Practice Makes Perfect

**DISCLAIMER**

My potty mouth really ran away with me during this post.. I'd really like to apologize, but you did, after all, come here of your own free will..

I am absolutely convinced that talking to yourself is like pot. Everyone's done it, but not everyone admits they have.
I'll admit it (on both counts, talking to myself & trying pot - though for the record, it was only twice but I did inhale).
I talk to myself all the time. I like to think of it as personal pep talks, but alot of times it's rehearsing for imaginary conversations.
For instance, if I'm on my way home from work and I've gotten an email from Oliver's teacher that says he threw a chair and then he skipped class (that last part has never happened, the first part has, several times - my boy has anger management issues), I might want to rehearse for the conversation I know is coming. Because honestly, what I really want to say goes something like this:

Me: Oliver, what the fuck is the matter with you, why did you go ape-shit on your teacher?!?! I think I will have to take your flat screen TV, and X-box 3 and put them in my room as punishment, you'll have to make do with my big-ass TV and Super Nintendo. Now maybe next time you'll think about it before you decide to act like an evil little shit.

But I totally realize that I can't call my son an evil little shit, and I probably shouldn't say "WTF?" to him either. Thus the rehearsal.*

Other times I practice for conversations that I know are almost certainly never going to happen. Like today. My bitch, I mean sister**, is in town and asked Mom and the kids to go to a movie and then dinner with her. I really don't like the idea of the kids spending time with her. Not only because I don't trust her, but also because I hate that they think she's nice and that she cares about them. I hate knowing that at some point she is going to hurt them.

But I wasn't off of work yet when Mom needed to leave and if she really wants to torture herself by spending time with the evil bitch then I should be supportive. So the kids are with her as I type, and on my way home from work, I practiced what I would say to her if she were speaking to me, it went something like this:

Me: Amara, I really don't know what your problem is, since you've never bothered to actually tell me, but I pity you. You have surrounded yourself with all of these wonderful people who don't know you. They know you're sweet and funny and caring and all of that bull-shit, but they don't know the insane and vindictive things you are capable of. You only have one friend that actually knows you and you don't even like her that much.
You have cut yourself off from your family and embraced your in-laws like they are some kind of saints. I don't get it. You MIL is a slut, and your FIL is a snob (and also kindof slutty) but you think they're fantabulous. How the hell are they better than our Mom?? At least she never deliberately hurt us.
You're a sorry piece of shit, and I don't want you around my kids anymore. You can't have your cake and eat it too, you have to pick. If you want to be one big happy fucking family you have to acknowledge my husband and apologize to me. If not then fuck off.

Unfortunately, she's not speaking to me, so I will never get to deliver my diatribe, and when we see each other at family functions, she puts on a great show, so that the whole family thinks I'm the problem. It pisses me off, obviously. But really, if I'm being honest, it's probably a good thing she's not speaking to me, because I get very doormatty with her, so if we did talk it would probably go like this:

Me: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! I miss you.

* I promise that I'm not THAT bad of a mother. I would never actually say that to Oliver. I would eventually come up with something very stern, yet supportive and ground him (unless he chose to be beaten, in which case, who am I to argue??)
** I haven't had a normal conversation with my sister, Amara, since the week before Perry moved out. Don't ask why, because I don't actually know, when I asked she said that I was "too sick to understand and she wouldn't talk to me until I got some help". I have never so much as touched my nephew and neither he nor my niece know who I am. I suspect that our evil, vindictive, back-stabbing, self-serving and very bi-polar cousin is fueling the fire, and I'm fairly certain that her husband, Mr. Incredible is thrilled.