Not every morning is a gun slinging morning, you occasionally have bulldozer-ramming-into-buildings mornings and atomic-bomb-throwing mornings, and these kind of mornings usually melt into afternoons and evenings where the theme music doesn't go away or change into something smoother. These kind of mornings are born when you wake up and discover you are a pumpkin shorter. You realize that someone walked on your grass, deliberately picked up your daughters pumpkin and took off with it.
I like to think with age, I've learned more about restraint and acceptance. I like to think I'm a forgiving person and able to handle difficult situations gracefully, but.............then...........someone...........goes and steals your pumpkin and everything goes out the window. I want to find the person who did this! and kill her/his cat. I know, it's not the cats fault, I'm just trying to get my point across.
I know there are larger bugs to squash in this world, but I sure would like to find out who did this...find out why someone wanted to make me mad on purpose.
And this is why I wake up every morning with my finger on the trigger (figuratively speaking). Because, I have to be ready to explain to my baby why her pumpkin isn't there anymore. I have to explain to her why the world does things one way and why she should do things the other way. I have to be ready, because there are people out there who steal pumpkins from children.
My bowl of beans may be a little extra bitter today, but when you have something like Molly to care for and her sole is your responsibility, a stolen pumpkin would piss you off, too.
Pieces of my heart
A ponytail profile....
......and a nutella covered face.
My baby and her baby.