My Lunatic Rantings, aka End of Summer Brain Purge

I’ve been wanting to write for weeks now, but it’s been a struggle. I’ve had so many thoughts, but nothing I can write coherently from start to finish, nothing with a clever little intro and nice, tidy conclusion.

So today, I have decided to throw convention out the window and purge my thoughts, a mental reboot. A sort of “end of summer cleaning” of my mind. In other words, I’m revealing the inner workings of my brain. Scary, isn’t it? So here it goes.why you no focus

  • Potty training: Girls are so much more complicated than boys. Namely, the lack of ability to aim. Very messy. Lesson learned: Keep the Clorox wipes handy. Crazy thought — stadium buddies for kids. Genius.
  • Will I ever again be able to sleep an entire night, the way I slept before I had kids? Ever sleep in past 8:00 a.m. again? I dream of sneaking off to a hotel room, taking an Ambien, shutting the blackout curtains, and sleeping until I can’t bear to sleep anymore. It’s like this mirage, tantalizing and terrible.
  • My husband is dang lucky to have me. He’d be lost without me. Or rather, he’d be an ornery recluse, wearing holey underwear and living off $5 pizzas. With me around, he’s much less ornery, only has a few pairs of holey underwear, and occasionally eats something with vegetables in it. I rock.
  • Girl hormones really suck. Which leads to the question, how much of what we do as humans is driven by our own decisions versus these crazy chemicals coursing through our veins that have such a hold on our mind and body? Because I’m telling you right now, there have been a few things that have come out of my mouth this week that were not the clear, rational me, but rather my girl hormones using me like a ventriloquist dummy to voice themselves. Scary.
  • Speaking of hormones, my husband is a saint for putting up with my crap. I am a pain in the butt. I am insanity. Can I spend the rest of my life curled up on his lap? Resting in his embrace? *sigh*
  • IMG_0205William started Kindergarten. I didn’t think it would be this traumatic, but the girl hormones are kicking in, so I assigned Dave to drive him to school the first day. I didn’t want to be the mom bawling her eyes out and blowing her nose in the parking lot. When did I become a mom? When did I get old? Why am I crying that I have four hours every day with only one child to care for instead of two?
  • Where’s Dave’s Mt. Dew?
  • People are awesome. I love how they come in all different types, wrapped in different packaging, no two exactly the same, never ceasing to surprise me with their crazy, bizarre choices. This world is a grab bag. (Unless you’re the Kardashians. Then you’re no grab bag; you’re a flaming bag of poop.)
  • Is there anyone more insanely happy than a two-year-old? Or more demanding, irrational, and angry?
  • Just finished North of the Sun by Fred Hatfield. Amazing. I’m ready to move to Alaska and live in the woods like Little House on the Prairie. Ok, Ok, I know there are aspects of the whole situation that would be horrible, but the simplicity of it, the chance to live off the sweat of my own two hands — these are things that seldom exist in our society today, and they are sorely missed. (I myself would also probably be sorely missed if I lived like Fred Hatfield, since I would probably be eaten by a grizzly within a day, but it’s still a nice idea.)Cat_judge
  • Helping Dave fill out PA applications on CASPA makes me want to blow my brains out. And I have started sending the company that administers the GRE daily ranting e-mails, like a crazy person, because their electronic system for ordering copies of scores won’t work. I get an error message every time I try. My girl hormones just found a worthy victim, and they are frothing.

Ok that’s not really everything going on in my brain, but since I’d like you all to continue to call me your friend, I’ll stop there. At least it was a partial purge, erased a few cookies, shredded a few sensitive memos, filled a few bags to take to the Goodwill. Maybe with a little more private purging I’ll be able to write coherently again someday. Maybe when CASPA applications are done, and all my kids are house trained, and I get to take that Ambien. Right after I issue a bomb threat to the GRE. Back down girl hormones! Where is that Mt. Dew?

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