About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Random Tuesday thoughts - I'ma leavin'
I don’t have an addictive personality, but I’m having a serious problem kicking the Q-tips. When I get out of the shower I stand in front of the medicine cabinet and daydream about how delicious it would feel to slide that firm little cotton head into my dewy ear canal. I open the medicine cabinet. I close it. I open it. I tell myself that that Q-tip will be the last. It never is.
I need to find a Q-tip support group.
On Thursday, I’m leaving for a mini-vacation with my best friend. I haven’t been away from Junior for more than one night, so this trip is a big deal for me. One might even say it’s caused me embarrassing amounts of guilt and anxiety. It didn’t help that my mother asked me if the trip was the best use of my vacation time since I am already “out of the house so much.” I nicely reminded her that I am taking two days off after my trip so I can spend quality time with Junior—and that I’ll only be gone for three nights. She smiled and told me that enjoying some me time—my first trip in two years!—would be good for me.
Ok, that’s a crock of shit. Chuck said that. My mother shrugged her shoulders and frowned, which made me want to punch her lights out. It also made buying a Mother’s Day card particularly difficult. Hallmark doesn’t exactly make cards that allow you to thank dear mom for inducing unnecessary guilt, being petty and hacking at sensitive issues with an ice pick. Instead I got her a card with some bullshit about how she spreads sunshine wherever she goes.
I hate sunshine.
I thought about asking someone to guest post for me while I’m away but then I thought, maybe the world would like a break from Mrs. Mullet. Actually, that’s a lie. I thought maybe I would like a break from this blog. So I’ll be gone for a few days. If you simply cannot live without me, I’ve got some regurgitated Mulletville posts for you. I chose something completely self-serving in that it makes reference to Chuck’s ample—and 100% guilt- and Junior-free*—romping and my mother’s tendency to be a peckerhead.
* Maybe Chuck is on to something. Maybe we can simultaneously love our children and frolic with friends. Granted, I'll be doing it without the Viking garb, but maybe he is right. (I said maybe, and I’m still going to bust him for the chocolate doughnuts.)
Keely? I'm starting to feel like I owe you money for this.