March is kicking my ass ladies and gentleman. This happens ever year. EVERY YEAR.
When I was younger and way more self involved than I am now and I had no child I didn’t care about her birthday (she didn’t exist) or talent show, or St. Patrick’s day, or my husband’s grandmother’s birthday. I had no child or husband’s grandmother to worry about and frankly those green beer drinking leprechaun’s can take care of themselves. We all know they just wanted to get my corned beef and cabbage and like I said I was way more self involved then and was totally unwilling to share with them.
Or anyone for that matter.
Yes yes I know there wasn’t a lot of corned beef and cabbage being eaten in Ireland. Yes yes I know I know. I don’t care, it’s the one time of the year I get to have it. That’s not what this post is about. It’s about the fact that every single year March kicks my ass and every dingle year I act all fucking surprised.
OH NO!!! How did I get so busy?! How is there SO MUCH going on?! Why oh why does this happen??! To me??! Every year.
Shall I evaluate the number of birthdays plus school activities plus social happenings and multiply that by my waning sanity as my cats get spring fever and try to hump each other even though they’re both boys and their cat-boy parts don’t function?!!! The answer is fucking infinity babies. I can’t reach and answer. I’m not a mathematician. I know a mathematician. Maybe he could put it into a simple equation I could understand and easily process? No probably not.
So instead I will go back to my dove tailing ribbons on hand made denim purses for the girl’s at K’s slumber party, I will make sure that I have all the ingredients for the build your own pizza bar, I will make sure I’ve got my facts straight for tonight’s SLL episode and I will make myself another glass of iced-tea because it is not a good idea for me to have a martini at 10:40 in the morning.
All the other stuff that has to happen can just wait for ten minutes until my crazy ass gets to it.