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I am so utterly pissed right now. Pissed and hurt.

To make a long story not as long, my dad sucked as a father.

He missed “his weekends”, probably molested me and he stalked my mom.

I’ve gotten (or am getting) pass all of that as best I can.

Several years ago, Dad remarried.

His wife was/is an amazingly strong, wonderful woman who game him two great kids in addition to the son who she had from a previous marriage.

Let me just say here that my dad is crazy. Certifiably crazy. His jealousy and delusions ruined their marriage.

I’m a work-at-home mom.

Everyday, Tucker goes to work and Cara and I stay at our apartment while he’s gone. Granted, we’re not shut-ins or anything…but we are home for most of the day.

For the most part, we live in a decent part of town and crime isn’t a big issue. So, I’ve never really been that concerned about staying home by myself.

Until Thursday.

I got a memo from our apartment complex. The heading read: IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ CAREFULLY!

Truthfully, I was expecting a notice about picking up dog poop or about the importance of not leaving trash bags in the breeze way.

Is it me or does the Sharpie accent really bring out Cara’s eyes?

I got “homework” from my shrink [Hi, Dr. Fox!] yesterday.

Can you believe that? Homework!

Not to make a long story too long, but my task is to compose a list of thing that are true for me.

A list of things that are constant no matter what anyone says.

Let me explain.

You see, I have this problem where I take just about everything that anyone says to heart.

Here’s a scenario for you:

You just got your hair cut and colored. You know that you look H O T.

Cara’s one year birthday is coming up.

I don’t remember giving her permission to turn one. But, when has she ever listened to me?

With the anniversary of her birth looming over my head, I’ve started thinking about birthday parties.

Am I the only one who doesn’t see the point of having a “themed” party for a one year old?

She’s not going to remember the damn thing.

Her toddler friends aren’t going to talk crap about how much Cara’s party sucked.

Tucker’s parents are coming this weekend and we’re going to have a small get-together with them and a couple of our friends.

The stereotypical image that most people have of gamers is either a plump and pasty teenage boy surrounded by empty Mountain Dew cans or the image of a plump and pasty middle aged guy who lives with his mom. [I'm not talking about you of course]

Slowly, but surely, this stereotype is being turned on its head.

Not only are chicks now playing games at an increased rate, some of those chicks are Moms. [gasp!]

Heck, I’m one of them.

With the advent of the Wii and the industry’s increased focus on casual gaming, even the most “normal” mom can delve into the world of video games.

Cara has gotten in her first molar. Bottom left. It’s through the gum and nice and sharp.

Tucker was the one who noticed the thing…I thought Cara was just being a pain in my ass for the general fun of it.

Last night was horrible.

Cara was down by 8pm. We didn’t hear a peep out of her.

Since her mood had been crap for the whole day, I figured that we were finally getting a reprieve.

Nope.

She was just saving everything up until midnight.

I was at Starbuck’s yesterday getting my Pumpkin Spice Latte with no whip and no sprinkles. [OH SO TASTY!]

For some reason I had cash and paid the chick with a ten. She handed me back the change in all ones. Not a big deal. Having a wad of ones makes me feel like I have more money than I really do. [I’m a dork. I embrace this fact]

Of course, she handed me the ones going in every direction known to man. That bugs the shit out of me. All of the bills should be turned in the same direction. Bills laid out all willy-nilly are the stepping stones to anarchy. What’s next? Martial Law?!

This little gem came from Cara’s Johny Jump Up. I’ll make sure that I have her read this before she lights her cigarette and jumps around her bonfire.

This one came from my Spray and Wash. I know that the warning is there because someone actually sprayed the stuff on someone who was still wearing the stained piece of clothing. Who does that? [I had to add the “treat” since my camera’s flash ate it.]

If I wasn’t well acquainted with my angel’s [cough] father, I could probably be convinced that he was a goat.

Case in point:

Not only does she insist on climbing on everything, she also eats everything.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad that I don’t have a picky eater. She’ll eat anything I put in front of her. [except acorn squash]

But paper?

Dog food??

Wood chips?!

Come on!!!

I don’t mean that she just puts it in her mouth to “taste” it. NO! I mean she eats it. Over the lips, past the gums, watch out stomach – here it comes!