Sigh. just, big, sigh.
I feel like having baby # 2 turned me into a true, bona fide adult. All of a sudden we have a budget and we can't go out drinking, like, ever, and I'm complaining about my mortgage payment and daycare bills and how will we ever pay for it all? I go to girls night out with my lady friends and we sit around and grouse about our husbands and brag about our kids. I would diet to get rid of this mommy body I somehow woke up to, but I'm too tired to stop eating chocolate. I don't have time to play because we need to spend that time fixing the fucking light fixture or calling the termite man. How did this happen? When did I turn into a sad approximation of a mom? I use that voice with my son and threaten to come over there right now if he doesn't shape up or ship out. I have long agonizing conversations with my husband about whether or not I can buy that damn latte. I would get a new cell phone to replace my ailing current phone but first I have to investigate all the cell phone companies and decide which one will serve my family best. And don't get me started on taxes. fucking taxes.
How did this happen?
I feel like all the play has been sucked out of my life with a sad, disturbing sucking vortex sound. I can't even pretend to try to be hip anymore because I just don't have the time, money, or motivation. My version of hip is wearing a t-shirt over a long-sleeve t-shirt, but that's hardly hip since neither fits me very well and I just end up looking chubby and sloppy. sloppy is not hip. I may as well stop thinking that I can even watch american idol as an ironic statement. there's nothing ironic about me or my life.
I'm actually jealous of another mom at my son's school because she just got a new car. of course, it's a saab station wagon, but whatever. when we get a new car, it will be a wholesome, unironic minivan. we've already decided, even though we won't be buying a new car for a few years yet.
I'm not unhappy, just terribly, sadly dissatisfied. I feel like I went to all this effort to buy myself my favorite cracker and they went and changed the formula on me and it just doesn't taste as good as I want it to. sigh.
Maybe I just need to go pee. You can tell the lentil is going to have a huge temper tantrum when he starts pacing around because he has to pee. He won't just step back and think "I need to pee. maybe I will feel a little less desperate once I've relieved this pressure." Instead he will get more and more wound up and scream and rage and then run off quick quick and pee. And then he feels better and the tantrum is over. Maybe I just need to have an enormous pee and get all this dissatisfaction out of my body in one long stream of yellow adult ennui.