A different kind of bucket list

As I muddle through this, my 39th year of existence, I feel the pressure of the world around me to follow the latest trend from fellow Gen Xers…the ‘I’m turning 40 Bucket List.’  The only thing more popular are those ridiculous month stickers people slap on their screaming babies to memorialize Junior being 9 months and crabby or Sally being 15 months and sassy.  Since I was born with attitude and raised in sarcasm, I posted this a few months ago.

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Isn’t he adorable.

But I’m just not feeling the whole mid-life crisis bucket list thing.  Mostly, because I refuse to accept this is mid-life.  I still feel 25 inside of my head, so why would I want to make a list of things to do before I die.  Bucket lists used to be for people with terminal conditions or the plots of Jack Nicholson movies. Now they seem to be a prerequisite for your Intramural Co-ed Softball registration and the last grasp at coolness before you say fuck-it and buy a Lazy-E-Boy and elastic waistband pants.

So in honor of my 39th year, I give you my Non Bucket-Bucket List.

1.  I would like to get 8 hours of sleep a night.  I dream of what that would feel like, no really, I do.  I imagine it would be similar to what heaven feels like.

2.  I would like one week where I get to watch Jeopardy uninterrupted.  It that too much to ask?  I don’t think so and, apparently, neither does Jeopardy.

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I don’t mean to brag or anything, but JEOPARDY retweeted me.  I now think I’m kind of a big deal.  The rest of my family does not agree.

3.  I would like to actually make something from one of these recipes I tear out of the cooking magazines I buy.  Sometimes I make is as far as buying a few of the ingredients, but, without fail, I forget a necessary item end up making one of my three, standard, boring meals, or buying take-out Chinese because I’m just too exhausted to try or care.

4.  I would like all my pants to fit me comfortably each time I wear them and for them to all to feel like elastic waistband pants.  I mean really.  Why do pants need buttons and belts…too confining.  I am approaching middle age.  I want to feel comfortable.  I want to ignore that my metabolism is changing.  I don’t want to have to lie to myself that my dryer is shrinking my pants.

5.  I would like to have a week, hell I’ll even settle for a day at this point, in which I do not have to play crazy taxi driver, racing around the city.  With two kids, at two different schools, in six different activities, I honestly don’t know whether I’m coming or going.  I’d kill to be kicked back in a Lazy-E-Boy in my unbuckled pants asking questions to Alex Trebek.  By the way, I’m #teammustache if you were curious.

Soooooo……

Basically, I want to be a grumpy old man now and do things in reverse.  I don’t want to walk the Great Wall of China or Sky Dive over the Grand Cannon before I turn 40.  Sure, I want to take a picture in front of every welcome sign for all 50 states, who doesn’t.  But not right now.  I’ll save all that for when I’m 80.  Right now I want to sleep, eat, sit, and comfortably watch TV uninterrupted.

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Yes, that’s me.  I plan on rockin’ old age like nobody’s business.

 

 

 

 

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It’s a wonder my hair isn’t gray

As I typed that title, I realized that I probably just jinxed myself.  I better not have.  I have been able to go all my 39 years without having to break out the dye on this do…and I don’t want to have to start just yet.

Yes, you read correctly, I typed 39 years.  In my long (too long for me) absence from my blog, I have managed to get a year older and have hit that magically year when I realize that I actually am going to hit that yet-to-be-unmentioned decade soon and had better get my backside into gear if there is anything I want to do before I turn the big 4-0.

I don’t have a particular problem with turning 40, (Of course, I say this having only been 39 for 8 days…) but I’m realizing that putting things off until later is a less and less desirable idea.  That I’m getting closer to the backside of this ride and I can’t keep saying, “I’ll do that someday.”  I’ve also started to realize that I’m getting pretty tired of doing things for other people, things I don’t really want to do, things I have not desire to do.  I’m beginning to understand why people always say, “Don’t mind Grandma.  She has no filter!”  She has no filter because she’s sick and tired of your crap, she doesn’t care less what you think of her anymore, and she’s not going to waste on of the few 1,000 minutes she has left caring what you think.  She doesn’t have to.  Plus, she’s probably a lot happier now than she ever was before.

Which brings me to where I’ve been.  I’ve been here, in my home, doing my kid and mom thing.  I’ve thought about writing, but then I’ve always either lost my motivation or I’ve over thought what I wanted to write about and eventually talked myself out of writing all together.

And that’s where I’ve failed.

I started this blog as a way to just be creative and expressive.  I’ve never had a particular focus on purpose.  I wanted to freedom to write about whatever tripped my fancy, whenever I felt the mood hit me.  And I need to get back to that.

Not writing becomes it’s own worst enemy because you over think, over analyze, worry and stress.  Then days turn to weeks and nothing seems important enough to blog about OR if I told you what I really wanted to tell you about issues, I might offend people, so I said nothing.

Enter Grandma.

I’ve decided to channel her.  I’m going to write what I want, when I want, and screw it if it makes people uncomfortable at Thanksgiving dinner.

In order to kick off this new beginning, I toyed with the idea of deleting this whole blog and starting a new one.  But then I remembered, when you get that ill-conceived tattoo at an early age, you can un-tattoo it.  It still exists.  What you can do is take the ink, add to it, and create the new future for yourself going forward.  Plus, I still like a lot of my old stuff.

So I’m keeping it all as is.

Same blog.  Same title.

I’m still Kerry.

I’m still overly organized.

My life is still chaos at times.

I’m just hitting a reboot.  I hope you’ll stick around with me to see what my 39th year brings.

 

April Showers

Bring May Flowers.

Unfortunately, when you have a one disconnected down spout and another clogged down spout, they also bring a flooded basement and an unhappy Kerry.

Two years ago, we began the first step in what became a full house, room by room, remodel.  When phase one was completed, my drab boring basement was transformed into this.  Behold, the Kerry Cave.

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Jealous, right?

Well, Saturday night, I was running around in a mad dash to cross a number of tasks and chores off of what seemed like an endless list.  We were supposed to have the birthday party for the new teenager, Paige, the weekend before.  I had the house already scrubbed and decorated, the food already bought, when the birthday girl woke up sick on the day of her party.  Many tears and phone call later, we pushed the bash off a week.  Luckily, the blown up balloons and taped up banners survived the week, but my clean house did not.  Darn it if my family couldn’t control themselves enough to not mess up my house for one week.

We had just survived days of endless rain and  the sunshine finally broke through.  I rounded the couch in my cave to grab something from the other side of the chaise, when….squish.

No, no, no, no….PLEASE don’t let this be what I think this is…

But, of course it was.  The whole northeast corner was sopping wet.   So in addition to making a new cake and cleaning up the joint, I got to Shop Vac carpeting and create a different kind of Fan Cave.

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I’m currently on day three of sucking and blowing.  (Walked into that one.)  At this rate, the carpet will be completely dry on Wednesday, just in time for the next predicted thunderstorm…..

 

On the right side of the dirt

I love my birthday.  I think it’s the best day in the world.  Better than Christmas.  Better than Easter.  Better than the first day of the football season…and that’s saying a lot.

I turned 37 yesterday.  It’s all good.  I really don’t have an issue with aging…yet.  I do have an issue with still getting zits in my late 30s and when I figure out what department I can file that complaint with, I will, in triplicate.

Presents are the best part of birthdays.  One might say cake, but they’d be wrong.  You can get cake any day you want.  You can’t always make people buy you something.  I’m a lucky girl.  I have a group of people who really know me, really pay attention, and buy presents that really hit the mark.

We have four award winners this year.

My husband gets the award for listening.  He usually has my daughter ask me what I want, but then sometimes goes rouge from the list.  This year, he stayed on track.  I wanted a white Green Bay Packers hat.

Well done honey, well done.

The most awesome goes to my mom, well my parents, but we all know that mom does the shopping! 😉  My parents have gone to giving cash, so you can go shopping for yourself, but my mom has to have something for you to open or it wouldn’t be your birthday.  I don’t know how, but she always finds something incredible that you didn’t know existed.  Behold the newest member of my game day family…

Frozen tundra piggy!  It’s he awesome!!

My brother and sister-in-law get the award for paying attention and hitting the mark.  It has been a rough start to the school year and the edited version is this.  So far I’ve chased students, called the cops, been drooled on, creeped out, had my hair petted, and been kicked and punched.  Is it May yet??  This is what my loving bro and sis got me.

PERFECT!  Peanut M&Ms because I’ve literally put out daily stress calls for them.  Clorox wipes for the next time a student pets my hair and braids it into hers.  (Yes that happened.  Yes it totally grossed me out.)  Pumpkin coffee for that needed caffeine kick. Therapeutic bath salts for either aches and pains if I get kicked again or stress and tension relief if it’s one of those days.  And the piece de resistance, the thermal coffee mug that will keep hot things hot for 5 hours and cold things cold for 9 hours.  Whoever invented this is a genius!

But the ultimate “reality check” winner goes to my son.  He make this homemade card.

I like that he promised to walk the dog.  I’m bringing this out daily to remind him.  I am a little concerned that only him, I and the dog are in the card….

But the reason he wins is for the packaging.

Congrats to me!  I’m not in the obits this year!

A gentle reminder that I’m still on this side of the dirt and that it could always be worse.