I have a bone to pick with you. Actually three bones. Three bones that are red bumps, also known as pimples. NOT okay. Now I understand and most definitely appreciate how well you stuck by me all these years, relatively blemish-free. I can only really remember you failing me roughly five times, most of which were near my hairline and the week before my monthly friend. My best friends in high school would try to smash my face in greasy pizza to try to get something to show up (all in good fun). You stayed strong then. Yes, you have been good to me. You saved me so much typical teenage angst, and for that I will be forever grateful.
Which brings me to this past week. If it happened to slip your mind, I am thirty. AND a half. I know you didn't forget that because those fine lines are appearing (which are so not okay either!). These three little bumps. Yes, two are near my hairline and I realize my oftentimes maniacal mane can cover those acceptably. The third-- I mean did you really have to go for my nose? It already has its issues, there is NO need for additional attention. I realize I am making a big deal over this which is silly-- and clearly I am more vain than I thought-- but why now? I have no experience covering these up. I have zero products to serve them. I don't know what to do. So please. Can we go back to the way things were? If I am overreacting, I apologize. I just thought we were friends. So stop.
See??? I didn't fall off the face of the earth! I have been busy getting pimples! I have questioned many times in the last few weeks why I can't seem to get a stinkin moment to write. And I finally figured it out. Her name is the Livi Monster. So Layla is in school 4 1/2 days a week, and Livi is there for two. On those two blessed days that I have a few hours without children, I try to cram every errand and task in that is humanly possible. Which means I get like three things done (Sidenote... a mom friend totally warned me about this phenomenon and she couldn't be more right). So the other three days a week, it is just me and Olivia... which would seem like a simple task. One kid? Pshaw. That is like so four years ago. The difference between my one kid then and my one kid now is that my one kid now has almost no experience being by herself. There is always chaos, sisters, cousins, madness. You'd think she would enjoy the downtime. I mean, I would imagine she would. But her enjoyment comes from requiring-- no, demanding-- all of my attention. ALL the time. I'll try to make things I HAVE to get done like laundry or cleaning the bathroom into a game with her, but she gets over that real quick. So I have the ever constant, "Mommy look at this." "Mommy, need help here!" "Mommy, I want you so bad." "Mommy, I wanna 'nuggle you."
So. Forgive me for my sporadic posts. Just know that in addition to not getting anything done, instead of getting a chance to write, know that I am 'nuggling with my nugget while I still have the chance.