July 21, 2009 by Marj Hatzell
I have the best intentions, really. I mean to do all of this…stuff. It never gets done, because real life tends to get in the way.
Take, for example, my intentions to spend the summer getting into shape. I was off to a good start when Bugaboo went back to school. I ate tons of veggies, slept well and walked and exercised daily. I felt soooooo awesome. I could envision getting back into my clothes from last summer. And then the past few weeks happened and when I tried to put on a skirt or two yesterday (skirts that fit me a mere three weeks ago) it DIDN’T HAPPEN. As in, OMFG I CAN’T BREATHE AND FORGET ABOUT EATING.
The good news? Bugaboo has no heart condition. It just took us multiple trips to a heart specialist to find out. I’m thinking that the stress of a potential heart condition may or may not have contributed to the lack of sleep lately. You know, like the panic attacks? Maybe from being upset or something? Either that or the panic attack fairy visited the wrong house this week.
I am staring at several half-finished projects around here. I have walls half-sanded, walls half-painted and walls crying out for decoration. I have rooms to rearrange, curtains to hang and stuff to purge. I just can’t seem to get around to actually doing it. I dream about it. I plan it. I have fabulous ideas. In fact, my house looks pretty damn good in my head, yo. It’s better than expensive catolog stores and is painted nifty, modern colors. I LOVE it and I’m not embarassed for others to see it! Except it’s all in my head. That part is tricky.
Someday, I might even fill out the mountainous pile of paperwork in my kitchen. Or call and make those appointments I need to make (for me. I make everyone else’s). I might even get my hair cut or colored and look PURTY. Like, attractive even. In fact, my husband won’t recognize me because I won’t look like the disheveled, frumpy, exhausted housewife he normally sees at the dinner table. But if I do that then he might not want Mrs. Frumpy back and then I’m going to have to maintain that level of polished and I’m not sure I can live up to that. I have standards, you know.
I am also pretty sure there was a cosmic shift or something because Bugaboo (YES BUGABOO) slept for thirteen hours last night. Either he’s getting sick or something weird happened. Like the switch-your-kid-with-someone-else’s fairy showed up and left this sleepy, happy-upon-waking child in my house. I keep pinching myself to see if I wake up from this dream. If Bug Boy was also sleepy and happy I’d know it was fake. Can’t have two kids happy and sleepy the same day, it would create an imbalance in the universe and things would asplode.