Shifting gears

Phew, I finally have a chance to update the ol' bloggy blog. We went to the library on Monday and I found myself a couple of good reads. I am trying to squeeze reading those into my crazy days and then wouldn't ya know, my subscription to Glamour starts. I got one of them in the mail yesterday. It's official. Free time: None found. When I opened our mailbox and saw the magazine, I was thrilled. Keith was standing at the end of the driveway looking down towards the mailbox. And there I was, motioning to him with my arms, in sheer delight. "Look! I'm a girl, again!!", I said. He responded with something along the lines of 'yeah...the last time I checked'. Dirty bird. The magazine is nothing spectacular, but I've been getting Better Homes and Gardens and Parents. And, nothing is wrong with that either...if you're taking Centrum Silver and drive a mini-van (no offense!).

In fact, one of my dreams is to be able to flip through a Better Homes and Gardens and point at one home and say that's the one. That's the home of my dreams (which is in every issue) and then it magically appears for me to live in. Those BHG homes make my eyes roll back into my head. All clean and crisp and 'California coastal' decorated. Keith and I would study these homes in our "offices" separately and then storm out with the magazine opened, yelling in an accusatory tone. "Look at this! Just fucking look at this!" throwing the mag in front of the unsuspecting partner who was blissfully lapping up freshly melted ice cream. "What, What?". Looks down at pictures. "Omg! What kind of shit is that? That's effing ridiculous. Who does that? Argh!!!!! It just makes me sick, really.........I absolutely love it". Please toss that magazine into the oven.

So, now that we're not being tortured by BHG and Parents, because, really, how much more can I read about the harmful effects of vaccines (and be scared shitless) or how to keep the romance alive with your husband. (Duh. It's called alcohol and low budget porn...I kid, I kid!) Now, with this new subscription to this new magazine with new articles I'll get the body I've always wanted (woohoo. it's in the magazine people, all I have to do is open it and I am gonna look so good...immediately), I'll know how to handle anything naked and I'll know the 8 things my man craves in bed (I had no idea there were 7 more...clear my schedule). I'm gonna be the best me in the whole world. Or, maybe I'll just find a different way to pluck my nose hairs. Either way, my inner college girl appreciates it.

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It's that time of year again. The time where I want to get focused. I want to have a plan. I want to have a timeline and work towards something. As if raising children and running a life isn't enough busy work for me. Somebody slap me. I do it every year, maybe one of these years it will stick. I feel like I should be socking away at something. This is me. I want something to be proud of for myself. I want to create, invent, restore, invest, learn, digest...but not be stressed. and, oh yeah, be able to remain a stay-at-home Mom. I know. I'm outta my mind.

Like, what if, God forbid, something happened to Keith, I would need to find a job to provide for my family. And, what about when the kids are in school and I'm at home? It'd be nice to make some money and be fulfilled with a career that makes me happy...but still be able to be in the carpool lane to pick up my kiddos, because I want that, too.

I called UH today to see if my transcripts are on file. Yup, they still are. I submitted an application, again...all I need to do is send in the application money. I did this the exact same thing 2 years ago. I get this far and then I let it set in. And when it comes down to it, I think I like the fact that, in an instant, I could change my whole world and do something challenging. I want to prove to myself that I could do it. But, am I willing to give up my current lifestyle for it? In short, no. I know the payoff would be great...yet, why mess up a good thing? I guess I'm chickening out. I like my free time with the kids and Keith, is that wrong? And maybe that means I'm saying no to a career, too. I don't know if I'm okay with that yet, either. Well, if I feel the same way in two years, I can always pay the application fee then.

Maybe, I'll get a puppy...now you can really slap me.