The Simple Life of a Complicated Wife: A post about nothing…in particular.

A post about nothing…in particular.

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Many many moons ago, or months ago, I promised to post more. I also warned that my promise would most likely be broken in a matter of weeks. Was I right, or was I right? At least I can break my promises with integrity and honesty. Uh huh.

As a full time wife, mother of four, and marketing executive, I have very little time for pleasure. Always doing someone’s laundry, taking care of a sick kid, dropping the other kids off at band practice. There’s just not enough time in the day!

I kid I kid… I don’t have any children, and I hope I never have to say “I’m dropping the kids off at band practice.” No kid of mine will be in the band. Well, if they are daddy will have to go to all the marching band retreats and performances (is that what they give, performances?) while mommy dreams of what her kids could have been, all star football players and cheerleaders. *le sigh*. Actually seeing as Owen and I are both so short – I’m 5’0” and he is 5’8” – we’ve accepted the fact that our children will be jockeys. This is good. This means I can buy pretty dresses and big hats and cheer them on at the ‘track’ while sipping coca-colas out of a bedazzled wine glass.

Oh I was also kidding about being a marketing executive, but who is counting (or noticing or cares or whatever). Moral to this story is that I do not want my kid to be in the band, everything else is fair game, even the science club. Note to self: In order to keep your kid from being geeky do not ever let him or her see one single clip of Star Wars as I’m certain that’s what converts young souls to the ~~dark~~ geeky side.

Let’s get to the subject of this post which is … nothing. I’m just typing as I go. Let’s talk about Chicks man. Ooook I have nothing to say about chicks other than Carrie Underwood is gorgeous and I want to be her. I’ve been watching too much ‘The Soup’. It’s possible.

How about this…’What’s On My Mind’ in bullet point format:

My birthday is in a week from tomorrow. I will be 43!! Holy cow. Okay, I’ll actually be 27 but it feels like 43. I can tell gravity is already pulling ‘the twins’ downward and there’s no turning back. When I put on eyeliner I can see wrinkles near the lash line. THIS IS HORRIBLE. I get headaches all of the time, many times migraines, my joints hurt when I walk more than a few yards… I. AM. FALLING. APART. Actually, I don’t think my joints hurt but felt that would be something a 43 year old would say. I should ask Owen, he’s getting close. He’ll be 36 in April. You know how I know he’s getting old? He’s always asking ME how old HE is. He tells people an assortment of ages when they ask him because he really can’t remember. My little precious old man. I just love him.

What do I want for my birthday? I want some materialistic junk, like most females my age. But honestly, for maybe the first time ever, I’m happy to not receive any gifts. I just want to enjoy the day with Owen. Dude! I really AM getting old. I’m about to throw up, yep, here it comes.

Intermission: While typing this I checked facebook for a breather. On my newsfeed is a picture of my little sister and her boyfriend. She’ll be 22 this summer. She looks like a full grown woman. It still unsettles me to see how grown up she is. I miss her being a young and annoying little girl who always stole the attention away by breaking her arm three or four times (I can’t keep count). Or when I would get sick she would ALWAYS get sick at the same time. It’s a magical power she’s had since birth. She would mess up her bedroom as a toddler with her Mickey Mouse train set and when she was done my mom would call me in to clean it all up. I couldn’t come out until it was done. Looking back, I should have moved out and got my own place at 9 years old. That’s just unacceptable. When she and I had bedrooms across from each other I could hear just about everything she was up to. So when she had maybe two bug bites on her leg, she cried all night screaming that her “bug bites hurt” and I was the one who had to try and help her. Well, I just stood there and told her to shut up. The point to all of this is that it amazes me how she’s gone from a pony tail with a ribbon wearing brace face who was quiet and ditsy (still is – she couldn’t answer who fought in the Vietnam War) to the grown up beautiful woman she is today. I visit Atlanta maybe every 3-4 months and each time I do I feel like she’s matured more. It’s fun to see her change and find herself. I feel like she’s my daughter. She’s not as good looking as me, her mother, but she’s decent. I’m proud of her. Very proud of her.

Back on track…I may have an unhealthy obsession with my dog. I’m also worried about having children one day because they’ll take away from the love I give to Birdie. That’s sad, I know this. She’s my little fur baby. I miss her when I’m gone and when I’m home we snuggle constantly. I let her drink some of my Gatorade and coke sometimes too. Mother. Of. The. Year.

Speaking of mothers, I’m still trying to understand them. Because I’m not an actual mom, it’s interesting and kind of weird watching all of my friends and peers become moms. It’s like an elite club. You can only get into it by knowing the pains of labor and the pains of cleaning a blowout diaper in the middle of the grocery store. I fully understand and recognize the fact that I am not in said club. Due to this I have a hard time understanding why so many moms fill their facebook pages up with updates about their children. It’s like they’ve lost their identity. Everything is “Little Sarah smiled at me today and then spit up down my shirt and ruined my new VS bra. It was so precious.”, or, “I saved the first tissue from Little Bobby’s first nose blowing. Even his boogies are cute!” And I’m sitting over here like “oh come on, no one cares except maybe your own mother, try posting about politics or something thought provoking.” With all that said, and all that I currently don’t understand about moms, I am 110% certain I will be one of those moms one day. I said to Owen the other day “Pleaseeee yell at me if I turn into one of those moms who posts multiple times a day about my baby.” His response? “You already are, have you seen how many pictures you’ve posted of Birdie?” Touché. I look forward to joining that elite club in the future and annoying all non-moms with my posts too. So keep it up moms-of-the-year, more power to ya (although you currently annoy me)!

A few posts ago I told y’all about my desire to start creating wall art. If you know me, you know that when I want something or I want to do something, I do it full force. I’m happy to say I officially have my business up and running of which I’ll tell y’all more about in my next post…

Here are some recent pictures with explanatory captions to accompany them. Who likes blog posts without pictures? Not me.

My parents recently got what I like to call convoluted, which really means con validated, which really means married again (not to be confused with remarried as they've been married for 30 something years) in the Catholic church. I took a video of the whole thing for them to remember forever and ever. Said video includes everything from people saying the Catholic prayers to me getting the "stop it now or you're going in time out" eye from the priest for taking flash photography.

The weekend before I hung out with the Priest, one of my best friends from high school got hitched in Nashville. She's the blonde in the middle back row. It was such a beautiful wedding and great to see her so happy and eager to marry her amazing now-husband Dan.

Yes we are Charlie's Angels and yes we are soooo original. In high school we took a picture together like this and we've carried on the tradition.

Owen is drunk in this picture. That's all.

And here's O-dawg and I before dinner to celebrate Valentine's Day. We ate at the Melting Pot which is a tradition. We eat until we're in pain. It's a good, I'm having a heart attack, kind of pain. Delish. Our friends Dana and David joined us this year and it was a blast. They allowed me to eat most of the cheese fondue and in return I allowed Dana to eat the chocolate fondue with a spoon. BFF status.

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Miss Carly

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