Where's my bailout, bitches???

Working outside of the home is a double-edged sword. On one hand- Man, do I miss my kids when I'm not at home with them. On the other hand- Man, is it nice not to listen to the high pitched shriek peanut emits that tends to make my ears bleed.

This whole "economic" situation has changed my life. I NEED to work more, and in some ways I WANT to work more. I feel vindicated by earning a pay check (as measly as it may be). I also provide the medical & dental benefits for the family so I feel an extra boost of self-importance.
The price I pay for working more hours is the dis-connect I feel from my kids. (Not so much hubby because we still have the after bedtime bliss to hang out and ignore each other while we're either watching T.V. or each on our own laptops.) As I mentioned before I'm not a FUN mom. As much as I want to be, there is not one ounce of me that wants to pretend two pillows are "mommy" and "baby" with little peanut after working all day. (Hell, to be completely honest, I don't really want to do that even when I'm home all day.)

Whew... Tangent... Sorry about that.

I was planning to go all IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE on your asses and instead I'm bitching about my kids. Nice.

OK, so back to my original thought. So yeah, the economy, particularly the failing housing market, has really fucked up our lives. We were the prime example of $30,000 millionaires. No savings, no planning for the future, while living in a million dollar home and buying pretty much everything we wanted, let alone needed. We went on trips and stayed in nice hotels. We went out to eat most dinners. Life was "fun". And even though it was "fun" there was always a part of me that felt like a fraud. Then it changed and it became painfully obvious that we were frauds. It was, and still is sometimes, very embarrassing.

Silver lining time, I am so grateful that the shit hit the fan at this time of our lives when we are relatively young. We still have some time to make up for the mistakes we have made and I have HOPE that we will. We have been given the gift of learning what is REALLY important. Not to say there aren't times I miss our old, fraudulent life. Particularly when I've worked all day and have to come home and cook dinner when in our other life I would have been home all day and gone out to dinner. But I am enjoying, wholeheartedly, dinner around our kitchen table with the four of us- even when it's hot dogs and salad night. (The beauty of hot dogs is you can choose red or white wine to pair with them- either one works.)

Alright- I went off course but what I'm trying to say is, even though shit is REALLY hard right now and money seems to funnel out of our hands at an alarming rate, I truly can say that my life is good and I am blessed.

But can I pay someone to play "mommy" and "baby" with Peanut?

Dance Party Night with hubby and kiddos...

This is my favorite activity to do with my kids, it's the one thing that I can agree with them is fun. Everything else they like, um, I just don't.

I feel like this makes me a REALLY bad mom.

I don't want to play Candyland, it's just not that fun with a three year old. I don't want to watch my 8 year old play computer games. BOOOOOORING. Not that I won't do those things, I just don't want to. This could quite possibly be one of the worst things to say, right?

Dance party night on the other hand brings it all together. Turn on the music and start shakin' it. My daughter loves to dance, just like her mommy and my son loves music- JUST LIKE ME! Finally, something we can all do and enjoy.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy my children. They amaze me everyday with their own special unique talents. I guess the issue is, I'm not the same age as them. (makes all kinds of sense.)
My little peanut girl is the cutest damn thing- she's sassy and silly and says the sweetest things.
My skinny skater boy is so smart in a normal "un-geniusy" way and he still lets me snuggle him- which I adore. I know one day that will not happen anymore.

I guess the moral of the story is... I LOVE my kids with all of my being- just like all other moms- I'm just not a very fun mom.

Unless you feel like dancing.

Sicko!

I've been hit...
I feel like shit...
Just want some silence-
for a bit...

Ta Da, there's my poem.

It's all about how I have a cold and feel really poopy right now. My kids are running around like animals messing up the entire house that I will absolutely refuse to clean. Hubby thinks that right now is a great time to start building a skate ramp for my 8 year old. Good God, REALLY?

So, not only am I wearing a big plastic boot/cast thing on my leg for a stress fracture in my ankle, but I have he bright red, raw nostrils of an overly snotty nose. Awesome! I feel pretty.

Long story short, I'm feeling rather sorry for myself. Anyone want to join my little self-pity party? No? Hmmm

What a wuss!

I have found that I'm actually petrified to put words out in the universe for others to judge, which is hilarious since I don't know that anyone will actually read this. And- since my friends and family don't even know about it- the risk of anyone calling me on this is relatively/significantly loooow.

So, get the fuck over it, right? Just write some shit down and deal with the rising panic I'm feeling.

I realize that blogs are supremely narcissistic and this is a struggle I've always had- I am, at my core, a very self-absorbed person; yet I would DIE if anyone ever said that to me. I don't want to be this way, but I am. I don't know if it's because I'm an only child who grew up with amazing parents who did nothing but tell me how special I am or just my own little personality quirk I have to take all the responsibility for. I am going with a combo of the two reasons I guess especially since I'm not so good with the whole "responsibility" thing... The gist of this rambling, I suppose, is to just be narcissistic and do the damn blog- but make sure anyone who EVER reads this knows I don't want to be seen as narcissistic. (BTW, I don't ever want to type that word again, it has way to many letters and I can' t get it right the 1st or 2nd time I type it.)

So, my hope is, the next time I post:

A. I will have something interesting/insightful to say.

B. I will not shake the entire time I'm typing.

Is that too much to ask????

The shell just cracked.

So, I'm new to this blogging thing and I enter it feeling in awe of the ladies (and gentlemen, I guess) who've come before me. I must admit I've been a blog stalker for the last few months and I am filled with anticipation each time I check a blog I've been watching for new posts. I'm apprehensive to do this because every time I read someone's blog I admire, I am struck dumb by their wit. But, I figure- this is something that scares me (ridiculous, I know) so I should just do it. I don't know if or when I will let anyone know about this blog, I don't know if I'm ready to embarrass myself in front of the ones I love just yet. I do that often enough on my own. Since I'm not sure who, if anyone at all, will see this I will be treating it somewhat like my journal. Boy, that makes it sound really boring. We'll see.