Archive | January, 2010

Stripped

27 Jan

When I first started writing this blog, I had 2 readers, my mom and Chris. Writing was fun, my way to share funny stories, or just for me to have a place to let loose with my thoughts. I’ve always wanted to be a writer, and I felt like I had good, important things to say, and honestly, I just love to write. Gradually, over the course of the next year I gained more and more readers, and while readership was a good thing, I think I got sucked into the whole “blogger” thing. I started writing posts and telling stories (even though they were true) because I knew they’d be funny material on my blog, not because I thought they were really worth sharing. If nothing funny happened that day, I’d struggle to find something, anything to write about. Yes, sometimes I wrote posts that I wanted to, sometimes I really enjoyed it, but for the most part, it was a chore. For the past month, it’s been a burden. One more thing that I just really don’t want to do.

For instance, when we moved here, there have been so many fun projects I’ve worked on, that I’d love to write about. I’ve worked hard on them, I’ve really surprised myself that I could do them at all, and I’m proud of myself. I want to share them. But I’ve felt like I couldn’t. My blog hasn’t ever been one about decorating or home projects. I’m learning to cook, Southern style, and I’m having so much fun with it, but I don’t share because my blog has never been a cooking blog. The other day, there was a deer walking by the creek that runs through our backyard. The Earth seemed so quiet, so peaceful. I felt like I was witnessing the beauty of nature, the way God had intended it. I felt like it was an incredible gift that I’d been given, the feelings I had, the thoughts I had, I wanted to share them, I wanted to write about it. But I didn’t because my blog has never been a spiritual blog. I read an article about how moms are more and more likely to become alcoholics because of their wine drinking obsession. I wanted to write about my own fears, about how I abused alcohol, and about how joking about having to have a glass of wine every night to be able to cope with your kids isn’t funny, it’s just sad. But my blog hasn’t been a public service message, and I didn’t want to piss off any of the more popular “mommy bloggers” by calling them out on it.

Somewhere along the lines, I stopped writing for me. Just the other day, a regular reader of my blog said, you don’t seem like you’re as funny as you used to be. I said, you didn’t like my post? This person said, no, it was ok. Just not very funny. In the past if I got any kind of negative feedback, I made sure my next post was funny. And even if I wanted to write about something not funny, I apologized for it ahead of time. When did that start being ok? Since when do I have to apologize for writing what I want to on MY blog? I mean, I pay for the domain, it’s my name in the title, doesn’t that give me some right to write about what I want? And I know that I’ve said in the past that I’m going to write about what I want, but I couldn’t. I wanted to be popular, I wanted to have a popular blog. I wanted my own 15 minutes, and I didn’t think I could do that if I was too read. Somewhere in the past 2 or 3 months, something has changed. I’m not the same. I used to be a horrible cook, I’m kind of good now. Anything that even resembled crafting was a nightmare, but now, even though I still have a fear of glue guns, I’m pretty good at it. And more importantly, I’m a damn good mother. Out of anxiety, or fear, or maybe just because I thought it played better, I went to self-deprecating humor. I viewed my parenting skills as lacking because they weren’t like other people’s.

I know I rambling, but I don’t care. I’m not apologizing anymore. If you don’t want to read my blog anymore, don’t. I’m at a point in my life where I have to be true to my authentic self, even if I’m still figuring it out. I have spent so long trying to be something else, and I just can’t do it anymore.

I don’t know the direction I’m going in, I don’t know that I even have a “theme” anymore. I’ve never been much for labels anyway. I don’t want to give up writing because it makes me happy, and I feel like that’s the alternative. I thought about starting a different blog, but I like this one, it has my name in the title, and of course with all the pink and whatnot. I still may, I don’t know. What I do know is, from now on, I’m stripping it all down. I’m done with the bullshit, I’m done with writing for other people, and I’m done with not being true to myself.

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Out with the old, in with the new

18 Jan

As usual, I’m late to the party. I had planned on doing this post, oh you know, about 2 weeks ago, but I apparently suck at time management. So yeah, it’s a new year and I like to think that before we can move forward, we have to look at the past, so we can reflect and learn. I don’t really think that. I really think that what’s done is done, no sense crying over spilled milk, why would you buy the cow when you can get the milk for free…no wait. That’s not the right saying. I’ve derailed.

Without further ado, I present to you my Best Posts of 2009 (in my humble opinion of course). Here we go.

10. 10 Years – This was to my babies on their 10th birthday, who aren’t so much babies anymore as wonderful little young people.

9. Karma gets you every time – Poop. Tampons. Toilet overflow. Is there anything else to say?

8. Domestic Bliss – An ode to crafting. And you know what? Fuck crafting.

7. Kicked out of the Cardigan Club – I still don’t fit in with these Coach wearing/carrying bitches. Apparently, a lot of you don’t either. This is was one of my most commented, most e-mailed about, most talked about posts in 2009.

6. Get your boobs off my donut – The title really says it all…

5. Scrooge McDuck and Magellan do Boston – Tunnels, near death experiences, Boston…what else could it be? ROADTRIP!

4. Animal Voodoo – More near death experiences.

3. Furry buzzing overlords – A guest post written by Chris, that makes me laugh so hard I pee my pants. He’s freaking hilarious.

2. The scary truth about Fiber One – I am an AWESOME mom

1. My Story – I shared my experience with domestic violence with Violence UnSilenced. It was the hardest and most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. Closure, finally, is a beautiful thing. Thank you Maggie, for giving me the opportunity.

I got mad skills, yo.

14 Jan

I know that my posts are kinda few and far between lately, but I have a good reason. I’ve taken on yet another new role: General Contractor. Yep, that’s right, Miss I Suck At All Things Home Improvementy is now a general contractor. The good thing about being a general contractor is that I don’t have to use a glue gun like for stupid crafting. The bad thing about being a general contractor is that I don’t get use a glue gun like for stupid crafting because that would be way easier than the other tools I find myself using.

For instance, last weekend I put up tile in the kitchen (BY MYSELF thankyouvermuch). So I went to Home Depot and asked the tile guy for help. He kept asking me all these questions like, do you have a grout float? I was like, dude. I don’t even know what grout is, let alone why I’d want to float it. Or what I’d float it in. Or why. Why don’t you just tell me what I need. Ok? Thanks so much. He was like, oh, ok. So you’ve never done this before. Good call buddy. So he gets me this stuff, which was basically like a big sheet of double-sided tape, and assured me I could do this. So not believing him, I was like, if you say so. What’s next? He gives me this big box of powder (which is apparently what grout comes in before you add water and make a horrible mess all over your new floors). I told him I REALLY wanted the premixed kind, he said I didn’t. I suppose he was right about that, because it was really fun mixing it with the drill bit extender stirrer thngy (see how I’ve learned all the technical names for tools now?). $120 later and I was off to hopefully not wreck the kitchen that I’d spent almost a month fixing. It really was easy, way easier than I thought it would be. I did stick my head to the wall a couple of times (that double sided tape stuff is REALLY sticky), and I did get black grout everywhere. And I did ruin some of the tile when I threw across the room because it wouldn’t go on the wall straight. But I did it. BY MYSELF. Did I mention I did it by myself?

This week I’ve been working on staining the cabinets. I think I’m completely high on the fumes, but the cabinets look great. I’m thisclose to finishing the kitchen, and I can’t wait to show y’all how awesome it is. In the meantime, please be patient with me. This whole homeownership thing is way more time consuming than I’d thought it would be. On the other hand, more validation for my awesomeness is never a bad thing.

Things I’ve discovered since being domesticated

8 Jan

Since I’ve been staying at home, being all domestic and stuff, I’ve learned all kinds of interesting things about myself that I never knew before. I don’t know, maybe the drugs are finally starting to wear off, or maybe the effects are just kicking in…

1. I make a kick ass grilled cheese sandwich. I mean, it’s GOOD. Like restaurant good. I didn’t know that. I’ve made grilled cheese for Chris and the kids, but I’d never eaten one I’d made before. Since being home all day, I get really hungry for lunch, and you can only eat Chef Boyardee so many times before you have to cave and make real food (yeah, grilled cheese counts as real food). I don’t know why it’s so good, probably because I’m awesome, so it only stands to reason my grilled cheese is as well.

2. No matter how many loads of laundry I do, there’s always more. Always. No matter what. The other day, I spent the whole day doing laundry. When I finally finished, I was strutting around, so proud that I’d finally conquered the Battle of the Laundry. To my utter dismay, there was a sock…ONE freakin sock…in the basket. I don’t know how it got there. I don’t know where the other one was, I didn’t have any extras, everything I’d folded had a match. I’m convinced that there is some evil sock gnome that is just not playing fair. When I find him, I’m going to punch him in the face. I’m just sayin…

3. The UPS guy is even more exciting now than he was before. A couple days ago I got a package from Pottery Barn (more on that in a minute). And while I was excited about my package, I was thrilled to see the UPS guy. I was all, Hai! How are you today? He’s all, here you go ma’am, have a nice day. I’m all, wait! Don’t you want to have a cup of coffee? I could make you a grilled cheese sandwich! He’s all, no thank you, ma’am. Have a nice day. He starts pulling the door closed and I’m like, wait! Don’t go! Talk to me! Are you enjoying the weather? I just moved here from Maine, it’s cold there. My favorite color is green. I like sunsets and puppies, please don’t go, please talk to me! He’s all walking quickly to his truck, furtively glancing over his shoulder to make sure I’m not following him, which I totally am. By the time he gets to his truck, he’s at a near sprint. Maybe I scared him, I don’t see why though. I just wanted some human contact. I get kind of lonely during the day. And it’s not like I was going to chase the truck ALL the way down the street…

4. I love, love, love Pottery Barn. I’m trying to make my whole house an homage to the perfection that is Pottery Barn. Last night I was looking at their catalog for the zillionth time, trying to decide if $129 for velvet drapes was really too much to spend, and Chris was like, you know the whole house doesn’t HAVE to be from Pottery Barn. I was like, YES IT DOES. YOU SAID I COULD DO WHATEVER I WANTED TO AND I WANT POTTERY BARN! WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM? He’s like, um…first, you’re nuts. Second, I like it too, but don’t you think it’s a little expensive? I scoffed, it’s not like I get a paycheck anymore. The least you can do is pay me in Pottery Barn. He’s all, but we have a mortgage now…blah, blah, blah. I love Pottery Barn. I want more Pottery Barn things in my house. That’s all I have to say about that.

5. I’m still as crazy as before (as evident by this completely rambing nonsensical post). I still break out into dance in public. I still bust a move in the kitchen when I’m making dinner. I still burst into song randomly. The other day we were in the car and Chris was talking to the kids about the Panama Canal (I forget why, but I readily admit it’s an odd subject to be discussing in the car…or at all, for that matter), and I’m just contently looking out the window, when all of a sudden, Panama! Panama-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! PANAMA! You know, a la Van Halen? It just kinda came out. Kat started laughing, and I was like, what? She’s like, mom, you’re nuts. Ain’t that the truth.

Seismic shift

7 Jan

I never really wanted to be “someone’s wife”. And I never really wanted to be one of those moms whose days revolved around her children. I wanted my own life, I wanted my own interests, and more than anything else, I wanted to retain my independence. When we moved, everything I thought I was, everything I thought I wanted, everything in my life completely shifted. My days are now filled with laundry, dishes, vacuuming, ironing, sewing buttons and thinking about healthy meals and snacks for my family. Sometimes I find myself feeling like I’m living someone else’s life, I mean, this is Merritt. 110% independent, snarky, and a total disaster when it comes to anything domestic related. Or at least that’s how I thought I was. Maybe I’m not at all who I thought, and maybe that’s not such a terrible thing.

This morning I got up with Chris at 5:30 to have breakfast with him before he went to work. Granted it was Eggo waffles, but the old me would’ve never done that. I would have half-heartedly said goodbye to him as he left, not even bothering to open my eyes. When it was time for the kids to get up, I would have gotten them up and gone back to bed, confident that they could take showers and get ready themselves, certainly capable of getting their own cereal. Now, I get up before them so I can make them a hot breakfast, usually something along the lines of scrambled eggs, peanut butter toast and some kind of fruit, that I’ve peeled and sliced for them. They eat at the table, with the tv off. We chat about what they have going on at school, I quiz them on vocabulary or spelling words, and they’re seeming to love every minute of it. What’s nuts is, I am too.

I’m taking great pride, I’m talking GREAT pride, like I live in the freakin Taj Mahal pride, in my home. I’m painstakingly choosing everything that goes into this house. For instance, it took me 3 weeks, no exaggeration, to choose a backsplash. It took me 2 weeks to decide on the wall scheme of shelves for the kitchen. I’ve arranged pictures, then rearranged them again to make sure that they’re perfect. I make my bed every single day, complete with frou frou pillows and a puffy comforter, just like in a magazine. You know, I actually even considered ironing my sheets, but I thought that might be overkill. The table no longer has laundry folded all over it like it did when we lived in Maine. It’s folded and put away immediately.

So what’s the difference? Is it because I’m not working and my only job now is to be a wife and mother? Is it because the climate is warmer and I don’t feel the need to hide under blankets to stay warm? Is it because the day light lasts longer and I don’t feel that familiar depression creeping in? Maybe it’s all of it. Maybe it’s none of it. But for the first time in my life, I don’t care why. I don’t need to analyze. I’m happy, and I’m exactly where I want to be, where I need to be. I’m still crazy, and I still rock my pink bathrobe like nobody’s business, but something’s just different. And I like it.