Driving to church this morning, I realized that my life has become completely out of control...there isn't one thing in my life that turned out the way I planned it when I was a teen and knew everything.
For one thing, I drive a van. It's a mini-van, yo. Yeah, it's not a '69 Stingray, or even a Corvette at all...or a pickup.
Also, I'm heading for divorce. And the cop told me the other night that divorce keeps them busy. I was all "Oh, yeah, but I'm so not one of Those People! hehe You don't understand...." And then I looked around and realized, oh, yeah, I guess I am. Damn it.
I do not live in a giant house with white everything, including the giant canopy bed and curtains fluttering in the slight spring breeze year-round, where I sit and play all day with my perpetually eight month old baby and my long perfectly styled hair in a silk robe waiting on Prince Charming to come home so we can eat the perfect meal that just shows up on the table every evening and then gets cleaned up by fairies.Pretty much every part of that went wrong. Nothing in my house is white, because duh, I have a total of zero curtains, my bed is a mattress on a frame, my kids freakin' grew up, I have to cook and clean up dinner, and Prince Charming went out for a drink 12 years ago and never came back, and I can't say that I blame him. Also, the hair thing never worked out, either, which frankly, is the biggest disappointment of all.
Wanna' know what I'm going to school for? Accounting. Yup. I hate anything having to do with math, and also anything that is boring. So yeah. Weirdly? I enjoy it, because I like the order and the black-and-whiteness of it. But, no, I am not a famous author, nor a Broadway star, which was totally part of my plan. I am still holding out for the welder/mechanic/event planner/comedienne/interior designer job, but just in case, I'll do the accounting thing, too.
The biggest difference between the Plan and the Reality is the fact that I am some one's mom. Actually, six someone's's's's (someoneses?) mom. Even though I always knew I would be a mom (to that eight month old), I kinda' figured that would happen when I was in my thirties. I did not figure that I would turn thirty already a mother of six, my baby already three, my oldest almost ten, and no chance of having that perpetual eight month old because I don't have a (don't worry, dad, I won't say "uterus") (hahahahahahaha) husband. (LOL!) (hehehehehe) (I'm still laughing, because if I want to write a secret from my dad, now is the time to do it...don't worry, dad, those things don't really exist.)
So, my life hasn't turned out at all how I thought, but it's ok. I kinda' like it better this way. I mean, it would be soooo boring laying around looking at nothing but white. And while eight month olds are cute, it's not like they're really that great of company 24/7. And Prince Charming is a myth, and it sucks to live with myths, because they're all full of themselves because they live in fairy land and you live in reality, and they're always holding it over your head like they're better than you or something. And I really like my kids a lot, even if they do grow and stuff, and even if they came earlier than I thought they would. I'm glad they did, actually, because it's more like I'm a kid, too, and they're my buddies, which makes me the Awesomest Mom Ever. (Don't ask them about this, because, well, they don't like to brag because not every kid gets a mom as awesome as me and they don't want the other kids to feel bad, so they always lie and say "Oh, my mom is the worst, she's so mean and makes us clean and do homework and she's not cool at all and she tries to be cool but it's just embarrassing"...just take my word for it, ok?...ok?)
