I am not a number, I am a free man!

Spoke to mom today and let her know that her fiber bars have fucked me up. She laughed and told me Bear (stepdad) ate two in one day a few weeks ago and encouraged me to imagine what that did to his system. And people wonder why I talk about shit all the time?! My family is obsessed. Except poor Bear. No one must ever mention they know about this fiber bar catastrophe, as he is actually very private and easily embarassed.You think being married to my mother would have cured him of that, but noooOOOOoo.

I also meant to say a few weeks ago that we were talking about what life might be like once the babies were here. I think I said something about how four year olds are supposed to have shorter attention spans, like running around, and be playful. My mother then said, ‘Just don’t break their spirits.’

Um, what?

She proceeded to tell me that when I was three, my teacher told her that I was refusing to participate in singing a song.

‘Do you remember the tree song, Existere? You know – I am a tree, shake shake shake, apples fall down?’

No, Mom. I don’t.

Apparently I told her I would not sing the song because it was not true. I was not a tree, I was a person. She grabbed my arm, screamed at me to always do what the teacher said, and gave me a spanking.

Poor me! I was fucking right, as well. I’m not a tree, damnit! My mother ruefully acknowledged that I am not a tree, I never was a tree, and she should have let me not sing that song if I didn’t want to. She also said that by the time my little sister came, she was so worn out from me that she let Blondie do whatever the hell she wanted. Perhaps this explains Blondie’s immediate ease with strangers and acting like a lunatic (I mean this in a good way), while it takes me awhile to warm up to things.

Blondie went through a phase in her teen years of imitating velociraptors. I spent my time creating imaginary worlds by writing and – I admit it – playing with Fisher Price little people. I always thought this was a charming indication of my creativity and imagination, but perhaps it is evidence of my broken spirit.

I AM NOT A TREE.

Tags: baby, broken spirit, childrearing, family, memory, mom, poop, rebellion, sister, tree-tinted glasses