After devoting the past decade to raising my adorable crotch parasites, I thought that it was high time to unearth who I was again. As excited as I was by this prospect, I’m going to be honest, Pranksters, I was terrified. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to think about myself in terms more than “do I have to pee?” and if so, “how long can I hold it before my bladder explodes, bathing my guts with a fine mist of pee?”
It’s the part of parenting that’s hard: the loss of self.
I love my children, but I lost myself along the way. It’s not hard to do. Kids are loud and annoying and shit, it’s easier to think about their needs because they’re so damn demanding about what they want because that’s what they’re designed to do. It’s survival of the most annoying and kids win that hands down. I know this because I was a bloody irritating kid, too.
This past month has probably been the hardest yet for me. A number of unrelated issues have blindsided me; my PTSD from Amelia’s traumatic birth has resurfaced as the scar on her head is stretching and bleeding. The precancerous cells on my cervix are back. Ben’s autism has become so difficult to manage that we need more outside counsel.
The issues aren’t insurmountable, but some days, it feels like it. But, not one to dwell on the negativity, there are good things afoot as well.
I went back on Weight Watchers and am now living my life in 2-point increments. It’s not a glamorous diet, and while I’ll never lose the baby weight like those people on The Biggest Loser or my cohorts doing the South Beach Diet, it works. Since I get overwhelmingly chubby when I gestate, I’ve used it before.
Turns out, we need depressingly little to eat to survive.
(I HAVE A GLANDULAR PROBLEM, PEOPLE.)
In addition to counting every motherfucking calorie I put IN-to my mouth, I’m also exercising like a fiend…when I’m not wearing next to nothing thanks to my new tattoo, that is. Turns out, I have to restrain my sweater kittens, lest I knock myself out cold when I’m jogging. And yes, I am using my TONY LITTLE GAZELLE. Imma have to get myself one of those hats with the fake blond ponytail hanging out the back of it just because.
In less boring news, I bought some new make-up. Now, I like make-up, so I know that when I say things like “DAVE BETTER GET ME A CHAINSAW FOR MOTHER’S DAY” you probably think that I’m a gigantic Beefy Mc-Manstick, but no, I like Chanel and Prada and MAC and diamonds and all kinds of sparkly stuff. But it’s been ages since I’ve gone out and spent a bunch of money on girly stuff just because I wanted to. So I did. And it felt great.
Probably the best thing that I did for myself was to book a vacation with my home girl Angie. I was just going to go visit for a weekend, but she was all, “come on a cruise, whore!” and I was all, “fuck yes!” So I’m going. By myself. On a real vacation. In May. Not a long one, but still, I am going on vacation by myself. Me! The person who can’t manage to drop a deuce alone is going to be alone for days. I might hurt myself relaxing.
I can’t wait to have more exciting news like, “I became President of Target” or “I’m having an Uncrustables baby” but maybe next month, Pranksters. Maybe next month.
How are you doing, my Band of Merry Pranksters?