* this is the grand finale in my series. . . .Tale of Freedom.
Part I
Part II
I have something to say.
Sometimes, I feel ummm. . . . . shackled.
Bound.
Gagged.
Tied.
Enslaved to my circumstances.
Sometimes, I want to yell about it. I want to slap somebody in the face and say, “WHY DON’T I HAVE A JOB???? WHY MUST I STAY AT HOME ALL FRIGGIN’ DAY AND CLEAN UP THE SAME DAMN ROOM 35 TIMES? WHY DON’T I HAVE CONVERSATIONS THAT DON’T END IN HOW MANY DAYS UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY AND MY SISTER JUST STUCK HER FINGER UP MY NOSE?”
But I don’t yell about it because that would be rude. And also, nobody would hear me. And if they did hear me, I would be judged. And I have a sneaky suspicion that judgement would be harsh.
Also, I know. . .there’s no other place I’d rather be. Most days.
But, it doesn’t change the fact that I do feel this way, and . . . .I feel just horrible about it.
So horrible that I secretly wear my pants that are 1 1/2 sizes too small so that the button stabs me in that tender place right below my belly button all day long. It helps me remember what a horrible, horrible person I can be. Also, I am forced to dig my underwear out of my hiney like every 7-9 minutes, because when your pants are too small somehow your underwear become too small too. I think it has something to do with physics. I’m not sure.
In a blatant attempt at self mutilation, I wore my too small pants yesterday.
It had to be done.
I needed to be reminded that I am not shackled. In fact, my circumstances are quite the opposite. I am Free, Free, Free. As the wind.
And how do I know this?
Because my babies are sick. Were sick. Are getting sick. Are just getting over being sick.
And I think that I almost died from a broken heart each and every time I saw their watery eyes drifting into La-La land because their fevers were making them so weak. And their tummies were all queasy and yucky, that all they could stomach was Sprite. And then there were the headaches, that made them groin and moan in agony.
Uhhhh. Horrible stuff.
Which would have been even horribler (its a word, but umm. . . don’t look it up) if I had to get up and hand them off to somebody else because I had to go make money so my kids could eat.
Or because my crack pipe husband makes me have a job.
Or because if I miss a day of work at the Coal Mine, they’ll lay me off.
Or because if I don’t show up to the strip club, some other chic may take my pole.
I’m free. Free to do as I will.
And I’d do well to remember that.
And so would you. Cause you’re free too. Traditional job, or stay at home job. I’m guessing you’re pretty damn free to take care of your little ones when they’re sick. Or yourself. Or whoever might be roaming around sick that you’d like to take care of.
Unless of course, your husband has a crack pipe. Then, you may be out of luck. But ummm. . . .honestly I think you have bigger issues.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – — – – – – – – – – –
My husband does not smoke a crack pipe.
I’m such a lucky girl.
Nor does he smoke mary janes, cigars, cigarrettes, or reefer. Is that how you say it? Is that something you smoke? I don’t really know. I don’t smoke either.
He does however drink.
Pretty much anything I put in front of him.
Today its juice.
Because my house is running rampant with colds, upset bellies, and general queasiness.
I’m gonna need him to load up on his Vitamins so that he doesn’t get sick too.
Cause if he does, Lord help us all.
Orange Energy Drink
You could certainly use a juicer to make this drink. But its definitely not necessary. Any cheap blender will do the trick!
Ingredients:
1 cup Apple Juice
2 oranges, peel removed
4 strawberries, stems removed
1 apple, core removed and roughly chopped
2 stalks of celery, roughly chopped
1 carrot
Directions:
1. In a blender, add apple juice, oranges, and strawberries. Blend. Next, add apple pieces, celery, and carrot. Blend until purreed.
Pour mixture over a fine mesh strainer to remove most of the pulp. Pour into glasses, drink, and be well!
