I am a child.

1986.  And 2011.
I spent most of the weekend around adorable children or people who have adorable children.  Both Saturday and Sunday, I woke up past noon, hungover and dazed, and then I'd rush to get ready for things I'd agreed to do.  Didn't do laundry, didn't clean the kitchen, didn't work out.  David was home all weekend, but he had a beta invite, so that's where he was. 

Despite the fact that nothing got done this weekend, the fact remains that no matter what I do, it's never enough.  For the house, at work, with money, for my health, for anyone.  And as I stuffed my face with ham and cheese omelettes this morning while thinking about this and being depressed about it, I felt lost and stuck at the same time.  Like everything is whirling around me and I can't grab onto anything -- even time is going by too quickly.  I can't even stop to read a magazine or regain the "cozy" feeling my mom and I identified last night that I used to have when I was a kid, in my fort of pillows and a good book.

Let me back up.  Every single day, I am surrounded by people who can wake up early in the morning, get to work, and yell out, "Hey, good morning everybody!!!!!!!!" and "How was your weekend?!!?!"  Sometimes, they even have a work-out first.  And then, "Here, look at these pictures of [my spouse and 2.5 children/my bathroom renovation that cost an assload of money that we'd actually saved up/my granddaughter, who we named Metallica/an ultrasound/a family vacation to the best place EVAR]," and I'm like, "Oh, yeah, cool, wow," instead of actually saying, "Do you wanna see pictures of my cats?  Oh, you don't LIKE cats?  Well, I don't like your stupid kids."

And maybe I actually do like their stupid kids, but I'm just jealous of the fact that everyone else has kids.  Someone told me once that I hadn't taken the opportunity, and I could've punched her in the throat.  Occasionally, I'll come back to earth -- like yesterday, I briefly came to my senses when a baby I'm not even blood related to farted on my hand.  Somehow it's more bearable when my nieces did that.  But then I went right back to "I wanna have babieeees... like five hundred babies...."  Oddly enough, any time that I've gotten even close to having kids, the thought of it being real freaks me the fuck out.  Everything I've wanted before -- house, job, a wedding -- has always been too much for me to handle once I actually get it. 

How do people grow up, go to work, save money, have kids, take care of the house, stay healthy...?  I can't even handle work and the house.  When I lived alone, my apartments were spotless, but it seems like I upgraded and upgraded to a dwelling that I can't even take care of.  It gets too dirty too fast.  I'm pretty sure I only cooked three times this week, but when I came home last night after pretty much being out of the house all weekend, it looked like something had exploded in there. 

It's just too much house.  Sometimes I can't wait to sell the damn thing and go back to apartments.

So I want to have kids, yet I can't even keep a house clean, even when I'm hardly even there.  I can wash and dry clothes, but somehow they still never make it out of the laundry room (and when I do take them upstairs, they stay in the hamper unless I fold the clothes and put them in drawers).  I can take dirty dishes back to the kitchen, but all they do is sit on the counter.  I want to have kids, but I can't figure out how to save money, and the book on personal finance that David bought for $0.03 is sitting on my nightstand, barely touched (for some reason it's my job to read it).  I want to have kids, but I can barely get myself out of bed if I have fewer than ten hours of sleep.  I want to have kids, yet every single morning for the last year, I have stared up at the same showerhead and thought -- every time -- "Hmmm.  I should take a toothbrush to that thing and scrub off the soap scum."  EVERY SINGLE MORNING FOR A YEAR.  Have I done it yet?  I'll give you two guesses, but you'll only need one.

"Then fucking grow up," you'll say, but I don't fucking know how, and I don't feel like I'm getting any help, either.

Update:  I realized I'd missed an Orkin appointment and noticed a stain on my shirt.  Both happened while the Beck song "Loser" was on the radio.  Can't make this stuff up.


  1. Believe it or not, I know exactly how you feel. We struggle with many of the same things in my/our life, and it seems no amount of action/self talk/medications can help to make any sense of it. Woke up today to my 31st b-day and still don't have a college degree, no kids, and a one bedroom apartment with many of the same issues you mentioned above. Hope things get better, we should hang out again soon.


    BTW, if you ever try the antidepressant route, Abilify is the shit...and unbelievably expensive.

  2. Happy birthday Dan. I did remember, actually.

    I'm on Effexor. It helps with my mood, but not my motivation. Maybe I just need a lobotomy.

    I remember talking to Beth years ago about this -- it's been going on pretty much my entire life, and I still haven't found a way to change it. I thought that maybe if I bound myself to more responsibility, I'd be forced to learn how to deal with it, but no... I just find new ways to only do the minimum.

  3. I don't think it all has to do with growing up. For example, do you know how long my shower hasn't worked properly? How my basement is so bad that I can barely get down
    to do the laundry? How long I've been without a garage remote? All I have to do is make a phone call, and they're fixed. But I don't, and then I feel bad for not doing it. My colleagues have been to Africa, Vienna, & Paris, and I can barely make it to Indianapolis. The list is endless. I'm afraid your unmotivated gene is from me. - Mummy

  4. But Mom, you somehow managed to raise two kids with a mortgage, a full-time job, and a husband who is kind of "traditional" about gender roles (e.g., you had to cook, take care of sick kids, do laundry). Just thinking about all of that makes me dizzy; I don't think I could ever do it.

  5. If it helps, all those people who make it look easy are just faking it. When the babies come or whatever the thing is, you just make it work because you suddenly have to. But I have a house and a kid and one on the way and ya know what? Our master bath toilet has been broken since we bought this house. Over a year ago. And the house is only really clean if someone is coming over--I TRY, but I have a husband and toddler and I am not enough to overcome THAT. I think people are just like that. We all have things that we love and make happen, and then there's all the other stuff that is supposed to get done and out numbers everything else and we just do it sort of halfheartedly.

  6. Yes, you could. The clean house thing - cleaning house is boring. That's why we don't get it done. Folding laundry is boring. When it's mostly just for yourself, who wants to bother with it? Pick some other goal, something interesting to you, and build on that. Wrinkle-free clothing, dust-free house are external. Choose something internal to work on, then the externals won't bother you so much.

  7. Also, this is our method of saving money: we have separate bank accounts for various things, and after figuring out how much we have and our expenses, etc., we decided how much we wanted to put towards, say, a new car, and then every month when I pay the bills, I deposit money in the account especially made for saving for a new car and I pay it like it's a bill. we do that with food too--and once the food account is empty for the month, we eat ramen or whatever until there is more in there, so that we don't overspend. we have seriously like 10 accounts for savings or specific spending, but so far it is working for us.

  8. "The clean house thing - cleaning house is boring." I totally agree. That's the real reason I don't get stuff done too. Who wants to wash dishes? Who wants to harass someone else into doing the dishes. Not me.

  9. Alisha -- made me feel tons better. I put a lot of pressure on myself, and sometimes I think I'm trying to cater to others that have way higher standards.

  10. I hope you feels bettah. - Mamma

  11. Susan--I do that too. Jeff says he doesn't know any stay-at-home-moms who clean as much as I do. And partly I hate a dirty house. And partly he has a low standard of "dirty". But seriously--as long as YOU are ok with something, it so doesn't matter what other people are doing. (It took me ages to be ok with not being a crafty-scrapbooky mom, because everyone else I know is. But I am just NOT.)

  12. Ha! Of course, Alisha said exactly what I would've said! All of it.

    I was a nanny for a woman who would constantly tell her friends all the things she "did" and how she was "tired" from doing those things - like cleaning. She had a me, and a housekeeper.

    When I was single, my apartments were usually clean and clutter-free. Now, it's not like we live in filth, but our house is only really clean when someone's coming over. I have a two-year-old. You will find crumbs and random crayons. I'm constantly drowning in a pile of laundry. (It's like that shit multiplies while it sits in the baskets.) If I do get down time, I don't want to tackle Mt. Polyester. I want to veg out, like a zombie, and read ANIMALS TALKING IN ALL CAPS and peruse the interwebs.