Most of you know by now that I am the queen of Too Much Information. I don’t know if it’s because it’s therapeutic or if it’s just cause I like to make fun of myself, but I tend to be an open book for the most part. That is why I presented the idea for a Q&A blog post to my Twitter friends. Here are some of the questions they threw my way:
@mrshotmom: “Are you happy where you live? Would you rather live in another state?”
** Funny you should ask this question — it’s one I ask myself every winter. I live in the Chicago area, home of the windy city. And trust me when I tell you that they don’t call it the windy city for nothin’. We’re talkin’ beat down, freeze your tootsies off, smack your ass and call you Judy-type cold air that frosts the very being of your core. Do I enjoy these nipply gusts of frigidity? Hell to the no, I don’t! I’m a warm weather girl — bring on the flip flops, baby! I would much rather live someplace warm and sunny. However, I’ve lived here in the Chi for nearly fifteen years, so it seems that I won’t be heading south anytime soon.
@mrshotmom: “Do you follow the same sports as your husband or do you let him be alone while watching a game?”
** I’m sorry to say that I’m really not a big sports fan. I almost feel un-American saying that, but I see a big game as an opportunity for me to catch up on my stupid DVR’d reality shows. The hubby sets up camp in one room for his testosterone-fueled viewing pleasure, and I sprawl out in front of another boob tube to see who’s the latest, greatest jackass to make a fool out of themselves on national t.v. I know it’s pathetic, but I’m all about mindless entertainment after battling and herding short people all day.
@jabulani9: “What is it about wedding rings that makes men go deaf?”
** I wish to God I had the answer to this question. I could seriously be the next Dr. Ruth if I did. What it all boils down to is selective hearing. Now, I hate to stereotype, but in my experience, most men tend to only hear what they want to hear. For instance, I could have an entire conversation with my son about what he needs to do in order to receive his allowance, but until I say the words “Wii” or “Mario Brothers“, he’s going to look off in the distance with a blank stare, completely oblivious to any and every little thing that comes out of my mouth. The same could be said of my husband. I could carry on for days about the dishwasher being broken or the trash that needs to be taken out, but until I mention something about “sex” or “boobs“, he’s going to look at me like I’m an alien from outer space.
@woo222: “What do you wish you’d learned in school?”
** When I started out in college, I wanted to be a writer. I was majoring in journalism until I did some research and found out what I would potentially make salary-wise. I then decided to switch my major multiple times and wound up graduating with an education degree. I later went on to become a teacher in a Catholic school, which makes TOTAL sense since that’s where all the big bucks lie < insert sarcasm >. I really wish I would have had the wherewithall to follow what my gut was telling me to do. I never wanted to be a teacher! From the time I was a little girl, my passion has always been the written word. I kick myself in the ass every day for not following my instinct.
@kristins4kids: “Was your pregnancy an easy one?”
** This is a tough one to answer. Since it took nearly three and a half years of infertility treatments and miscarriages to actually get pregnant, I was the epitome of a paranoid freak of a woman when I finally did get knocked up with twins. I was afraid to even breathe, much less have anyone touch me, including my husband. I think he and the Lubriderm bottle got quite friendly during those nine months. Then, there was the fact that I ballooned up like a damn house. I am only 5’2, and I gained almost sixty pounds throughout my pregnancy. Our bedroom at that time was on the third floor of our house, and I actually had to take rest stops on the way to bed every night. I’m quite certain my lungs had become homies with my larnyx at that time. I was so flipping happy when I finally pushed those little pip squeaks outta me — I could finally breathe again and was so happy to be reunited with my toes again.
@cocoamommy: “Is it possible to morph ourselves so that everyone (husbands & kids) is happy?”
** I will emphatically say NO!!! to this question, even though I try like hell every day to make this happen. I could seriously drop-kick the June Cleavers and Carol Brady’s of this world for setting the bar impossibly too high for the normal, average wife/mom. For crap’s sakes, nobody I know wears pearls ala June to clean their damn end tables. And Carol had it made in the shade cause she had her own live-in chef! I think people tend to forget that these are fictional characters, and that REAL life is way too complicated to make everybody happy all the time. The way I see it, a good day is one in which I get everyone into bed with all their limbs in tact.
@bfe21: “What is your greatest joy of motherhood?”
** My greatest joy of being a mom is that no matter how badly I screw up, make an ass of myself, or blow my top, my kids love and adore me more than anything in this world. How cool is that? That is without a doubt the greatest feeling I’ve ever had.
@whyisdaddycryin: “When I was thirteen and < spanking my monkey > like a mad man, my mom totally busted me. If forced to get a tattoo, what would it be, where would you get it, and why?”
** When I first read this question, I must admit, I felt a little clammy. Was he seriously asking me about that < ahem > personal of an issue? He knows that my parents totally read my blog. But, thank you sweet baby Jesus for allowing him to flip the switch and stick me with the good old tattoo question instead! So, if I got a tat, I supposed it would be one that said, “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!” And I would get it right across my forehead, so that when I look at my tired and pissed off image in the mirror at the end of a long day of taking care of everyone else BUT me, I’ll remember that I don’t suck.