I know you are but what am I?
Posted on May 21, 2007
Filed Under marriage, kids, parenting, snark, self interview, meme |
I’ve been memed, or tagged or whatever this blogging thing is that I am thankful for because it allows me to come up with a post without having to think too much. I like thoughtless posting.
According to Slouching Mom who has passed the baton, the rules are that I must reveal things about myself using an “I am” format. Such as “I am” allergic to wheat and yet have trouble avoiding delicious bread products and therefore “I am” always sick to my stomach.
But the “I am” format fits me like my high school prom dress, all small and itchy and ridiculous with the silly flouncing. I’m so NOT an “I am” kind of person. As reflection of my true person, the format will be changed to “I am not”; still revelatory and more aptly descriptive. After all, people, like my MIL, recognize me in quotations like the following, “The Irish have an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains them through temporary periods of joy.” She knows that though I am not Irish, I am certainly THE person with the abiding sense of tragedy that Oscar Wilde was talking about. And she sent me this quote just a few days ago knowing I’d appreciate it.
Here goes…
I am not a patient person.
I am not the type of Mom who can spend hours doing puzzles and playing games and entertaining small children on rainy days. (That’s what computer games are for, right?)
I am not proud of the person I was before I turned 18.
I am not fond of the phone and have been accused of being the all time worst correspondent by long distance friends who value the convenience of their cell phone far more than I do.
I am not able to pass a sink full of dishes or a counter strewn with crumbs without launching into a full cleaning offensive. This happens at my own home and at the homes of others.
I am not the Dog Whisperer though I SHOULD BE considering the amount of time I have devoted to watching back episodes and practicing his methodology on my own canine delinquent.
I am not able to admit defeat and thus continue to try and channel the Dog Whisperer in my daily jaunts with my naughty dog.
I am not looking forward to summer and long days stretching into weeks, home alone, with bored children.
I am not over the paint episode or the trauma of my return from NYC.
I am not sure why the basement solutions guy won’t call me back about fixing our first floor water issue but I’m afraid it may have something to do with the fact that it’s a huge engineering project that, after thousands of dollars spent, may fail to fix the problem. (Oh damn, now I’m going to have Adsense posting ads about sump pumps.)
I am not above spending $45 dollars on a 5 oz. bottle of N.V. Perricone, M.D. cosmeceutical (their word not mine) purported to decrease crows feet and signs of aging. Because, as I get older, the desperately vain and entirely gullible area of my brain has grown large and demanding, convincing my more rational side that there is a direct correlation between efficacy and dollars spent. No more drug store brand moisturizer for me. I have graduated to the Vitamin C Ester with Tocotrienols Eye Therapy with NTP complex and DMAE and I’ve never looked older.
I am not sure where to stop my negative meme rant so I’ll stop here. That’s plenty of what I am not for one day.
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