Queenie is Found

Hello darlins!, Some of y'all have been wondering why I fell off the face of the earth a few years ago, but those of you with small children understand how a once intelligent, efficient, and otherwise fabulous person can suddenly find themselves adrift in a sea very tiny laundry, miles from land and without an oar. Once the captain of my own life, now merely a deckhand scrubbing unidentifiable goo from door knobs and walls. My best clothes relegated to the back of my closet lest they suffer the surprises left behind by someone insisting on feeding themselves but lacking the pincer grasp to connect with their mouth with any regularity. In my time away from you, I have produced not one, but two of these ankle-biters...er, lights of my life, hence my removal from cyber-society for so long. Because as any parent will tell you, children only need your attention when you sit down to do something else, and emails or any sort of correspondence are their first targets. Not to worry friends, in the time I have been gone from you, I have not stopped judging or berating. At some point I had thought that it was just the exhaustion causing my disdain, so I enhanced my daily caffeine intake with a few large sweet teas. But once the sugar was coursing sufficiently through my system, I took a moment to evaluate and discovered that lack of sleep did not, in fact, have anything to do with my evaluation that most folks just don't have any sense, and those that do continue to use it more for evil than good. So I have dusted the cobwebs off my laptop and rediscovered my inner Queenie-- not that she was ever very far away, tisking at my make-up-less face and pony-tailed hair, while we both frantically searched the shelves for a bottle of wine. But as I explained to her, it is useless to fret over one's hair-do when all of the hair around one's face has fallen out and is growing back at the pace of molasses in spiky clumps across one's forehead. It is also deflating, in every sense of the word, to try and squeeze back into one's pre-baby tops, only to find that they stretch to threads over one's rib cage and sag hopelessly where one's cleavage should be. And I did try and impress upon Queenie how ridiculous it would be to get all gussied up and go out to dinner, knowing that my eyes would be closing by 8pm in preparation for the thrice-nightly alarms sounding from the baby monitor, but you know Queenie, she'll hear nothing of it. Queenie believes a good eye cream and a good cocktail can fix just about anything, and you know.....she may be right. It's time to get my look to-ge-tha, honey. I've pulled those boobs right up from under my armpits and back into my properly fitted bra, I've sprayed my rooster bangs down until I'm a fire hazard, and I've spent a near fortune on whatever age-defying spackle the drag queen at the make-up counter pushed into my shopping bag. And if that eye cream doesn't make me look like the Queenie of old, then honey just pour those mimosas til I don't care! XXX