Hanging on to My Sanity by the Skin of My Teeth

Who came up with that corny saying? Teeth don’t even have skin. Sometimes, the morning after a bottle of merlot, they are a tad bit fuzzy but, that is neither here nor there and, I digress.

So, what’s driving me around the bend these days (another corny saying that makes no sense to me, whatsoever)? Let’s explore:

-Hugh is in Las Vegas at the National Bowling tournament. He is Homer Simpson but without the donuts.

-I am parenting on my own which, ok, is the least of my worries now that the kids are older and less likely to drink bleach from underneath the sink (My younger sister once took a lick off a can of Comet, thinking it was parmesan cheese. True story).

-I had to run wrestling practice on my own last night although; Hugh did have the foresight to arrange for the High School wrestling team to be there to scrimmage (is it called scrimmaging in wrestling? I have no idea) the boys so; I didn’t really have to stress nearly as much as that other time that he abandoned me to the mercy of the parents (also, since the Hostiles have left the program, the remaining parents are wonderful).

-My hair. Good Lord. Not only has it reached the point of no return when it comes to the shagginess but the grays are staging a coupe. I might just break down and make an appointment for a cut but, the dye job will have to wait for the weekend so; let’s pretend that Skunk looks good on me.

-The Teenager has been invited to go camping with Kaz and her family. Camping is no big deal but, they are traveling to Utah to do it and I’m not 100% comfortable with the idea of sending my preshus off on a road trip even though I know, and trust, Kaz’s parents. The apron strings, they are tied tight.

-My ass. Again, good LORD. Hugh has been doing fantastically well on his P90x fitness program and has lost about ten pounds as a result. Every one of those pounds managed to relocate to my butt. I’m serious, I am running a safe house for wayward pounds on my ass which, sounds like a charitable deed but, yeah; not happy.

-While I am doing really well on the No Chocolate, No Diet Pepsi for Lent program, I am eating anything else that isn’t tied down, especially if it is coated in pink frosting and sprinkles. Donuts, I am looking at you.

-Baseball registration ended last Friday. I still have people calling me at all hours and accosting me at the supermarket to beg for admittance into the program.

-Battlestar Galactica ends this Friday night and I have no idea what I am going to do on Friday nights from now on. Hugh has suggested something called dating. I don’t know, sounds fishy to me.

-The Man-Cub pulled a rare poutfest this morning when I refused to allow him to attend school in his pajamas. We had an actual argument over whether or not pajamas are appropriate school attire. Now I'm worried that, maybe, he isn’t too old to know better than to drink the bleach from under the sink.

-I went into my closet to get dressed this morning and realized that I hate every item of clothing that I own with the exception of my red Wonder Woman boots and, where the hell am I going to wear those?

-I just re-read this list and wondered why I am being such a big crybaby.

Huh. Must be that time of the month.