What Would Jane Austen Do?

I like to believe that's Dr. Pepper in the bottle. Papi had to talk me down off the ledge again last night. I was having my bimonthly emotional crisis*. This time it was brought on by reading too many good-mother blogs. When I first stumble across these I find them inspiring. The moms take professional-quality pictures of children in clothes that they personally sewed from vintage fabric. They make healthy dinners using the organic, locally-grown produce they find at the farmer's market, which of course their children are delighted to eat. Their children eschew Pokemon in favor of Waldorf toys and have yet to watch a television program. They go on "simple living" kicks while simultaneously posting at least daily about the perfectly hip items they found that they COULD buy, because they're also somehow not teetering on the brink of financial apocalypse. They live in mint-condition midcentury houses that are featured on Cookie's blog. All of these things...

God, this is horrifying. I wonder if she's as embarrassed as I am. OW! Ow MOTHERFUCKER! Okay, this hurts less than childbirth, but only because it doesn't last as long. What is she saying? I wish I spoke Vietnamese. I think I outweigh the entire staff combined. Dude, where is she going? They need a picture on this ceiling. They would probably put up a picture of Hannah Montana. I will not think about Miley Cyrus. I will not think about Miley Cyrus. Hey, I bet my nails are dry. I wonder if the liquor store next door sells ice. Next time I'm paying more for a place with numbing cream. Which is worse -- being her or being me? OW. Me. At times like this it's good to have some poetry memorized. 'Twas brillig and the ... the ... Dammit. HOW BIG IS MY VAGINA? She could have mowed the back 40 by now. God, how come nobody told me this shit was growing halfway down my leg? Did I water the clematis last night? Next time: vodka first. Next time: Vicodin first.

Why, oh why, did I feel compelled to make a reference to Viagra in a meeting with a church committee where I work? Am I now just incapable of being appropriate?

Just a quick follow-up: Someone wrote to ask me if Becca is "completely and totally 'typical.'" HA! No; in fact, it's a REALLY HILARIOUS STORY, GOD. Becca has a seizure disorder, most likely epilepsy. It's controlled by medication ... sort of . But the medication she takes (because the first three failed) is notorious for making kids have "rage" issues not unlike "'roid rage." Big fun at our house. And the medication has some sort of cognitively inhibiting effect, too. I can tell that there is something going on in her noggin that isn't really coming out in her schoolwork. She comes out as low as the sixth percentile in her standardized test scores. I guess, as her mother, I am just incapable of believing that this is anywhere close to accurate. But it's just a stupid standardized test, so who cares? If the school district is happy, I'm happy. Also, we recently (last week) figured out that she may be having absence ...