I'm not proud of myself.
I've been spending a lot more time on Facebook and Twitter than I have here. *
It's not you, it's me.
It's the fact that I find myself coming up with a couple of clever sentences at a time, not enough to create a whole paragraph. It's also a matter of convenience - I can update Facebook and Twitter from my phone, and writing a whole blog post via text... usually while driving ... well, I know you'd want me to be safe so I can keep writing, right?
It's also the fact that the Apes expect to be entertained every day of the summer, and part of their entertainment involves kicking me off the 'puter. And yes, I know they were gone for a full ten days and I didn't blog much then, but during that time I was very, VERY committed to the idea of cleaning the basement and the boys' room before they got back. As it turned out, however, that plan was almost totally derailed when we had to replace the garage door opener, and I was disappointed in myself for not meeting my own goal, which I'll admit was a lofty one, but still, I hate when I don't meet a goal I set for myself.
I don't report to anyone. I don't have a boss. I don't have an annual performance review. I'll never get a raise. I don't get any sort of formal recognition for the amazing job that I do, so my sense of job satisfaction comes from myself and how well *I* feel I do my job. I know the world probably wouldn't fall apart if I didn't get something done that I was hoping to get done, but I'll feel like I didn't do my job. And my job is more than a job to me - it's a big part of my identity, whether I like it or not. So it's important to me to feel like I'm good at it.
But I failed. I came close, but ultimately didn't achieve what I was hoping to achieve by the deadline. And I had a bit of a breakdown over it.
Then the kids came home. And they brought my parents with them.
Now, I love my parents like crazy, and we all have a great time when they're here. They tell me how awesome my kids are, and I feel like a fantastic parent - in stark contrast, of course, to FIL, who points out how poorly behaved my kids are (when they're behaving in a totally age-appropriate manner) and makes me feel like a douchebag.
Again, I love them, and they don't put pressure on me intentionally, but I still feel enormous pressure to be "on" when they're here, if that makes sense. Plus, when we all go somewhere, sometimes Dad takes the boys in one direction and Mom and I take Beebie in another direction, and getting us all to meet up in the same place at the same time is a lot like wrangling squirrels - exhausting and totally futile.
But before my parents left, I told my mom that I was a good mom because of her, I meant it. My kids are good kids because I'm not afraid to parent them, which sometimes includes saying NO to them or otherwise disappointing them. They know better than to ask me for stuff they know we can't afford. They know that there will always be other people who have more than we have.
The boys are still kinda too little to get it, but Beeb's friend Elle, for example, has EVERYTHING. But Beeb's cool about it and she's not ashamed of her family (yet) or the fact that we don't have a pool table or a pool in the backyard or the ability to purchase 3rd row tickets to the Jonas Brothers.
(Which was the FUCKING BEST TIME EVER, by the way. But I digress.)
Anyway, kids, that's where I've been. So now, let me catch you up on what you've missed.
Got a call from Buffy last week. Remember that dream job that was good enough to make her pack up and move across the country? She hates it. HATES. IT. Loves where she lives, so she's glad she moved, but she is absolutely miserable in her job. I've been trying to imagine a job she would be happy in, and I can't. I honestly think she's happiest when she's got something to complain about.
Hmmmm. . . what else? Oh, my Beebie turned twelve on the 23rd. TWELVE.
I know that when one becomes a parent, everyone tells you that the years go by really quickly and your kids will grow up before you know it, but it really is true. Even when some days it feels like they will never learn to pour their own milk or tie their own shoes or ride a bike without me running along side of it or finally drive THEMSELVES somewhere instead of treating me like their personal taxi.
So I went through a brief period when I felt like I was a hundred years old and lamented my own mortality, but I spared you guys that because it was boring and a total downer and I just wanted to push through it. And I did.
I love the show Rescue Me. Sometimes I lie awake at night worrying about Lou and wondering if I'm more of a Janet or a Sheila.
I'm anxiously awaiting the Season 3 premiere of Mad Men on August 16th. Seasons 1 and 2 are available on DVD and you have some time to get caught up and lust over The Hamm right along with me.
See? It's really kinda random thoughts. More a series of one-liners than the monologue you're used to reading from me. I will try to do better about blogging, though. I promise.
School starts on the 18th. Beeb has 7th Grade Orientation tomorrow. And I'm afraid Pie and Swamp Thing Junior are going to be in the same class this year. I just have a feeling. We'll know in about a week. Stay tuned.
* If you'd like to add me on either site, let me know.
EDIT: I'm not PK on Facebook. :)
Monday, August 03, 2009
I'm not proud of myself.