Its Been So Long....

I've had entirely too much time to perform random acts of stupidity without writing and reflecting on it with you.
Life with three (two kids and one puppy) is just as much of a challenge as I feared. I haven't been faithful to you, oh bloggin world, and I am ever so sorry for leaving you (again) high and dry.
Which brings me to recap, in a nutshell, of all my chaotic thoughts and blunders as of late:
#1. Avoiding my car, as in not driving it, has done incredible things for my sense of calm. Try it sometime, a whole day without driving...ride your bike, walk to the grocery store, do without that orange juice for a day. Your blood pressure will drop, too.
#2. Kicking myself for unintentionally insulting people. I truly have a gift for opening my mouth, inserting my foot, and then obsessing over it lately.
#3. As I mentioned above, I am a faux MOT(mother of three) these days which deems me "one of you", not "one of them". And yet, in character, I managed to put my dear friend, Maureen on the defensive last weekend at an Easter Egg Hunt of all places. How many feet can one fit in one's mouth? Maureen, I dedicate my public humiliation to you along with my public apology. Can't tell you how many nights I laid in bed worrying about hurting your feelings. You're an amazing MOT whom I adore and admire. XOXO, G
#4. I've been running a lot more lately, which has done wonders for my happiness. I finally feel like myself again, an athletic prowess if you will. A "Can Do Attitude" that I missed for a bit after that second child arrived.
#5. I insulted my dentist. Yep, the WORST person to insult when your splayed in a chair with the good doctor's fists in your mouth. It went something like this: Dentist: Your hair looks adorable! Idiot: Thanks, I haven't been to the hair dresser in ages! And I just accidentally dyed my roots orange. (no, that's not the actual insult, although rebuffing her compliment was classy, wasn't it? I'm sorry, you have terrible taste in hair....) Dentist (age 45, silver and blond shoulder length hair): I never see my hair dresser regularly either. It's the blond, we can get away with letting it grow out longer. It seems to hide everything well. Idiot: Blond, orange, whatever, at least I don't have any grey yet!
...at least I don't have any grey yet? Did I have a death wish? I was staring up at a woman who clearly has plenty of grey! And my point was? Please just put me out of my misery and cut out my tongue while you're drilling my teeth out, doc.
#6. Is there a self help book about conversational etiquette? Somebody, please, throw me a title.
#7. I've managed to run off three babysitters since the school year began. They all keep moving away or getting "real jobs", at least that's the reason they gave me. After years of obsessing over introducing someone new to my fragile little family circle, I've managed to bombard my children with a new stranger every month. Guilt, guilt, guilt....
And my final thought for the day,
#8. Blasts from the past can be downright frightening. I was at a bar last night. Yeah, you heard me, "my neighborhood bar" (that sounds pretty cool, doesn't it?), and John and I were there (after bedtime routine, of course) to initiate our first Neighborhood Night at the local bar in our area. There was quite an eclectic group of friends and neighbors all standing around this rough biker bar looking out of place. I, on the other hand, felt quite out of place but did a darned good job of dressing the part...black boots, black riding pants, shear black T with a simple gun metal neck chain, heavy eye liner and a black motorcycle jacket. Biker Chic all the way. When I had a drink in my hand I mingled. There was the conversation with my girl neighbors where someone else opened her mouth and insulted the rest of us about how short hair (which we all have except for her) was a sign of old age. Birds of a feather, huh? At least I know I've picked the right neighbors. Then, there was a bidet incident but I'll save that one for another time. Back to my point about my past, I grew up in a valley town a few hours east of where I currently reside. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I wasn't popular, I had the same boyfriend all four years, high school was not a rip roaring wildly fun time for me. I was there to get good grades so I could get the hell out of town and off to college to find myself. I spent so much of my high school years obsessing over how great college was going to be, I forgot to realize that I could enjoy high school. You might say I resented high school as a pimply-faced hurdle before college. There was a guy from my high school who had been quite serious with one of my best friends, we'll call him E, and last year E bought the house around the corner from us and moved in with his new wife. Kinda weird at first but I got over it, convinced by the fact that I really knew this guy, where he grew up, his background. I mean, it was actually comforting to know that I had another reliable, normal person in my neighborhood. He wasn't an axe murderer, I just hate when you get those neighbors moving in. So I warm up to the idea and one day John and I drive by to congratulate E and wife on their new house and they are chatting with a stranger in the yard, who turns and waves at me. Huh? Stranger=Ex boyfriend who I finally shook after 4 years of high school and 2 years of college, at which point I met my husband to be. O....K......um, hi....? You're here in E's yard one block from my life??
Well, back to the bar, I step outside to visit with E's wife last night and OMG, Mr. Ex is sitting at her table. Awkward greeting. It threw me off for the night for the simple fact that he is still single. Never married. And for me, that means he never moved on. Ugh. So it's weird the whole time and he plays pool with John (who handles this all like the rock star that he is) and I finally sidle up to John who agrees it's our last call. So I head to the bar to order a last round of beers and I'm lost in thought over how weird this is that I'm hanging out in a bar with people from my awkward past and my wonderful present life. When suddenly a man yells my name. HUH? Oh yeah, it's Nick Childers, the soccer star from high school who happens to be at this tiny dive bar with his buddy, Dillon Clives, the football star from our high school. Should I stop now? That's the part when the floor opens up and I fall down a dark tunnel while clicking my heels and shouting, "Somebody get me out of here!" Then I land smack in the middle of my high school prom wearing the most god awful dress and heels and my daughters are running around the dance floor shouting, where's daddy?
OK, who slipped something in my drink?

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