Facebook is a wonderful thing. I can share my location, plans, pictures and shenanigans. I love it. I’m addicted. But the book of face also has a down fall. It gives “the haters” something to hate on… and private messages to those to sissified to comment on actual things … you know that the public can see?
Today I received a package from the AK. My wonderful friend sent me a bunch of clothes and an apron. This apron is black with white skulls and crossbones… and hearts and arrows. Lined with pink lace. It’s full of awesome. In my silliness I decided it works as a cape as well.
The apron-cape has now officially replaced the pink robe. You know. The pink robe my neighbors have seen me running around the yard in.
So the Robe has been replaced. I needed a way to break it in. Then I heard the trash truck at the end of the street. I quickly donned my apron-cape over my pjs (which consisted of a ratty wife beater and boyshorts), threw on my ugg boots (mens… brown… nasty) and waited. As he was pulling up to my property. I sprinted out the door and ran a lap down my driveway, around my trashcan and back inside. As I ran towards the truck, the guy was standing in his door and his jaw was on the ground. As I landed back on my front stoop… I heard applause.
So I had fun. Posted on facebook. Made friends smile. THEN. I got a private message. From someone I will not disclose, mostly because I’m not a huge bitch-face.
(partypooper): Don’t you think you should tone down a bit??
Me: What yah mean?
(partypooper): I don’t know, act like you give a shit, act like you’re a mom?
I ended the convo there.
So. Apparently because I live for making people laugh and quite often act silly, I don’t give a shit, or from what I’m guessing, I don’t act like a mom? You know. I normally would take offense at this, but eh. I love the fact that I made someone’s day. Gave that guy a story to tell his friends and family. I love that my neighbors enjoy my company and laugh whenever I do something silly.
I love that my daughter will grow up knowing it’s okay to be goofy and have fun.
I love that my daughter will grow up in a home full of laughter.
If that doesn’t make me “normal”, or makes it seem like I’m not a mom. Then so be it. My daughter will be wearing HER cape when she gets back. And we’ll both be armed with teddy bears and tiaras.
We’ll have fun. I hope you have fun acting proper and wearing pants.