I'm tired of feeling like everyday is a race.
My throat aching because I'm tired...you know that feeling when you've been running in the cold? That's what I'm talking about.
I'm tired of feeling like a loser.
Like I don't/can't BE like those other Moms...you know the ones.
With the perfectly planned birthday parties.
The beautiful cake.
The 'I'm simply purrrfect.I.got.it.going.on' way about them.
I am SO not that Mom.
Today is Zoe's birthday and my day went something like this...
**
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I was also informed that a certain someone would be expecting BALLOONS for her birthday. :O
Ok.
I'll/we'll pick some up when we go to the grocery store because now, I've just found out that Little.Miss.Nine.Year.Old has requested my chicken noodle soup for dinner. K.
So we get the damn balloons that take the woman behind the counter five minutes per f-ing balloon to blow up, tie and attach with string. Pay. Leave. And proceed to watch in disbelief as they float up to the landfill in the sky. NEXT TIME...TIE THEM TO THE WEIGHT...OK?
So, back we go into the store that I've now spent eternity in to get replacements.
Tired girls, whiny and hot. Got them and head home.
GULP.
I've got a cake to bake, chicken soup to make, presents (that were purchased MONDAY at 10pm) to wrap and a whole lot of other crap to do BEFORE we have to leave.
Loser.
Failure.
Martha Stewart wanna-be but will never be.
**
Home.
Getting it done by the skin of my teeth (what does that even mean?). I'll sweat my way through each and every cotton pickin' thing I have to do before 6. Oh, and if I hear WOW, you've had three kids...you're SO thin...Don't ask me why.
UH...it's because I DON'T STOP.
EVER.
**
Happy Birthday Zoe...it's all worth it.
I'd do anything in the world for you because I'm your Mom and you're my daughter and I love you so very much.
xo
Ok.
I'll/we'll pick some up when we go to the grocery store because now, I've just found out that Little.Miss.Nine.Year.Old has requested my chicken noodle soup for dinner. K.
So we get the damn balloons that take the woman behind the counter five minutes per f-ing balloon to blow up, tie and attach with string. Pay. Leave. And proceed to watch in disbelief as they float up to the landfill in the sky. NEXT TIME...TIE THEM TO THE WEIGHT...OK?
So, back we go into the store that I've now spent eternity in to get replacements.
Tired girls, whiny and hot. Got them and head home.
GULP.
I've got a cake to bake, chicken soup to make, presents (that were purchased MONDAY at 10pm) to wrap and a whole lot of other crap to do BEFORE we have to leave.
Loser.
Failure.
Martha Stewart wanna-be but will never be.
**
Home.
Getting it done by the skin of my teeth (what does that even mean?). I'll sweat my way through each and every cotton pickin' thing I have to do before 6. Oh, and if I hear WOW, you've had three kids...you're SO thin...Don't ask me why.
UH...it's because I DON'T STOP.
EVER.
**
Happy Birthday Zoe...it's all worth it.
I'd do anything in the world for you because I'm your Mom and you're my daughter and I love you so very much.
xo