I am waiting for the day when my Varmint actually says “I hate my mother.”
It’s not a matter of ‘if’, it’s a matter of ‘when’.
How can I be sure? ME AND MY BIG MOUTH. I’ve lived with it my whole life and I have no delusions about it at all.
I can’t separate from this thing. My pie hole. My cake hole. My big Yap. It has to be big because its got to be able to fit not one, but two feet in it. And it does.
Most people have a series of synapses that go from their brain to the nerves and muscles that work their vocal area. Not me. Sadly, I was born without those. Deformed, without verbal filter.
In short: I think it, I say it. Nothing goes in between.
Often times it results in something funny.
Sometimes it results in me having to apologize.
Occasionally it results in something noteworthy.
Rarely it results in something esoteric.
I think one of the reasons I am more likeable in written medium that in real life is because there is this very cool little ‘edit’ function I can use post-publishing. And there is the nifty little ‘delete’ button I use often. As in very often. As in All. The. Time.
I don’t have one on my mouth. Lord knows I would live an easier life if I did have one.
I suppose the good thing about being born deformed, without a filter or any kind of verbal impulse control, is that people never have to wonder what I am thinking, if they should be so desperate enough for entertainment that they actually care what I’m thinking. I am the quintessential WYSIWYG. (What you see is what you get). I’m simple that way.
I’ve lost a lot of friends that way. I’ve made a lot, too. At least until I lose them again…..
But back to my Varmint. Imagine her life. She lives with a ‘Blurter’. She lives with the daily embarrassment of a mother who calls-em-like-she-sees-them. A mother who has yet to learn the art of diplomacy.
Last night at her softball practice, I teased, cajoled, berated, and encouraged her from the sidelines all in the space of like, ten minutes. At first she smiled, then she grimaced, then she simply turned away and ignored. Sure, her team-mates got a kick out of it, and they probably also felt sorry for her. But essentially, it didn’t take long for me to figure out that I was more of a hindrance to her than an asset.
At least I was sensitive enough to see that.
I guess I am going to have to start loving her from a greater distance, because I don’t want her to wish I wasn’t there at all. Some people might think, “Here’s a concept, why don’t you just shut your big yap?”
Because I know my own limitations.
My yap is uncontrollable. I’m not proud of it. I take Frank-ness to a whole new level.
And I love my kid.