Mom, Mommy, Mama, Ma, Ma, Mum, Mommy

I don't want kids until I go on many many vacations

that I wouldn't be able to take if I had snotty nosed

back talking little shiz heads running around.

(kinda looks like Derrick huh?!)

I'm just trying to be real.
Don't give me your judgemental
critical crap about how I'm being selfish &
about how children are the
greatest blessing that you will
ever experience in this lifetime.

Until I have my own kids

I won't believe you, so you can shut it.

Because I've seen it all.
There are 5 kids in my family.
I'm surprised we are all still alive.

I've also been to Wal-Mart and sacrament meeting &
I believe those two environments
are about the best birth control available.

Better than the pill by far.
I have to remember to take a pill.

It takes a lot to forget
scenes of mothers who have become deaf

to the screams of their own children.

Mothers with perma smiles plastered

on their paint canvas faces,

the dark circles under their eyes so caked

in makeup that you need a putty knife scrape it all off.

All for the sake of "being perfect"

and fitting in at church.

Mothers who eventually lose it because they just
found out their eldest is in jail,
the middle just caught
her and the hubs doing the hibbidy dibbity,
and their youngest just spewed red
Kool-Aid and cheerios on the new carpet!

(After this post I will miraculously become
big with child because of my blasphemy
toward the mother/child relationship.)

So anyway I would like to one day take a

long road trip up and down the west coast.

And when I get to Washington

this is where I'm staying.

Treehouse Point!
It's a little bed and breakfast.
Imagine... Swaying in a treehouse
suspended over a rushing river in the
middle of a forest during a
massive thunderstorm.

I know it sounds crazy,
but at least it would be fun.

Maybe one day when I've completely
lost it sqeezing something the size of a
grapefruit out of my nostril will
appeal to me as much as my cute
litte treehouse vacation.