Hi, remember me? No? Well, that’s cool because I don’t either.
Who am I these days?
I honestly have no idea what to make of myself anymore. Here are a few highlights:
- Charlotte’s teacher asked me to be room mom. I am a room parent. I never even thought to apply to be a room parent (yes, the PTA takes applications) because I assumed that the prerequisites included being ombre hair color and a black Range Rover. It turns out that you can just be the lesbian mom who shows up to back to school night wearing a feminist t-shirt as long as you don’t mind being glared at by the Christian singer/dancer mom in the class!
- I am just starting my 4th week of classes. For the moment, I’m a straight A student. We’ll see how long it lasts. My guess is Wednesday because this shit is exhausting. Also, based on the pop tarts and potato chips I’ve eaten today, I seem to be set on eating like a college student. Is there such a thing as the freshman 15 when you’re 37, fully capable of buying and cooking real food, and are actually a sophomore? I should probably stop writing and go eat something green.
- I took up cross stitch and I freaking love it.
- My house is an absolute disaster. It turns out that being a stay at home parent does not automatically transform you into June Cleaver. Bummer.
- For the first time in years, I have time to go to the gym. I still don’t go to the gym. I don’t have an excuse. I just don’t want to go to the gym. Lesson learned.
- The people who hang out at the dog park on weekdays mid-morning are certifiably insane. Oh wait… I’m one of them. Seriously though—talk about a bunch of uptight weirdos. Did you know that my dog shouldn’t bark AT THE DOG PARK? She barks when she plays. It’s a happy bark. She’s not being mean. She’s just being loud. If you don’t like the sound of barking dogs, maybe don’t go to the DOG park. If a dog can’t bark at the freaking dog park, where can she bark? Also, my dog is too big for the small dog park, too small for the large dog park, and too butt-sniffy for the timid dog park, which leaves us… nowhere. We don’t belong anywhere. Story of my life.
- I reduced my dose of Zoloft after discussing the side effects I was experiencing with my doctor. It’s been over a month, and I’m not convinced that it was a good move, but I’m finding it really hard to decide. Am I just feeling off because everything in my life is so different right now? Or is everything in my life feeling so different because I lowered my dose? How the heck are you supposed to figure this out?
- My kid accidentally took a HUGE swig of vodka from a water bottle while we were camping. (I didn’t want to bring glass down to the river!) It traumatized her. Now every time I’m drinking a glass of water, she asks me very suspiciously if it’s “vod-a-ka.” I swear I do not ever drink water glasses full of vodka.
- I lost my kid at the mall. Like, LOST her. For 20 minutes. The police were even called. It was the most terrifying experience of my life, and I honestly don’t think I’ll ever recover fully. Charlotte is still processing the experience, too, but it was more like a grand adventure for her (she even shoplifted lotion!). This morning, she put on the shirt she was wearing when she got lost, and I almost fell apart. So if you see a bleary-eyed mom googling “GPS trackers for kids,” you should totally wave. I’ll invite you to sit down for coffee and tell you everything I’ve learned about monitoring your preschooler’s every move via foreign satellite. OK, not really. But kinda.
So… what’s new with you? Anyone else having an identity crisis of sorts these days?