Every once in a while, I find it extremely important to get back to the basics and be really honest with myself. Don't let the previous sentence fool you. It is ALWAYS important to get back to the basics and be really honest with oneself, but unfortunately I only realize that it's important every once in a while. I rock.
Well, this is one of those times that a series of fairly unfortunate life circumstances and events has made me realize that I've become somebody I'm not, or I've at the very least become somebody who likes to portray myself as somebody I'm not, and frankly, I don't know which is worse.
This blog (I know, never blog about blogging. Blerg.), as I've recently come to realize, is a huge part of what I find to be 'home'. We've moved a lot, we've had a house fire (what? you didn't know? that's because I never talk about it on this blog.), my dad passed away, we're infertile, and with all of those things has come a lot of change. But My Spoiled Eggs has been here since the very beginning. With the exception of a new header/layout here and there, I can always sit down, log in, and here those 2 little words..you've got.....wait. Sorry, I've been watching too much You've Got Mail lately. As I was saying, I can always sit down, log in, and My Spoiled Eggs is here. Waiting for me. I know it sounds crazy, but there has been so much comfort in that. And I fear that, once again, my desire to keep up with the Jones', or at least with the 2.5 million pretty people in Chicago, and the 357 beautiful blogs I follow (it's actually only like 30. There I go trying to make myself sound cooler than I am, again), I have lost sight of who I am, what I stand for, and maybe most importantly, who I'm not.
I want to be clear, honest, and frank with all of you, because you deserve it, and I deserve it. So in being honest, I know that 'all of you' refers to only about 13 people. My mom (hi, Mom), my cousins (haayyy girls hayyy), anybody who logged into Facebook with nothing to do and saw this post as my status update (thanks for being bored), and a few precious followers and friends that I made back when I blogged about what I wanted to blog about who have stuck around through my trying to be cooler than I m phase, that has lasted wwwaaayyy too long. And to all of you, I say thank you.
So here's me, being honest:
My Name is Ashlee Martin Smith
My parents gave me no middle name so that my maiden name could be my middle name and when I went to the social security office to change my last name after I got married, I was so newly married and ditsy and in love that I forgot to put 'Martin' as my middle name and it is seriously one of my biggest regrets in life because Martin is so much of who I am.
My dad died a month and a half ago and I still don't think I've dealt with it.
I eat ice cream and/or milkshakes (yes, ice cream and milk shakes are 2 VERY different things) and/or popcorn 9 nights out of 10. It's a good night when I can get Collin to join me.
I have 10 items hanging in my closet with the tags still on them because I think I'm too fat to wear them. Even though I tried them on, and they fit.
I know I'm actually not fat and the only time I think I'm fat is after I've read/watched something with fake images of people who aren't as skinny as I think they are.
On my hard days I am consistently nice to every single person I come in contact with except for Collin and Nolan and I HATE that about myself.
When my family and I were home together over the summer to spend time with my dad I had my first "cycle" in 7 months and I was an absolute jerk to everybody but my dad and that, too, is one of my biggest regrets.
I'm crying right now.
I wish I were pregnant. I always wish I were pregnant.
I am terrible at house-keeping. I'm a great house-cleaner, but a terrible house-keeper. So our house looks decent for about 1 hour every Thursday.
My toenails are currently the longest they've ever been because Collin's parents gave me a pedicure for my birthday and I haven't had time to go get the pedicure yet and I don't want to trim my nails before I get the pedicure so it's a never-ending, disgusting cycle of long toenails.
I'm really mad at myself for cutting my hair. I did it on a whim and if it weren't for my sister-in-law fixing my initial cut, I'd probably cry myself to sleep every night because of it. But for now I'll just let it grow out. But let it be known, friends of My Spoiled Eggs, if I EVER mention that I want to cut my hair and none of you remind me of how much I hate my short hair right now, you're all fired.
I spent every day, all summer long, with my dad before he died, and each night I would sit down and start to write in my journal and each night I couldn't bring myself to do it, because if I wrote it down it was real, and so of my 3 months spent with my dad, I only have 3 days of it recorded, and though I am giving myself a break, because it really would have been painful to keep a journal, I'm also really sad I didn't make myself do it.
I do not have a perfect life. Those nights when my family of 3 has cookies and milk in bed, those are rare. I'm usually in bed by 8, and mad if anybody wakes me up before 7. I need 8 hours of sleep to function, 10 hours to be civilized, and 12 hours to be perky and cheerful.
I do not fit in "mommy blog land" because I do not have long hair parted in the middle with bright red lipstick on. And if I ever did, at least 1 of my brothers would text me saying something about it. I do not have a baby in each arm, nor one in my tummy. I do not have sponsors because the one and ONLY person to ever offer me money for my blog was my dad. I do not take pictures of myself or have Collin take pictures of me every day dressed in cute outfits because I do not shower, brush my hair (or teeth for that matter, since I'm being honest), put make up on, or get dressed every day. I do not make gourmet meals for dinner. I do not take good pictures. I hate coding my blog with everything in me. I do not comment on other people's blogs because I get nervous that they'll laugh (not in a good way) at what I say. So on paper, my friends, I do not fit in "mommy blog land".
But I wake up every single day to the sound of my miracle baby knocking on the closet door, and YES I said closet door because we are poor graduate students who live in a 1 bedroom apartment and the only place his crib will fit is in a closet, and it works for us. And when he knocks on that closet door, I drag myself out of bed with breath that could kill a dragon, and I open that closet door and bend down and squeeze the daylights out of that little boy and I call him weird names like "snicker-doodle" and "most precious" and when I'm awake enough to be sure I won't drop him, I pull him out of his crib and I squeeze him some more. And then he remembers that I'm not his favorite parent and he asks for his daddy, so I take him into the other room where his face lights up for the first time that day and he lunges for his dad (who has been up for at least an hour doing school work and work work that keeps our family alive). And while the 2 of them play, sometimes I make breakfast, and sometimes I sneak away and go back to bed. And when my absence is noticed, I get back out of bed and make breakfast. Nothing special, usually toast and yogurt, sometimes eggs, and every once in a while French toast or pancakes. Then I wait til Nolan's done eating, and I give him a bath. Then I wrestle him away from his high chair because he's now clean and the floor isn't, and I try and clean up breakfast while he tries to eat second breakfast off the floor. Then we wave 'goodbye' to Daddy, and I'm reminded again that I'm still not the favorite parent as Nolan cries for his dad. Then we do nothing exciting, but we do nothing exciting TOGETHER. We read books, or go for a walk, or browse the isles of Target without buying anything. Then Nolan takes a nap and I usually do, too. And somewhere in there I've managed to clean up the books, or put deodorant on, or write an e-mail, or call my mom. And before we know it Daddy's home, and I haven't even thought of dinner because Nol's had 2 poopy diapers and he figured out how to climb on the counter and get the Cheerio's and spill them all over and my shower's leaking water EVERYWHERE. So I whip something out like a grilled cheese or hot dogs and we eat together as a family. Then Nolan has another bath, we read scriptures, say our prayers and he goes to bed. And he's tired. And I'm tired. And I've missed my husband all day.
And THAT'S why I fit into "mommy blog land". Because I AM a mommy. And because most days I don't find time to blog. And when I do, I blog about blogging instead of blogging about all of the cool stuff I do.
But you know what? I DO do cool stuff. I teach my 1 year old a language. And I keep him alive. And I feed him and hug him and play with him and I make him laugh every single day. And I love my husband and I listen when he talks about work and school and we laugh and play and watch TV and we are a team. And at the end of the day (because heaven knows I don't think so at the beginning of the day), that's the coolest stuff there is.
So dear blog world, and especially MY blog world, My Spoiled Eggs blog world, thanks for being my home, my constant, and my therapist, because since blogger is free, you're way cheaper than any shrink I could hire.
This is me folks. Stinky, self-declared chubby, lazy, real, ol' me.
And I kinda like me.
