Rambo's Rampages...

I tell the kids this evening that they are on their own for dinner. Mostly because whilst cleaning the kitchen I accidentally threw away the left overs of the early dinner my husband and I had consumed a few hours before. (The joys of night shift... but that's another post). And thankfully my children, 3 of them anyway, are old enough to make their own food. So, yay, mommy is off the hook! I think. My one daughter decides to make a salad. Lettuce, kale, broccoli and vidalia onion viniagrette. Woot! I am doing something right!!  The other daughter who never likes anything I make probably thought this was a gift straight from God.  But seeing as how there was no cereal or steak in the house - because those are the two things she will eat - decides dinner is overrated and forgoes eating anything. My son, who tries valiantly to like whatever I make and usually kindly rates my food at "it wasn't my favorite", also decides to make himself a salad. I think. He

Okay, it's been awhile, I know. Writing for me used to be a kind of therapy, I think. A way to deal and decompress and work things out. It was how I stayed in the now without being overwhelmed by the now. And then, that time passed and writing was put in the past and life moved on.  And now it's back. But before I go any further I must say that it really has nothing to do with this blog's namesake. THANKFULLY. All is well on that front. Really well, actually.  No, this has to do with a not so little four letter word: R-U-T-H.  I love her. I do. But she has entered that full blown, hormonal, pre-teen season. And she has entered with a bang. And I'm not gonna lie - I have no freaking clue what I am doing . Not. A. Clue. I think what makes it even harder is that this girl is not like me at all. She has always been hot or cold, she has always known what she wants, she is outgoing, courageous, strong. She is the complete opposite of me.  And I'm over here like..