Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Belated Letters to the Boogers

Dearest Dante and Scarlett,

First and foremost, Happy birthday, Dante!  A whopping four years old! It's crazy to me how fast time flies. I guess it's true that kids are time machines.  Days drag on forever, but years fly by.  You have become an amazing reader, and a mini mathematician.  Your way with words and numbers astounds me.  I do wish you'd outgrow temper tantrums, but I really can't judge since I haven't...

Scarlett!  Twenty months old and you can almost sing the alphabet!!  You really love your tutus and your sparkly things!  You carry your blanket around like the princess version of Linus from Peanuts, but it's cute.  I'm really waiting for you to use it like a parachute...

And the both of you with this Mickey Mouse Clubhouse has GOT TO STOP.  I hear those songs in my sleep.  It's not fair, seriously.  I was never really into Disney, and now I know why.  Please cut it out.

I really don't have much to say other than I'm tired and I love you....

So, I'm tired, and I love you.


Friday, March 29, 2013

An Excuse to Utilize My Vocabulary Skills

Well, it's been a minute, hasn't it?  I'd like to say I've been busy finding a cure for Parkinson's or Alzheimer's, but, in reality, I've been dodging boogers, succumbing to the whims of my children (DAMN YOU, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse!), and shuttling myself to and from assorted doctors appointments.  I've been cleaning up messes, singing cheesy songs, and wallowing in the depths of my head, wondering when the neural pathways will finally make sense.  (Luckily, there are drugs for that!)  I've been cooking, and kissing boo boos, and scrubbing walls and children both covered in paint and markers.

I'd love to say that I've done something for myself, like gotten a haircut, or a mani-pedi, or even a facial mask I made myself from a recipe on Pintrest, but, alas, I have not.  I'd love to spend time on myself, but that's not in my foreseeable future.  Time, like money, tends to disappear before I can say "Wow!"  Imagine if there was enough time in the day, or cash in all our accounts?  What would we dream about?  What would happen?  I'm sure I'd find something to blather on and on about ('tis my nature), but it feels like I will never get there.

I did finally get my fat ass enrolled at the Community College of Denver, but I have yet to get to orientation (so that I can enroll in classes) because they are only held at times my husband is at work.  Same goes for the testing portion of enrollment.  I realize that they are weeding people out, but unless they can either pony up daycare or be open and willing when I can go...what am I to do?

Oh, well.  Like all of my dreams other than motherhood, it's on the back burner.  I knew going in that some things would have to be put aside, I just had no idea to this extent.  I feel isolated.  I feel like my days are spent translating thoughts into simple sentences for the knee-high set, and when I do get to talk to other adults, kids come out of the woodwork so that conversing is moot.  I don't get to hang out with the ladies, because events have a tendency to be scheduled on odd nights or when family stuff is planned, or they are too expensive, and spending money is the opposite of what I am trying to do.  I'm trying to get all our ducks in a row so we can get the hell out of this horrible, tiny apartment.  I know a house won't solve all of my problems (add to them, in fact), but it'd be nice to have a window that doesn't face a wall.  I'd like to build stuff in a garage, like storage things, or a classic car for Dante to drive when he's of age.  I'd like to have a space where I can sew and not wake people up, or do a workout dvd without tripping over a kid.

It'd be easy to say I'm miserable, but I'm not.  Confused, maybe, but not miserable.  I'm hard at work in the confines of this skull, trying to hammer what needs to be hammered, and sanding so that I may polish.  I'm a work in progress, sure, but when do I know when I'm done?