I like the title of the first post. Hello world. I think I’ll keep it.
So what’s a girl like me doing at 9:30 on a Friday night? Sitting on the couch, of course, watching Frost/Nixon, wondering why my 3 year old won’t just go to bed/sit on the toilet/sit on the toilet and pee at the same time/stop opening the fridge and taking my Pepsi/stop being so cute so I can punish him appropriately.
So here I am, blogging, wearing what can only be described as Mom Capris (from Target!) and a t-shirt that is deliberatlely wide at the waist so to hide my muffin top, kind of watching a movie, thinking about getting up and getting a beer…
I am 35 years old. I wonder what 25 year old Marney would think if she could see this. She probably would not be suprised by the blogging (although she would just be writing in a journal), but I’m not sure what she would think of the night life. I can distinctly remember thinking, “I will never be one of those BORING older people. I will have EXCITEMENT! My husband and I will have culture and go out to bars and clubs that are hip yet age appropriate! I shall see movies in ACTUAL theaters. My family will TRAVEL!”
Well, we travelled to the WalMart today. And as for excitement, my husband has some seriously loud gas, and it is everything I can do to get out of the line of fire of those bad boys (honestly, dude, you’re going to have to clean your own skeetch marks this time).
I seem to be one of an infinite amount of women world wide who slowly but surely realize that you do not have plans for your life… your life has plans for you. And while at 25 you assumed you would be attending wild and facinating parties with wild and fascinating people in ten years, the truth is, unless baking a cake for your Dad’s 70’s birthday party is “wild” and “fascinating,” then you are in for a rude awakening.
That’s my husband’s butt again.
But you know what? My Dad’s party was actually pretty killer. And Frost/Nixon seems ok so far on DVD. And potty training is a legitimate thing to worry about. And Target makes comfy pants, which serve a dual purpose of 1) hiding my muffin top and 2) hiding my cellulite.
This is a good life.