Home is Where You Take Your Meds

Though no one could be quite as awesome as I am, there are others that live here. Most of the time they are either ignoring what I say or telling me something I don't care about. Fact. Still, they do make up part of the adventure that comes from riding this crazy roller coaster so I presume I should tell you a little about them. Be forewarned, they are the main reason that my doctor keeps me on strong medications. They are also the ones that could commit me so I try to keep them somewhat placated into thinking they want me around.

Not many people can handle me day in and day out. Some have tried. All have failed. Grumpy is about the only person to successfully do so. We won't jump to conclusions and assume it's because he keeps himself in another room and avoids long conversation. We won't even point out that it could potentially be because he is just as far off of his rocker and I am. Instead we will assume that I'm so terribly amazing that it makes me impossible to resist. As a matter of fact, Grumpy never hesitates to compliment me when the situation warrants it. Just tonight as we were on our way to meet with friends he told me how nice I looked. It sounded more like he was saying that my new outfit looked like something his father once wore to a bowling league, but we both knew what he really meant. When work gets overwhelming and I don't have enough hours in the day, he is happy to take on extra responsibilities around the house. He never complains about having to cook dinner and only occasionally tells everyone that it's better than eating what I cook. We get along so well because we've always been on the same page in parenting. The more embarrassing we can be, the better entertainment we can provide for ourselves. The simple fact is that life would be far more boring without Grumpy around even if it might require fewer drugs to survive intact.

Well over a decade ago Grumpy and I decided that it would be entertaining to see what combining our DNA would produce. What resulted was a baby that was quiet, slept all the time and appeared downright angelic. I spent countless hours singing You are My Sunshine and basking in the glory of how lucky I was. Then at two years old she clobbered me in the forehead with the hardest headed baby doll I've ever seen, nearly knocking me out, and I realized I was in the for the ride of my life. After throwing out that damned demon doll, we began a journey with the Drama Queen that has been filled with ups and downs. We've tried the baking things together and frankly she does a better job and it killed my self-esteem. We've attempted arts and crafts, but when I made her a sock baby that she was too embarrassed to carry I realized maybe I was in over my head. Then one day that beautiful little girl and everyone in her life transformed into aliens the likes of which I've never seen. They became moody and fickle, began talking funny, started wearing bras, started noticing which guys were hot and spent far too much time taking photos in bathrooms all over town. I knew then that my life had changed. I was now the parent of a teenager and I wasn't prepared for anything that was headed my way. While the ride has incorporated far more twists in recent years, at the end of the day it brings about much laughter and a little bit of banging my head into the wall. During her early years I went through a bout of needing Xanax and I suspect the teen years will make me revisit that old friend. In the meantime, I indulge in a drink from time to time and try not to take things too seriously.

Fortunately for our sanity, and probably more fortunate for the poor child, we never had any other children. Drama Queen was certainly enough to handle on her own. Occasionally from time to time we have a calm and quiet day and I will see a picture of babies and a voice inside me says how nice another child or two would be. Then I grab a cookie and a diet Pepsi and shut that bitch up. Having one child has its ups and downs and my mother realized this. She didn't want us to feel as though our work was completed, so she moved in with us. The hard part is that she and Drama Queen are so much alike. The easy part....who am I kidding? There is no easy part. We've been able to blend everything somewhat seamlessly and find our own rendition of normal. The Mom wants me to enjoy life with her and that's why she spends a good portion of her day telling me everything about every episode of Criminal Minds, General Hospital and Nancy Grace. Secretly I think she is laughing at me for having that 'daughter just like me' that she always wished upon me. That's a notice of warning to watch what your parents say. They have the ability to jinx you from an early age. She does, however, make life a bit easier by sharing her coffee and coffee pot. Since I possess neither, this is a big concession in my world and is probably the only thing keeping me from beginning my day with a mug full of vodka.

The two-legged inhabitants are not the only ones that are trying to drive me to an early grave. We have three of the four-legged variety as well. Let me be the first to say that I am not an animal person. I don't dislike them, but I don't spend hours cuddling up to them and speaking baby talk either. Not that I judge Grumpy in any way. In fact, in my perfect world the only animal I would contend with in a day would be Drama Queen. That said, it was I who chose to bring the two dogs into our home. Grumpy affectionately refers to those decisions I make without thinking as Bipolar Moments and that would be about the gist of this one. So we added a Yorkie named Sophie and a Chihuahua named Peanut to the family tree. Sophie is the bitch of the two, quite literally, and she does not want to be bothered by anyone or anything. In fact, she often fights with Peanut for simply trying to share the same air as her. Peanut is the social dog, but she's got a few screws loose up top as well. She thinks she is a Diva and she demands being the center of attention at all times. With my mom came her cat and he's so old and tired he pretty much lies around licking himself all day. He's supposed to be our protection against mice, but aside from his blood-curdling meow there is little he does to acknowledge them if we happen to get one.

All in all, we make a fine bunch of dysfunctional misfits and this is why I've decided that having a place to vent is important. There is no such thing as an ordinary day around these parts. Many might say home is where the heart is or home is where you hang your hat. In my house, home is where you take your meds or suffer the consequences.