Nothing very fun is going on these days in the household.
I’ve had just about nothing to blog about.
M got his school dates, and he’s leaving in just a few weeks instead of a few months like we thought, but my whole attitude is ‘git-r-done’. The sooner he starts, the sooner we put it behind us. I would have loved it if Shannon had been sleeping through the night a little bit better, but it’s not like I’m going to force her, and I certianly can’t ignore her if she cries. It’s just something that I’m going to have to grin and deal with. I’m okay with that. Plenty of women do it all the time, and for a lot longer than a month or so, so I don’t really feel like I have lisence to complain.
I was on my facebook account today while I was nursing, and I’m still ‘friends’ with a lot of kids I went to highschool with. They are always posting about wine nights, house parties, going away for spring break, and the newest fashion trends.
I, on the other hand, am in bed between 9-10 every night, enjoy weekends that consist of a trip to Wal*Mart for diapers, and have a song about poop. I’m very much sober when I sing this song about poop, and I sing it more than once a day.
If you had told me in highschool that when I was the age that I am now, I’d be married with a little one, I would have laughed right in your face.
Kids weren’t in the cards for me. I did want a family, but I wanted it eventually. I wanted it after I had accomplished all the goals that I had for myself. I wanted it after I had a successful career in the horse industry, had shown overseas, and I have lived a little bit.
I wouldn’t change it for the world now.
I love my husband with all my heart. I love my daughter with all my heart.
I’m not out at the barn everyday.
I traded my jean shorts and tank tops for sweatshirts and workout shorts.
My hair is constantly in a ponytail or a bun.
I don’t get the chance to shower in the morning, or sometimes at all during the day.
It takes me an hour to get out of the house.
My only form of communication most days is about a foot tall and pees her britches.
The only horse shows I’ll probably go to this summer are the ones I can broadcast on the USEF Network.
I put my keys in the freezer often, because I’m fairly sleep deprived.
I am no longer a stranger to 2 am.
I don’t remember the last time I had a beer.
I can whip my boob out and shove it in a screaming mouth faster than a stripper could ever dream.
I sing a song about poop. Stone cold sober. Often.
I could totally survive with only one arm.
I wouldn’t trade a damn thing for the world. I love every minute of being a Mom. Even when those minutes include being covered in poop, wincing because of the new decible level S has manage to achieve, or doing the walk n’ bounce at 2 am because she’s convinced she’s starving to death.
I know that it’s not for everybody, and I am a little jealous of my classmates who have a very small idea about responsibilty. Yes, they have important dead lines and classes to attend. I have an entire LIFE to attend to. A human being that can’t do a thing for herself. Do I doubt that any of them could dial it up if they were faced with the same challange? Not for a second.
All it takes is one of those huge, gummy smiles or a giggle to make everything worth it. All the things that M and I have sacrificed. All the sleepless night, spit-up covered shirts, the added zip code that is my thighs, the absence of a social life some days, and the mess that my house has become.
It’s all worth it.
You can have your parties, booze, and carefree-ness.
I’ll take my daughter.