Patching things up

For the past couple of days, my mom has been out of town helping Annette move in at Rockhurst, and I was left with the responsibility of my little sisters. By the end of the two days, I was so ready for this stay-at-home mom thing to be over. I don't think I could do it. I got so restless. The only other time I've felt that restless is when I'm babysitting, or back when I used to lifeguard, the worst job in the world. Of course, my mother is one of the greatest women I know, and I respect her so much. But I don't think I could do what she does. I do think think the sacrifices she's made so she can stay at home with us have made me into the person I am today, though, I wouldn't trade it for anything. To sum it up, my childhood was better than yours. The good thing about staying at home, though: I definitely felt needed, and this was fulfilling in a way. I also felt like I was getting shit done; I did laundry that needed to be done, I patched up my holey Toms, washed my car.

I'm especially proud of my patchwork skills on my Toms. If anyone ever needs something patched up, and they don't mind it looking obviously patched in a cute way, then I'm your girl. And I added a lil extra something (the lil pink heart on the left one). That's my trademark. I just decided that.

When I'm a grown up, I want to do it all and have it all and be it all. I hope this is possible.

Sorry for all the heavy blog entries...It's just come to my attention that I have a legit audience, or like maybe three people. People are actually reading this, so maybe I should try to even out my angsty stuff with some lighter stuff, witty observations perhaps.

Also, if you're reading this, thank you for being my audience.