Flash back to the early 90's. Remember that term, "POSEUR". If you were too old, young or un-cool to know what that means, let me help you out:
poseur: a person who habitually pretends to be something he is not, a wanna-be
No, this little jaunt through the urban dictionary isn't just for your own edification, I actually have a point that I will get to in a minute.
Tonight was...colorful. Colors like black which is the color of the pizza I made my dinner guests on the grill. Or green, the color my child turned when she ate the pizza I made for her. Or red, the color of my face in embarrassment at having my best friends family see the state of my home. Gray, the color of my laundry pile that is so large at present you better hope you don't need to use the restroom at my house because it is inaccessible. Or purple which is the color the babies face turned as she howled at the top of her lungs every time I tried to put her down. Brown is the color of the two pieces of chocolate cake I ate to drowned my sorrows and try to salvage a crappy evening.
And so the name "poseur" came to mind. This is what I am, a "poseur grown-up". I am now 30 years old and for the life of me I am unable do the things most people seem to have no problem managing at my age. You know, things like keeping a house clean, keeping children happy, and not turning a pizza black.
My sister is 2 years older than me and her house is clean, she works almost full time, her lawn looks awesome, her children are happy, fed and cutely dressed. On a good day I am thrilled if I get to the breakfast dishes before dinner, if I everyone has clean underwear to put, and if I ate more than whatever leftover baked good happens to be on my counter. Hell, i would be happy if Addilyn would even keep her clothes ON let alone be cutely dressed!
I don't really have a point to this blog post, I lied earlier. I am not sure if I am venting or just incredulous that everyone seems to have it all figured out but me. It's like everyone else got the instruction book of how to figure all this crap out and I am making it up as I go hopping no one notices.
3 comments:
I totally understand... There are many days where I feel those last 2 sentences exactly discribe me too.
I think you're being too hard on yourself, friend!
I think we should commune together and you can teach me how to relax more and let things go and how to bake delicious foods. Then maybe some of my detail-oriented/anal self will rub off on you. Blended together we would make the perfect woman! :)
I have the same messy house and Ryan and Reagan have not been scared so far. Some have the gift of organization others don't. God made us all special. Rejoice in your gifts, we all have them. You are so talented and loving, that is what your kids will remember
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