Andy laughs at me, because he recently found out one of my many dirty little secrets. I am a blog-aholic. I check the blogs of all of my friends daily and almost daily I check the blogs of several strangers. Yes, pretty much all of the stranger blogs I read are about surviving parenthood. Yes, they are super enjoyable with a cup of coffee.
I can't help it. It's like peeking through a neighbor's window, seeing her house is a total mess and then feeling slightly better about your trainwreck of a kitchen. Reading about people who I will never share a cup of coffee with is oddly comforting. Maybe something about a shared chaos makes me feel more at peace, or maybe I am just an internet voyeur.
According to the blogs it's okay that I haven't showered and it's 5 p.m.
It's fine that Addison essentially ate goldfish crackers for lunch.
It's not a problem that sometimes, as I am getting ready for bed, it dawns on me that I never brushed my teeth that day.
It's totally okay that I've let Addie sit in her crib calling my name over and over while I finished the article I was reading.
It's nice to have strangers completely rationalize and normalize my flaws.
After our ridiculously ridiculous day at the mall (more on that at a later date) Addison went down for a wonderfully long nap (translate: is probably covered from head to toe in pee from her over worked diaper) and I chose to log some couch time. I flipped on Oprah, a show I admittedly used to watch religiously, but rarely see now. What fortunate timing.
The entire episode was dedicated to mothers and our dirty secrets. She interviewed at least one blogger I follow and introduced me to more to feed my addiction.
I laughed out loud, loudly, several times. I texted and called some of my mommy friends to clue them into the fun. The only thing that could have made that hour of television better was if I was getting a pedicure and drinking a martini while watching it. The entire show addressed not showering, ignoring your children, justifying pizza for breakfast. It was worth the hour on the couch...if I had a DVR I would have taped it.
Then, on a night when Andy was out and Addie was snoring, I'd make a martini, settle onto my couch, push play, paint my toes an offensive color of red and laugh.