The Legend of Johnny and Sid
OK, OK. I've been remiss in my duties, I'll admit it. My cohort, Ms. ESG, a/k/a The Goddess (or, if you make a typo like I just did, then deleted, "The Goodess", which is equally appropriate), has been a much busier bee than me (I?) in posting to this fine blog -- created, incidentally, by The "Goodess" herself (I was the spiritual advisor). Since my life, in spite of my incessant whining about it, is actually pretty pleasant most days, it's sometimes hard to dredge up something to recount that I think others would find interesting, because, as we've already established, I'm a cynic by nature. I could post about my job, but that would be a) potentially dull -- I write contracts, and b) potentially dangerous (click on the link to Dooce, here and to the right of the screen). I could write about Ex-Husband #2, but will only do so in a tangential way, due to reasons previously outlined re: job. And yes, there is an Ex-Husband #1, but I have no idea where he is (Massachusetts?) or what he's doing now (teaching?), plus he was kind (I was the idiot in that one), so it's probably best to just leave the poor man out of my blog saga entirely. I do currently have a beau, but since the bloom isn't quite off the rose yet, I don't want to jinx it at this point. Or immortalize the relationship in print if it doesn't work out. Which leaves, finally(?), my kids.
Yes, there are kids. I have two, with Ex- #2 (a/k/a Sparky, as ESG likes to call him). A girl and a boy, ages eight and four. And although I think they're excessively adorable and charming and all that, I realize that they're my kids. You may find their antics engaging, or you may not, since THEY'RE NOT YOUR KIDS (well, except if you're Sparky). I mean, we've all, at one point or another, had to look at someone else's baby as though it were cute, but inwardly we were thinking, "That child looks like a mutant." Now, before you go getting all offended on me and saying I'm vile, that every child is a precious gift from God, etc. etc., let me say this: I'm with you. Every child is a precious gift, and I am quite frequently vile. But you know you've thought someone else's kid was ugly/annoying/insert-your-fave-derogatory-adjective HERE, at least once in your life. If you say you haven't, I won't believe you. And we're all about the truth here at Wanna-Cookie. Right, ESG? So, any posts I make about them will be held to the same standard I'd hold for posts on other topics...if it's not something I think would amuse if the children weren't mine own, I won't be putting it out there.
Anyway, my kids. I'm sure you're wondering about tagline for this post, and how it relates. I'd be wondering, too -- I have a tendency to digress. Sorry. So, in addition to my children being my moon and sun, my dear, sweet, loveable cookies and all that, they sometimes have a proclivity to snarkiness. I mean, they're really intense. And when something's on their minds, they make it known.
Keep in mind I work full-time, and am sole physical custodian, for which I am grateful, but, as ESG says...by Thursdays I'm frequently no more than an oily puddle on the floor by the time I get home. And the children, having spent their respective days at school and preschool, are rather weary themselves. And vocal. So things sometimes get a little weird at our house in the evenings, which is how my children came to be nicknamed, with all due affection, Johnny and Sid.
As in Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious, erstwhile vocalist and bassist, respectively, for the Sex Pistols.
Yes, there are kids. I have two, with Ex- #2 (a/k/a Sparky, as ESG likes to call him). A girl and a boy, ages eight and four. And although I think they're excessively adorable and charming and all that, I realize that they're my kids. You may find their antics engaging, or you may not, since THEY'RE NOT YOUR KIDS (well, except if you're Sparky). I mean, we've all, at one point or another, had to look at someone else's baby as though it were cute, but inwardly we were thinking, "That child looks like a mutant." Now, before you go getting all offended on me and saying I'm vile, that every child is a precious gift from God, etc. etc., let me say this: I'm with you. Every child is a precious gift, and I am quite frequently vile. But you know you've thought someone else's kid was ugly/annoying/insert-your-fave-derogatory-adjective HERE, at least once in your life. If you say you haven't, I won't believe you. And we're all about the truth here at Wanna-Cookie. Right, ESG? So, any posts I make about them will be held to the same standard I'd hold for posts on other topics...if it's not something I think would amuse if the children weren't mine own, I won't be putting it out there.
Anyway, my kids. I'm sure you're wondering about tagline for this post, and how it relates. I'd be wondering, too -- I have a tendency to digress. Sorry. So, in addition to my children being my moon and sun, my dear, sweet, loveable cookies and all that, they sometimes have a proclivity to snarkiness. I mean, they're really intense. And when something's on their minds, they make it known.
Keep in mind I work full-time, and am sole physical custodian, for which I am grateful, but, as ESG says...by Thursdays I'm frequently no more than an oily puddle on the floor by the time I get home. And the children, having spent their respective days at school and preschool, are rather weary themselves. And vocal. So things sometimes get a little weird at our house in the evenings, which is how my children came to be nicknamed, with all due affection, Johnny and Sid.
As in Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious, erstwhile vocalist and bassist, respectively, for the Sex Pistols.
posted by TwinsGoddess at
6:37 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home