I'm not just another pretty face, you know.

It's true. I'm not just another pretty face. No, really. I'm not. I'm also an avid reader, a fabulous hostess, a mediocre cook, mildly interesting and marginally fashionable. I don't like to toot my own horn, but I fancy myself a pret-ty, sharp cookie. I've also become quite the "Handy Andy" in my old age. Becky Home-ecky, if you will. Why, I can fashion a toilet paper cozy out of some scrap yarn and an old barbie doll so fast, your head would spin.



I enjoy clipping wedding & engagement announcements out of the Sunday paper and then writing my own captions for them, and then delivering them to various friends' mailboxes. You know, just for kicks.



I dabble in making custom note cards for my peeps (my friends are like, 'mmmmmm, yeah....thanks for the set of personalized stationary. It's even better than the last 4 set you've made me....oh, I see, this one is much, much different. It has the comic sans font....how clever!') My newest creation is buying craft store, wooden letters and then decorating them with decorative paper. I'm fancy that way. Will I ever stop re-inventing myself? Will the madness ever end?



Hmm. I just realized something while typing this. I was just about to add my blog to my long list of talents when it hit me--- this is what I've been reduced to. Writing to complete strangers about my sad, sad existence. Really? Am I really that proud of my stationary and widdled wooden letters? Good God, am I pathetic.

When all my skirts get together, we're like a sewing circle. All you hear is white noise of conversation with a frequent howl of laughter. If I'm feeling particularly anti-social or quiet, I'll just listen to everyones' conversation and I'll wonder if we have anything else to talk about besides the elementary school's new play ground, recipes or regaling each other with darling little stories about our sons and daughters. Is this really what it has come down to? Ugh. I've become my mother. Never in a million years did I think that this is how I would pass my time. Valentine's Day party meetings....I mean, you bring cupcakes, candy hearts and valentines...voila! Oh no, not anymore....you have to have crafts and nutritious snacks and games and centers, my God, the centers.... don't you know?

I know this is why I chose to stay home with my babies. I just envisioned myself being different than those "other" mothers. I thought I'd be much more cool, but when it comes down to it, like every other mother, giving birth has robbed me of my former self. I used to have a somewhat extensive vocabulary. Not anymore, I have to grasp for synonyms and I struggle to express myself without swearing. I barely know how to hold a pen, for pity's sake! I will go to write out my grocery list and it's like my hands immediately go to sleep and I'm like a caveman who's completely unfamiliar with the workings of a writing utensil. I bang it on the table, grunting.

I feel utterly useless. So, I can potty train a child. So, I can teach a little boy how to ride a two wheeler...that's all well and good but can I contribute anything else to society? Well, that is, besides 2 self sufficient, highly functioning men. Well....at least ONE self sufficient, highly functioning man (our youngest is all slow in the head and whatnot). So, I guess if all of my sacrifices, challenges and tribulations can contribute to at least one of my children becoming upstanding members of society, than I guess it was worth it. I'll keep telling myself that!

This isn't exactly where I thought this blog was heading, but evidently I had some pent up emotions on the subject of my so-called life. At the beginning of my rant, I went from being a well read, creative & talented woman and ended my schpeel with my being a useless, ninny who likes to glue paper together. Neat! At the end of the day, we all turn out to be our mothers---it's inevitable. You can't fight city hall.

That reminds me, I'm going to go blog about really stupid expressions, like, you can't fight city hall....