the Bitch in the house

Things are movin’ right along. Maybe not as planned, but moving in some general direction nonetheless. I feel a bit as if I started on this riveride awhile back and have been navigating rapids ever since! At times it is easier than others. It’s not so easy right now. Even though I feel as though I won’t wash adrift, I just don’t know where I’m headed. So many things seem to be beyond my own grasp- to catch hold of– or, I feel as though I’m at a spot where it doesn’t look like I want to go ashore; either because it is not safe or I don’t want what is there.

Right now, I am thinking about how to navigate the got’stogetpaid drive I have within. I don’t even know what I want to do, but feel like I would like some autonomy and safety. BigShot is navigating his own existential crisis at the moment and I can’t tell if we’re goin’ down this river together or his raft is gonna turn mine with the kids – assunder. In his way, he is efforting the relationship, and in his way he is going about the business of what I cannot manage because just goin’ with the groove has got me overwrought.

And the other day I saw this quizzicle quizzer and decided to see where I landed – y’know I thought it could’ve easily been the Book of Ruth, but it wasn’t: [[ Which book of the bible am I? According to Quizilla, I am most like Proverbs because, as they say about me, “you’re full of wisdom and probably top of your class. People like to come to you for help or advice cuz you always know just what to say…” ]] Ain’t that predictable?! Always got a help for others from the cadre of horrors that I’ve managed to overcome, but cannot figure out what to do with myself right now!

And last night another strange occurance: I hit a softball. Not just any, I hit a lot of them – yelling FUCKER at the top of my lungs. They went far. I’ve actually never hit a ball with a bat before. Not even a toy bat like ThePrince had as a child. I hit them mad and I smashed their ugly faces in. And it was good. Each one had a name, a name of someone who has hurt me. Though this is very good therapy, I do not believe I was ready for this variete’ before now. I felt like crying, I felt like doing something about all this trouble I deal with, and I felt better afterwards.

Excepting for the little boy whom I accidentally immasculated. He was watchin’ his pops hit like a pro. He was wearin’ his littleleague shirt and obviously wanted to do well. While I was waitin’ for auntieBee to finish out her pitches, this kid starts giving me crap. ‘Coz I said I was afraid to Bee and he heard and was makin’ fun… kinda tryin’ to trashtalk me in a 6yearold way. I just spun on my heels and assured him that even if I failed, bein’ older than his mama entitled me to at least a good try. And then when my token clinked down the coinslot, I hit em hard. I hit nearly all of them. Even the pitches so far out of the strike zone that I had to chase at them, I hit ’em. And this kid was in the cage next to me not able to hit a thing. He couldn’t even get the teeball cage to cooperate with his ego. And he left broken.

I ended up feelin’ sorry for him and then thinking to myself, as a feminist mama, do I castrate my own boys? I try so damn hard not to, but it is ugly the awful powerful and sexist messages about what women are which seep into my house, worn on their backs – like a tick on a dog or cooties from the viral-land. And it is awfully hard to live in a testosteroney-poisoned environment such as I do, which leads to more worries on top of real troubles with a side of jockitch… to go.

When I got home, I learned that Lil’Einstein had jumped off the diving board without my help, without me even there! Was it all the times I helped him before, or was it easier for him to be risky without me watching?

The humidity is rising, but the storm clouds seem to breeze on by…