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Category: Fret Deliveries

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Crazy?!

Crazy?!

I am losing my mind. Am I’m losing it to my Parkinson’s Disease?  To age? To maladies yet to be diagnosed? I stare into space, trying desperately to remember what was right there, right there, on the tip of my tongue just moments ago. Then it hits me: I have children. It’s not the Parkinson’s Disease.  Nor age, nor my blessedly over-committed life. No, it’s those plotting little hellions, the Teen and Tween, who separately and together are intent on exacting my mother’s revenge. It’s my hell spawn who are driving me bonkers. Their ability to jump up and down on my very last nerve is masterful. If only they would channel this genius to their studies, they’d be the… READ MORE

Narcissist-in-Chief

Narcissist-in-Chief

Yet another thing I hold against Donald Trump: he has raised the level of how people view narcissism to such a degree that it’s hard to recognize, let alone acknowledge, a garden variety narcissistic personality-disordered human. “Sloane is such a self-involved, narcissistic bitch,” I complain to Eleanor about a mutual, childhood friend.  “Really? Narcissistic?”
 “Textbook.” “At least she doesn’t claim ‘her memory is great, maybe the best ever,’” Eleanor replies. “Like you know who.”  “But she does look in the mirror constantly and relate every story I tell back to her.” “I hadn’t noticed.” “You only talk to her on the phone.” “True.” “Do you actually believe that her daughter is both the head cheerleader and valedictorian of her high… READ MORE

It Takes a Coven

It Takes a Coven

It’s said that doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is a definition of insanity. But it’s also widely acknowledged that, because randomness makes children feel unsafe, routine is essential to the task of parenting. And, naturally, it’s not a routine unless it’s repeated. Regularly. I routinely ask – nay, beg – my children to clean up after themselves, wear sunblock, brush their teeth, hair, sometimes the dog. I regularly remind them, ever so gently of course, to complete, double check, maybe even attempt the extra credit work on their assignments. I ask them to organize their rooms, their homework sometimes even their thoughts. And each time, I hope against hope that one or both… READ MORE

Flu Fret

Flu Fret

“If you’ve got your health, you’ve got everything.” Well, then, I am lacking. I am afflicted. But so are many. My conditions are my constant companions. They’ll shuffle along this mortal coil with me for as long as I shuffle along upon it.  But there is a gift in my conditional state: my chronic ailments fortify me against the indignities of aging. When I was a child–back in the dinosaur age–there was a limited artillery in the asthma fighting arsenal. Compromised since my first wheezy breath, I was a Marax kid. (Marax shouldn’t ring a bell with many – it’s no longer manufactured in the USA because Ephedra, since banned, was an integral part of the formula.) I was a… READ MORE

Trait Fret: Part 2

Trait Fret: Part 2

“I love you more.” “No, I do, mommy.” “Nope, it’s settled. I do.” “Okay, well, maybe,” my 10-year-old mutters as his sleepy eyes close. “Good night,” I whisper as I turn out the light and turn to exit. THUMP! He stirs. “Mom, are you okay?” “Maybe,” I reply, wincing from my knee-banging stumble over errant, over-priced footwear. A pair of them, actually. I limp from his bedroom, “Go to sleep! Now!” It’s one thing to see one’s worst characteristics reflected back in living color. But to see the things that piss you off most about your spouse rendered in both children–like stumbling on errant Tretorns, Vans or whatevers while exiting a tender mother-son moment… well, that’s when thoughts of Chardonnay… READ MORE

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