A Limerick for My Baby

Twenty one years ago today

On a hot humid summer’s day

Zoe landed on earth

(Yes—some call it birth)

‘Twas done in a quite painful way

                                ~

*Fair Warning ⚠️ details of the story:

Are, well…indecorous and gory

From ruptured membranes 

(Some might complain)

No meds, IV or suppository 

                                ~

“Stop screaming and try to focus!”

“Happy place! Use self hypnosis!”

I was a pirate “avast ye”

In pain “my dungbie!”

I had a baby— hmm almost didn’t notice

                                ~

Although that last line isn’t true

Every cramp, stretch mark, saggy boob

I’d do it again

My daughter, my friend

Because my life, it began with you!

                                ~

Happy Birthday little Zoe!

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<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/relieved/”>Relieved</a&gt;, 


U With the Uterus 

Hey! You with the uterus! 

Stop right there!

Drop that insurance card!

Hands in the air!

You suspected pregnancy 

And bought a urine test

Don’t try to pass it off as new— 

The condition pre-exists!

Mammograms and Pap smears

All your women’s needs

You expect them to be covered 

In your health plan? That’s just greed.

Rich old white male politicians 

Won’t vote to subsidize the cost

Of care to keep you healthy here

In America— democracy is lost

Though they all had mothers 

Who birthed them at one time

Do their moms see what happened 

To their Repugnant offspring? It’s a crime.

A tax cut has priority 

Over compassion and ethics

Viagra however— treats a condition 

Which never pre-exists

So, you with the uterus, 

Happy Mothers Day!

Of that uterus, what happens to it— 

By the way, you have no say

Though the senate won’t approve this bill, 

Their version keeps women under attack

Because it’s not orange, no it’s Women 

Women are the GOP’s new black

Reprehensible Ex-Representative Joe Walsh 

Today is a two post day because I feel the need to vent. A fellow blogger (loisajay1213) commented on a post I published two days ago, about pre-existing conditions. She asked if I had seen Jimmy Kimmel on the news last night. I had not, but I’ve mastered google, and easily found a monologue of his which was likely the subject of the news story. 

During that same google search I also found a fine example of the hypocrisy of the party of family values. 

Former representative, and current jackass, Joe Walsh (R-Ill.), a man who (illegally) doesn’t feel the need to pay his own child support—tweeted about Jimmy Kimmel’s monologue, writing: 

I predict Joe Walsh will someday be a lonely old man in a nursing home whom none of his children care to visit. 

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<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/none/”>None</a&gt;

Speaking of Cake

Speaking of cake, today is my birthday. Please don’t comment happy birthday, because I’ll ignore it. I hate everything about birthdays. I only mention mine to illustrate the fact that birthdays are just another day. If a person (I) expects people to bow at their (my) will, just this one day a year, they (I) will be sorely disappointed. 

I woke up to the sound of my 16 year old son’s manly voice: “Happy Birthday Mom, I’m sick.” 

Regardless of how that sentence started, my response was the same as it is every week when he tries this: 

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! YOU’RE NOT SICK! GET IN THE SHOWER AND GET ON THAT BUS!” 

He continued as always: “I was getting sick yesterday, if you didn’t notice, you’re not paying attention.”

Me: “OH MY GOD, GET ON THAT BUS! I AM NOT CALLING THE SCHOOL!” 

I could go into more details, but I choose to save those for the Department of Children and Family Services. When they knock on my door to inquire as to why my son doesn’t show up for school once or twice a week, I’ll invite them in for a slice of birthday cake, and hope they can advise me on how to parent this 16 year old who towers over me, and respects me not, because I’m at a loss. 

Yay me! Another year older.

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<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/timely/”>Timely</a&gt;

An Intoxicated Volcano Erupting with Shimmering Bliss that Smells Pretty Good

Every once in a while it’s nice to reflect on the good things. Today I will attempt to list 10 things in my life that are pleasant.

  1. My children are all healthy. That wasn’t the case 6 months ago, so I am…beyond any interjection your thesaurus has to offer…I am an intoxicated volcano erupting shimmering bliss that smells pretty good.
  2. My car runs.
  3. Aldi sells gummy bears.
  4. The hydrangea bush I thought I killed is showing signs of life.
  5. You can buy hair color for $7.95, and sometimes with a $2.00 coupon.
  6. I’m not as old as I’ll be next year.
  7. Thanks to Donald Trump cutting the environmental protection agency out of the budget, I’ll soon have waterfront property. (Sorry neighbors, this is about me.)
  8. It’s spring!
  9. My unibrow has been contained.

Is that really only 9? Ugh.
    10.  I’m done writing today’s post—that counts, my blog my rules.

I’m not a Pollyanna. I have to admit my life isn’t perfect, regardless of the impression my list has left you with. For example: today is ‘National Grilled Cheese Day, and I can not participate in the celebrations taking place across the country, due to lactose intolerance. Still, I choose to focus on my list…today.

Let’s see your list.

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<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/pleased/”>Pleased</a&gt;

Autumn and Winter Binging

Thing 1 headed back to school today, but before she did, we had some mother daughter bonding in the form of binge watching an older TV show that neither of us had seen: season 1 of “Gilmore Girls”, a chick show if there ever was one. So why am I feeling hostile?

The setting is an idealised fictitious small town in Connecticut where only two seasons exist. It’s either autumn— specifically that week when the leaves on the trees are in the fiery red, orange and gold phase, or it’s winter. 

That town doesn’t have the type of winter I grew up in, and still suffer through. The snow in that town is pretty. The fake snow in that fake town in the northeast falls from a fake blue sky where fake flakes float like confetti—straight down, they don’t pelt the characters in the face like shards of glass. 

That’s okay, I get it—it’s television, but it distracts me. None of the actors bother themselves to act cold either. In fact they look perfectly comfortable. The air they exhale is unseen. There is no red runny nose on the perfect face of the tall, thin, happy and perpetually perky single mom, who wears an adorable hat, scarf, mitten set, and leaves her jacket unzipped…not even a shiver. 

One of her three love interests, a handsome man with a thick head of dark hair shows no sign of snow moisture either. Instead he seems completely moisture repellent in his long wool coat, and without the benefit of hat, gloves, scarf, earmuffs, or runny red nose. 

If winter was the way it is depicted in this show, without the suffering, I would welcome it. But it isn’t, and I hate winter…and I want my daughter back so we can watch season 2.
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January 14, 2016 <a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/unseen/”>Unseen</a&gt;