I need to have a day where I don’t make this face for a majority of it.

Remember that time you decided to watch 1 episode of Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix because you were tired and lazy that day, and then you look at the clock and it’s 2 weeks later and you know more about Meredith Grey than yourself? 

And you know when you are trying to eat healthy so that you can teach your baby good eating habits so you wait until you put her to bed and then you eat an embarrassing amount of ice cream that you won’t admit to in a public forum (4 bowls)?

I don’t see anything wrong with eating ice cream until you want to die.

These occurrences are called: real life.

People gunna be eatin’ shitty and watchin’ shitty tv that melts their brains… that’s real life. We aren’t perfect. Moms… well women in general… have a very difficult time accepting that they are not perfect. It is our natural instinct to take care of everyone else and put ourselves last. It isn’t necessarily noble. It’s just the fact of life. We are better than men.

I’m just kidding.

Why am I talking about this? Well, I have been struggling with the idea that I should be productive at all times. Like… apparently…more gets done when you do stuff? I don’t really get it yet, but I’m watching this episode of Grey’s Anatomy about it and Meredith is breaking it down for me. 

There are just so many things that I want to accomplish with my life, and yet there is so much preservative-laden junk food and trashy reality TV that pull me away from accomplishing these accomplishments. (one of my desired accomplishments is to learn another word for “accomplishment.”) Plus, I have the whole “being a mom” thing that I have to deal with, too. Oh and the “being a good wife” shiz that is important or something. So what happens is I pressure myself to clean my house until it sparkles, raise my daughter to be an organic food eatin’ perfectly-mannered child genius, shop for and cook the organic food my daughter will eventually hate because she will eat an oreo and realize food can taste like heaven, give my husband BJs like they don’t gross me out (I GOTTA BE REAL YA’LL!), do laundry every 10 minutes, use cloth diapers like a damn rich hippie, cook dinner, take care of my exhausted husband who works and goes to school, change a million poopy cloth diapers, put baby down for naps, play with baby in a developmentally enriching way, and still find time and energy to “relax” in an intellectually responsible manner… like reading or listening to Chopin or woodworking….

BUT I DON’T WANT TO WORK WOOD!!! (there is a double meaning there) I want to not think. To not do anything beneficial for anyone. I just want to be a blob that gets sustenance from ice cream and the sexual drama of tv doctors. So that is what I do instead of working on my writing (I want to write/direct/do stand-up/be Tina Fey). I kill my creativity and talent and sex drive by watching bullshit tv and eating food that gives me a stomach pooch. And I hate myself for it, but I still do it because I have to know what happens to Christina and Owen.

My point is: don’t ever watch Grey’s Anatomy.

Really, you gotta allow yourself some vices. Eat junk food when you really want it. Don’t freak out if you aren’t always productive and perfect because if you do, you end up putting so much pressure on yourself that you eventually quit whatever your working towards altogether. Allow yourself to indulge, but know when you are taking it too far. Know when to stop shoving Chocolate Moose Tracks down your gullet (is that a thing? I don’t know.) 

I feel like this post is only applicable to my life. I hope someone else out there can relate. 

I feel so broken and dark- like Meredith Grey.

Fuck you,

Katlyn

(sorry)

New stuff.

Isn’t it great when you have youth left in you and life still seems new and exciting? 

Anyone else here married, by the way?

Hey yall. My name is Katlyn (Katlyn, for short), and I’m the married chick on this blog. I’m also the one with the baby. Therefore, I am the one with no youth left. I’m all dried up. Dry and itchy. Dry and itchy and flakey. Dry and itchy and flakey and a little saggy.

From that description, you now realize I am also the sexy one. 

It’s odd being 23 and being this old. I spend a disproportionate amount of time thinking about retirement on a daily basis. I wake up and ask, “When is all this shit done again?”

Ok. Now I sound all depressed. It just ain’t so, though. I’m just at one of those cliche crossroads in my life when my vagina still feels young, but then when it comes down to boning time it’s so tired and resentful from the time I pushed a baby through it that it would rather go to sleep. I’m in between young and old. I still have a lot of dreams and naive ambitions for my life, but then I have a healthy amount of cynicism to keep me from really being the free spirit that I was pre-baby. 

Since I am the blogger here that is likely closest to death (the whole husband/baby thing does that), though, I am going to go ahead and take it upon myself to label myself the wisest (and when I say this, I in no way believe it to be accurate…) And with my wisdom, I am going to give you out there advice for the day: BOOM! ADVICE BOMB!

Here it is: sleep

If you are in college, and there is a party this weekend, and this super hot douchebag is going to be there, and you really want to show him your tits so you can get his approval and feel better about yourself (not judging, yo. that’s a legit need), I’m telling you now: Don’t do it. Go. To. Sleep. 

If you are out in the real world and you have a day off from work and you were thinking about going to the gym and then going to meet with your homies (or whatever you kids are sayin’ these days) and then going clubbing later, don’t do those things. Go. To. Sleep. 

If you are an adventurer, and you are going to climb Mt. Everest because it has always been your life goal, don’t do that ever because that is unnecessary. And because you need to sleep. 

SLEEP. 

I just wish I had known that once I had a baby, I would never sleep. Even when she is sleeping, I don’t sleep because that is the only time I have to get my shit done. I never sleep in. I never go to bed at a decent hour. I am always tired. Always. Tired is the new not tired. 

I do not mean to sound like a whiney mom pants. My daughter has made my life truly meaningful. She has give me purpose and shit (I literally mean “shit.” She poops constantly. On me. Like I have her poop in my hair on a semi-regular basis…) And I do hate parents who complain about being parents all the time. It’s just life, yo. You have kids and it’s hard, but you accept it and move on and focus on the great stuff that comes from your little ones. 

But I need you to understand how important it is to sleep now. While you still can. Please believe me. Please. Go to bed. I just want you to sleep. Stop reading this. STOP! GO TO SLEEP, BITCH! 

If you already have kids, then you probably don’t even know what you’re reading right now because you are too tired to legitimately care about anything you do anymore. And that’s ok. 

So, in this blog, I’ll blog about stuff that I know about. Just try me out. I will also have some videos up, too. And if you don’t like me, just ignore what I say and read what the other ladies post because they don’t have whiney mom pants like I do so they are considerably more tolerable. 

I love you. (too soon?)

-Mom Pants