The Universe Strikes Back

If you believe in karma that is. Else you can just believe in bad luck or stoically soldier through life’s tough spots. A specific group of people across the world, who are strangers to each other but actually united in their erm…”difficulties” are the parents to preschoolers. I believe they cease to be group members when the child turns 6 and then come together again during the teenage years.

Anyhow, during one of my imploding moments (a have a few throughout the week) I was trying to understand, WHY ME? And I realized that the only answer that made sense was that the universe was screwing with me. Why else would I be doubly blessed with a hybrid of a monkey and a parrot for a child?

From the spilt chocolate milk to the clothes he dumped into the washing machine (without separating the colored from the whites) just to help me out or the bodywash he emptied by putting it in his tub to make MORE BUBBLES (in his words)…it all seems like the cosmos conspiring against me time and again.

But I have news for you universe…he’ll eventually move out and I’ll retire from active parenting and become gaga (with happiness or old age is yet to be determined) and then he’ll be your problem!

What goes around. Comes around.

Author’s Note: This blog post was written as a means of blowing of tension which normally would have been accomplished with an alcoholic beverage and vocabulary normally frowned upon by childhood experts and shrinks (and my husband). But I still do blame the universe.

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