Washing Machine Mood

Gee, Morgue, what is a washing machine mood?

I am currently on the agitator cycle.

I was fine earlier, if coming back home at 8 am and sleeping until noon when I never ever nap counts as fine. Guess I needed the rest, what with all the med shake ups and dealing with cockweaselassclownsfromhell. I even managed to take a shower before I fetched my kid from school. That’s TWO showers in four days. Damn, I am on fire here. I may remember to brush my fangs and wear a bra this year yet.

No, the agitation came after I picked her up from school. The devil girls descended and it was just chaos from there…I told them ten times to play outside, to not shriek, not call for me every five seconds. My calm state went into meltdown before a half hour passed. Then they invited my kid to go to their bible study group tonight and initially I was like, mmm, if they provide transport, okay. Then it hit me…I don’t know shit about this whole thing, it could be the church of scientology and I could be letting some clad god alien pick up and transport my child to go do labor in a sweatshop while stabbing goats. So I decided to delay it until I can call the church’s youth group and check into this all myself. Responsible parent move, right?

Regan, I mean, Spook, started spewing pea soup and all but saying my mother performs fellatio on satan. I mean, she went fucking nuts. No matter how much I explained. It took two hours for her to calm down.

By which time it hit me those devil curls had played dress up, took off in my kid’s clothes, and left her room and the yard a mess, bailing on Spook to go play elsewhere. Of course, Spook was invited but I don’t know this other kid or their parents and I am NOT letting my six year old roam the trailer park randomly while I have no clue where she is. NOT fucking happening even while manic, motherfuckers.

These kids, sweet as they can be when their horns are hidden by hair, are nothing but problematic for me. They start fights between my kid and me every single time because I won’t let mine run riot like their parents let them. And even after four years, they still constantly ask for snacks and even invited themselves to supper because “we don’t have food at home, mom lets us eat snacks at church on Wednesdays for supper.”

I might feel empathy were these parents not so awful to me and my kid over the years. But if they can afford two cars and the dad can stay home all day playing video games while his wife works…Meh. My sis gets no sympathy over the same from me. Besides, those kids are not starving. They probably double dip, get food from me then go home for more, yet when it comes to quid pro quo with my kid..No sharing.

So for the last five hours I have developed a headache, a churning gut, and the sole desire to curl up in a ball and sleep and pretend I am not gonna be dealing with this same shit every single day now that the weather has straightened out. Short of grounding my kid for three months…I have to let her play with her friends. It gives me a break from her ankle gnawing. But I cannot stand rudeness and these girls are demanding and rude. No matter what I say or how many times I send them home or deny them snacks…They just don’t get it. And I blame the parents because at least in four years I have made *some* progress making my kid less of a baby sociopath.

I am so bloody sick of hearing (just like at dinner with Mrs R the other night when she said I let Spook run all over me and let her be in control and I swear to fucking pegacorn I do NOT!) that I am the adult and I MUST lay down the law. I am doing just that and THAT is the problem. Laying down the law may be the responsible parent thing to do, my job as a mom, but it leads to so much misery caused by child tantrums would it be so shocking if I just wanted to curl up in the closet and let someone else who’s such a perfect fucking disciplinarian do it for me? I can’t get it right no matter what I do. It offends the fuck out of me that I am viewed as this spineless dishrag being lead around on a leash by my kid. Because it is not like that, at all. She is defiant, she is mouthy, but it usually comes when the word “no” is said or she is wanting to socialize with friends or show me up in front of others. Just because I don’t start screaming at her, threatening her, and whooping her butt doesn’t mean I let her walk all over me. It means I do my polite parenting in public then bring her home to stand against the wall or lose computer privileges.

SICK of the fucking judgment. Says me who judges everything else so harshly. Bygones.

Anyway…I got her to sleep, I got my headache to die down and now I am…obviously writing this.

No word from R-sole, though he did call at like 8:45 this morning. He pissed me off so much I awarded him with a ringtone I can’t even hear so if I ignore him, accidentally or on purpose…fuck a fancy bag and yourself. No doubt it was related to his precious shop and some scrap of stone he no doubt scribbled a part number on back in 1200 A.D. and now it’s lost and somehow it’s all my fault.

The mania has left the building. Now I am just agitated and justly so cos my dad called to ask about R’s progress with Jezebel and I had to tell him I got snarked at again for pressuring the super special busy R by asking about it. Here’s a thought. You’re both dicks, you talk to each other about the fucking thing and then fill me in. Ya know, just like this whole thing started.

I was saddened when dad told me my former father in law (marriage one) is in the hospital on oxygen, not doing well at all. While hubby 1’s mom and sister were vile demons of judgment and hatred, his dad was always so nice to me. We ran into him and former m-i-l at the hospital when Spook had an ear infection and former dad in law even spoke and gave my  kid a piece of candy in spite of the spears being stared at by the mother in law who still blames me for every poor decision her 49 year old son has ever made even after we split.

So yeah, that’s sad. I always wonder, in what I am sure y’all will think is a heartless manner, why the good people always get sick and die and yet the utterly evil people live on and on…Fuck your balance of good and evil, we have a surplus of evil. Thin the fucking herd, already, fate. Get the cockweasels out of here.

I wanna feel bad for saying that but I really don’t.

I guess this is where I understand why my blog is so unpopular whereas others could post the word “bipolar” with an emoji and get thirty likes. I talk about myself. I talk about how everyone around me pisses me off and how sometimes, things just suck. And I swear a lot. Because this is who I am and how I vent.

On the plus side…It makes me smile to see even if I have four likes, I’ll have eight comments because those four people opted to interact with me instead of clicking a button and moving on.

As long as my crazy resonates with a few…This blog has turned out to be exactly what it was meant to be.

I wish I could say the same about my life. Never once did I think I’d be 43, a single mom, on disability, and barely able to handle one playdate for my child without shrapnel flying. No, this was not how life was supposed to be at all.

I hear you laughing at me, bipolar. Go fuck yourself.


23 Responses to “Washing Machine Mood”

  1. OMG, dude Sis. I only got to when you said about Bible study group (I will read the When my thinking slows to less than 100 thoughts per second (HTS) & questional poop happening. I applaud you. You have no idea of it’s a cult, or even weirder shit! GREAT MOM POINTS. (*I grew up going to Sunday School & loved it, no guilt feelings from my Mommy & Daddy or the church ~ OOPS went off on a tangents, ALWAYS DO) ****MY point is, both my niece & nephew were baptized without first obtaining my brothers or their moms consent. Sooo,,, if that’s not enough to scare a parent, add in the fact that some well meaning parent unknowingly might basically deliver their baby to a child predator,,,, &&&& YOU WERE/ARE SMART ENOUGH, HA FRIGGIN HA! To be wary & NOT let that happen. Spook has AWESOME MAMA!!! ¥

  2. My washing machine mode??? I’m get me I ringer washer!!! Umma FUCK some bitches the FUCK UP! !

  3. Good for you for not letting her go with strangers. Just because you go to church, doesn’t make you safe!

  4. I click like because I’m like Yep, she said it. That’s exactly what needed to be said.

  5. Good decision on all fronts, especially wanting to check out a church before letting your kid go. No telling what kind of rituals they got going on.

  6. Yup…I know that washing machine mood…lately I’ve been in heavy duty cycle with my mini and his gang of cowboys…..just actively trying to stay out ta spin cycle, kinda tuf when a person is challenged by someone 3.5 decades younger!! You go Morgue! loved this post!! Can’t wait for more!!

  7. I do wonder if a lot of your problem with other people is the same as what I’m starting to think mine is – being trapped between two social classes with their own rules and norms, which strongly conflict with each other, and you don’t really care much for such things, so you get crap from both sides about opposite things – you’re too classy for the people in the trailer park because you have standards, but the people you know who are “middle class” don’t see it that way because they’ve got all this extra crap that you don’t really care for. I don’t know why people can’t just live and let live.
    As for the bipolar emoji/ 30 likes thing… people won’t even talk to me about bipolar disorder because I’m not bipolar enough to be in their club, and everyone who’s not bipolar will never get it, so I can either shout myself hoarse talking to a wall or not bother. Having said that, I dread something of mine going viral because the one time that happened, it was like the time (as if there was only one) where I tried to park my car in a space that wasn’t long enough, and I got stuck, so I was nudging my car forward and backwards for half an hour, while a crowd of onlookers (this was outside a college and a bus had just emptied right by my car) started taking pictures with their phones and gawking and shouting and pointing and laughing… dear God did they not understand how stressful that was?? That’s how it felt to go viral, not remotely as awesome as I expected and I closed my 2nd blog down because of all the gawkers, they wouldn’t fuck off and they were only reading that one article and leaving the shittiest comments about it on other articles after I closed comments on it. Anyway, that’s why I dread anything getting so truly popular that it becomes a meme or something. I have nightmares about it. I want my traffic to reach 1000 views a day then never grow after that. But I agree it would be nice to have people actually paying attention to shit. I reckon people just scroll through Reader clicking “like” on photos without even clicking on them.

    • For me personally, I don’t care about being popular or viral or anything.
      I just think quality of writing should count for something and some of this shit called writing these days that have thousands of followers..It’s just insulting to one who has been writing for close to forty years about topics other than fashion and what political candidate drives a better limo.
      It’s my writing I think wants the attention, or at least a little recognition.
      Not me. I am the chick in the corner in all black trying to make herself seem unapproachable cos if you try to interact I will either assume you are mocking me or about to engage me in confrontation and then it’s panic panic panic…
      Like the writing, pretend the pegacorns did it.
      Leave me in my corner talking to the cats and laughing at llamas wearing hats.

  8. ‘ why the good people always get sick and die and yet the utterly evil people live on and on…’ It’s because it’s hard to kill something that already has acid in it’s veins.

  9. I deal with children, and bite thier heads off if I get caught in a ‘dark phase’ of my instability cycle! And my parents stayed together and raised us right
    My brother joked we were the modern day Adams Family!

    So be the mom you want and fuck to the world, and I’m sure she’ll grow up to be a well adapted adult with super powers

    And on my front, apparently I really do need to hide the sharp objects now!

    • I never bite the heads off children, I don’t want the chaos of the whole “did ozzy bite the head off a live chicken on stage” thing.
      My kid is gonna be who she is, even if I am perfect, so I may as well be real, ya know?
      As for sharp objects…I guess I have to put away my knives and not mince onions now? Or does that only apply if you’re feeling violent towards things other than onions?

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