I Don’t Know

I don’t know why Boston stinks Sul.

I don’t know why your ear is itchy Sul.

I don’t know what that squirrel is doing out there Sul. 

I don’t know why your butt itches Sul – [well I do boy, cause you need to wipe your ass. It’s your butt, your poop. I have my own to take care of. ]

I don’t know if all the elves came last night to your friends. 

I don’t know how many cars are on the road.

I don’t know how Santa delivers all those gifts Sul – [well I do, but we’ll tell you that sorted tale at a later date.]

I don’t know why you can’t stick your finger through your brain Sul

I don’t know why you can’t leave me alone for a few minutes Sully…..

Yes, I do.

I am his mommy. Mommies are to love, cuddle, nurture and all that happy shit that goes into shaping this little human I helped to make.

Well baby,  mommy has cancer at the mo, and I barely function baby.

Then the the guilt washes over me.


Fuck you guilt.

The fuck? Why? Because of Cancer? That whore! How dare I feel guilty for needing a moment in life to have a cry about shit, but I do because I’m a good mommy (or try to be).

Logical me knows this will be over soon.

Emotional me is still freaking the fuck out. Tissues balled. Tears wiped. xx

peace and love



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