The weather has been less than stellar this week for most of the country, I think, and for those of us with children, that meant it could have been pure hell or a little piece of heaven. For me, it was a little bit of both. The first day the girls decided to abandon me and play with their neighborhood friends. Gone are the days that they want to hang out with mom baking cookies and snuggling on the couch watching movies on their day off from school. I have officially become chopped liver.
Being home with the kids also brought to light how much time I have recently spent on the computer. I went through a little bit of withdrawal when I couldn’t just sit and blog stalk. It wasn’t even writing that I wanted to get done, but drool over all the amazing bloggers that I want to be when I grow up. I flip off a big green, discouraged and slightly pitiful middle finger at myself for being so ridiculous. I’ve been suffering from blog envy. Everyone else just seems to have it all figured out and make it look so easy. I’ve been letting my OCD get in the way of why I even started this blog. To write. Not to sell stuff or have a bazillion weekly gimmicks, but to share a piece of myself and hopefully inspire even one person to be more than they ever thought they could be. Or at least know that who they are is normal. I’ve spent way too many hours trying to figure out how to make my blog LOOK better. There is no blogging design budget here ladies. It is, what it is. Free is good. (But of course , if a blogging fairy godmother wanted to surprise me with a cool new header and logo I would gladly accept such a generous gift.) I don’t have the funds, time or the means to turn this blog into Disney World, so my writing is just going to have to be enough. Even for me.
But in my spare time, I will still drool over all the bloggers that not only write great stuff, but look really cool. And I might secretly worship you, cyber stalk you or dream about meeting you one day. But please, don’t be scared.
A sweaty, hot, bloated and weepy one finger salute to hormones. Both little girl hormones and my own. We’ve had a lot of tears lately about friends. What is it with us girls? We all desire to find that one special friend. I swear the process to find one is more painful and complicated than finding a husband. I’m so sick of hearing myself say, “honey, you’re just going to have to trust that your friendship with her is strong enough to stand on its own” every time one of my daughters’ friendships are being attacked by a friend stealer. I loathe friend stealers. Moms, please, if you teach your daughter nothing else, teach them how to make their own friends and to be a friend!
I think I could almost handle all of this girl drama without drinking if my own hormones weren’t totally out of whack. This is what my last couple of weeks have looked like:
- Sore boobs
- Suddenly sweaty hot in the middle of the night and then freezing cold
- Weight gain
- Radical mood swings
- Super clumsy
- Hungry like crazy
And yet, no period. I must say, it had me a little freaked out. The thought of being pregnant again at almost 38 years old made me nauseous.
“I’m on my way home sweetheart, is there anything you need?”
“Chips, salsa, guacamole and an EPT test”
“Just do it, alright?”
My hand shook like crazy as I peed on the stick. Thoughts of strollers and baby carriers, poopy diapers and cutting teeth started flooding my mind. I couldn’t look right away so I set the stick down on the counter and took another swig of wine. (Good grief, drinking while taking a pregnancy test. What does that say about me?) After a minute, I held my breath and took a look.
I flipped off a tissue holding, wine swigging, sniffly finger at the stick. However, I’m not totally sure I was relieved or disappointed.
And last but not least, a very paranoid and twisted flip off to myself, again, for worrying that no one reads this blog. Well, except for some guy named Jim who has a dozen different “names” and keeps getting sent to my spam because all he wants to know is how to get girls to have sex with him. Really Jim? I know all of those spam hits are from you because the email is always the same! So besides him, where are all the Pajama Day stories, Facebook friends and Twitters? I made a call for Pajama Day stories yesterday and nada. Nothing. Zippo.Zilch. Yes, I know, it’s only been 24 hours and my blog doesn’t have any cool writing workshops, prompts or blog makeovers. I’ve never been a guest blogger or even gone to a blogging conference, but please – someone – write a pajama day story just so I can save face now. It doesn’t even have to be your own story. I’ll never know. And even if I did, who would I tell?
I might have to write a couple of Pajama Day stories under aliases.