Steve gave me his card at dinner. I almost peed my pants laughing.
Last fall I was in Lowe’s and found a sad, pathetic excuse for a climbing rose bush on the clearance table for a few bucks. It had one little shriveled up rose on it that looked more like a white carnation than a rose. I brought it home, haphazardly dug a hole and hoped for the best.
Here it is six months later! I’m like a rose whisperer or something.
Sometimes it’s hard as hell to be nice.
So, so very hard.
I get harrassed enough by four kids all day long. The last thing I’m in the mood for? Fifteen different phone calls by fifteen different people trying to sell me on their damn credit card machines. STOP. I have enough to worry about, and calling me incessantly will only make me angry and I won’t think you’re a go getter, I’ll think you’re a thorn in my side.
Next, I can’t keep up with my house and family and baking and building, and grocery shopping and planning, and laundry and marketing myself and this blog…it’s all monotonous. I know that once the 2 little ones start preschool next week it won’t be so overwhelming, but when I am up until 2 am baking and the next night till 2am cleaning out closets, well it makes for a very crabby me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited and know that it’s all going to be worth it. Just keep in mind that it’s also incredibly scary and stressful.
Do me a favor, don’t comment on how tired I look, or that I’m kind of bitchy, or that I’ve lost weight. I have a lot of anxiety, self doubt, insecurities and worry. But I also have drive, motivation, and a fear of failure. Things will settle down a little at some point, but for now, give me a little bit of a break.
If you call me to chat, talk about yourself. I’m tired of talking. So, thanks.
Also, thank you to those who have commented or email me just a quick note of encouragement. I’ve been blown away by a few people who have written to me to say such kind things. It means more than you’ll ever know.
So I’m here to enlighten those that give a shit (all three of you) and whip up a little post.
The “it’s all about me” segment, so here it goes.
The kids finished school, have been home for a few weeks and they are ALL up in my business ALL of the time. I love them, but for Christ sake let me pee alone with a closed door. Stalking me and handing me toilet paper is completely unnecessary, whether you are 2 or 10.
I saw Sex and the City 2, and it sucked royal.
This week I submitted the newly revised business plan to Springs Development, (AND IT’S ACCEPTED!)
I’m super pissed off WEEDS isn’t starting until August. Utter crap.
I’ve had so many dirty martinis in four months that I could probably go toe to toe with James Bond. I actually purchased THIS travel coffee mug because, well, how could I not?
Next week I’m off to the tattoo parlor for some updating, so maybe I’ll have a martini or three before hand and come home with something spectacular. Or maybe I’ll end up with something that resembles a melted smurf. Who knows, I prefer unpredictability.
I asked Bob three times this month if we could pack our shit and move to Europe.
I spent entirely too much time tweeting about boobs, brazilians and bikinis with my girlfriends who live in BAX. Yes, we live within a mile of each other and tweet instead of call. It’s awesome, and you can’t hear someone else’s kid crying.
We saw PHOENIX in concert and it was awesome. I snuck a ziploc bag full of vodka mini bottles in my stretch pants under my poofy bedazzled dress into the concert and totally felt like a teenager again.
And if my kids read my blog I did NOT say that, mom just wear diapers.
I’m officially in love with Hawthorne’s Pizza and basically everything else I could shovel in my mouth there including 3 glasses of pinot grigio.
Maeve made it to the swim championships this weekend, and is super pumped the g-units are coming down from BuffHELLo to watch!
So that’s it in a nutshell.
On a serious note:
Sending love and prayers to my 8 year old nephew Declan who was hit by a car last weekend while riding his bike. He’s going to be okay, but make sure your kids are WEARING THEIR HELMETS.
OMG, as in, I better watch my ass before someone stuffs me with batteries and I’m an Officially Manufactured Gynoid.