It's official...

I'm like a pressure cooker just waiting to pop. Only I'll be waiting a little over 13 years before I pop. The countdown has begun. The Son turns 18 in exactly 13 years and 1 month from today. I think that would be a good day to start the process. Legal process that is, to get the fuck out of dodge. I hate the idea of being absofuckinglutely miserable in my 50s, 60s, maybe 70s. I guess if I don't go through with The Process, then hopefully I'll get lucky and die of a sudden heart attack (or stroke, car accident, meteor falling on my head, ANYTHING). But dear God, if that's going to happen, could you please at least wait to do it until after The Son has graduated college and started getting into adulthood. I'd like for him to at least get through childhood with a mom. Cause then at least I served some sort of a purpose. Seeing how that's all I am. A mom. I'm not an individual. I'm not me. I'm not a parent. The Asshole does all the parenting. Co-parenting doesn't exist in our house. I try to 'parent' and I get scolded by The Asshole on how I'm doing it all wrong and should do it his way. I guess the only good thing about this is that if The Son turns out to be a degenerate of society it's The Asshole's fault, not mine. Cause The Son should've been brought up his way. I try to parent or discipline The Son, who is only 4 years old right now, and I either get told what I'm doing, how I'm doing it, or what I say is completely wrong. I guess all I'm good for is hugs, kisses, lullabies, making school lunches, washing shit stained underwear and wiping ass. Awesomespice!