Shut the door! I’m
fre forty-four! I was going to say I’m freakin’ forty-four but my kids just got home from church camp. I’ve been told about words that mean the same thing as the other word and as an alleged writer I might just freakin’ want to expand my freakin’ vocabulary. Ahem… I’m the wife of a sailor who tries his freakin’ darnedest to not say a dang cuss word. Let’s just say I took that as an awesome challenge to have a colorful vocabulary of dad gum synonyms to use at the right darn time. (Mother of the year, I am not!)
In honor of my forty-first birthday and my new grumpy attitude I decided to write a post about the forty-forty things that I hate most. We could start with being told what to do followed quickly by being told I’m doing it wrong. (i.e. my children explaining that my choice of words is inappropriate. I’m not bitter at all.) I probably shouldn’t be complaining but
it’s it was my freakin’ birthday (last week) and it’s my dang blog so I decided to dial my grump back a notch and tell you a few of the things I hate about getting older.
- I can’t eat everything I want and totally expect to grow up instead of out.
- I hate that I have no clue how to use a computer and always have to ask my poor children to help me out. Yesterday I started yelling for Arleigh just because I was trying to download something on iTunes. Then there is the whole keeping up with your kids on social media thing. Literally that is my virtual hell. I don’t understand snapchat. Bria knows how to use it more than I do. (For the love people the 10-year old doesn’t have a snapchat account. I thought I should clear that up before I get messages about what a horrible mother I am. I’m not winning many points over here but I have banned snapchat for those I deem not mature enough to use it correctly.)
- While I’m talking about social media… let me also mention that as I get older I despise the vague Facebook status. First, I’m nosey. I need to know. Second, if it really is dirty laundry why on earth would you put it on that line? Also…. you’re passive aggressive stuff… yep, that’s also on the list. We can all see when you’re acting like a two year old. Did I mention that I am forty-freakin’-four? We are all too old to act like we are in middle school. Maybe I should just lose my marbles and start calling people out. That’s not passive aggressive of me at all is it?
- Let me move back to number one… I’m growing out and DOWN. What is that all about? Do I really need to explain every sag and droop to you people?
- I hate that I can’t stay up late without feeling like I’m totally hung over the next day. By totally late I mean after 9:30.
- I hate it when my perfect, love them to the moon and back, I’ve had them for five years slippers break. (Flipflops to you mainlanders.) It was a sad, sad day here.
Look at that… It wasn’t a top 10 or a list of 44 or 14 or even 4… In case you’re wondering about what I love…
I pretty much adore these people and being with them. There are a few more that I could add to the list. I love my bonus kids at school. I love curling up on a Sunday afternoon pretending to watch a movie and taking a long nap. I love a night out with my friends and concerts on the lawn. I love watching those guys up there doing what they love. Overall, there is a lot more to love about getting old. In fact, it’s so FREAKIN’ exponential I can’t write it all out. Instead, I’m going to curl up on the sofa with those people and count my blessings. Happy Birthday to me!