First of all, isn’t the blog adorbs?
It was a birthday present from my man.
Which means, yeah. It’s been about a month since he’s done it. And about TWO months since my last blog post.
And yeah, it was going to be this whole two-part thing, but forget it.
I can’t commit to that kind of “blog installment” bit.
And also, I kinda lost my train of thought on it. It’ll come back to me, eventually.
But I spend a lot of time waiting for the perfect blog post to just magically land in my head that I put off writing until it’s been so long that I lose my motivation.
And then, I think of something to write about while I’m vacuuming and then I think “Well, I can’t write about that because I never wrote the second installment of that last post. People will think I can’t deliver. Or plan ahead.”
And so I lose what I was going to write about and then I go back to dreading having to write the second part of the my previous post, and then I start vacuuming again (cause basically, that’s all I ever do around here)…and the whole vicious cycle starts all over again.
So finally I decided, “Forget it”…and decided I would just write.
I get all philosophical about writing every now and then. When the mood strikes. Basically…my philosophy boils down to this…
Yeah. It’s pretty simple. I think that for most things in life, we tend to overthink. I know I do. Good grief…if I could get back one-tenth of the time that I spent over-thinking parenting, taking care of babies, how to schedule my perfect day…well, I’d have a lot of time back.
And here’s the thing…grammatically speaking, I am quite possibly one of the worst writers EVER. This is not an attempt to garner compliments, I swear. Because seriously. Just no. I overuse commas. I have a little obsession with ellipses. There is no method of punctuation that I have not employed at some point in time. Semi-colons, dashes, unnecessary periods and quotation marks and parentheses.
All throughout high school and college, I never made higher than a B on any grammar or literature paper I turned in. Because basically, I write like I talk. Which is run-on sentences…abrupt phrases…and way too much emphasis on the wrong words (like Chandler Bing).
And if you don’t know who Chandler Bing is…well, we may need to reconsider our friendship.
So, all of that to say, I’m SUPPOSED to be packing and cleaning and doing umpteen loads of laundry for the camping trip that we are taking this week. But, I got a little overwhelmed with everything….even though I thought I had prepared well for the day….including coffee, cranking the air down to 74 (don’t tell Stephen), and turning on “my jam”. (Please don’t ask what my jam is because I don’t even know. We have the strangest, most eclectic music taste in this house…)
I still got a little fed up. And the tipping point may have been when I realized that I turned one of my husband’s nicest shirts and one of our newest towels into a sickening shade of bubblegum pink. (He doesn’t know yet…shhhh…) And it was because of a cheap red beach towel that he actually TOLD me at the store I didn’t need and shouldn’t buy, but it’s summer and it was $3.00 (where do you get a beach towel for $3.00, I ask you?!)…and it had a pink flamingo on it. AND what’s worse is….this is the SECOND load of laundry that I’ve destroyed with it.
I’m throwing that stupid thing away.
Right after we use it one more time…because it IS all fresh and clean now.
But anyway, you know how you reach that point where you’re all snappy with everyone and everything and you’re getting really irrational about dumb stuff? Like telling your five year old you will throw away his Iron Man cup if you see it land on the carpet one. more. time.? Like that?
Yeah, that was me.
So…I had to take a little break. Regroup.
Also, I had to perform a little self-surgery on my foot.
I think I have something stuck in my heel cause it hurts like…well, like there’s something stuck in my heel. But I can’t see anything and I think I may have caused more harm than good. And now it’s probably going to get infected which is why my whole ankle itches now and it’ll swell up so much that I won’t be able to wear any shoes and I’ll probably have to have major surgery that’ll be just shy of amputating the whole thing.
And if none of that happens, at the very least, I’ll google my symptoms and convince myself that I have some horrible foot fungus that’s indigenous to Southern Australia but can be contracted in public restrooms throughout the southern U.S. and I probably have it and it will likely shut down my entire neurological system within the next two days.
Or MAYBE…I can just claim that I am a cripple and can in no way do anything while on our camping trip except sit in a comfy chair with my foot propped up and several cold drinks by my side and 12 books that I’ve “been meaning to read” since 1999.
That said, I think that I have sufficiently wasted enough time here for now. I guess I should get back to the laundry and cleaning, which….am I the only one who feels the need to deep clean the entire house before you go out of town? I have no sense of realistic priorities, basically.
Oh…and if you have never single-handedly (well, double-handedly, cause I have two functioning hands) tried to clean and pack for a family of five to go camping while three kids were in the house…well. I’m pretty sure that Dante purposely left that out of his Inferno because of the immense absurdity that it is.
It. Is. A. Treat.
I see myself ingesting a lot of ice cream after I make that late-night run to Target tonight. Cause, you know, there’s always some last minute something that you need before you go out of town. And Target? It just SOOTHES you, am I right?
Ugh. I gotta make sure that I get out of here early enough to hit the Target…or else I’m gonna be stuck going to WalMart…But then again, it might not be so bad if I show up at the ole W at 10:00 at night.
Simply because…I always leave feeling like THE BEST PARENT EVER.
Know what I mean?