Wednesday, November 12, 2008

I'm out, the "f" word and great depression

I'm officially counting myself out for nanowrimo this year. I missed the first day and then got into it for a few days, but I completely flaked this weekend. This week has been busy, so I haven't done any writing for nano since last Friday. It sucks, because I've been planning that this is the November I will reach the goal. But I tend to let life get in the way. My husband will offer to take over the kid duties in the evening for an hour or two, but when I go into the office and hear the little voices saying, "where's mommy... I want to go visit her in the office," I break down and read some books to my kids instead. The shitty thing is that I know it's a cop-out to say that I'm too busy. If I really wanted to finish this task, I would just do it. I would open up my laptop at 9 every night and work until I met that day's goal. But the truth is, my sofa and a good book just seem so much more appealing right now. I'm so stressed out about life in general that I would rather lose myself in a book someone else sweated over, than create something of my own. Maybe next year....

My son said the f word the other night. No, not the really bad one. It's the one that's not so bad, but you don't want to be the parent that lets your kid get away with saying it at inappropriate times. He was running down the hall after his bath and he turned to his sister and said, "Amanda, I just farted!" Then they both fell on the floor giggling uncontrollably. I swallowed my own laugh and asked him where he had heard that word. He said, "Mommy, it's no big deal. It just means burping from your butt!" Again with the laughter. Apparently he heard it from his pal at school. This is the same pal he picked up "Oh my God!" from. It's Oh My God this and Oh My God that all the time. We haven't every really used "fart" around here. I admit that I feel it's a more masculine term. I don't like saying it and I don't like hearing my 5 year old saying it. I've always used the lame term "gas". I guess it doesn't matter. There is absolutely no way to convince a young boy (or even a grown man, for that matter) that farting isn't funny.
This is all coming from a woman who curses worse than a sailor as soon as the kids are tucked in bed.

The news these days is all about recession, recession, recession. It's enough to stop a girl from going to get a large latte a few times a week. OK... I stopped my coffee splurges about 9 months ago, and I've cut back almost every where I can. There are still a few splurges that we haven't cut out yet -- eating one meal out on weekends and buying the kids new socks when their old ones are too small. I haven't had my hair cut since April and I've been coloring it at home -- the results aren't great, but they aren't terrible. We made a trip the the La Brea tarpits a couple of weekends ago -- kids had an excellent time -- and we dropped about $60, not including gas. We don't do that too often anymore. I haven't shopped for clothes in I don't know how long -- if you know me, you know I used to be a clothes whore. I love new clothes... they make me feel so good. But it's been about 6 months since I even bought myself a t-shirt. I did go to payless a couple of weeks ago and picked up a pair of brown flats because the pair I had -- from before Amanda was born -- had had it. As I visited Phil at work the other day, one of his receptionists said, "cute shoes, I have the same ones." I said, "yeah, payless is awesome!" She made an awful face and said, "uh... no, mine weren't from payless." Whatever! Anyway, all this is to say that I'm sure lots and lots of people are a bit stressed out these days. But I officially entered the great depression today. My neighbor -- two doors up -- just put his house on the market for $440,000! Shit. I could kill Fernando!!!! We purchased our house for more than $250K more than that two years ago. Fernando, dude, you are killing me.
My husband and I have been playing around with the idea of selling our place. Yes, we would lose the 20% we put down, but we wouldn't be up all night, every night, worrying about bills. Instead, we could be worrying about whether or not we were screwing up our kids. That is what parents are supposed to worry about, right? But, in light of Fernando's move, we now see that we can't sell our house for even what we owe. Thus, the great depression.

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