pretend im a horse with one wounded leg. just fucking shoot me already.

really, if i ever ask to move in with my parents again, please, by all means, remind me of today. she calls it "convenience of living". bullshit, i call it "lick my balls you self-righteous bitch monger". you can take your house rules and shove them down that Queen-like throat of yours. heres some for you... house rule #368: when you actually reverse time and push both my children from YOUR loins, then, and only then, can you tell me how to raise them. house rule #369: when my kid says someone is a "babe" or that someone (cough cough) is being "totally cranky", thats allowed. in fact its looked highly upon. house rule #370: some kids (gasp) fart. and not in the bathroom. and like everything else, youll get over it. so, now that weve come to some sort of agreement, lay the fuck off about how i parent. quit trying to make me into the parent you were, or werent. quit trying to make me into the parent you want me to be. im not those things, im the parent i am. and im not ashamed. i admit im not the best, but im certainly not even close to par with the worst. at least im fucking involved. at least im teaching them to be polite and kind and generous and loyal and honest. at least im here. thats more than a lot of people can say. so back the fuck off already. the "you need to pay better attention to your nurturing parental skills" bullshit is getting old. i love them immensely, and they know that.

so there. keep on trucking, mom.
(damn ive wanted to actually use that line for so long)