I am here! What is this place?

okay...so...I begin...this blogging thing that people do.

I've been thinking about doing this for awhile, because weird stuff happens to me, people. I'm sure a lot of you are thinking, "yes, Mar....it happens to all of us....stuff happens..."

NO, NO, NO!!!! WEIRD stuff happens to me...like this morning, if I may....talk about myself on my blog....

I woke up to this kid crying...some little toddler....little strawberry blond baby girl...cute, but screaming her bloody head off!!! I walked in and she was reaching for me yelling, "Mama! MaMMMA!" Nobody else showed up, so I took her out of her crib, when I hear another little voice, "Hey, Mom..I'm going to the bathroom...I'll be right back..."

Who's this little kid? A little brown hair boy? ...and thank gravy he didn't smell like the small one that was currently in my arms...he was actually taking matters into his own hands and "eliminating" independently.

After about 5 minutes..the man walks out. Strange, he came out of the same room I was in, but I didn't notice him there before....He was certainly in no mood to be spoken to...in fact, I'm pretty sure his eyes were still closed and he was having a hard time unsealing them. He grunted some thing to the boy about it being a "good morning", and blindly walked next to the coffee machine to begin what seemed like this ritualistic bean grinding ceremony.

As the morning went on, I figured that this is where I've been placed for the meantime. I 'm used to more mental tasks...using much more sophisticated language...words like "circumvent", or "zone of proximal development", or "criterion-referenced"....you know.
But here, I repeatedly say things such as, but not limited to "we don't spit food on the floor", "don't touch that, it's icky", or "your hand doesn't belong there", and my all-time favorite, "yes, Mommy is a girl, you are a boy...let's talk about that stuff at home".

SO, I guess I wonder most of all how I got here. It's a nice place...I mean if I continue the mad cycle of wiping behinds, making food (not at the same time, mind you), washing everything from undergarments to body parts, all while singing nonsensical songs about senile old men who nik-nak-paddywhack everything from your thumb to your spine, and people on crowded noisy buses with no suspension, then I get sweet smiles from the small natives, kisses, lots of cuddles and laughs. But it's pretty bizarre how a normal situation can spiral into just another moment from hell in a few nanoseconds.