My blog is haunting me. I made a promise to myself last January that I would post once a week. It was a promise based on a bruised ego. I had tried to get my blog linked to some blogger website and they sent back a rather snippy reply about my infrequent posts. I crafted a lengthy email about the virtues of quality over quantity and where they could put their fancy pants blogger website, but never actually hit send. I find sometimes hitting send on an email like that is the virtual equivalent to kicking myself when I am already down.
A lot of my extreme statements and pledges are borne of my ego. I had a bad chicken experience once and said out loud that I would never eat meat again. My husband laughed at me so I didn’t eat meat for six years. Recently, I gave up sweets for lent and have enjoyed the deprivation so much, I have not gone back to them. Well, there was one piece of doberge cake on my birthday, but I spent the next 3 days crying and choking back vomit so I haven’t indulged since.
With this “post once a week” pledge, I am realizing it is much easier to NOT do something for a long period of time than to actually DO something for a long period of time on a regular basis. Sadly, I have never been pissed or threatened enough to say, “Damn you, I WILL get me Master’s Degree just to prove you wrong.” But, sadly, I have been stupid enough to say to Jet Blue Airlines, “Fuck you and your little TVs! I will NEVER fly you again.” Man, I miss those little TVs.
I heard a guy say the other day, “MY ego is so big, it tells me I don’t have an ego.” I love that. I have convinced myself at different times that I am some sort of misunderstood genius, a modern day Mother Theresa or just plan better than you. I am a fool is what I am. But, I at least know that, so I suppose I am progressing.
Max’s 4th birthday party was last Saturday. At 4, when you invite 20 friends, you have a party for 60 people because the parents come, too. I have to do this every so often just to prove to myself that 1200 square feet is a fine sized house for a family of three, but not so much for a crowd of 60. The spacewalk outside provided some space for the kids, but then they all came inside for cake. We have a tiny table and 4 chairs so the kids had to stand while we sang Happy Birthday and then sat on the floor in the living room to eat the cake and ice cream.
One of the Dads was lamenting our decision to have kids eat ice cream and cake on our rug, but changed his tune to mild disgust when I said, “You have no idea what that rug has been through. We used to have a 16 year old dog that would shed and molt all over it.”
Max had a nice time at the party, but he really is not a big crowd kid. He really wanted everyone to go home so he could chill and watch is new DVDs. He carried the 2 DVDs around with him the whole party in anticipation of being alone with a sippy cup of juice, kicked back in his room singing along with The Backyardigans. He is truly his father’s son…and mine. I like parties, but I prefer to be alone.
Before they came to get the Spacewalk, the three of us had one last jump and a fight with the balls. I lost and at one point yelled to Mike, “No fair, you have good aim and you throw hard.” Even Kenny got in the spacewalk and played with us. He is a good dog. Sit. Stay…please?
That night, in bed, for the brief few minutes Max managed to keep his eyes open, we talked about his party. I asked him what his favorite part was and he replied, “The cake.”
Hmmm, a boy after my own heart.
And then he said, “On my next birthday, I will be 5”
Yes, my sweet boy, you will. But, let me enjoy 4 for a little while longer…it’s all moving so fast.