Somewhere between the chlorine fumes at the pool and one too many Boston Coolers this summer I’ve lost the will to be motivated. By month six of my self-imposed retirement, I was ready to take on the world. Now, nearing the end of month eight, I’ve let go the nanny I’ve always been wary of mainly because I am not filling my free time doing anything that meaningful. (Ah yes, there is beauty in shopping at Target, but cheap sweaters don’t always fill the void.)
Once the eighty-degree sunny weather hit and decided to stay for more than a week, I decided to turn it off and tune into the wonders of two-year-old (TYO) dialect.
TYO: Mommy, what are we gw’an to do noowwwww?
Mommy: I don’t know, whatever we want.
TYO: I want to paaaaay.
TYO: No no. No want to go to errands. Want to paaaay.
So play we do. All day and night. Until I realize we’re out of milk or something and then I walk to the Speedway on the corner and buy some bad, hormone-laced in BPA bottle generic brand that will disintegrate my child’s brain or something. I haven’t posted in quite sometime over there where my mug shot smiles out from some alternative working mom universe. I did post here recently, mainly because I had a sob story to tell and I don’t want my friends Jill and Beth to think I’ve completely gone AWOL in the blog world.
Speaking of AWOL, so are any vestiges of readers I once had here. I know you get what you give, and I’ve given so little of late, I’m not surprised by my lack of readers, but it’s yet another reminder of the lazy-ass summer lovin’ blob I’ve become. I’m even 3 episodes behind on Project Runway and wasn’t even sure if what I was watching was the new season.
It’s quite fun forgetting there’s a world of motivated mothers out there. Those who defy the odds, grace magazine pages, have hit books , so on and so forth. I can see why people opt-out never to return to the world of deadlines, projects, and conference calls. Sure, paychecks are nice, (there are so many fall items like THIS BAG that I’m seriously coveting, but seriously cannot afford), but they’re nothing compared to a sweet farmer’s tan and your kid’s dirty fingernails.
Ahh … that purple sure is perrrrty, though…
{ 8 comments }
