I have a good friend named Lisa who I have known for almost twenty years. She and her husband are a military couple, like us, and they have three kids, also like us. Their kids are a few years older than ours, and I remember when her youngest started school full-time … the same year my *oldest* started school full time. I remember asking Lisa if she was excited to have her days to herself, if she planned to go back to work, and what she hoped to do with all that free time on her hands.
Now, five years later, I would like to make my formal, public apology to Lisa for being such an asshat. Free time? WHAT free time? I’m amazed she didn’t reach through the phone line and smack me. I don’t know where I got the idea that being a stay at home mom meant I would actually stay at home, but that’s just crazy talk. In between the errands and running around I try to accomplish during the day so my evenings are free to spend with my family, the volunteering at the school, the chauffeuring the kids to and from all their activities, and the projects and hobbies I like to do, things are busier than when I worked. Of course, back when I worked full-time I didn’t have kids, so obviously that’s a slanted statement. And don’t get me wrong -- I’m not complaining. I LOVE my life and I choose, every single day, to fill up each 24 hour period with things that are important to me. Sure, some of them I enjoy more than others (like meeting a friend for lunch, or hanging out with the other moms at soccer practice) and some are not as enjoyable, but this is my way of life and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I take full responsibility for the choices I’ve made and for the way Blaine and I have worked out our priorities, and overall, am extremely happy with the way I spend my time.
Now, all that is to say, the only thing more obnoxious than people who don’t update their blogs, are people who whine about not having time to update their blogs. While I’m certainly not above whining, there’s no doubt I do it far too much. So, no whining today. Just the facts: since arriving home Monday night from my scrapbooking weekend, things have been hectic. “Dog at the vets van in the shop unpacking volunteering at school bunco with friends help with homework lunch with friends dry cleaners library do ebay lunch with the kids doctors appointment with Blaine soccer practice soccer pictures orthodontist appointment getting the passport photos done fundraiser night at the pizza parlor” kind of busy. It’s all fun; it’s all happy; it’s all good.
Except for the fact, my point is, that these fun activities have kept me from the computer the past three days and I’m going through blog withdrawals. Who am I to complain about not having a laptop when I can’t even sit my fat ass down at my regular computer this week unless its to tweak the 426 photos I took of my girlfriend, or download and copy all the photos I took at the Valentines Dance and give to the librarian for the end of year slide show, or obsessively search the web for a center console for our van that can be delivered in time for our vacation next month so Kendrie can quit whining about not having any place to set her drink, or for the perfect black ear muffs for our vacation this summer who cares if it’s still three months away I need ear muffs damnit and I *WILL* find them!
And that doesn’t even encompass the 82 loads of laundry awaiting my return, which I find especially appalling considering I left three loads of clean laundry that Blaine and the kids folded and put away for me while I was gone. What’s the deal with the stinking laundry??? There are only five of us --- how do we generate so much laundry? How the heck do moms with six for seven kids keep up? Or Ma Walton, who not only had eight or nine kids (I’m not sure exactly how many kids because I didn’t really watch that show a lot, I was more of a Little House on the Prairie kind of gal) but she also had to beat the clothes against a rock in a stream or something. I mean good grief, I have a big shiny machine that swishes the clothes around in soapy warm water, and then wrings them out, and another big shiny machine that tosses and tumbles them amidst hot air and good-smelling fabric softener sheets until they are dried. It’s not like laundry is THAT labor-intensive, yet it still seems to suck all the free time out of my day ---- CAN ANYONE EXPLAIN THIS MYSTERY TO ME????
OK, now I’m exhausted just thinking about all that laundry.
Now, my point is (I know, I said that several paragraphs ago but got off on that laundry tangent) I have every intention of continuing with the infertility/adoption/surrogacy tale, just not tonight. Tomorrow night, for sure. Well, shit, tomorrow night Kendrie has a soccer game and I’m totally dying to see the premier episode of Dancing with the Stars that Blaine taped for me while I was gone …. *hopefully* tomorrow night, for sure. Or maybe Saturday. But probably tomorrow night. Definitely. Maybe.
In the meantime, I leave you with a funny story involving me and the laundry that never dies. One of my pet peeves is when my kids (no specific names mentioned :cough: Brayden :cough: Kendrie :cough: ) pull their socks off and put them in the laundry basket twisted inside out. Now that Brayden is doing her own laundry it’s not such a big deal because her inside out socks are her problem. But Kendrie still does it to almost every pair and it makes me crazy. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she does it on purpose, just to annoy me. Depending on my mood, I either charge her a quarter out of her allowance for each pair I have to fix, or make her turn them herself, or give a long-suffering sigh and just do it myself. Today, she was at school and not nearby to appreciate my sighing, so I just fixed them. I was sitting in my office chair, and I bent over and picked the socks up off the floor, turned them right side out, put them back in the laundry basket, picked up the laundry basket, and tried to stand up. Unfortunately, I have gained so much weight, and my ass is so officially huge, that the arms of my office chair stuck to my butt and I lifted the chair off the ground. At first I started laughing, then I realized, “How is this funny???? My ass is so ginormous I can carry a CHAIR around on it." That’s not funny; that’s depressing.
So. to show my ass who's boss, after soccer pictures tonight I took the kids to Sonic and bought myself a large Sonic Blast with Resee’s Peanut Butter Cups and extra chocolate syrup. And like I wasn’t ashamed enough of myself and my total lack of willpower, you know what happened next? A lady walked up to my van, and said, “Hey, you’re Kristie, aren’t you? I read your blog … I bet you’re here to buy a Diet Dr. Pepper!” And the only thing more embarrassing than having to admit the ice cream dessert the size of Montana was MINE, was the fact she walked up just in time to hear me yelling at my kids about how bratty they were being. Because nothing advertises your fabulous parenting skills like a good, loud “I don’t care if you slam your entire HEAD in it, I said leave your sister alone and SHUT THE DAMN DOOR NOW!!!”
So Dell, it was nice meeting you again. But the next time you see me at Sonic, please snatch the Blast from my fat little hand and force me to order a diet drink. Or better yet, a water. (gasp!) My giant ass will thank you.
PS. Do you realize that as long as this journal entry is, about NOTHING, except for how I’m too darn busy to type, I could have just typed what I intended to type all along??? God, I’m a moron.