Why, hello there, my long lost lovelies! Welcome to my new, clean, purrrty blog! This has been a project in the making over the last several months. Picking colors, fonts, graphics, GOOD LORD. Then it's time to pick your portrait...and let's be honest, I have about 723 pictures on my phone right now. 23 are probably of Rudy or Snapchat screenshots that I can use as blackmail in the future. 350 are probably of Luke, who is now ONE (or 15 months, if I'm feelin' pretentious. I mean, what's the socially appropriate time to stop using age in reference to months? IDK. Much like, I don't know ANYTHING when it comes to parenting, apparently.) The other 350 are selfies, probably 15 are of me in the same outfit, the others are probably the same picture in different variations of filters. Basically, my designer ended up saying, "Why don't I just make you a character??" And I was all like, "YASSSSSSSS".
So, here it is! She nailed my face. It's the face I make literally 5,000 times a day. Waiting for my class to be quiet. Waiting for my kid to stop throwing LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE OBJECT IN MY LIVING ROOM on the floor, only for me to pick it up and wait for him to do it all over again. Waiting for some Stouffer's meal to finish in the oven at 9:00 at night because I've pushed off dinner too late and realize I have to eat and I can probably scrape some leftovers out of it for the next two days for lunches. Going to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, only to realize Mike used all the toilet paper and instead of replenishing the roll, he took one out and sat it on TOP of the roll instead of going the extra mile and putting it ON the roll. Same face for all of these things. She nailed it.
For those that don't know, a new printed currency is going to be coming out in the next few years. There are a TON of historically famous women who will be printed on the back of 5 and 10 dollar bills. (Don't quote me on this; I read the Buzzfeed article, not the NY Times.) Harriet Tubman beat out the arrogant, cocky, bull-headed Andrew Jackson for the new face of the $20. However, how in the heck is she not rolling over in her grave about the pic they are going to use? The new face printed on millions of bills is Harriet, bless her heart, looking like the skinny version of Scarlett's Mammy. I mean, find a better picture, for God's sake. If she were living, I'm sure she texted in response to her mock-up with one emoji: the black girl face-palming.
I bet even Harriet's a little jealous of my artistic character right now.
When I was a senior in high school, my parents went somewhere for a work conference and I borrowed my mom's brand new Ford Explorer to go rootin' before I had to go to work one day after school. HOLD ON! Yes, you are on the right blog and this IS Kristin. Did I know how to "root"? Hell no. Did I anticipate the filth involved in said act? Hell no. Was it an opportunity to socialize and gossip and get out of any sort of responsibility? Yes. It's exactly the dreams of every teenager. Well, back then it was. And I'm from the sticks so that's what people did.
It turned out to be absolutely disgusting. I was afraid for my life. The other drivers were maniacs. I was too 'old lady' for my own good, even back then. Anyway, I got stuck. For like, an hour. I'd go a few inches forward, then a few inches back. Boys came and took over the wheel and they couldn't get out either. I pondered how I was going to make it to work with time to go home and shower because there was mud in places on me that should NEVER have mud on them. Namely, my hands. I pondered how long I'd be grounded for destroying my mom's car. I pondered science. There had to be a scientific way for the force of the vehicle to push itself out of the mud. Too bad I was a wordy person instead of a sciency one.
For an hour that afternoon, I sat in the passenger seat of that car and went nowhere. Back and forth. Back and forth. Not accomplishing anything. I listened as some of the more experienced rooters strategized ways to get me out. Finally, I climbed to the driver's seat and just basically floored it with all my might until the truck jolted through the mud and busted out of the rut. It was exhilarating! I did it, all by myself!
I feel like I've been in that rut for sometime now. Back and forth. Back and forth. After Luke was born, I was buried under "new mom" responsibilities and had no time to breathe or do anything else besides work, come home from work to do more work, spend a little time with my kid, sleep, repeat. I'm not supposed to feel this way at 31. I shouldn't feel this way about a profession that I love at age 31. I have 18 more years before retirement and I don't want to be the Explorer, stuck in the mud like I have been. When the "higher ups" try to console us from NOT getting a raise, they always say, "well, you didn't go into teaching for the money"...and to some degree that's true. I just want to be all 'Anastasia Steele' for a minute and ask for more. I just want more for me and for my little family.
Which brings me to another topic we've been rolling around in the mud...the possibility of having another baby. I have soooo many thoughts on this, it isn't even funny anymore. Is it fair to him? Will I love another one as much as I love Luke? Can I handle more back poop? Does this mean all the work I've put into losing baby weight has been for nothing and I could've stayed fat? It's WAY worse than making the decision to have one in the first place. In a nutshell, a muddy nutshell, it all comes down to money. Seriously. I can't even tell you how many people have told me "you can't make that decision based on finances". Um, yes I can.
Luke is ridiculously, smelly, rotten, SPOILED. No other way to put it. I'm going to have to put him in the tobacco fields with no machinery in the summers to work just to keep him grounded. That's a reason in itself to have more, right? Because surely it will bring his little conceited head down a notch. No way I'll be able to spoil TWO of them when my insurance is going to double, bigger cars come around, doctor's bills, and lastly, the cost of IVF itself. Because let's not forget ladies and gentlemen, I can't get tipsy with Mike and bust out a pregnancy on Valentine's night like a real American.
These are my real-world problems right now. Which really, aren't really problems at all because when it comes down to it, I'm so happy and content (with most things) that I have no right to even utter an annoyance about these topics. But I'm doing it anyway because I wouldn't live up to my label as "human" and "woman" if I didn't stress over things I can't control.
Please join me as I take this year to drive my mama's Explorer out of the rut. It's time I put some "uumph" into the gas pedal and make my life a little more exciting. I hope you are buckled in for the ride and won't complain too much.
It will get muddy!
(Note to my mama: I again apologize. I'm driving my own vehicle this time, not yours. You're welcome.)
So, here it is! She nailed my face. It's the face I make literally 5,000 times a day. Waiting for my class to be quiet. Waiting for my kid to stop throwing LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE OBJECT IN MY LIVING ROOM on the floor, only for me to pick it up and wait for him to do it all over again. Waiting for some Stouffer's meal to finish in the oven at 9:00 at night because I've pushed off dinner too late and realize I have to eat and I can probably scrape some leftovers out of it for the next two days for lunches. Going to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, only to realize Mike used all the toilet paper and instead of replenishing the roll, he took one out and sat it on TOP of the roll instead of going the extra mile and putting it ON the roll. Same face for all of these things. She nailed it.
For those that don't know, a new printed currency is going to be coming out in the next few years. There are a TON of historically famous women who will be printed on the back of 5 and 10 dollar bills. (Don't quote me on this; I read the Buzzfeed article, not the NY Times.) Harriet Tubman beat out the arrogant, cocky, bull-headed Andrew Jackson for the new face of the $20. However, how in the heck is she not rolling over in her grave about the pic they are going to use? The new face printed on millions of bills is Harriet, bless her heart, looking like the skinny version of Scarlett's Mammy. I mean, find a better picture, for God's sake. If she were living, I'm sure she texted in response to her mock-up with one emoji: the black girl face-palming.
I bet even Harriet's a little jealous of my artistic character right now.
It turned out to be absolutely disgusting. I was afraid for my life. The other drivers were maniacs. I was too 'old lady' for my own good, even back then. Anyway, I got stuck. For like, an hour. I'd go a few inches forward, then a few inches back. Boys came and took over the wheel and they couldn't get out either. I pondered how I was going to make it to work with time to go home and shower because there was mud in places on me that should NEVER have mud on them. Namely, my hands. I pondered how long I'd be grounded for destroying my mom's car. I pondered science. There had to be a scientific way for the force of the vehicle to push itself out of the mud. Too bad I was a wordy person instead of a sciency one.
For an hour that afternoon, I sat in the passenger seat of that car and went nowhere. Back and forth. Back and forth. Not accomplishing anything. I listened as some of the more experienced rooters strategized ways to get me out. Finally, I climbed to the driver's seat and just basically floored it with all my might until the truck jolted through the mud and busted out of the rut. It was exhilarating! I did it, all by myself!
I feel like I've been in that rut for sometime now. Back and forth. Back and forth. After Luke was born, I was buried under "new mom" responsibilities and had no time to breathe or do anything else besides work, come home from work to do more work, spend a little time with my kid, sleep, repeat. I'm not supposed to feel this way at 31. I shouldn't feel this way about a profession that I love at age 31. I have 18 more years before retirement and I don't want to be the Explorer, stuck in the mud like I have been. When the "higher ups" try to console us from NOT getting a raise, they always say, "well, you didn't go into teaching for the money"...and to some degree that's true. I just want to be all 'Anastasia Steele' for a minute and ask for more. I just want more for me and for my little family.
Which brings me to another topic we've been rolling around in the mud...the possibility of having another baby. I have soooo many thoughts on this, it isn't even funny anymore. Is it fair to him? Will I love another one as much as I love Luke? Can I handle more back poop? Does this mean all the work I've put into losing baby weight has been for nothing and I could've stayed fat? It's WAY worse than making the decision to have one in the first place. In a nutshell, a muddy nutshell, it all comes down to money. Seriously. I can't even tell you how many people have told me "you can't make that decision based on finances". Um, yes I can.
Luke is ridiculously, smelly, rotten, SPOILED. No other way to put it. I'm going to have to put him in the tobacco fields with no machinery in the summers to work just to keep him grounded. That's a reason in itself to have more, right? Because surely it will bring his little conceited head down a notch. No way I'll be able to spoil TWO of them when my insurance is going to double, bigger cars come around, doctor's bills, and lastly, the cost of IVF itself. Because let's not forget ladies and gentlemen, I can't get tipsy with Mike and bust out a pregnancy on Valentine's night like a real American.
These are my real-world problems right now. Which really, aren't really problems at all because when it comes down to it, I'm so happy and content (with most things) that I have no right to even utter an annoyance about these topics. But I'm doing it anyway because I wouldn't live up to my label as "human" and "woman" if I didn't stress over things I can't control.
Please join me as I take this year to drive my mama's Explorer out of the rut. It's time I put some "uumph" into the gas pedal and make my life a little more exciting. I hope you are buckled in for the ride and won't complain too much.
It will get muddy!
(Note to my mama: I again apologize. I'm driving my own vehicle this time, not yours. You're welcome.)
Welcome back bud. :) glad you stepped on the gas!
ReplyDeleteWhy thank you, sir!!! :)
DeleteGet R done! (My Larry voice) And glad your mom didn't whoop dat ass (Madea's or Aunt Bam's voice)����
ReplyDeleteLove your blogs!! ❤️
Hahahaha! Thank you for reading!! (And no ass whooping--just yelling!)
DeleteYou go girl! Love you
ReplyDeleteThank you!! Love you!
DeleteLove this! Look forward to more <3
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading!!!
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
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