My 20 year high school reunion is this fall, and I just sent in my money the other day. So, apparently I am planning to attend. Which is weird. I mean, why am I really attending?
See ... I never really hung out with my classmates. We had almost 300 in our graduating class. And I was friends with maybe half a dozen, tops. I went to school for one thing - to get the grades and get the hell out. I didn't go to socialize. I didn't do parties. Hell, I didn't even know where the parties were. Not that there was necessarily anything wrong with any of my classmates, I just didn't have time to deal with the whole social scene. I didn't really care. I was on a mission - graduate, get a scholarship, go to college. Total tunnel vision.
And yeah, I was a smart kid. I was in honors and AP classes. And that basically means that I spent most of high school in class with the same 20-30 kids. I didn't really mix with the general population anyway. And also, I was a bitch. I mean, a real class A bitch. To everyone. Needless to say, it wasn't as if any of my classmates were beating down my door to be friends.
So why go to the reunion. I wasn't friends with them then, and I'm really not friends with any of them now. Sure, we comment about stuff on FB, and if I see someone at a restaurant or the grocery store, we exchange pleasant hellos. But that's about it. I'm not having lunch dates or girls nights or any of that with high school chums. So, why am I going again?
I will admit to curiosity. Everyone wants to see how all the others turned out. That's just part of life. And there are a handful of people that I was relatively close to that I wouldn't mind seeing again. But I am not exactly Miss Social. I don't like crowds. I don't like the social chit chat scene. I hate being put on the spot. I am horrible with names.
And now I am starting to have a little bit of panic about the whole thing ... Let's change the subject.
No politics today. I don't have the energy for it.
The Minion got a new full size big boy bed. Apparently he likes it because he slept for about 10 hours last night. And that is a small miracle. Speaking of miracles, I am wishing and hoping we might get one soon because he is sooooo ready for a pre-school or mother's day out program. And I am so ready to put him in one. Just need our financial fairy godmother to wave her magic wand and create the extra funds for it. I love being home with him every day. But it's time for him to start having some serious interaction with other kids. Mama alone just doesn't cut it anymore.
The Minion is also a spoiled rotten terror. I didn't mean for that to happen. In fact, I thought I was doing my best to prevent it. But obviously that didn't work very well. He is usually pretty good in public, but he's getting to the point of realizing that he can cause major embarrassment and potentially get his way if he throws an unholy fit in public. He also knows my mother has no willpower where he's concerned (alright fine - I don't either). Put the two together and you get EVIL in a cute little dimpled package.
Twice in the past four days, we have gone shopping with my mother. And while being hateful and having at least two total meltdown tantrums, he's also managed to acquire the big talking Woody doll, the big Buzz doll, a package of Star Wars figures, a Matchbox space shuttle, three sets of sheets for his bed, two quilted coverlets, and a nightstand to match his new dresser.
And that was with us using restraint. Seriously, he is a power shopper. He "needs" stuff. And he knows how to manipulate to get said stuff. It's scary. He's gonna end up being the dictator of a small island nation if he keeps this up. As long as it's a tropical tax shelter, I am all for that.
My house is a wreck. All the baby furniture from his room needs to go to the attic. All the other stuff I have piled up needs to be put up in the attic or find a home somewhere. This house has no storage and it makes me crazy. We also have way too much stuff. Some days I feel like we are one item away from an episode of Hoarders. Then I actually watch an episode of Hoarders, and I realize that it's not that bad. I just need to clean the damn house. And throw out a bunch of stuff. And definitely pack up a bunch of toys to go to the attic. My child has enough toys to fill a day care. It's crazy ridiculous. He's also quick to tell you that they are all "MINE!!!" and refuse to let you get near them, much less box them up. Guess it's time to plan a late night toy purge.
POF asked me the other day if there was a reason I didn't kiss him much any more. And I realized that there really isn't a reason. Except that I have just stopped being a touchy feely kind of girl. Too busy being worried about what's happening with the dogs or the kid to really take the time. I've become the girl who wants to get sex over and done with in the least amount of time possible because there are too many distractions and things that could be happening in the other room. And that's pretty crappy. So I've decided that I am going to make more of an effort to try to be a touchy feely girl again. Kiss my husband more. Try to be in the moment and not spend the whole time wanting it to be over quickly so I can go check and see if a dog peed or the kid woke up.
I used to enjoy a good snuggle on the couch, watching TV. Now I hardly even sit with him on the couch - we are on opposite sides, and I usually fall asleep within 10 minutes of watching anything. If I sit still, I am asleep. Basically, I need to turn my brain off for a few minutes, and just enjoy being with my husband instead of making lists in my head. Bless his heart, he puts up with a lot.
And on that note ... I have storage bins to fill and get to the attic. And dogs to let out. And a dentist appointment to get ready for. I wish I could wiggle my nose and have everything be done.
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