Survival

I'm not sure how long it's been since my last post, but long enough to take me 45 minutes to figure out what account my blog was under, what the stinkin' username was, and for pete's sake, which password to use. Good grief.

The word to sum up the past however-long-it's-been-since-blogging is: SURVIVAL.

Pure survival mode.

I know someday I might look back at this time and think, "What a shame... I should have savored every sweet moment," but the Right Now Me would drop kick the Future Me if she dared say that to my face.

Work. Baby. Diapers. Work. Toddler. Bedtimes. Discipline. Money. Sickness. Work. Baby Weight. Mess. Toys. Poop. Work. Exhaustion. Hormones. Mommy Guilt. Naptime Battles. Did I Mention Work?

Never a break. Even my birthday weekend getaway was filled with bronchitis and nausea. Chris said I was a super sexy date, because at Olive Garden the only way I could taste my food was by blowing my nose (and taking a bite during those precious seconds that my nasal passages weren't filled with snot). I was so glad we were married and not dating that weekend. Somehow 5 years of blissful wedlock has erased any and all shame of bodily functions.

They say being a parent is hard. If I was a cussing woman, I'd be yelling a choice word from the rooftops right about now. Darn straight.

The annoying thing is, I shouldn't be complaining! I wanted kids. I can't have kids without money, so therefore I must work; I can't have kids without diapers and poop, and bedtime and sickness, and mess and toys, and exhaustion and baby weight., so therefore I must deal. So I guess I wanted all this. I wouldn't blame you for rolling your eyes at my seemingly self-pitying ramblings. But I suppose I do have the right to just speak the truth- I'm surviving.

There are so many things I want to do, like save the world and become famous and learn how to make Chef Ramsay's beef wellington and become Dallas's finest interior designer and get back to my wedding weight and learn how to keep a clean house for more than 2 hours but first things first. Write a new blog post on my lunch break. Then get back to work. Then make dinner and survive the 4 hour bedtime routine that has now taken over my house. Then, possibly, I can think about how I'm getting out of this house kid-free tomorrow, doing some Christmas shopping, going for a kid-free walk, splurging on a kid-free lunch, and then trading with the hubs so he can do the same.

if you want to find me tomorrow, I'll be here!

This is the life. I will remember to enjoy it. But if you were to tell me that today, you might just get drop-kicked. :)