Yesterday, I was so excited to come home and write a blog post, because it was my reward for surviving Monday and Tuesday. (And, I apologize now to Amy, in comparison to whom I have absolutely no right to bitch and complain about taxes. At all. Ever. But, I’m going to do it anyway, because it’s a good segue into the rest of my rant story. Please forgive me.)
Image by Gary McCoy
I spent Monday and Tuesday preparing our tax returns, which was a huge project and made me very, very sadface, because we owe about a billionty dollars to the IRS. (And, as an aside to the IRS and White House and whatever Secret-Service-cloak-and-dagger types troll the blogs of random, upstanding citizens like me, your stupid rules and forms are fucking IMPOSSIBLE to understand. Impossible, I say!! I have an undergraduate degree in English, with an emphasis in written communication skills, as well as a damn law degree, and I cannot – for the love of Pete, coffee and all else holy – decipher the utter nonsense that is the Internal Revenue Code. Plus, if we paid more in taxes again this year than GE, I’m mailing our next estimates with a gift from my daughter’s backside.)
Lucky for me, I go see a friend of mine on Wednesdays. (She keeps insisting she’s my “therapist,” but I pay her a lot of money to hang out with me once a week, so I can call her whatever I want. Plus, she’s a very nice lady, and she has a comfortable couch with lots of pillows and blankets in her office and that feels very friendly. Oh, and she makes me tea.) Anyway, I saw her yesterday, and usually after I see her, I leave all hopped up on the high you get after spilling your guts out to a semi-stranger, the angst of which usually gives me super-good blog post ideas. But, my “friend” and I actually had a sort of happy, progress-was-made, so-proud-of-you-for-not-killing-anyone-during-tax-preparation kind of chat, and I left feeling a little … empty? Actually, I think blank is a better word here. Because I definitely wasn’t feeling sad or alone like empty implies. I felt more like a brand new coloring book; excited about the prospect of what it’s going to become when you get your hands on a box of crayons, but – really – it’s kind of boring until you add some color.
Except, I HAD NO CRAYONS!!!! (Okay, I have enough crayons in my house for a small army of kindergarteners, but – metaphorically speaking – no damn crayons.)
I put the word out that I needed some post ideas. My FBeeps (who are my Facebook friends and to be distinguished from my Tweeps. Plus, don’t you think this is the very perfect-ist of nicknames because of my potty mouth? Me, too.) sort of, kind of helped. Stephen not only gave me an idea that I’m saving for a future post but also remembered to tell everyone how mean I am as a teacher, so double gold-star there. But, Jim, I cannot write an entire blog post about frosting, because everyone knows what really matters is the cake. Duh. But, hey, if you wanna guest post here and debate the merits of cake versus frosting, I’m your Huckleberry. You better bring your A-Game.
Point is – you guys were NO help. Then I remembered: yesterday was WORDLESS Wednesday. Whew. That explains it.
This morning, I woke up with THREE blog post ideas. THREE! Guess what, though? This isn’t one of them. You will just have to wait for those.
Like I do every morning, I grab my phone off my nightstand and check in on the FBeeps and Tweeps. I usually can’t find my glasses, because I’m a bit of a sleep thrasher apparently, and they sometimes end up on the floor … in the bathroom. I’m too smuggled into the warm, soft, cozy sheets and blankets to leave my bed – especially for something as trivial as eyesight – but also because, by then, Helene has waddled down the hall and snuggled in next to me, which is the best reason ever not to leave the bed. So, I read by closing my one bad eye, making me able to see the phone screen and read (most of) the words on it. Like this:
Me, looking at my phone, without my glasses. You know, in case my words didn't quite capture it for you?
(By the way, slowly I’m realizing that my iPad is like the telephone we gave my grandmother that had buttons on it the size of Oreos to keep her from calling random strangers and talking for 30 minutes before she realized she had no earthly idea who she’d called.)
So, as I laid (lay, lain, lied … shit, I can NEVER remember this one) there with one eye open, I saw I had a message on Facebook from one of my favorite people, which was exciting all by itself. Yet, it was even more exciting, because she told me I have to drink alone when I come see her in a few weeks.
Wait. What?
C’mon, people! Do the math! THERE’S A BABY COMING!
Why are baby feet the absolute cutest? And why didn't I think to do this when my kids had baby feet? Why?!
New babies always make me reminisce on the days my babies were babies. That, in turn, made me think about my friend Leo over at Mommy Tracks. She posted not long ago about how she likes to burn CDs of great songs about parents and children as a new-baby gift. (This is my blatant attempt to give Leo a boost on her blogging efforts, because she’s a super-good, extra-interesting writer.) Aside from the fact that I think that’s a very cool idea, I also liked it because I actually have my OWN list for my peanuts!
And if that wasn’t coincidence enough, WordPress tweeted yesterday about how to embed songs from Spotify into your posts, so . . .
HELLO, CRAYONS!
If you haven't actually colored lately, I highly recommend it. Super relaxing in a surprisingly effective way.
I am nothing if not a giver; therefore, I present to you my most marvelous list of songs that will make you want to kiss your kids all over their tiny (or grown) faces, no matter what disgusting-ness is going on there at the moment. Grab a tissue (and maybe a wet wipe) and enjoy!
ProfMomEsq 