2019 is here and I am alive! The holidays were crazy and fun and insane and great and out of control and I am breathing and my kids are all coughing and we survived! But I am so fucking tired. And not like, chug a coffee for some extra pep kind of tired. I am currently wake-up after twelve hours of sleep still completely comatose and unable to articulate two meaningful sentences in a row kinda tired. But fuck it, 2019 is gunna be a good year baby! I can feel it.
I, like many other idiots I know, fell into the trap of creating unrealistic resolutions for myself, which have already gone to shit. First, I was going to stop eating like an asshole. Now I didn’t mean I was gunna stop having bread with my sandwiches or fluff on my hot chocolate (crazy), I really just meant I wasn’t going to eat the entire sharing size bag of m&ms (if you are sharing that clearly falsely-marked, obviously-single-serving-sized bag, please unfollow me) every single night, and a little less ice cream, pizza, and pasta.
Well, when I make a goal like this on December 1 but the goals’ start date is January 1, you know what that means. It is a fucking ALL OUT competition with myself against myself to see who can eat the most shit in a thirty day period to get it all out of my system and leave myself wanting nothing more than lemon water and some Ezekiel toast. Problem is, I inevitably feel so bad come January 1 due to my binge eating that I deem my resolution impossible and therefore null and void annnnnd here I am. Filled to the brim with queso and chocolate without a while lotta room for energy or self-love. Like I said, 2019 BABY!!!!! Help.
Other resolutions included but were not limited to more water and honest approaches to conflict and less screen time and time spent worrying about controlling the happiness of people outside my house. I suppose there is still time for those.
Luckily, my kids’ post Christmas crazy has actually been incredibly tame this year. Last year I think I was googling “how to reboot a 4 year old and start over” around this time, and this year they are impressing me. I will say though, some of the gifts lend themselves to some next level shit. It’s not even their fault though. It’s like, in order to play with a particular toy they actually have to be an asshole because it’s a sword/robot launcher/light saber/wrestling guy/ninja accessory/whatever. And I am listening to my friends be like, “Oh fuck so-and-so for giving my kids this Nerf gun are you kidding me.” And I am over here all, “Ya know, all of our family gave really thoughtful appropriate gifts but Santa was a real idiot.” Guys, I am the one who picked out and bought my kids all the asshole presents that make them act like evil maniacs. It’s ME. THE IDIOT. #Christmasbonerstrikesagain
And in other news, Rex is in a big “theme” phase. Well, hard to call it that actually—this is just kind of who he is. Like, when he decides he wants to play football there needs to be a full outfit change into all football gear.
When he is playing with wrestling guys, he picks the guy he wants to be and tries to match his outfit with the action figures. Watching a baseball game...ohhhh we are gunna gather every baseball-related object in our house and puts it all on the couch for game time. You get the point. Well, a couple days ago I grabbed him and Rocky each a pack of gum as I was checking out at the grocery store. (No, no. Rocky is NOT old enough for gum, you are correct.) Rex was so excited and quickly opened the wrapper revealing a nice, crisp, white stick of gum. He popped it in his mouth. Two seconds later, “Mom, I’ll be back.” Whatever. Ten minutes later, “Mom! Come in my room! I am so excited! I wanna show you something awesome!” I walk into his room and immediately notice his complete outfit change. White underwear, white shorts, white shirt, white socks, white hat. I smile. He points to his bed. He has taken all the bedding off and replaced it with my white pillows, a white blanket from the playroom, and a white wolf stuffed animal. “Mom! Get it?! Now me and my bed look like my gum! I’m having a gum party!” I mean, I guess that’s what we get for being the parents who go balls out for any holiday or theme—a kid who literally can’t chew gum without dressing up and throwing himself a party.
Is that all for now? I think it is. I don’t even know what I said. I need a nap.