I am preparing to take my annual summer cruise next week. A quickie to a couple of islands in the Bahamas and back with only my daughter and I.
I am looking forward to the peace and quiet of reading and sunning while I shove the brat into whatever bullshit activities they have to keep her out of my hair.
While packing I stumbled across a book I was given as a gift. It is called "A Mother's Life" and I thought I would plan to finally complete it while on vacation.
So I flipped through it expecting basic shit like how happy were you when I was born and what was my first word.
The fucking thing want MY life story. I guess I should have paid better attention to the title of the thing, huh?
When was your first kiss?
I attacked a poor unsuspecting five year old in the cubbies in kindergarten. Come to think of it, the prick told on me.
What was your first job?
Selling joints for a dollar each in the cafeteria in Jr. High.
When did you and my father meet?
He was the best friend of the guy I really liked.
Describe your wedding day?
We did lines on the way to the reception where the family was taking bets on how long the marriage would last.
See, not something I particularly want to share with the little ones...even when I am dead.
On the other hand, maybe it will cause them to look back and say...gee, mom was one cool mutherfucker.
Naaaa, I think I will put this one in the regift section of the closet.
Off to check out your blogs. I hate not knowing what the kewl kids are up to.