Confessions – May
It is that time of the month again folks.
No, not that time of the month sillies!
The time each month when I unburden myself of the silliest of silly secrets, we have a giggle, and then you share your own.
Without further ado…
- I don’t know my own eye color. No, seriously. They used to be fairly blue, then took on more of a green hue, and now they’re all whatever. When Jack was younger and loved to identify people by certain traits (hair color, height, eye color), we’d say “and what color are mommies’ eyes”? Blank stare. No answer. When we moved back from California I went to the DMV to get a Washington State drivers license. I left the eye color section blank on the form and the woman said “you need to put something down”. I opened my eyes widely and stared at her. Blank stare. No answer. After a few minutes of trying to figure it out, she finally wrote “green” on my driver’s license.
- I don’t get sun visors. You know, those hats that golfers wear all the time. Sure, they protect your face, but what about your ears and scalp? Is the intent just to keep your face out of the sun? Isn’t that like wearing sun-blocking pants but then a bikini top?
- Years ago when I first started blogging I didn’t yet have my thick “internet strangers can be assholes” skin. A woman once emailed me a TWO page long email to tell me how I was trying too hard to be quirky (specifically called out my “Hippie Shit” page as an example) and weird. Not knowing better, I sent her a very nice long response. And never heard back from her. 2018 me would just respond “I’m actually trying too hard to seem normal. This blog version of me is way less weird than I am in real life”. And maybe or maybe not a PS, go fuck yourself. Who knows.
- My house is too full of yelling. And easily 75% of it is coming from me. With the weather heating up I’m trying harder to yell less because our windows are open and our neighbors may assume a drill sergeant has moved into our house. I’ve read all the books, tried all the calm and nurturing tactics. Some of them have lasted a few weeks. Some minutes. Other days. Conclusion: It isn’t me. My kids and nephew are assholes who are hard of hearing.
- I can’t believe we’re raising a generation of kids who don’t get to watch afterschool specials. How else will they know to not do drugs, drink alcohol under a bridge, tell a lie, cheat on a test, or shoplift? Listen, people, the only way to learn life lessons is to watch 28 year olds pretending to be 15 in acid-washed jeans and high tops make mistakes.
- I don’t get the appeal of Google Home/Alexa/whateverthehellelse they sell. I mean, my phone does all that stuff. Do I really want a machine listening to my every word? I promise you within six days that little judgy robot voice would say “Sarah, stop yelling”.
- I made the decision back in February that Jack was going to start making his lunch for school every day starting in April. During spring break he got in big trouble for lying to me and I had to come up with a punishment that made him realize how serious it was without also screwing up an activity we had planned for the day (canceling it would have impacted Bennett too). So, I told him his punishment was making his lunch for the rest of the school year.
- I go to a Lutheran church. Picture a lot of Norwegians where the average age is probably in the 60’s. Our praise band has really stepped up their game in the music department and we now have a guitar (ohhhhhh). Anytime a song is really good I cringe because I know inevitably people will start clapping along. Listen, I love that the spirit is moving you, but collectively as a church, we have NO RHYTHM. Honky AF. I always hope that there aren’t first-time visitors there on “janky group clap” days.
- Anytime Jack does something with zero common sense in mind I want to yell “get it together kid – the tests say you’re smart”.
- There are days I would rather keep my kids inside doing nothing and driving me nuts, simply because anything is better than the stupid ass battle over applying sunscreen. For frick sakes kids, I’m putting lotion on your bodies. It’s not like I’m rubbing ground in glass onto your skin.
Alrighty, folks, that is it for me! Your turn.