Tuesday, September 13, 2011


You know what's frustrating? Thinking of a completely organic, original and cutting edge idea at 1 a.m. and then waking up in the morning and looking on Google Reader. And it's. Right. There. Completed by someone else with more time and more resources and more moo-la and all-around bad-antsness. *sigh*

What is it they say? There's nothing new under the sun. Or the blogosphere, apparently. Guess I need to up my game, peeps. If only I could skip the dishes, the laundry, the ironing, the vacuuming, the making of sustenance for the hubby, cleaning out the fridge. Then, just maybe, I could actually do some of the things on my mile-long craft list. Fun things. Things that don't require me to smell one-month old tuna that was left in the back of the fridge by *ahem* the only other person in the house who eats solid food. Yes, friends, my kitchen now smells like Sea World. And may for the rest of eternity.

You know what I need? A maid. And a cook. And a million dollars. That would solve everything.

And yet, I really don't think hiring people would change much. As a mommy, I'll fear I'll never be able to stop picking up dirty socks and wiping snotty noses and dusting (and re-dusting all that confounded electrical equipment my husband deems necessary). Heck, if I had a maid, I would probably end up cleaning anyway. Maybe it's some kind of disease. Housekeepy-itis. Or the Responsibility Virus. Or maybe it's just in my nature to cook and clean and care and nurture. Sometimes, that trait really pisses me off. I want to be selfish. I want to forget about it all. I don't want to care about whether my husband eats dinner or my baby has clean cloths.

I want to be irresponsible, if just for a week, and let the dirty dishes pile high and the garbage overflow. But I can't. I can't stop caring. I can't stop nurturing. And that is irreversible. It's a part of who I am as a woman and a mother. An annoying, time-consuming, oft stinky part of me, but a part of me nonetheless.

Motherhood. It's a dirty job, but somebody's gotta do it.

I wouldn't change it for the world.


Motherhood. A stinky, difficult, exhausting, face-squashing good time.

Ever feel like this?
Motherhood = Lve
mom, mom, mom, mom, mom ...
whatcha doin'?

Mom is eating Therefore I am hungry.

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