So, remember how I said I like to put my best "face" forward online, in my blog. Well, I don't think I quite achieved that yesterday. After rereading it, I realized that I might have sounded a tad harsh about my Gladys assessment (see yesterday's post). Sorry about that.
I've been in a wee bit of a mood since Sunday that comes and goes, depending on my fatigue level. And while I do like to be in the know, these days (quite frankly) I'm too tired to really even care about it. You should see me. I'm quite bedraggled if I do say so myself. Poor Super J.
Maybe it's the weather, but I feel like I have no energy. I did get my walk in, though, thank you very much. And I cleaned out The Red Rocket. Did I tell you that Chloe, our fellow five year old carpooler that I pick up from kindergarten with Miss A, called me out because of the state of my minivan? Yep. Monday, she was like, "Your car is really messy. You need to clean it out." So true. So true. SO EMBARRASSING. You know it had to be bad for a FIVE YEAR OLD to say something.
Luckily, she was sick yesterday so that gave me some extra time to get the thing vacuumed, which I did about a half hour before I had to pick up the girls (not lucky she was sick, but lucky that she wasn't in the car on Tuesday. That's what I meant).
Shame and Embarrassment. Sadly, the motivators for many things.
So, got that done and then Miss Q had a massive blowout literally minutes before we had to leave to pick up Miss A and Chloe. Of course. Of COURSE!
I'm quite fortunate as this is the only one that I've had to deal with (she's just not the biggest filler of the ol poop pants, thank heavens. Indeed, we've been very blessed from the Poo-Back gods). It was so bad that I just chucked the onesie she was wearing, which was actually quite liberating. If only I could do that with all my childrens clothes when they got dirty. I'd have no laundry to do. I'd have naked children, but no laundry.
It undid me for the day. For some reason, I was completely discombobulated for the remainder of the afternoon and, frankly, for this evening. Good thing I could just sit and watch American Idol. Does it strike anyone else how sad all the back stories are of these wanna-be singers? Seriously? So depressing! I guess it's all about following your dream, but holy smack! That's some bad luck and stuff going on for these poor singers.
Hmmmmm. Do you think my poo-back story qualifies me to try out. Oh wait. I'm past the age limit. Ohhhhh, and I also know that there is NO WAY IN THE WORLD I'd want to be on American Idol, much less would I make it. I'm not being harsh on myself, Gentle Reader. I'm just realistic and honest. I've got a nice choir voice, a nice Primary Chorister voice (because the children DO NOT CARE how you sing as long as you will, I guess), but I do NOT have star vocal potential. And I'm okay with that. I'm just saying that I had a sad story because of the poo-back. That's all.
And now, coming back full circle to the whole Gladys post debacle, I must say that I agree with my good friend Katie about the pictures (you'll have to read her insightful comment) because that's what I'm talking about re: Gladys.
We can try out for Idol together. teehee.