The Sims

Okay, so I was opening up Microsoft Word and in my search, I noticed that I have "The Sims 3" on my computer.  This is a bad scene.

When I was younger, my roommate and I would get drunk and play Sims for hours, and it was the best thing ever (read: totally dumb and sad, but come on!).  Now, I have an actual life that resembles The Sims in its' mundane nature, with no time to actually play, so I really shouldn't have any desire to play, right?

RIGHT?

Dude.  It's killing me.  It's ALL I want to do.

I love The Sims.

2014

Mantra: They're my kids, I'll screw them up as I see fit.

New Phase...

Good morning!
Okay, here's the deal.  I am not going back to work.  My awesome boss knows, it was a very sad meeting, but I am really excited for this new step.

However.

Um, two kids?  BRUTAL.  Maybe it's because Husband leaves the house by six a.m. and does not return until at least nine or 10 (is that correct?  Or is that opposite?  No, it's opposite.  I fixed it, but know that I used the numbers for six and nine and spelled out 10.  But can you mix them like that in one sentence?  Advise).  He's working a TON, which is obviously a big sacrifice and I really appreciate it, but dude.  It is intense.  There are literally no breaks.  By six o'clock I am literally fried.  I look like one of those cats on those dumb book order posters that say "Hang in there!" except uglier.

I love my kids, obviously, and I feel lucky to be able to spend this time with them because it is not something a lot of people are able to do.  Though you know what I hate?  How people always frame this situation as a choice and one option is better than another.  Being a parent is hard, period.  It's a huge sacrifice, working or not.  Everyone's on the same team - the team where we hide from our kids because they are life-sucking leeches who are out to destroy us.  Well, except that it's hardest for me and nobody knows my plight or pain.  Kidding.  But it bugs me.  Parents who stay home do not have it easy.  Parents who work do not have it easy.  Why can't we just leave it at that?

ANYWAY.

Back before I had kids, I used to write a little bit, and it was fun because people Googled me.  What?  Maybe I could write a little bit again, while I'm hiding from my kids.  But is there a paper for New England moms who are super hilarious and enjoy 80s teen sitcoms, talking about outfits and not knowing any current events?  I think it would be really good, don't you?  I'd read it.

What was that?  Sorry, I was busy yelling at Bink about watching another Dora the Explorer.  Spoiler alert: I let her.  Yay!

Reasons Why I Can't Work Out.

When I am feeding the baby at 3 am, I'm like "I should totally work out tomorrow."  And then it's 6 am and I'm like "Oh, TV."  So there goes that.  Except we DON'T watch much TV, which is heartbreaking, but what can you do?  Anyway, there are many other reasons why it is impossible for me to work out.  Here is a sampling:

I have a two year old and a newborn.  I'm too tired to work out.
I was sick when I was pregnant two months ago, so I'm still recovering from that.
I'm not wearing a bra.
I'm not wearing a bra, and I spent the whole day running errands.  I'm too embarrassed to work out.
Spanx were invented for a reason; if I don't use them, they'll go out of business.  It's really for the Spanx employees.
My kid has croup.  I need to sit next to her and watch Peppa Pig.  No time to work out.
Also, my kid has croup.  Can we discuss?  If we do, there will definitely be no time to work out.

And here is the biggie, the one that always tips the scales to laziness:
I. Don't. Wanna.

So when I cry at 4 p.m., about to leave for a 6 p.m. wedding and the dress I bought doesn't fit around my butt, I have nobody to blame but myself.  Or EVERYTHING ELSE, see above.

Baby's here. But, really...

So I had the baby.  He is the cutest ever and I am obsessed with him.  It's pretty sick, but it can neither be helped nor stopped.  Bink LOOOVES him, which is also awesome.  But honestly, that's not why I am writing today.

I want Instagram.

No, I do not own a Smartphone.  And apparently you can't do it on the computer.  But I honestly feel like my life would improve drastically if I had it.  I would do so many cool things and activities.  People I barely talk to could see what I had for dinner!  I desire it, I crave it, and nobody will get it for me.

Granted, I could go to the store (AT&T?  I think I have that.  Can you still have that one?) and upgrade my plan from when I got my first cell phone at age 23, but come o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-nnnnnnnn-ah.  I don't wanna go, I hate the cell phone store!  Someone just do it for me, right?  Alas, that has yet to be the case,  so my life will continue to be terrible.  Or something.

Also, do you know what Snapchat is?  Any why it was invented????  SICK!

Twelve-ish Weeks to Go... Calling in Reinforcements...

Right now I am spooning up applesauce from a mug I stole from my mother that I actually gave her when I was five that says "#1 Mom".  The jar of applesauce is one of those three-pound guys that you actually probably didn't know existed, but they do.  We are stocked with them because that is the only thing I have been able to successfully consume over the past week and I want to drink it, bathe in it, make out with it.  Seriously, it's like that Meredith Baxter Birney movie, I forget what it's called, where her husband is mean to her and she sits on her kitchen floor and eats the entire chocolate cake.  I have vomit on my shoes and in my hair, a result of spending the last three hours getting sick in a public bathroom, and now my nose is bleeding for the second time today.  Did I mention I am at work?

Okay, so this has been an exceptionally tough day, so just now I went online and bought a Jesus book, because I literally cannot think of anything else to do to get through this.  Do you think it will work?  I'm not making fun, I'm serious.  I am not at all opposed to religion, I think it's really nice, actually, but I've never read a book that contains devotionals - I'm actually not even sure what those are, to be honest.  All I know is that none of my anti-sick medicines work, I have not slept in days, and I think it's getting to me.  Case in point:

This afternoon I was walking in a crosswalk on a busy street.  A cabbie was trying to drive through the crosswalk despite the fact that it was my turn to walk, and not his turn to drive.  I screamed at him.  He actually stopped to apologize and looked a little terrified, but it could not be helped.  Well, MAYBE it could, but whatever. 

I feel this is not entirely okay.  So that is where my new book comes in.  I think it is going to really help.  Or at least get me to stop verbally asaulting cabbies.  Win/win.

Just about 12 weeks to go...

So Here's The Thing...

On Monday, a day that generally celebrates people who inspire was ruined by someone who thought it would be a good idea to set off two bombs at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.  Truly, if you’ve never gone to watch the race, you’re missing out.  It is amazing.  Seeing thousands of people running – some to accomplish a goal, many to raise money and awareness for diseases, gives you a feeling of community, of flat-out awe, and a pride in your town that cannot be described in words, but is easy to see on the faces of the participants, the crowd, everyone coming to encourage one another.  It’s not a gift-giving holiday, it’s not commercial, it’s just awesome.  And now it’s been compromised.  But I promise, it won’t be ruined.  And here is why: People from Boston are crazy.

Crazy, you say?  How can you say that?  That sounds disrespectful and rude, but that’s not how I mean it, and if you’re from here or if you’ve been here you know exactly what I’m talking about.  Here’s the thing: there is nothing Boston does better than a comeback.  There has been some really nutty stuff that has happened here over the past, well four hundred years, and no matter what, we’ve turned it around and we’ve kicked ass.  We turned the Salem Witch Trials into an adorable little tourist trap, because, well, bygones, right?  Redcoats?  Please.  A colonial version of the Pink Hats you see at Fenway (and even they are fierce in their commitment to the Red Sox, even though they have no idea what a pop fly is.  And no, I don’t either, but are you honestly going to mess with me right now?  I’m six months pregnant, sick as a dog and I’d soon as sock you in the jaw as listen to your crap.).  We were the first to okay gay marriage because we all understand that everyone, no matter what your gender, has the right to be unhappy.  Because we are.  We’re a bunch of miserable f*cks who wouldn’t have it any other way.  Trust me. 

Boston is full of adults who still live at home, smoke cigarettes, and hate their jobs.  It’s freezing even though it’s SUPPOSED to be nice in March.  Traffic sucks.  We’re looking for someone to take it out on.  So whoever they are, wherever they are, if I didn’t hate them so much I’d feel sorry for them.  Because not only do we love a comeback, we hold a grudge.  If we fly into a rage remembering the fistfight we got into with that elderly bitch who took our parking space seventeen years ago, they don’t stand a chance.

By now, we’ve seen the footage and we’ve heard about the amazing things that people from all over the world have done to show their support and to honor those killed and wounded, and it’s astounding.  The grace by which the populace at large has made us all realize that whatever low-rent animal(s) did this are in the tiniest minority and that goodness is the rule, not the exception.  But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re mad as hell and we’re going to protect and fight for our family – and by that I mean our Boston family – and nobody is going to be able to change that.  Ever.