Remember that 52 projects thing?

Remember how awhile ago I announced that this would be a productive year? Remember how to make certain that the year was a productive one I set a goal to do a minimum of one project a week, making it 52 for the year and blah blah blah? I did four projects. Just four. I blame the kids. They can suck the zest for life through a pin hole. And that is pretty much the only thing they can do.

I can't even find me a lady pant suit so I can launch myself in to the free spirited giddiness of being elderly while I'm young enough to enjoy it. I have since learned it is not called a lady pant suit it is called a track suit. Apparently it was decreed by some omnipotent power that starting now and from this day forward any and all track suits will be manufactured in china, they will be one size fits none and will come with either a little or a lot of glittery letters on the ass. There is absolutely nothing senile about that, and that is a truth I find disgusting. They all say JUICY or SEXY or PINK. The one and only word that I would have accepted was BINGO.

This is all I want. Why did they stop making this?

No projects, no pant suits. I did get braces and I got knocked up. When you put it all together you have what I'm referring to as my mid-life crisis. Nothing makes me feel young again like an awkward appearance, unprotected sex, dreams of a better wardrobe, and failure to reach my unrealistic expectations.

I'm not even kidding right now. This is a recent photo of me, I'm 34 with braces and I'm pregnant.

What the heck happened to me? I used to get spontaneous tattoos and throw my shoe at people. I don't do anything wild and fun any more. At this point I really have only one last shred of dignity. It is my last stand. My Thermopylae...... sounds intense right? It is.

I vow that I will NEVER watch the movie Frozen. And I will NEVER let anything go. EVER.

It's never happening. I wont watch your stupid show, I won't sing your stupid song.
Take your pity party somewhere Else-a

I do all the other cliche stay at home mom stuff. I do my sons homework for him after he falls asleep, I try to gossip with my teen daughters friends. I car pool. I drive a hybrid. I run relays. It's okay though because I adamantly insist I'm doing all of those things ironically. I can't handle the truth.

I do this. I really do this. 

This year my youngest child started the first grade. She now goes to school full time. This leaves me all day to do whatever the hell I want. I can drink, I can fight a bum, I can go room to room and rub my bare ass all over everyone's stuff. I can say out loud what I really think of their art work. I could get a series of part time jobs that I could quit in wild flourishes of lewdness and flare. I could punch people. I could just punch people at parks and run away. I'd be doing women a favor. Parks are boring. Sitting on a bench watching your kid swing, slide, run, repeat. Too afraid to play on your phone because there is a blog going around accusing you of not "living in the moment" Then out of nowhere a woman laughing manically in her mom jeans, shiny batman cape billowing behind her in the wind, punches you in the face as she runs past. I don't care what that blog says. Instantly you will have phone in hand and be posting that fantastic shit to Facebook. You can almost smell the multitude of likes and comments. Oh the witty banter you will have!! I doubt you'll even remember to report it to an authority.

My possibilities were endless. Right when I was ready to shed the skin of being a stay at home mom and taste the sweet nectar of freedom. A tiny voice in my belly started chanting "18 more years!" For as much as I struggle to exceed or even one time meet the June Cleaver standard. For as much as I loathe the brand and the acronym SAHM. One would believe that I would be disappointed with the news of starting all over. I'm not. I'm so excited!

I have none of the fears of a young mother.
I'm not chasing a toddler and wondering where I'll get the energy for another. I'm gonna out nap this baby any day any time and be proud of it.
I'm not worried that my young child will be scarred for life by a new addition and will grow to resent the baby. My children are older. Now that I have teenagers I'm hoping that happens. I've learned that a good blow to their ego make me feel warm and fuzzy.
Also because the other children are all older I've 'been there' and 'seen that' for every possible parenting scenario. Bring it little one. I am so ready for this. Every baby of the family knows that their older siblings used up all the good lies and broke mom and dad of their patience and sympathy. The family baby has no choice but to behave. Nobody falls for their bullshit.
I'm not intimidated financially. I do not need strollers and baby carriers and swings and activity saucers, This kid is going to have FOUR older sisters. Good luck learning to walk! You want to know how much I'll pay a baby sitter per hour? hahaha HAHAHAHAHAHA MWAHAHAHAHAHA

And finally and most importantly. There's the daddy. This man is so incredibly loving and supportive I can't help but become suspicious and question his motives. What the hell is he up to? He's affectionate and genuine. He makes me feel adored. He makes me feel safe and taken care of without ever threatening my independence. He's always a gentleman and does innumerable things every day to make me happy. When I smile, he smiles. And when he smiles, I smile. Then it starts feeling weird with all that silent smiling so I punch him in the thigh and yell dead leg! He tells me I'm beautiful and kisses me every morning. Even the mornings when morning sickness is no joke. He falls asleep holding my hand. It's 2AM right now and I bet you $100 bucks I could wake him up just to tell him I'm craving a burger with blue cheese and bacon. Without complaint or question he would go buy me a cheeseburger. Because he loves me. And I'm holding this large knife.