Life. Or something like it.

Every time I debate starting to blog again – the following thoughts occur: Will I have time? (yes.) Will it restore my sense of self? (yes.) Will it prevent me from turning into a raging psychopath? (yes, yes, yes!)

When in reality it goes something like this: Alright, I’ll start a blog again. This will be fun. I’ll keep it up. I will process my thoughts in a nice, humorous way instead of slamming the Daddy person with them, or worse, bottling them up.

Oh, reality. There is no time to blog. I wake up at 6 am before my alarm is anywhere near going off (I’m taking this as a true sign of adulthood.) I make and drink coffee. I get ready for work. I get child up, dressed, fed and deposited at school. I go to work. My work day varies from horrible to frightening. I drive hundreds of miles. I pick up the little person. We come home. We snuggle. We make dinner. We clean up after dinner. We play. We bathe. She goes to sleep. I scroll through my list of 4946854098 DVR’d shows that I never get to watch because the TV is monopolized by Dora, or Wubzy, or Fresh Beat Band – or even worse ESPN. I decide the shows can wait. Collapse in exhaustion.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

I used to be fun. I used to have a sense of humor. That all seems so long gone sometimes. I miss that person. I know she’s bound to be in there somewhere. Underneath piles and piles of emotions and worry about the lives I’m responsible for. And there are many. Sometimes so many I don’t want to even begin to think about any of them individually.

Which brings me to why I actually wanted to blog today.

Alanis.

Oh Alanis Morrisette.

Ironic made me have a panic attack on my first plane ride. Who in their right mind encourages an 11 year old to listen to Ironic while sitting on the runway? I mean, really?!

I remember sitting on my friend’s bed howling to Uninvited all summer. The song was terrible, but we had fun. I also vaguely remember my grandmother hearing Thank You blaring from my room at some point and declaring her love for Alanis. She still remembers (and likes!) that song.

A few years later – I rediscovered my love for Alanis in the midst of my teenage years. You Oughta Know saw me through a break up (or 5.) Well, until I found out it was about Uncle Joey from Full House and it lost some of it’s appeal. Thankfully, this happened WAY after I found it to be beneficial.

I danced around my room to Head Over Feet and planned weddings. Lots of weddings at various stages of my life. Interestingly enough – I have no desire to play that song now if Sam and I ever get married.

And then there was Hands Clean. It became my mantra – and my tag line for the one blog I actually maintained for years. This could get messy. And messy it got. And it’s still messy!

She hooked up with Ryan Reynolds and I was afraid we would never again get a crazy assault on the English language beautiful song again. I was wrong. I felt like in ways, she had grown up with me. And when she had a baby and became a crazy extended breastfeeding advocate we reconnected again.

I have no idea if her new song is about motherhood though I pretend that it is.

I’ll be your keeper for life as your guardian
I’ll be your warrior of care, your first warden
I’ll be your angel on call, I’ll be on demand
The greatest honor of all, as your guardian 

Because ultimately, that is how I feel about my precious monster. She is truly a blessing and I know that I’m her momma and she is my crazy ranting child for a reason.

And at the end of the day – if I have enough time to write a blog that is not only ranting about life but basking in a happy part of it – it’s been a good one.

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3 thoughts on “Life. Or something like it.

  1. makeacrane says:

    seems like you definitely have that sense of humor 😉

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