Friday, January 7, 2011

Gift Horse

Alright, fine, you know about babies.
But I'm getting really tired of hearing, "I don't want to step on your toes, but..."
Could you please stop?
Do it your way, or do it mine.
Either way, the baby is loved, right?
Forget it; I'm just cranky.
Grumpy and cranky and tired of people in my house.
How is it that my house has become a boarding house for your family?
I wouldn't mind if people asked if they could stay.
Just popping in for an overnight is starting to get to me.
Keeping the towels stocked in the bathroom has been a serious chore.
Let me be grumpy without talking about me behind my back.
My feelings are getting hurt.
Nerves are on edge.
One more passive suggestion might send me over the edge.
Please let me discover how to be a mom on my own.
Questioning my decisions makes me feel really incapable.
Ridiculous as it may seem, I'm starting to resent your suggestions.
So am I looking a gift horse in the mouth?
Truly, I know you mean well.
Usually you don't bother me.
Venting every now and then is healthy, right?
Which is why I blog; to vent.
X-rated comments and complaints about my mother-in-law/nanny go here.
Yes, this blog is preventative maintenance.
Zero explosions of emotions at home.

This blog was written for the Red Writing Hood prompt, "Alphabet:" Your assignment this week is to write a 26-sentence piece, fiction or non-fiction, with each sentence starting with the letters of the alphabet in order.  I started an entirely different piece on Tuesday, only to trash it moments ago as I hung up on my Mother-in-law (who is our nanny half the week) in frustration.  My alphabet is very real and very much a rant.  I love my MIL, I just get tired of seeing her week after week, ok?!