Holy Batballs it’s Friday, and I haven’t done my Finish the Sentence Friday thing I do to keep blogging even though I kind of want to ignore my blog for a while but am totally aware that some day, I’m going to want to come back to this blogging thing and wish I still had followers, which is why I do Finish the Sentence Friday. It keeps me luring you to this place until it’s a place we both like. Brace yourself for Madhattery nonsense.
I wish I knew what I want to write about for this post. I can’t decide between all the whats I wish I knew, so I’m going to hit it up in a quick list off the top of my head, and if you know me, there’s nothing quick about the top of my head. My brain has more stamina than a female porn star.
I wish I knew…
I wish I knew what other people want.
I am on the autism spectrum, and I naturally don’t play the social games people play. I naturally loathe most of the social games you guys play. I am kind of understanding that chit chat, as useless as it appears, and as boring as it is, is actually a bonding thing people do like dogs sniffing each others’ butts, but because I don’t FEEL the bonding, it’s still very useless to me.
As a writer, this is the one of the worst weaknesses to have. I don’t know what you want me to write about, what posts are funny for Facebook shares, what book topic you are most apt to buy, what wording of the title will entice you to read… I don’t even know when I’m being funny unless I can hear you laugh. I don’t feel like I’m connecting with too many readers, which is important for writers to do in this day and age.
As a mother, it’s even worse. Other mothers can deal with being imperfect because they have the social charm to fake it, but I don’t have that social charm. What you see is what you get. Because of that, you see my flaws, and you can use them against me. I hate it when people do that. I want to make it stop, but I don’t want to be something I’m not to make it stop.
Then, I’m not even sure how to raise my kids. I want them to be social butterflies, but I am not, and it’s kind of hard to teach something you don’t understand.
I wish I knew what the universe looked like in a place with more dimensions in their space.
This one is crazy, but to prepare for my memoir about it… I talk to dead people, and there’s a portal in my house which is why it’s so haunted. I hear ghosts, demons, angels, gods, and unknown entities. There seems to be a time lapse between worlds and ours, and when I record some voices, it’s hard to hone in on the voices because everyone is talking at once, and some of them have an echo (everything is repeated twice, the second louder than the first). I just want to understand the science behind this multi-dimensional universe because basic human psychology wants to make sense of things, but I have to accept that we just don’t know these things, but it doesn’t stop me from constantly trying to figure it out because I’m human and that’s a human habit.
I wish I knew how hard motherhood was going to be.
Most of what my kids have thrown at me was not in that book, “What to Expect When Expecting.” Most of motherhood is shit we aren’t supposed to talk about, so it’s a big fat surprise.
After going 3 days without sleep and at the worst of a migraine, leaving for school, I buckle in 2 kids as the third kid sits on yesterday’s milkshake. I unbuckle the other two, drag all 3 back into the house, change the clothes, get out to the car, buckle 3 kids in, start the car, “Mommy, I have to pee.” Drag all three kids back out of the car, kid pees. I make the other two try to pee. Argue for a minute about it. All three back down to the car, “Stop running away! Where are you going? Get into the car! Put that down!,” buckled, drive off. Halfway to school, “Mom, where’s my backpack?” When I finally get to school, sign them in for being late, without a backpack or finished homework, tired and ready to cry, everyone gives me dirty looks that later turn into comments like “You are neglecting your children’s education because you can’t wake up in time for school, and this has got to stop, or we’ll be calling CPS.” Rumors take place, “She just doesn’t care about her children,” which later turns into, “Gasp! You dare send your child to school in 55 degree freezing weather without a coat?” This is what happens when you put people in charge of children who never had children.
Nobody prepared me for this kind of life… I work harder as a mother than I ever did as a soldier, but I get no glory. I get no respect. I get no appreciation. All I get is criticism. Arguments. And ALL THE BLAME. I love my kids, and that love is worth it all, but a little heads up about the slavery bad guy aspect would have been nice.
I wish I knew a lot of things.
Why do males have nipples?
Why are people so fucking stupid?
What would math look like if we did math in the base system of the square root of 2?
Why did I walk into this room?
Questions like this is why I missed my exit and forgot where I was going and wake up to find myself at the Burger King’s drive thru when I meant to go to the Board of Education’s office.