Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Someday I'll be 40

I'm not working today.
I didn't work yesterday, either.
If the babies are sleeping, I'm working. That's just how it goes around here lately. But yesterday I made a choice to not work. Instead I blogged for the first time in almost six months, I read my blog roll all the way through, I cleaned the kitchen, put away laundry, spray painted a chair on the lawn (which is apparently not a good idea, according to the husband. Who knew spray paint kills grass? Plus, it's red. It looks like I killed a bear.)
And today, when the kids went down for naps and I sat down to work, it just didn't happen. I think perhaps my brain is telling me to take a break for a minute and just be happy for today. That sounds cheesy. But I got to thinking after my post yesterday. A few of the comments said "Hang in there!". I worried that I sounded like I was complaining about my kiddos. Sure, things are crazy around here, but my life is AWESOME. Really. I know that in 10 years I am going to look back on these few years I am lucky enough to be home with my babies and remember them as the best time in my life. I know, as a 40 year old, that I will curse my 30 year old self for worrying so much about work, money, what's next, etc. 40 year old Tracy will tell 30 year old Tracy to relax and enjoy her wonderful kids, her crazy old house, her sweet husband, and her amazing life. 40 year old Tracy will tell me to stop worrying about losing baby weight, getting the house "done", and figuring out what the next step is. (40 year old Tracy will probably tell 30 year old Tracy to stop pulling out her gray hairs, too.)
So today I'm not working. I'm not worrying about the work that I have to do. I'm watching my son sleep in his swing, waiting for my daughter to wake up from her nap, and appreciating how truly lucky I am to be here, right now.
Take that 40 year old Tracy.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Some Observations On Motherhood

Hello Blog.
I couldn't stand that my last post was something so boring. So I'm back.
I started another blog. I thought I could write there, without the time suck of putting together outfits.
But you know what, blog? I can't write without a stupid outfit up there to get me started. Considering that I make my living as, you know, a writer, that kind of blows. Seriously. I'd think of something funny and clever to write, and then I'd change a diaper. And make a snack. And pick raisins out of the carpet while wiping spit up out of my hair. And by the time I even thought about blogging, whatever clever thing I'd thought of had been replaced by something else in my brain, like the theme song from Pinky Dinky Doo. Which has to be the most annoying children's show of all time, followed closely by Clifford the Big Red Dog. (Best kids show? Word Girl. Husband informed me this morning that it is no longer on at 6:30 am, which is sad because we both enjoy Word Girl's humor. We need lives.)
On a different note, I thought that having two kids would be simply twice as much work. Ha ha! Funny mommy!
Holy Shit.
Having two kids increases your crazy level exponentially.
So my vision of reading sweetly to the 2 year old while the 4 month old sleeps soundly in his crib looks more like cleaning the 2 year old's poop off the bathroom floor while holding the screaming 4 month old against my chest. The 4 month old who decides it's a good time to vomit into my cleavage.
On the bright side...I have cleavage!


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