About
Three years ago my husband, daughter, and I moved to New York where we would share a 400sq ft apartment in the Upper West Side. At $2200, the apartment was a steal, but the thought of what we were getting for what we were paying made me want to rock back and forth in the fetal position. It didn’t take long to get used to the feeling of being taken for. Now, going elsewhere and paying cheaper prices is a treat I look forward to almost as much as my late night chocolate. Law school is coming to an end for my husband and now, with the addition of a baby boy, we are looking to move back where we started.
We started in High School where my husband and I met and dated throughout the four year stretch. Afterward, we broke up and got back together to have children and get married! We are so called high school sweethearts, but I use the term loosely as we were more like the flames of trick candles. Anytime the wind blew our relationship ceased to exist only to magically reignite seconds later. We’ve switched to a permanent flame, but all the same we’re still hot headed. I love him. He loves me. We yell. We laugh. He talks, I smile and nod. I talk, he gives the ok. He tells me I never said anything when my words come to pass. I tell him lawyers need to be better listeners. We both take out the garbage. He pours our drinks.
I have two beautiful children when Jason isn’t being a third. My little girl is as precocious as can be. Notice how precocious is almost spelled like precious. In life, they have nothing in common. It all changed when she was almost 4 and in response to being denied a cookie said, “Are you sure you want to fight this fight, Daddy?” with a severity in her eyes only known to battle lords and those who’ve encountered death. Still, she’s my sweet little girl who proclaims things like “only hugs and kisses!” when I ask if we need anything from the store.
The little one is learning about the world one thing in his mouth at a time. He’s a little ball of love and giggles.
The fog began to lift seven months after the baby’s birth. I’ve started to once again do the dishes and I plan to get to the laundry soon. Bedtime is still enacted, but I’ve yet to return to a regimented schedule. I brought sugar and butter into my home during my pregnancy and it has yet to find its way out. Although I intend to get back to it as well, at the moment I am not the anal retentive health foodie I once was. Nay, I’m the tired mom, breastfeeding in public and reaching for whatever is easiest.
I do graphic design from home. Don’t get excited. I’m pursuing a career in interior design. I’ve been known to hastily decide to paint my furniture. I’m either mentally redesigning or having a silent panic attack over good design. Albeit at times unsuccessfully, I try to balance strives for an interior design career with being a mom, wife, and homemaker.
I get overwhelmed with life, but I always feel like I could be doing more. I make a notch every time someone calls me nice. So far, I have three notches. I’m a lover of home video workouts. I eat all the time. I bake. I want to be better for my kids. I want to be better for the earth. I don’t want to be the bitchy housewife. I need to try harder. I love my life. I love my family. I like my Cheetos cold. I laugh. I complain. I make faces.
This is me. Deal with it.
