I obviously lost my Christmas spirit the ABSOLUTE minute Christmas left the building. I took down my decorations yesterday and took them to storage. I just couldn't look at them any longer. They were bothering me. Boo.
I added 8 new people to my blogroll, so welcome them please and head over and check them out. I also added Jay's new blogpage. It's under RobotZombieVampire because he likes robots, zombies, and vampires. Pretty smart, huh.
I would also like to take some time and say that I do love getting comments, BUT I detest above all else anonymous comments. Especially when it is left on a very personal post. You, Mr. or Mrs. No Balls don't know my whole life. You don't know my behind the scenes life with my husband. You don't know everything that has gone on or will go on in my marriage. You weren't there when we were dating 24/7, or the conversations we had. You don't know "us". So, either keep your comments to yourself or put your name down so I can make fun of you outright. Thank you.
As I'm reading this, I am noticing I say "I" A LOT. And I started to feel a little weird. But you know what, this is MY blog. Not yours, MINE. And this is the one thing that I have total control over. My kids have taken over everything else, yes, everything. They ARE my life. Their behavior dictates what we do that day and where we go, even how I dress. Because without fail, the minute I shut the bedroom door to get dressed, one of them hurts/backtalks/namecalls/breaks someone or something. Thus, my decision on whether or not my bra will match my panties today or if my socks match anything I am wearing or even if my pants get completely closed is determined by how quickly I can get things done before the first blood-curdling scream is screeched. SO, if I want to say I on this here blog, I am not going to feel bad for it. Because no one, not Jay or the kids, my family, or any of you can log in here and jack my page. The decision is yours. You can keep reading and laugh about what a cranky bitch I am and be thankful you have no children, or you can stop reading and miss finding the comedy in my cries for help as a stay-at-home but never-at-home mom.
I was also thinking about New Year's resolutions and if I should make any this year. But then decided it was just silly because it was like making a list of lies to myself. I never keep them, never. In the past, some resolutions I made were: Stop drinking (who am I kidding?), stop swearing (good one, never gonna happen), become president of PTA (after one PTA meeting, I decided I NEVER EVER EVER wanted to become PTA president), make my bed everyday (I actually tried to do this, but gave up when Jay or the kids would immediately jump into it the minute it was all pretty. Like a cat and a clean litter box, you know), lose weight (every year this is on the list, every year, I give up by January 5), stop drinking soda (this lasts until the first migraine hits and then it's out the window. I have cut back drastically on my soda intake thought), read more classic novels (I did check out Pride and Prejudice from the library and actually read a chapter, but got so confused by the way they speak, I put it down and picked up my Janet Evanavich book instead), try to become more computer savvy and actually understand some computer language (this worked until Jay started rambling on and on about megabites and pixels and blah blah and then my eyes glazed over, rolled to the back of my head and the next thing I remember was waking up with drool coming out the side of my mouth), take a cooking class (I did look at classes but I just couldn't find a way to manage the kids, dinner, and Jay. All the classes were at dinner time (who's moronic idea was that) so unless I wanted the kids to dine on hotdogs and macaroni and cheese, I had to pass on the classes), and learn to knit (I did learn, but have yet to finish a sweater because I am so absolutely confused by what they want me to do that it went into a bag).
I am done. I think. Let me see, bitch about Christmas, check; introduce new blogrollers and tell people that my husband started blogging again, check; tell off anonymous, check; discuss my "I" complex, check; explain why I don't make New Years resolutions anymore, check. Yes, I am done. For now. But everything seems to be pissing me off lately, so I could be back. Bitching. As usual.