It’s not like I knocked her out and she woke up in Tinker Bell pajamas. She picked the pair out, but I’m the a**hole? Apparently, it was my fault for not realizing she changed her mind even though she was mute.

I was out of the game. It didn’t matter that I had a good season leading up to that night. She wanted to trade me for my mother. I get it. Grandma is fun. She isn’t the disciplinarian. She doesn’t get distracted by dishes or laundry. She is game for any pretend play. I hate playing with figurines of any kind. Of course, I love watching my daughter’s imagination soar. I do not, however, like that she orders my character around, “Now you say this.” How about I say whatever I want? Maybe my Barbie doesn’t want to go to the pool with Ken because he lies and only thinks about himself. Grandma follows the script. She will also snuggle instead of lecture no matter what a child has done wrong.

My daughter offered to visit me if she chooses grandma. Isn’t that kind of her? She may have to visit a nursing home. I spent two hours raking leaves today. I don’t think I will be able to move tomorrow without a walker. I took Tylenol and loaded Bengay on my back. The fellas on the pickleball court are going to fight over me. Maybe I should have snagged a phone number at the gas station.

Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.