Pete and Repeat Were Walking Down the Street/ Star Wars Halloween 2014

so, sometimes i feel like my life is like this recurring story. it’s a really good story- awesome and full of great characters, and i really don’t mean to complain about it, (but will, of course), but it is a story on repeat. and it can feel exhausting and defeating sometimes. like i’m living out ‘groundhog day.’ most days are similar enough that i often have those glitches in the matrix where i sense i’ve done this before or i kind of forget where i am on the list or in the stack. 

i wrote this after i did a mountain of hand wash dishes at 9:30pm on a friday night. halloween friday night while everyone else in the house slept. alone, doing dishes. bored and tired, while convinced that the rest of the world is out having super fun times, is a lethal combo and out comes the irritable blogging. 

(for the record, halloween was fun. cold and rainy and brief, but fun nonetheless) 

the house is always a mess. some of it the perpetual same messes (why is there always so much outside on the inside on my floors?) and then ever-evolving messes. somehow train parts morph into block and then legos and then fake food pieces right before my eyes. technically different stuff, equally painful when stepped on in the dark. 

and why are there more dishes to be washed than we surely could have used? that is not math that works out. and there’s always food that needs to be bought and prepared. feeding these people takes so much time. it’s amazing. and money. i can’t type out loud what we spend monthly at the grocery store and restaurants because my fingers won’t let me, but somehow, we’re not saving any time or convenience by spending extra money, and we’re also not saving any money by putting all this time and work into the whole process. if our food situation were a factory line, we would be surely revamped or replaced by robots. (ooh….hmmm…)

AGAIN, i recognize that this is all really first world-y rich kid complain-y stuff, because we have a great house, healthy kids, super jobs, and a strong marriage. for sure hierarchy of needs, we’re on the tippie top. 

but, we spend so much time just functioning in the day-to-day stuff, that getting the chance to work on side projects or creative endeveurs or deep cleaning the house or keeping up on finances or organizing/planning for the future or jumping on causes we care about, or hobbies we once enjoyed…it’e hard. 

up much of the night with a clingy, teething baby, work all day, miss the kids all day while at work, but then find them almost instantly extremely exhausting when i do get them because then i’m simultaneously feeding, entertaining and bathing them, while answering a billion questions for the one kid and holding and nursing a million tears away for the other kid, get them to sleep (temporarily), preparing food for the next day, maybe have a grownup conversation that isn’t about logistics of life, but probably not, maybe have sex, but only if it’s been such a long time that we’re afraid that stuff will seal shut if we don’t….and then rinse and repeat. every day. 

so i occasionally blog or read a little or watch a movie or get to know a new friend over drinks or start some shit on the internet, but all that time could have been spent doing all the shoulda stuff and it’s hard to justify the time away, knowing that the stacks and lists are waiting for me when i get back. 

ok. done whining. 

i agreed to join this national novel writing thing for the month of november. you’re supposed to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. there is zero conceivable way i can accomplish this task, but having it out there as a goal might make this month a little more distinguishable from the rest. change and growth and newness, along with a fresh pair of socks. these are my goals. 

(ahem…if anyone has any idea about what in the world i should write this novel about, i’m open for suggestions. i got nothin.’ also, please to ignore all my change of tense and subject in this blog. it is not a direct reflection on how grammar bad my novel will totes turn out)

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