Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Is There A Failing Olympics?

6 COOOOOOMMENTS! Now you speak up!
I know we've already discussed my efficiency and mastering of napping. Well, at least the old me.

But I have another issue on my mind. Is there a failing Olympics?

A real, true, gathering of the failing minds and bodies of all of us souls out in the world who seem to suck at all they do?

Because, I hate to say it again and rub your noses in it... but... I'd OWN that shit.

My newest (and wonderful) Mommy friends (who may or may not read this) seem to have it together. And while we talk about this and they do explain that isn't the case, I still feel like what the f_ck is wrong with me?!?

I don't make my hubby dinner.
Like... ever.

I got all nesty and tried a few recipes back in mid-pregnancy. I gave the poor bastard hope. Then dashed it all every day since then.

I don't even grocery shop any more. I am always with the kiddo. I have started to sort of accomplish laundry (two full flights of stairs while putting the baby somewhere away from my nutty dogs). You know, if carrying the hamper downstairs counts for one day. And maybe sorting it on the basement floor two days later. And then MAYBE remembering to put a load in the washing machine a day or two after that. And it's a damn miracle if I switch that sweet load over into the dryer on the same day. (hehehe "sweet load" made me giggle.)

Actually returning it upstairs and folding it is just going to cause me a panic attack, so let's just say laundry takes about a week to get done. I'm pretty sure we have lots of floor space in our bedroom for the sole purpose of clean laundry storage. Right? Uh.. yeah.

So, yeah, I'm a domestic hero/goddess. OBVIOUSLY.

But my friends... my friends bake cookies. And homemade numminess. And large family dinners. And they knit and/or sew and/or crochet and/or win at life. And they go to the store. And they shop for things. And drive places without (I assume) having a scream-filled SUV of unhappy teething baby misery.

I bought a cross-stitch starter kit geared to eight year olds to bring to our Mommy crafts day tomorrow. (Shut up, don't judge, that frog will GLOW IN THE MOTHERF_CKING DARK, YO). These ladies can sew gorgeous blankets and I have a sneaking suspicion that this frog is going to own me and I will throw it out before the afternoon is done. You know, assuming all goes well.

I know I'm too hard on myself. I just thought this life-is-crazy-there-is-no-order business was supposed to end after the insane newborn stage. But we didn't get that memo, me and Baby D (name withheld).

Other moms apply nicely done make-up. They dry their hair and their babies don't seem to want to rip it out like mine ALWAYS does. They look FANTASTIC and rock bikinis to mom and baby swimming (which they damn well should! Good for them!). They don't seem chained to their nurseries like I do. They vacuum. They might even DUST. (I heard that's a thing?)

And you know what? They don't seem to judge me. They don't say "wow, you really DO suck!". They encourage and laugh alongside and speculate that things will get easier for me and it will happen. I need to stop being so mean to myself. Ah well.

I'm just always so serious.

Ooooh oooh eeee eeeee aaaah aaaah aaaah. You going to eat that flea or shall I help myself?


What do the people around you do that make you doubt your fit-ness for things? What event would you win gold at in the FAIL Olympics?

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