My boobs were my tools of the trade for almost 20 months.

Once my youngest daughter weaned herself from the Magical Boob Juice, the fun really began!

(And by fun we all know I mean chaos!)

Pull up a chair, sit a while, read a few pages.

Keep and open mind and a joyful heart and you too can get pumped into the world of The Milk Maid.


8/31/07

Friday Extra Addition- The Deep Stuff

I just returned from about 3 hours of pure HELL! at my parent's house.

Let me give a brief synopsis of my visit:

I get yelled at for not receiving a rebate check in the mail and for paying my bills online.

I have no control over Large Phone Company, father. And I will pay my bills any damn way I choose, thank you. I pay my bills, all of them on time, so take a flying leap. Do not make me write you another letter, daddy dear.

My mother asked me, for the remaining 2 and a half hours, "What is wrooong with yoooou?". Apparently, she does not remember what it is like to have ovaries and hormones and PMS or a period in her post-menopausal little world! So, after 150 minutes of the Same!Freakin!Question! every 5 minutes I blew my top, told her everything in the world was wrong and that I was running away and never coming back. Very 7th grade, I know, but very effective on my mother.

Ya know, the moment I walk into their house I feel the need to cram junk food down my gullet and my whole mood changes to something similar to what Ed Gein must have felt at home. So when I leave, just short of making people into human suits, and I get that first breath of fresh air walking across the yard, I wonder what the hell is so wrong inside that house?

Is it just 40+ years of The Parental Units strife and anger all built up and permeating the home? Is it me? Am I electro-sensitive and there some sort of faulty wiring that I need an EMF detector to find and a great electrician to fix? Are there hidden lay-lines under the house? Indian burial grounds? Haints, spooks, spirits? America's version of Stone Hinge (I've had a lot of time to think, ok)!

And the kicker is (:::laughter, bordering on hysterical snorting:::) I built a HOUSE next to these crazies! On purpose!

I really have been thinking about therapy a lot as of late. I really don't think I am the only person who needs it (ahem, Parental Units), but I am certainly the only one who would benefit from it. I also think that a therapist would have a !FieLd DaY! with me. I'm like Shrek- an onion with lots and lots of layers.

For the fun of it all: skin care products!

--The Milk Maid says normal-schmormal

5 comments:

B said...

Holy shit! You were fine when I talked to you around 5..what the hell happened? Maybe with school, you'll have some distance from them? Might do ya some good. I don't think I could live next door to my parents..but I think there could be some good points about it. Zoloft is my friend, I could introduce you......

Milk Maid said...

Zoloft and I have met- and perhaps we shall reaquaint ourselves soon. All this had happened by 5- I was home then ;) so all was well.

Why can Mr. Rogers be my neighbor?

Marcy "meg" said...

You can take my blood! Good luck girl, I know you will do fine! As much as I get my blood taken, you can move here and take my blood only and have a full time job! I am finally back on the mend... don't send me any more of your kidney stones!!! Next time lets at least have a kidney stone party!

Michell said...

It makes it awfully hard to run away from your parents when you live next door to them. you are a brave girl. I actually thought once I could live next door to my mom but that was when she still liked me. Now she doesn't speak to me and it's actually sort of pleasant in a sad way. Very long story. I'm also very happy now that she lives several states away.

Marcy "meg" said...

As you can see I posted the wrong comment to the wrong post :( So sorry.

Anyway sorry about your parents! You the girls and Jef can run away here for a few days if you would like!