By that time, mom hardly ever made any sense at all. She could still speak, but having any sort of conversation was an act in futility. But she’d still say that stupid fucking mantra, “It is what it is.” Ask her what she wanted to eat, she’d say some mumbo-jumbo and add, “It is what it is,” at the end of the sentence. “How are you feeling, Ma?” Goobledygook, “It is what it is.”
judgment
It’s Official. I’m Out Of Spoons.
I know. In theory, my life is perfect. I literally don’t have anything to complain about. I have a husband who adores me and makes enough money so I don’t have to work. My girls are strong and independent and on their way to living their absolute best lives. My sisters are awesome and my…
No, I Don’t Have My Shit Together, Thanks.
My first thought was, “Oh, shit, I do not have my life together enough to be a grandmother.”
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