my life, guys.

Is it just a husband thing to be ready for any event in a matter of minutes, and then look upon his wife and kids with a “tsk” in his eye…?

I get it. We’re slow. Like, exceptionally slow. We’re the most low maintenance people that you’ll ever meet, we’re just really REALLY slow.

SORRY NOT SORRY. (I’m actually mostly sorry.)

I typically blame it on having to get myself ready, which – let’s be real – doesn’t look like much, but then also having to round the kids up and convince them to wear weather appropriate clothing, preferably forward-facing, and without ketchup on it. It’s no easy task, but I’m often left to it alone while my husband sits in the car.

Yea, his sitting in the car used to drive me crazy, but it’s a flaw I’ve grown to accept because that’s what you do in marriage, I guess. I accept his waiting in the car like we don’t even exist, and he tries really hard to just accept the sound of my coughing fits when I have a cold/flu.

Be still my heart.

Anyway.

Years have taught him, though, that rather than just heading to the car, it’s good social (and marital) etiquette to at least let us know that he’s ready and walking out the door. He actually does one better now and will say things like “guys, get your coats on” or “let’s get in the car.” I mean, he does those things whether your hands are covered in Fudgsicle from Grandma’s house or not, but baby steps. So on Thanksgiving, my son comes running up to me – hands covered in Fudgsicle from Grandma’s house – and whines “Mom, I need to wash my hands but Dad’s making us get ready to leave by saying the weird thing he always says…!”

“Oh my gosh. What’s the weird thing he always says…?”

Embarrassed, and through gritted teeth, my son says “that we need to bounce like Beyoncé…”

And then there’s that.

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catching flak

My dream community basically just consists of myself, my kids, my husband (so long as we’re getting along), and my dog when he isn’t excessively shedding, eating our felt geographical landmarks, or puking – on a large plot of acres, surrounded by no one.

It’s VASTLY different from the community that I actually live in which is full of so many people.

They’re mostly nice – they’re just always there and making noise and talking to me – I dunno. My husband eats it up because he’s a people person, but stepping out onto the back steps to drink my morning coffee only to have multiple people say hi to me before noon is literally my nightmare.

And tonight, while minding my own business – waiting at a lure module nearby, catching Pokémon like a nerdy little introvert ought – this neighbor girl approaches and asks me not to lean against a concrete wall along the side of her yard because it’s in bad shape and her parents would like to be able to repair it someday.

It’s like, excuse me, but my ass hasn’t once done irreparable damage to a solid concrete wall…and you owe me a Jolteon, you little punk, because you made me miss a wild Eevee.

GODDDDDD.

This would have never happened on 100 acres.

winners and losers

I’m sparing you guys the post I had all typed up about kids and sports and competition and participation medals.

Mostly because I ovary-acted and sounded awfully f*cking judgy for a mom who found an old aquarium admission ticket in her Star Wars crossbody bag with the word “penis” scribbled on the back of it, but also because I used the term ‘butthurt,’ and didn’t want the butthurt folk who might be reading to endure more butthurt.

Am I even using that word right…?

Still, to let you know where I stand on kids and sports and competition and participation medals without insulting anyone who might think different than myself, after my son’s first soccer game of the season, I asked him if they chose a team name yet and he was all “I don’t think so…but everyone yells ‘hustle’ a lot…?”

And I feel like he should get all the medals just for being so dang weird/funny.

mini me

The question I get asked most often as a mother is “oh my goodness, where did that red hair come from?” in reference to my youngest daughter, the only one of us who isn’t a boring brunette.

I wonder if it’s just a conversation piece or if people honestly don’t understand how genes work. The truth is that it came from me, which came from my dad, which came from his mom, etc., but people still look at me with unbelief, like I’ve stolen her from her rightful, unsuspecting, red-haired family.

To clear things up, if ever there was any doubt that the red-headed child who runs around here calling me mom is in fact mine, I overheard her yelling “CHANGE YOUR LIFE, MAN. And then, my gosh…change your clothes. Socks and sandals, come on.”

She also has my temper and ears, the poor thing.

check yourself

I’m very much one of those “why are we here/what does it all mean?” types, even though, most days, I’m fairly certain that it means nothing more than we make it to mean. That being said – I am a sucker for internet quizzes.

I know that seems out of left field, but hear me out.

I just feel like there’s something existentially satisfying about them – each one like small quest for a shred of self-awareness; where I am able to compare and contrast my own existence with things and characters that I see and know outside of myself…

They’re not always accurate, of course – it is the Internet, after all. I had one test assume that I was a 73-year-old male based on a series of random images I had chosen and another test tell me that I’m Chandler, when I’m clearly an insufferable mix of Ross and Monica.

But then it’s like, of course if I were a food I’d be pizza, so I dunno.

What do you guys think? Are you addicted to personality quizzes, too? Do you think there’s some sort of deeper, psychological meaning for so many of us taking them so frequently, or do you think they’re just a way to pass the time? And while I’m asking questions, which Disney princess are you?

I kid. (But I am Ariel, always.)

kid snippets – made up-game edition

“In this game, everyone’s name is Baby Jo. And we say it with an accent.”

“YOU CAN’T JUST YELL ‘INVISIBLE’ AND THEN THINK THAT YOU’RE INVISIBLE.”

“I’m a tyrannosaurus rex with tree frog capabilities! And I have wings. Actually, no, I just have extra skin – I’m a glider.”

“Who do you think you are taking stuff out of my inventory…?”

“We have a great plan: I run at one, he bites the crap out of the other. It’s fool-proof!”

“You should really get the baby upgrade – I’ve got the upgrade and I have RIDICULOUS baby abilities…like, endless regeneration, for one.”