Bad Mummy: suddenly 30 with the soul of a 80-year old and the sense of humor of a 12-year old. Stumbling thru life with an unquiet mind and no sense of direction.
The Mook: my Libra drama-queen, established 2005. Piss and vinegar. A going concern. Mayhem and chaos with sticky kisses. She who keeps me going.
Critter: my transitional lover from back in the day (circa 2007) and best buddy. He drives me crazy, but is also there when I need him. Bonus: he does dishes and brings me ice cream.
The Former Mister: Dumb-ass I was married to. The Mook’s dad. My co-parent. A shit load of other terms that I’m refraining from using because I’m trying to find some closure. (Hah! Closure!)
When I’m not parenting solo, I’m either recovering or preparing to do it again.
I think too much.
I’m sarcastic and cynical in nature and nurture. I’m jaded and untrusting and at the end of the day I wonder what the fuck is wrong with humanity.