Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Cute cute song

OK, had to share. Super cute cover:
http://www.youtube.com/user/1ch3nt31#p/f/1/mo6xkHasPGY

Bar fly

So why flies in the background?

Because all I can think about lately is flies. They're all over the dang place! I open the door: zoom! 5 of 'em in the kitchen. And it seems they know. THEY KNOW I HATE THEM. And I have fly blood on my hands! They knooooow!! And they're after me.After I swat at them they come back with a vengeance. They want to taunt me and show me that I can't get them.

Seriously.

So in a lame attempt to get them off my back (not literally. EW!) I am putting them all over my blog. And also, because my life is filled with things that I constantly have to swat at... Things that bother me so, but need to be ignored for other more important things. Like TV. Or ice cream.

Maybe I'll learn to live with them (doubt it). Or co-exist (NEVER!). OK, I'll stick to trying to survive the summer without going crazy every time I hear something buzz incessantly.

So that's why it's flies.

Hello, my name is Lucia...

And I'm a perfectaholic. Now, not saying I'm perfect. FAAAAAR from that.

I suffer from "nevergoodenough-itis". It's actually pretty common but people don't like admitting it. It's like herpes. But less itchy. Not that I know what herpes is like... umm... awkward turtle... (really, I don't).

Its funny that this would have been a great disease to have say... 8 years ago! Like when I was in college. But back then I suffered from "Idon'tgiveacrap-itis" when it came to assignments and grades.

NOW is a different story. NOW I have not one but TWO children. One 2 1/2, another 6 weeks old. And what do I find myself doing? Trying to be Susie Homemaker! Betty Crocker! Martha Stewart! Barbie! Who am I?? ***pulls hair out***

I am a Type A lunatic who tries to do everything. Asks for help with nothing. And makes sure its perfect every time. To some that's great. And I admit I get a great sense of accomplishment when I manage to tackle laundry, clutter duty, dishes AND dishwasher, kitchen mess, dinner, play with the children (and not lose it) and take a pee break in a matter of a day. Who doesn't?

The problem is when this doesn't happen. That's when any one of the above mentioned domestic ladies crawls into my head, with their little apron on, a hand mixer in one hand and a feather duster in another and asks me: Is that the best you could do? Come on. This is your JOB.

And I sit there, with exhaustion clear in my droopy eyelids and achy back, short temper and crying kids as proof of a hard day, a crappy microwave dinner waiting on the table for my hard-working husband to arrive and all I can think is: I should have done more. I should have tried harder. This is not good. At all.

So I trump my own (small) accomplishments because they lack grandeur in my sick sick mind. Sure, I have played the exhausted mom card on occasions when maybe I spent a little too much time ragging on Lindsay Lohan or hating on the Kardashians. But even that's a rare occurrence nowadays.

Now that I have two kids I find that I do MORE than I did when I had one. I mean, WAY more. I am so much more on top of the ball with things that I surprise myself. It makes me feel weirdly grown-up. Reminds me of the things I saw my mom do for my sister and me not too long ago. And I think that's when the perfectionist comes out. Because the apprentice always has to surpass the master and well, what do I have to show for it besides a huge pile of dirty dishes and soiled onesies? Says Susie Homemaker: " There is no such thing as an off-day!!" and "There's always room for improvement!!".

I admit I have always had a problem with perfection in different aspects of life and I suspect it came with the results-oriented and conditional praise I often received growing up. Being labeled as a "gifted" kid, there were all these expectations pinned on me and hopes and dreams that my parents would just assume would happen. And if it wasn't anxiety issues in grade school it was food issues in college and then exercise mania and now this crap. Not to get all freudian-psych therapy-ish here, but the point is I think that's where it comes from.

...I know, you're all "Oh, wah wah wah, I'm to smart for my own good! Wah wah wah!! I vacuum and exercise at the same time and my kids are cute, wah wah wah! Please shut the fuck up, Lucy."

Mess and clutter are members of our family now and while I don't love them and wish they would only visit a couple times a year (see? they're really family!) I am learning to live with them. As long as they leave the room when asked to, don't intervene in my family life and stop mentioning what a good girl so-and-so was and how she would have made a faaaar better wife than I, I will let them hang around.

It's like the schizophrenic that has to learn who is real and who isn't. I need to learn to ignore those two mothafuckas and get on with my life.

Damn, I need a vacation from myself.