All I want to do it sleep.
I have the blahs.
The blahs are third world problems.
NOTE: It is a privilege to have the blahs.
To all the poor, hungry, dying people or those stuck on an interstate or in the middle of an ice storm for hours, I am so sorry to even be complaining just because I’m blahhy.
Birdnesting is going well; I roll in..
and Stanley rolls out.
We smile politely and nod.
My stupid long distance relationship is going well, except poor baby is sick again and I can’t be there to fetch him drinks. It’s probably karma for sending all of those pics of his frolics on the beach this past weekend when the rest of us were dealing with polar vortexes. Just sayin. But I still wish I was there to baby him. He needs it.
Poor guy. I would be like, “Exactly how sick are you? Bc you are looking pretty cute.”
My worst problem is absolute brokeness. When the phone rings at the nest, I holler,
“NOBODY GET THE PHONE!”
“Hello? Hello? I can’t hear you!”
American Express is about to put a hit on me.
(soon, people, payday is soon.)
I am finally recovering from the all-night slumber party. I don’t think I bounce back as well at almost 50 as I used too.
I’ve been off of nest duty the past few nights and basically, I’ve worked at night, done laundry, continued my Breaking Bad marathon (I’m almost done with the first part of Season 5. The last 8 episodes aren’t coming to Netflix until 2/24/14. DAMN YOU NETFLIX, yOU BITCH, YO!) and I’ve slept, trying to catch up.
I am noticing though that the kids and I are perfecting the art of me doing Momma duty even when it’s Daddy’s night. I can solve a lot of problems over text. Even 5 paragraph essays that someone forgot was due and God Forbid, Algebra.
Because as we know, Moms are never really off duty.
Ready for the ‘just January blahs’ to morph into ‘Fabulous February’.
Happy Birthday to my brother and BFF!