Farewell to my inner Idiot

I have recently had a birthday. Enough said.
No, but seriously I feel that with each year I am gaining new perspective on myself. I can look back on my twenties and say with with all sincerity, that I was indeed...an idiot.
And that's okay. As long as I am no longer on the road to mediocrity I am at least heading in the right direction.
So I am welcoming each year as an opportunity to embrace my insights and push myself as far as I can.
I will no longer live with limitations that I have created in my own mind. I am by God an Idiot no more!

Being at home has taught me one thing; I need an outlet to keep my sanity. I do this through my writing. Writing allows me to organize the cluster of thoughts that are constantly taking up space in my head. It also allows me the ability to see myself as my own person with thoughts, emotions and opinions. Beyond mom, beyond wife, beyond dog walker. I get to see me. And I think I'm pretty cool.

My life has become a reincarnation of every yesterday.
Everyday is the same chore, only the dialogue appears to be changing.
Even that has become predictable.
I find it hard to sort through my mind.
A savor any moment of silence I can find. They are hard to find.
I feel as if I am losing myself.
I am becoming a stranger in my own life.
Every doubt is a judgment.
Every thought is plagued with guilt.
How can I be enough for everyone when I am not enough for myself?

Dirty little diapers…

Some dirty little secrets I have:

1. Sometimes I throw in a DVD, pop some popcorn, and call it “movie time” for breakfast.
2. I try to smile politely when people without children give me parenting advice. Meanwhile in the back of my mind I am hoping they will give birth to the spawn of Satan.
3. I put myself in time out.
4. I tell my husband I have to go to the bathroom so I can have time alone to read.
5. I spray some febreeze and light a candle instead of cleaning the house.

This is how I know I have been at home too long…

I am no longer allowed to take a shower by myself. All showers are now accompanied by a two year old letting in a cold draft while asking me if she can shave her legs like mommy.

I find myself staring mindlessly at the ceiling while listening to my dog snore from underneath my computer desk. I consider this a relaxing moment in my day.

The other day I told the family dog if he did not stop it with the friggin tennis ball he was going in time out. I then proceeded to count to three.

I am now swapping recipes with other moms. I don’t even like to cook.

I fight over which PBS show to watch. I never win.

Lunchtime has become an acceptable time to have a glass of wine. I am after all, European right?

All of my underwear are cotton.

A night out consists of dinner and a trip to the Christmas Tree Shop.

Potty training always sneaks into my conversations.

I say poopie and pee-pee. (While clapping)

I am waiting anxiously to buy my daughter her first Barbie. I’m hoping Ken is hot.

I read Twilight to pass the time away even though I hated it.

I am excited about looking for a job. What?

I ask people to take me with them when they leave. And I’m serious.