I am a firm believer that confessing is good for the soul, not to mention great fodder for day time talk shows. While these will hopefully not cause anyone to throw a chair at me, I am going to unload on my priestly readers and expect nothing but encouraging support from my virtual therapists. Don’t judge or I may throw a chair at YOU.
1) For some reason, Connor has been talking like this all week: “Me hungry. Me want a snack.” He has become fully possessed by Cookie Monster, and it is scarier to me than The Exorcist. I do not find it entertaining like a good mother would. I cringe, correct sternly, and make him repeat the sentiments properly. I feel like a grammar Nazi. He’s 5, and Cookie Monster talk should probably be adorable. Nope. Stop it. Me not like it.
2) With both boys in full-time school (i.e. if you consider getting out at 2pm full-time), I have much more time on my hands. I try to be productive: go run, do errands, clean the house, and study for my licensure exam. But then there are days like Wednesday. Someone posts online the #hashtag video, and then his wife posts the Lip Sync video and then before I know I have spent countless minutes on YouTube watching every Jimmy Fallon video known to man. All I needed was to change into a bathrobe, put curlers in my hair, and eat some bonbons. I felt like the version of “homemaker” or “stay-at-home mom” or “domestic goddess” or however you want to call my current role that we all try so hard NOT to promote. I cannot call it a COMPLETE waste of time because let’s face it, he is downright hilarious. Come to think of it, I was working out my abs hardcore. However, the guilt of all those minutes just sitting and watching probably caused me to pay penance by volunteering to cover extra library shifts at the boys’ school. I even confessed to the clerk while signing in, “I’m doing a double shift today so I don’t sit at home and watch Jimmy Fallon videos!” She probably thought, ‘There’s another wacko mom to add to the list.’
3) Last night the boys asked to have a piece of my chocolate bar for dessert. It was not any ordinary bar. It was a Lindt dark chocolate caramel with a touch of sea salt bar someone gave me. I had been eating rationed morsels since first receiving its scrumptiousness. It is deliciously other-worldy. THAT good. When they asked me, I noticed I had only two morsels left. I also had two boys each asking for a piece. While some selfless mothers would not have hesitated to share with their offspring, I was not one such mother. True, I had eaten it all week, and they had not had any tiny shares of it yet. But we’re talking dark chocolate caramel with a touch of sea salt chocolate here. I froze in indecision. How much do I love those boys, and is it more than my love for dark chocolate caramel with a touch of sea salt chocolate? I looked at them and slowly uttered, “These are my last two pieces!” Connor looked like he might cry when he saw the hesitancy in my willingness to share. FINE! I do have some warm blood flowing somewhere in my veins and decided I would allow them the joy of my last tastes of heaven. HOWEVER, it would have to come at a price to symbolize my sacrifice. They had to dance to the “Cupid Shuffle” for me in the living room before I forked over the goods. Evil? Maybe, but have you tasted the Lindt dark chocolate caramel with a touch of sea salt chocolate? That’s what I thought.
4) I still break out with pimples. This should not surprise me, but every time it happens it does. It just seems wrong that I am close to 40 and still having zits. I paid that price multiple times to an extreme in my teen years. Should not the presence of crow’s feet, laugh lines, and wrinkles more than cover the facial blemish dues?! Two by my left brow and one on my upper lip this week had me thinking of starting a change.org petition. Sign and stop the injustice of acne in the aged.
5) The boys are at a play date, and I could be using this precious hour and a half to weed the front yard. But no, I’m writing this blog instead. I think secretly I want to wait to get another HOA letter complaining about the weeds to add it to our growing pile of misdemeanors. It is the Beckett version of Breaking Bad. We like to rebel against the NSA-wannabe association and irk them with our latest violation. Yes, they are technically weeds, but a part of me thinks that any greenery is good here. Don’t we need all the photosynthesis help we can get for the oxygen supply in a brown desert area? I should be given a Nobel Prize for letting those weeds live.
Ah, I feel better already. This concludes this week’s episode of Friday Confessional. Thanks for tuning in, or more accurately tuning out. Me going to buy a chocolate bar now to help grow my acne garden after I wade through the weeds.