I am a SAHM and love it! But don't think that means
every day is easy... This blog is my journey through this crazy thing I call my life. I want to talk about the things that happen while wearing all my "hats" (wife, mom, child of God, daughter, sister, friend, employee, etc) all the things that make up each day-the good, the bad, and the sometimes mundane. =)
I am a Christian, but please don't label me as "one of those" before you get to know me. I am no better than anyone else. I don't "hate" other people regardless of their lifestyle, beliefs or any other reason. I am saved by Christ and have nothing to boast in except that alone.
I am your run-of-the mill neurotic girl who worries incessantly about her kids and tries her darndest to be all things to all people. I am most comfortable in my sweats (or as my family calls them, our "cozies.") I used to get my hair and nails done, wear clothes with buttons, and talk about things OTHER THAN diapers, potties, and poop. My date night used to consist of more than a quick appetizer and a sprint to the penny saver theater and then home in time to
untierelieve my in-laws.
Now we're livin' the life; suburban domestic bliss. I say that both tongue-in-cheek and in seriousness. My husband (Joe) and I love our kiddos and do our best every day to love each other, love our babies and hold it all together. Feel free to comment (or not). But most importantly, feel free to laugh. Laugh at us. Laugh at yourself. Join us in this carnival we call our life!
What in the world has this planet come to when an elderly man yells obscenities at me from the middle of the road? Wait. Let me back up and paint the picture.
The hubs and I were cruising along in our sweet periwinkle minivan, headed home after a crushing victory at R's soccer game when an elderly man started crossing the street in front of us. He may have even made it across in time except he slowed down and then stopped altogether in the middle of the road long enough to yell at us to slow down. Against my better judgment and my pleas to "hit the gas!" Joe went ahead and stopped before we plowed right into him.
From that last statement you may have gathered that I'm a hateful person. I assure you, I'm not. But, here we were, minding our own business, driving the speed limit (25 mph-or maybe just a skosh above) and this old guy just waltzes out in front of us. I believe back in the day they used to ticket for jay walking.
Still stinging from Joe's reluctance to mow him down like a pancake, I rolled down my window as we passed and said--very politely-- "this isn't a cross walk, sir." To which he replied--equally as polite--"Butt out, b*****."
Oh. yes. he. did.
After picking my jaw up off the floor, I yelled something else charming out the window. I can't be sure now what it was, but I may recall addressing him by a variation of Richard. Not proud of that.
Now, answer me this...what is it about a confrontation with a rude stranger that brings out the lion in me? I could have torn that guy's eyes out, and might have if Joe hadn't refused to stop. (Can you imagine that scene? Me, all pregnant, rolling around on the road, scrapping with Grandpa Jones while my minivan overflowing with children looks on?) Ordinarily, I love me some elderly, but that day, my head very nearly popped off my head.
What happened to chivalry? I thought old men were supposed to be cuddly and cute and carry quarters and Werther's Originals in the pockets of their gold cardigans? What the...?
Tomorrow is another game day. With these pregnancy hormones raging through my body, anyone's fair game. *cracking knuckles*