Dear Sanity-fairy

I know you're awfully busy ensuring the marbles stay put in so many other heads, but if you could just spare a moment I think I might have an idea that could save you some precious time. Life for moms and dads every where would be so much saner if you could, you know, maybe, see to it that their children didn't already know everything. It's awfully difficult to keep it together when the 5 year old or 3 year old is smarter than you. Or at least when they think they are.

Thanks,

Loopy Mom in U.S.

For real?

Anyone else think it's a bad idea to a put a three-year old in a very fancy dress 2 1/2 hours before she NEEDS to be in the very fancy dress?

Good. I thought maybe it was just me being unreasonable again. ;)

In case you're wondering

I write.

It's what I do. It's what I do to earn a few bucks. It's what I do to manage my stress.

I write.

Sometimes, when I'm hotter under the collar than I'm comfortable being, I write big long tirades. It's better than the alternative. It's not a good idea to speak at the one that irks you when you're not calm. At least that's the conclusion I've reached.

In those instances - the ones where I need to tirade through my finger tips - I rely on my blog to absorb the emotion. Sometimes I keep it a private listing. Sometimes I don't.

The yesterday I did not. And that's ok. I needed to get those words out. I even needed someone else to see them - anyone. For those that did, I thank you for the messages back or at least just the eye balls. Those that didn't - you didn't miss much really. It's sounds a lot worse than it was. :)

The thing is every now and then, after the written word has done it's job of being balm to my hot temper, I have a change of heart. Like now. It's not that I take back the words. I don't. They came out on their own accord because they needed to. I simply put my fingers on the keys and let them take over. Whatever hits the screen hits it because it had to find it's way there. Then I'm cooler. I'm more level headed. I stop and think about whether those particular words are the ones I want the spark - the one that set me off - to see.

Sometimes it is. Sometimes it's not.

As much as those words were what I wanted to say to my spark - they are words I can't say to her. So I took down the posts. All this to say, if you think something's missing - it is. But it's gone because it served it's purpose and it's time had come to an end.

I might have to scream

Am I the only one that thinks it's pretty low-class to even *joke* about how someone else's loss puts a crimp in your weekend plans?

I have to do something tomorrow I'm dreading. I'm shopping for bridesmaid dresses. It's not so much the dresses that have me in a foul mood, it's the bride. Don't ask. I'm too ticked off to explain that one.

So one of the other maids can't make it tomorrow. Know why? No, of course you don't. I will tell you why. She can't make it because SOMEONE DIED. She has to go to a funeral - not a family member, not a close friend. It's an aquaintence of a friend's. Regardless, we're talking death.

And the bride? All she can do is crack jokes inferring that this deceased woman had the nerve to die and set a funeral on the same weekend she's going to pick out gowns. What the hell?!

I want to smack her. I do. I really do.

Hard.