*It’s a list post because lists are magical and only require short bursts of thought.

*Don’t blink because you might miss this one.





*Because seriously? Short bursts of thought require actual thought and I’m not sure what my head is actually doing qualifies right now.

*In any case, I’m pretty sure that if I had more than one child that their extracurricular activities would be limited to those in which I could stay bra-less and with a water bottle full of vodka flavored orange juice in hand and the remote control in the other to mindlessly help my pretend bunches of kiddos the art of channel surfing because Mommy is Busy Talking to those People Inside of the Computer again and Calling it Woooo-ooorrrrk!

*Which pretty much translates into, ya know, no actual extracurricular activities.

*They’d be bored as hell but I survived my childhood with plenty of permanent emotional damage…

*And therapy has been pretty beneficial so…

*as long as I made sure my multiple imaginary children had therapy slush funds set up in bank accounts they could access at age 18 to cover the cost of medicinally induced happiness, I’m being pretty fucking responsible as a mother.



*Imaginarily speaking, of course.

*Because as things currently stand with Buttercup’s end of year pre-K activities…

*Like her “promotion” ceremony…

*which couldn’t be called a “graduation” ceremony because the district kindergartners ceremony before moving on to the first grade is already called that so we wouldn’t want to confuse the kids and families who weren’t at the thing where all of us parents were calling it a graduation anyway so FUCK YOU KINDERGARTNERS…


*And her first ever ballet recital in a few weeks…




*Which happens to include two practices on Saturdays right now that I happen to keep remembering about five minutes before they start and we?

*Live 15 minutes away…

*Which gives me enough time to run into the studio dragging a wind-blown Buttercup behind me just as the pre-ballet teacher is reminding the responsible parents that tomorrow morning at 8:30 a.m is definitely the same date and time that she has been telling us all since time began so we would be prepared to have our perfectly costumed, make-upped, and coiffed preschool magical garden rosebuds at the studio, smiling and ready to be photographed by a professional with a camera…

*Which totally changes my plan to stay bra-less and jammied at home tomorrow after staying up late to catch up on three writing deadlines, make some headway on project planning for a new site I’m working on, and possibly making some time to do this crazy thing all the kids call Reading for Pleasure because now.

*I’m chugging black coffee to calm the rushing in my head that always comes with the upheaval when plans change unexpectedly because ADHD works like that and eventually I am not acting like a crazed lunatic inside of my own head so I take another swig of iced happiness and get us buckled up in the truck with the air blasting on high because it’s in the mid 90′s and I hate Arizona any time of the year the temperature goes above 75 degrees.

*I need to rush to Target right after the second ballet lesson to buy my little rosebud some ultra-hold heir gel and bobby pins and new not dirty pink tights and body glitter and hooker red lipstick and thick rubber bands to secure the world’s strongest ballet bun and WHY THE HELL DON’T THEY CARRY HAIR NETS FOR DANCERS AT TARGET so it’s time to rush off to that Sally Beauty Supply on the way home…

*Where I get to rush through a crazed multi-tasking To Do List Mania of running the bath so Buttercup can climb in and play with some bubbles while I get the cod blackening and the cauliflower mashed into mock mashed potatoes because that’s how I roll now and Oh Shit! I can’t unload and reload the dishwasher because the stuff in there never got washed because I forgot to turn the damned thing on five hours ago which works out wonderfully with a brand new sinkful of dirty dishes just sitting there taunting me with their See? You can try, but at the end of the day you just aren’t as fast as we are-edness. …

*I could scream but that would put me even more behind on my List of Things to Do before I commit myself to a padded room with an internet connection that only locks and unlocks from the inside.

*I’ll give you a minute to figure that one 0ut, People Without Children.

*Like those three writing deadlines I need to be working on.

*Yes, right now, instead of writing this.

*And thank you for listening because I’m pretty sure y’all just saved me a 45-minute drive and a $25 copay to see my therapist whom I am not entirely sure even like and you got to laugh in all of the appropriate places while reading this and are probably now telling all of your friends who will tell of their friends and so on and so forth about this brilliantly hilarious post they read on this blog by this writer and I’ll be catapulted to instant overnight fame and you and your friends will feel directly responsible and then this single chain of events can be referred to as the biggest win-win of the millennium, probably.

*No, no, you don’t have to thank me. I did this for you, truthfully. But please, don’t let me interrupt you while you do that telling all of your friends about me thing so we can get this ball rolling.

*I’m going to get Buttercup into bed so she can fall asleep an hour after I tell her she has to go to sleep so I can drag her Not Gonna Be Happy Ass outta bed in the morning at 5 a.m. so I can turn her into a an adorable little harlot in my borrowed Russian Red  before the sun even rises and rush her off to the studio in time for the dance recital photos.





*Don’t worry. I won’t be late. Considering I won’t be sleeping, most likely, on account of those three writing deadlines I told you about.

*That I was supposed to start when I turned on my Mac and THIS happened instead.

*And DEAR GOD, STOP TRYING TO NOT BLINK because you look ridiculous.

*The end.

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  2 Responses to “I Blog to Save Money on Therapy”

  1. Great, now my head hurts. And I’m pretty sure it would have been even funnier if you’d included the hours of texts between us while we were just across the street from one another while you were at Target and I was getting my nails done.
    H.C. Palmquist recently posted..Max’s StoryMy Profile

  2. http://t.co/RycFEjz4 Who wants a cup of coffee? New blog post at Aspiringmama!

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