So I’ve mentioned WHAT it is I’m trying to do with this whole delusion that someone might like reading what I’m putting out there. Here’s a bit into the WHY. A brief backstory if you will.
I still haven’t come up with a name for this little project, which is a statement just chock full of implied significance because figuring out what I am doing enough to give it a name is a bit of a struggle for me on all fronts. So maybe I’ll just forget the labels for a while. I used to have all of the labels. Wife, Mother, Best Friend….you name it I had it. I had the 1, 5 and 10 year plans and a pretty good idea of how it would all play out. That’s actually funny for me to think about now. Point is….there’s a new life on deck. (Nope, not pregnant…for once! I am talking about MY new life.)
Right about now I was supposed to be killing it in my last semester of Grad school and giving myself the occasional attagirl ass smack for my success story. The high school sweetheart turned 15 year loving marriage, oh so rare, how does she do it, success story. So smug. Wheeelllppp…. I took a left turn or two and….not so much. Instead I work too long for too little at a job I sort of love and grad school is about the farthest possible likelihood. I realized my marriage success story was a bigger disaster than the Val Kilmer Batman movie so I packed up my little duckies and hit the road running.
Now I rent, and commute, and never sign homework folders and let laundry sit in the dryer for 3 days. I give the girls ramen for dinner a few times a month and have red wine in the tub after they go to bed on a semi regular basis. Statistically speaking I’m the next in a long line of single moms trying to keep their head above water. Well…. fuck statistics…this is going to be an amazing year for the 5 of us. I’m gonna figure out how to edge my own grass and dip my baby toes into the cesspool of chaos which is dating. In writing it down along the way I will have some documented proof of my attempt at a new normalcy. A messy one, but an honest one.
So if I actually get lost in the laundry and the overtime and never resurface there will be just a little bit of me left behind in scattered, goofy, I wonder if the scared will show through, hands up, all in, blurbs I write to no one in particular and to anyone looking for the validation that they have it together better than someone at least. Let’s see where this takes us, yea?
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