sobriety and trash talk

Out of fear of the stomach flu that has been dropping everyone around me like flies….and out of going over  my two drink limit (by 1) last Monday night…I haven’t really had much to drink this week. Really I’ve had a wine spritzer or two Thursday night, and then 1 mojito on Friday with dinner and girlfriends, but this weekend, nothing. I’ve been too terrified I would get sick myself, or that Simon would get sick and I would be too tired to deal with it all in the middle of the night.  I don’t drink “a lot” really, but I do usually have a drink or two in the evenings. It hasn’t required a concentrated effort to NOT drink on my part, I just haven’t really felt like it and didn’t think about buying any at the store when I was there, so I’m not. I told Gabe this was my “sober lifestyle” and he laughed and laughed at me and said, “Your ‘sober lifestyle’ is you cutting out your two beers and eating two bananas?” (I have eaten more fruit in the past few days too.) “Yes,” I told him. Bananas are really filling, by the way.

Anyhow, this weekend I’ve attempted to do work around the house and really am just finding myself adjusting our shit to fit our tiny house. And I better get used to it, because I think we’re staying here for awhile. And I love our tiny house! But we have too much stuff. Namely, toys. Also, clothing. As I was shuffling boxes in the basement during naptime yesterday, I asked Gabe what he planned to do with the four laundry baskets of clothes he moved from his old apartment, that he hasn’t worn in 10+ years.

He said, “Oh you just come down to my man cave and start bossing me around!” and “I hate to get rid of those clothes because what if I need them someday?”

I said, “What, when you’re homeless and need to dress in a lot of layers?”

 

Him: “No, like during the apocalypse we might need them. Wait, no we’ll probably all die of extreme heat from global warming so I probably won’t need layers.”

Me: “So we can get rid of them?”

Him: “Don’t come down here and start telling me to throw away my stuff! So what if I want to keep my Carhart jacket from high school!?”

I just let it go at that. Our “arguments” are usually so hilarious that one of us is laughing, if not both. I think I could actually get rid of those clothes if I was handing them to a person who would put them on in front of him, so he knew they were being put to good use. Until then, I have to wait until he’s not around and get rid of them somehow.

So I did laundry this weekend, went to the grocery, just lived in my house, the way most people do on weekends I assume, enjoying the company of my kid and husband. It was nice. Then today I went and helped my brother with his new house, which is being prepped for their move-in date on Thursday. I wish I could help them more, but my schedule just doesn’t allow it and I am old.

While we were there working, my sister in law brought my newest nephew over and I got to cuddle him a bit. He’s so stinking cute! But then he had a messy diaper and I turned to someone and said, “I think someone’s poopy!” in my sing songy mom voice and I kind of felt a weird glare from my brother’s mother and father in law. I know my sister in law (I LOVE her) has a strange reaction to words like “poop” and “fart” and is in general a VERY private and polite person. So in that moment I freaked out internally that I should’ve said it in another way. Then I thought, “How the hell do you sugar coat a shitty diaper?”

On the drive home I was trying to come up with some good things to say INSTEAD of, “Pew! You’re stinky!” or the millions of other ways you can say, “My son has shat his pants” more proper-like.

I’m sorry I just don’t think I can do it.

I really don’t! I mean, I get it if you don’t want your kids to say poop (I guess) or fart (for the record, Simon says ‘toot’). But is it THAT bad? I guess I’m just kind of trashy like that? Is it classier to not say poop? Hell if I know.

So THEN (because it was a long drive back from Powell) I was thinking, I’ll bet they think I’m trashy. And then I thought, if that’s trashy then I guess I AM trashy. I glanced down at my outfit. Old mesh shorts, grey-ish (dirty) tennis shoes, mens’ Hanes’ tank top (also gray but on purpose) and thought- yea, I bet they do think that. But I guess I AM that, if that’s what trashy means to them? I don’t know.

They’ve never said I was trashy, nor do I regularly get the impression that they think that, but someone else said to me once, “I just LOVE the fact that you can be so classy one minute and then trashy the next.”

Wait, what? Was that a compliment? It didn’t really bother me at the time that much because I guess everyone’s definition of trashy is different. And to many people, I probably AM trashy. SOMETIMES I don’t bathe my kid even though I know he needs it. Sometimes I laugh when he picks his nose. I OFTEN wear comfy clothes (mesh shorts and the like) out to Target or the grocery because — GUESS WHAT? Life’s not a freaking fashion show.

So I don’t know if the sobriety has me over thinking, or if it’s just something I had the CHANCE to think about because of my “poopy diaper” comment, but I’d just like to state for the record that for the most part, I’m pretty comfortable with who I am. There’s always room for improvement, don’t get me wrong, but I often feel sorry for people who spend their lives trying to look/be like someone they’re not. Maybe it’s getting older, having a kid, not having time, I don’t know- but something has me really thinking that there are a lot of people out there obsessing over all the wrong things.

So: poop fart and a whole lot of other trashy ways to say it….

Good night y’all.

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