Gulp. My brain went into rapid flip mode, like a card shark shuffling the deck, searching for a reasonable explanation. Thankfully, I drew an Ace. The Ace being remembering that Bella has been begging for deodorant lately.
"Bella, do you mean armpits?" Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes!
"Oh yeah, mom. Oops. Not tits. Armpit."
Oops indeed. "Bella, please promise you will never, ever again ask someone to smell your tits, okay?"
She complied. After silly giggling. The silly giggling concerns me.
Farm life randomness: We are finally milking the goats. It's not a perfect science. They have opinions and attitudes and ridiculously strong hind legs. I decided to start wearing my "Bailey's Coffee Creamer" apron while milking. I thought it might inspire them if they caught sight of the competition. It didn't. I would say we're working on our technique and they are working on their patience. Hopefully, that will translate into an abundance of creamy wonderfulness before long.
Rad randomness: We see progress. In ourselves. In Mamoune. However, we now also see that a few weeks of what looks like a "normal" kid doesn't mean you have a "normal" kid and doesn't mean that your RAD kid can be parented like a "normal" kid. Failure to recognize this can lead to bad things. Like finding yourself being body slammed into the bathroom floor and donning some pretty nasty bruises. I got the full brunt of this particular eruption.
In retrospect I can see that the steam was rising and it could have been averted. And while it's not okay and there is much mending to do...I believe it will be even longer before the next episode because of the knowledge I gained. The bruises will heal. I am just thankful for the tools I have been given by our therapy so that my heart was not so badly bruised this time and we'll move on from here. No ground lost. Just a rest stop.
Normal is way overrated anyway. And on that note, I will close with this slightly less random thought...
I love Pink. Not the color. The person.
WHAT?!!! Amie, you do NOT mean the gangster-punk-rocker with ever-evolving hair who is raw and brash and has the nerve to write songs that mention things like drinking, fighting, and masturbation and even has a song with the F-bomb right there in the title... do you?
Yep. That's the one. Love her!
Tim and I recently watched the video to her Grammy-nominated song "Perfect". (The clean title and version of "F#%*ing Perfect") It is powerful. It is convicting. It is moving. I showed it to my daughter. My attachment disorder, fit-throwing, body changing every day, hormonal, pre-teen, out of control, body slamming, effin' perfect daughter. Maybe you should show it to yours, too.