I’ve really been having trouble with this blog thing lately because I can’t think of anything to write about. I have read a lot of other blogs though, where the writers love to talk about how wonderful they are, it’s almost like reading a big personal pat on the back. So I am going to take that approach on this one and see how it works out for me. (But the truth is in the parenth…parranth…peren…bracket thingies.)
Dear Diary,
Life is so good to me. I have two great jobs (barf…11 years and still no raise at one of them.) I have a beautiful, lovely 5 year old daughter (holy terror with a side of PMS and drama queen for dessert) who I dearly love (that part is true…in fact it’s an understatement.). I’ve met a wonderful, caring, nice looking man (who is moving extremely far away in 4 months, leaving my heart in shambles and I’m so not okay with it). Life couldn’t be better (except for that whole being frighteningly broke thing.)
Oh, it’s going to be so great to be able to go back to my oh-so-rewarding job tomorrow (sitting at a desk twiddling my thumbs waiting for paperwork from clients while I have a fever and feel like someone is impaling me with a butter knife every time I take a breath). Then, at the end of the day I get some nice quiet time in my car on the peaceful drive home (slamming on the brakes and screaming at people all the way up 37 all the way home, praying that I don’t get rear-ended again). Then the moment will come when I walk into the daycare and Shelby yells “Mommy!” and throws herself into my arms (and then cries very loudly all the way home because I won’t take her to McDonalds or buy her a pet rat.). I wonder if the teacher will share more loving, humorous stories of Shelby’s day (like how she hid her snack to try to get seconds, then smashed it all to pieces and threw it when she got called out on it. Or said “dammit”.) After dinner, I’m sure Wayne will stop by and we can spend a little quiet time together (he will sit on the couch cowering in fear and shielding his man parts from the 5 year old that is climbing all over him while I fight off the dog). He will whisper endearments into my ear (tell me I have a snot string hanging). After a nice goodnight kiss (he backs out of my apartment making a cross with his fingers and shaking his head no) I can go to bed secure in our relationship (wonder if he will ever call me again after I sneezed all over him, my kid relocated his testicles to his armpits, and my cat made a sexual advance at him.)
Then it’s time for the special part of the evening where we wind down, I tuck Shelby into her bed, and sprawl out in my own and read a good book. (We argue about which jammies to wear for 20 minutes, she eats 16 snacks, drags out every toy she owns, and I finally give up and end up clinging to the edge of my bed while she and 19 of her closest stuffed animals snore peacefully beside me.) Then I will wake up in the morning fresh and eager to start the new day! (stumbling blindly towards the kitchen for coffee after hitting snooze 14 times just to find I forgot to set the automatic brew, standing in the freezing cold in my pajamas while my dog carefully selects prime real estate to pee on, getting halfway through my shower and not being able to remember if I washed my hair yet or not, dragging Shelby kicking and screaming out of bed and trying to dress her, and being completely exhausted by the time I get to work).
Life is good (it really is!)!
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