Yesterday I came down with a doozy of a stomach flu, which I'm now recovering from. Hit so hard with it, we all packed up the trailer like mad people and high tailed it back home so I could be sick at home in my bathroom. When you have a REALLY BAD stomach flu, you just want to be sick in your OWN bathroom, not a trailer bathroom. You know what I mean?
The Mister has now banished me to our bedroom, locking me in and taking on the duties of child rearing. God bless him. In my whining boredom, he kindly brought up his work laptop, and I have spent the day blogsurfing.
I'm expanding my blogsurfing repertoire. In addition to the adoption blogrings, I now love to surf home remodeling blogs, usually penned by moms my age, who love to fix up their homes in creative, crafty and (best of all) frugal ways. Someday I'll get ambitious and link these blogs on mine. Not today because it's the Mister's laptop and trying to link blogs without use of a mouse is just too darn much work for this recuperating barfie.
I love these blogs; I love these women; I wish some of them were sisters of mine. Two hours of surfing later, and I realized certain things.
They all have super cute haircuts.
They all have nice white, shiny smiles.
They all have very good writing skills.
They all have lots of fun decorating, socializing, mothering and the like.
So then I got to thinking about myself.
I used to wear super cute haircuts. With super cute highlights. But then I started an adoption, went to Haiti, began homeschooling, and have had my haircut ONCE in the interim. I have dyed my hair 3 times with Ferria after realizing that my very outgrown salon highlights were turning orangey, but that's it. Now my hair mostly hangs 'there' so I keep it pulled back, which I think gives me headaches by the end of the day.
I also used to wear really nice makeup and always dressed nicely. When my kids were in school, I just never wanted to be that mom who showed up in her pj pants to pick up her kids. Now, I just wear whatever. I also mentor a really cute, nearly 17-year old girl. We talk about lots of things, from politics to clothing to motherhood to music. Some serious, some not. And you know what I realized? To a nearly 17-year old, I'm old and no matter what I pull to wear from my closet, it's still grungy old lady stuff.
I used to whiten my teeth with Crest Whitening strips. My teeth are naturally not very white. I further scar them with coffee and red wine. The whitening strips made my teeth ULTRA sensitive if I used them more then two days in a row. Actually, they were a great dieting agent, because by day 4 my teeth were so insanely sensitive I couldn't eat or drink for 36 hours until the sensitivity began to wear off and my teeth could tolerate changes in temperature once again.
My writing has gone to pot lately. I write when tired, distracted or unfocused, and then I read it later, wincing. Even the Mister has caught errors, heaven forbid. Most days I feel as if I have nothing fresh, funny, charming or witty to say.
And to top it all off, I think my social skills have taken a dive lately. I blame it all on pseduo-pregnancy adoption hormones. In all my pregnancies, I just wanted to be left alone during those final days (which always turned in to weeks, as I suffered from chronic overdue pregnancies). I must say that I often feel the same as of late. When I moved back to Green Bay, I loved hosting dinner parties, barbeques, baby showers, playdates, baking days, etc. Now the Mister will say, "hey, we should have the so-and-so family over for a bbq!" and I respond, "yeah." And that's about as far as it ever gets.
I really don't know what to make out of all of this. I don't know if I'm in some adoption-induced, year-long funk that has me too tired to care about hair, clothes, makeup, teeth and social gatherings. Or I don't know if I'm just growing into a set of principles where there's little importance in those things. Or maybe I'm just growing old and frumpy with little thought. Who knows.
What I do know is that I am going to take down the window treatments in my bedroom, as they are terribly dusty and dirty. I may walk around in my old, dirty t-shirts and carry an out-of-season purse that doesn't match a single pair of shoes I have, but after reading these blogs, I'll be darned if I can't pull off a super-cute and free window (mis)treatment makeover.