Speak your truth, they say.
So I will. Because they said so.
- As the executive function for the entire household, the frontal lobe of the House of Chaos, I am drowning under the mass onslaught of everyday life, dragged under by the tidal wave of four intense lives. There is too much life in my Life. Kindly send a Saint Bernard, complete with brandy around its neck. Or a wine of the month club. I’m not picky. But if you send the Saint Bernard, send someone to clean up after it. I’m done with doing that.
- Zucchini is the worst vegetable ever. It and its summer squash bretheren. Don’t tell me it’s glorious browned in butter with parmesan or spiralized as “noodles” or shredded and baked into bread. It is a vile instrument of pain and should be eliminated from the earth, preferably by fire. It shows up far too often in gluten free restaurant meals and is why I often end up just getting a salad or a naked hamburger. The flavor is nauseating, the texture is abominable, and it quite literally makes me ill. No joke, zucchini has the privilege of hitting my system and bloating me up like a dirigible. It’s not even the fun kind of gas, where I could crop dust the boys’ rooms, NO! (Mother of the Year, right here, folks) It’s the evil kind, where minutes after ingestion you are curled over pillows with a heating pad praying for the sweet release of death and cursing a blue streak. The only thing zucchini is good for is a triple word score on Words With Friends.
- I’m sure it’s just the end of winter speaking, or maybe the election cycle, but I’m really kind of sick of everyone and everything. I find myself wanting to tell the whole world where to go, how to get there, and what to do with themselves upon arrival. Or telling individuals to eat dog shit and bark at the moon (learned that little line from my dear mum, yes I did). But not you. You’re good. <side eye>
- My sons go through enough maple syrup that it would be cheaper to just invest in a maple grove. We got married in a maple grove 20 years ago this summer, maybe that’s why. I’m convinced the reason J loves cheese so much is because I ate pounds of Velveeta queso when I was pregnant with him.
- This time of year frustrates me. Not quite warm enough to garden or wear short sleeves, not quite cold enough to put away the winter parkas, it’s a lot of sitting around and waiting for spring to finally arrive and stay.
- I hate to shave my legs. They are long, with some considerable real estate there, I’m not the most flexible of 42 year olds, and our shower does not allow a lot of room for maneuvering. Thankfully, this is northern Illinois, where it is cold eight months of the year and frickin’ freezing four of those months; leg hair is insulation. But then it comes time when it’s just warm enough for capris, and you don’t want to scare small children (or encourage small woodland creatures), and so you stare at the Sasquatch that has taken over your lower limbs and you pray you don’t land on your ass under the shower head.
- I may not do much right in my life (I don’t exercise, my stress is off the charts most days, I feel like I am failing my adulting final exam, don’t even get me started on how I feel homeschooling is going) but I do one thing so right I feel the need to brag. I wear earplugs every single time I pull out my flute. I know, right?! I’ve worn earplugs since high school; my hearing is stellar. If my hearing were a physical being, it’d be the cover model of Cochlea Monthly. It’s that perfect. Thank you for your adulation. No applause please, just throw money. I also shower every single day and fill the gas tank when it hits 1/4 full; celebrating the little things, here.
- I’ve really been struggling with balancing honesty, privacy, and the desire to not scare off any potential employers as I blog lately. But, who am I kidding…potential employers…ha.
- Can’t decide if I need a therapist, a life coach, a personal trainer…or all three. Yeah, all of the above. I’m sure you can relate. Please say yes or I will need to refer you to #3.
- I’ve been tossing around some great ideas for the future that would allow me to 1) be a self-employed entrepreneur, 2) keep my flute studio, 3) make a difference, and 4) be creative. Once I can harness the addled hamsters that appear to have run off with my attention span I’ll be able to move forward with them. Stay tuned.
There. I’ve spoken my truth…or rather, the truth that I’m willing to share with the whole interwebz. You wouldn’t believe the self-censure involved with writing this post today.
I blame the hamsters…and I always, always blame the zucchini.