The New Me (is kind of scary!)

Lonely.

Bitter.

Both of which I already am. Luckily for me, Mason is stuck with me, so the loneliness is only temporary, like the times he goes to grandma's house, goes to bed or when he just plain ignores me because catching up on Toopy and Bino is much more important than a mother's nags to put socks on your feet.

I'm pretty sure if I don't start being a nicer person, I will become that mean old lady who buys the 1 litre carton of milk for the week, just enough for my tea and the rest to share with my 80 cats. I will beg Mason to come home for the holiday, but instead he will go on a Caribbean cruise. I don't blame him now because who wants to hang out with an old grouch? I will blame him then, and I will probably tell him he's killing me and hang up the phone (or maybe space phone by then) on him and go brush my cats.

Then, while he's on his cruise and as I'm brushing my cats, I will fall down and break my hip (note to self: drink more milk) and without being able to move (note to self: invest in this) I will die and my 80 cats will be forced to eat me - not because I taste good, but because they have nobody to feed them (note to self: do not buy a cat).

I don't want to end up as cat food.

If something doesn't change soon, I fear what I might become, and I don't mean like becoming something cool like a vampire or a werewolf, I mean cat food!

Alone.

Angry.

Tasty to felines.

It's not so easy just to change who you are. If it was, I doubt Hitler or Balloon Boy's dad would have been such assholes. Sometimes it's just who you are.

Maybe you were raised to be an asshole? Maybe one time a group of teenage girls made fun of your Hypercolour t-shirt in the 1990's or maybe the person that probably loved you more than anybody else in your life, the father of your child, died of cancer. Maybe it is all of the above?

Six years ago, this wasn't me.

I was fearless, irresponsible, stupid and careless. I didn't care about burglars, gas leaks or cancer.

The decisions I made affected nobody but myself, well maybe they affected others, but I didn't care. It was all about me.

I used to be happy. I smiled a lot, I listened to John Mayer songs and allowed myself to be swept off my feet, which is probably the most fantastic, yet scariest feeling in the world (the being swept off my feet part, not the John Mayer songs, though I can kind of see how you would get the two confused. Somewhat. No? Weird!)

So how do I make myself more likable? Less of the scary mom in line at the daycare drop off and more of the Mrs. Perfect who bakes cookies for the whole school yard. I could bake cookies for the whole school yard too, but I don't bake and I don't think they would eat them. I sometimes give off a creepy vibe (even when I wear deodorant).

The worst part is, I totally try to not be scary! I buy my kid the spray shoes to spark a conversation with the other moms, I walk to the daycare to prove to people that I do live in this nice neighbourhood (they don't need to know I walk 10 minutes from "the hood" to get there), I drive the yuppy mom car and I try to join in on the playgroups, but once the conversations about Jon and Kate or Dancing with the Stars starts I'm outta there. I have no tolerance for things I hate.

I don't do anything particularly special. I don't run marathons, have six babies all at once, heck - I don't even wear nail polish or earrings anymore because they are just too much of a hassle and uncomfortable.

I don't fit in.

I mean sure, I could probably call people poop names less often (it's a term of endearment, I swear!) and perhaps I get a bit yelly and grumpy sometimes. I am aware of the messy ponytails that I wear everyday and the fact that I am constantly in running shoes (old smelly ones at that!). If my t-shirt is long enough, I really don't care that my fly has been down all morning, in fact I probably won't even do it back up because I just know it will probably come back down again. I also fail to see the beauty in nature anymore. Which is quite a shame because I used to love all animals (except bugs). I never run for anything anymore, I will always get there on my own time.

I like to compare my new personal funk to that of a new musical artist who has a huge hit (read: Chumbawamba). Tubthumping was a great song in 1997. Imagine how that band felt, releasing a great hit, making lots of money - and then to never have another hit again. In fact, they are probably living alone with their cats right now. I mean what if I never make another hit? I'm just sort of in the doing drug rehab phase, being featured on MTV's one hit wonders specials and planning to be a guest on The Surreal Life where I will probably make out with a potted plant and punch Vanilla Ice in the face (I've always hated that guy!).

I guess I'm trying to ask what people do to make themselves feel better? What do you do that is fun (and not evil - I'm a little too old for prank phone calls and Nikki Nikki Nine Doors)? Crafts? Sports? Knitting? Tending to cats? Give me some ideas so I can stop being such a scary mommy and an all around better person.


PS - If your grandma, aunt, great grandma or any relative of yours was eaten by a cat, she was probably an asshole.

PPS - I'm kidding (sort of). Come back!