Stormy Weather

I keep seeing this survey….so tonight I thought I’d share a couple of MY answers with you.

Place where you grew up:

Where you live now:

Have I mentioned that I am finding life with Chickie right now a wee bit……tumultuous?

Honestly.  Take a small slice of time.  Do you ever replay something in your head in slow motion so you can change the action or words?

THE SETTING:  A large grocery chain in Wolfie Land. 
THE PLAYERS:  Wolfie Momma, Chickie, and Chickie’s BF, Black Bart
THE SCENE:  A storm is brewing.  Chickie was made to stop at the grocery store where Black Bart works, even though she hates all the people who work there.  The REASON (not that anybody cares about REASON) is that it is on the way home and Chickie is demanding that Wolfie Momma make dinner.

Chickie goes psycho somewhere between the car and the front door.  Parking lots, I have noted, often have that effect on people.  Make them go psycho.  Have you noticed?  Especially here in sunny Florida where the tarmac gets REALLY hot.  So hot you could fry an egg! (That will be my classes lesson just before summer break – The Artistry of Sidewalk Egg Frying)

The storm level rises as we flit through the store.  At every turn I am expecting a Chickie-plosion.  I head for the chicken full speed ahead.  (Hmmmmm…anybody here see the irony in my search for CHICKEN for dinner?)

Finally we burst out of the store – and all in one piece.  Disaster averted – or so I thought.  Yet another illustration of why I shouldn’t think.

We got home.  I put the chicken in the oven to bake.  I retired to the spare room where the computer is in residence.  I’m gonna get on OD and have a good time.  I turn on the TV for background noise.  If the TV is on, perhaps I won’t hear the Chickie/Black Bart drama taking place 4 rooms away.  No such luck. 

Chickie stomps into her room WITHOUT closing the door.  She throws herself on her bed and begins to cry.  I keep reading, noting and typing.  I am attempting the old “ignore anything long enough and it will go away” method of dealing with this situation.  It didn’t work.  Really, it never does, but I keep hoping for a miracle……. The crying turned into sobs.  I turned up the TV.  The sobs turned into gasping shuddering sobs.  I got up to close the bedroom door.  TOO LATE.

“MAWM!”  Chickie-in-tears was calling me.  I went to go talk to her.  She boo-hood and wah-wahed about Black Bart.  I rubbed her back, stroked her forehead and put on my best I-love-you-nonjudgementally face.  The litany began.  The girl has a real future as an attorney or congress woman.  BOY can she talk!

When she paused for a breath 45 minutes later, I fled to the kitchen to check on the chicken.  While I’m smoothing out the bbq sauce, Chickie comes out to ask me a question.

“No I’m not pregnant”.  (OK – any other mom reading out there just feel their stomach drop into their heels?) 

I do my best to nod encouragingly (as my tongue begins to bleed and the blood begins to run down the back of my throat and I try to keep from both biting my tongue COMPLETELY off and choking from the blood)

Chickie continues.  “When you were with Dad, did you ever think that having a baby would keep you guys together?”

My Stepford Smile cracks for just the briefest of seconds.  I say….”Well, I’ve heard of people who do that.  I confess I thought about that idea but threw it away immediately because I knew it wouldn’t work.”  At this point I look at Chickie, hoping to see her nodding enthusiastically in agreement with my SAGE words.  Hah!

I try again.  “What about your two friends that just had babies in November?  Where is Friend #1s Baby-daddy?” (Note my use of the popular slang baby-daddy.  I want, after all, her to think I am trying to be cool and understanding.)

Chickie mumbles that HE is getting married – but not to Friend #!!

“Ahhhhhhhh.  Well then.  How about friend #2?  Where is HER baby-daddy?”

Chickie mumbles that he went back to the mother of his FIRST child.

“Well then” (says I while trying DESPERATELY to keep the Gloating I-told-you-so smirk off my face) “it didn’t work out so well for them, did it?

Chickie wandered off.  The next hour or so was filled with yelling, crying, dirty looks and sobbing.  Dinner got finished – and I was the only one who ate.  Even Cassidy wanted no part of this mess.

Finally Chickie decided to take Black Bart home.  By that time, I had had enough.  When she gave me the latest in the EVIL DEEDS list…. I told her to get rid of him immediately.  This should be fun, not pain.  She’s young, beautiful, smart, loyal…blahblahblah.  She doesn’t need no STINKING boy friend!  She snuffled and left.

So here’s the dilemma.  Chickie is late – once again – getting home.  I am taking bets…….

Did she kick his ass to the curb…………………or will she be picking him up from work again tomorrow night?

PLACE YOUR BETS>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>