Am I Living in a Sitcom?

When I got married at the ripe (make that RIGHT) age of thirty I had grand ideas of what my life would be . I would be June Cleaver with a job. Maybe I wouldn't wear dresses all the time and maybe my house wouldn't be as spic and span but I would live the American dream...raise kid's that would be wealthy enough for me to retire early and THEM take care of ME!!

I can pretty much scratch that first dream off my list. My oldest son has decided to be a "Gradual Student" and drag his college degree out until he hits his thirties.

My middle son is a senior in high school, studying to be a homeless drifter.

My daughter is a sophomore in high school and currently majoring in "Drama"...and doing quite well!

My husband is a wonderful man that for the love of Pete, seems to love me. I can't be easy to live with... especially if you are him.

He is as laid back as I am manic. I want and need things done "NOW" and he is of the mindset "Okay, baby...I'll try and get it done".

Trying don't get it in my book.

He works long hard hours out on a loading dock in this freakish Winter weather and I'll give him that.


What he doesn't understand is the life and role of "Mom".

I am the one the school calls when our son is late to class for no apparent reason...both his legs work just fine when he is running out of the house to jump in the car with his buddies.

I am the one who runs the Funnel Cake stand at every football game going straight from work to the game.

Granted when he had a day job he helped me with the Funnel Cakes but this year I have flown solo.

He works long hours but five days a week. I work at least ten shifts a week. My shifts are short, usually four or five hours but it leaves me with one day off and squeezing in Massey's practices , grocery shopping, occasionally cooking dinner and taking care of our three pups leaves little time to spare.

I call home from work to make sure the dogs have fresh water, and the kids assure me they do. I get home and they are drinking water that is nothing but slobber from their jowls with a couple of snails that have managed to climb in. "H2O with escargot".

I am reaping what I have sewn.

I am a "Doer" and after all these years they have let me be JUST THAT.

I came home from work tonight after working another double shift... have another double tomorrow and another one Tuesday.

When I left this morning I told Zach to drag the Christmas tree that Massey had undecorated two days ago back to the woods .

I came home tonight to find it outside the back door. Granted my two males dogs found it a nice convenient place to hike their legs...that wasn't where I had told him to take it.

So being the "Doer" I am I dragged the tree out to the fire pit to just burn. It was dark and I stepped in a hole that for some unknown reason Zach had dug right by the fire pit. My right foot sank into a hole filled with icy water and I said a few bad words.

At least the tree was out of the house..so we'll give him a "C" . Didn't follow my instructions but at least heard the part "Get the tree out of the house...TODAY".

I thought I would be June Cleaver but have ended up being "Roseanne".




At least Tim rubs my aching feet when he comes home from work and I am waking up to go to work.

He doesn't want to, and my Boxer/Boyfriend Ham gets really jealous but it tends to be the thing that saves me from snapping. That and rubbing my shoulders...It's hell being fifty!

Came home from my double and they had cooked and left the kitchen a mess.

Guess what?

I piled it all in one sink and refused to load it in the dishwasher. If they don't mind a sink full of dishes why should I?

At least I know they ate.

The stove top was covered with grease so I wrote "Please clean me" with a wooden spoon handle and went to blog.

They all help...don't get me wrong, but THEIR idea of help is much different than MINE. If I start a task or project it isn't complete until it is totally done and I have the wonderful satisfaction of feeling the job is well done.

My family has been conditioned to know "Just give it a shot and Mom will know at least we tried".

I am a freaky sort and knowing that helps me tolerate THEM.

If I don't tolerate them...who will?

I guess that's what you get when you have three kids and three big pups...a whole Lotta work.

I wouldn't trade my life for anything, but wouldn't give up complaining and writing about them either.

I kept a written journal from the time I was nine until Massey was born. After that the days, months and years flew by so quickly that I have turned to blogging.

I still go back and read favorite posts. Sometimes I laugh and sometimes I cry.

Sometimes I sit down with all my written journals, read them and wonder where that nine year old girl went?

Tonight she dragged a Christmas tree out to the fire pit, wrote with a wooden spoon on the grease that was left on the stove top, left her shoes that had been soaked in a hole out in the yard to dry in front of the space heater in the kitchen and made herself laugh about it all.

I may not be June Cleaver and I am too skinny to be Roseanne.

What I AM ...is a happy woman with a wonderful job, a wonderful husband and three kids ... three pups and a life that I am incredibly lucky to have.

Would you read about me if my life was dull?

Heck..I wouldn't even have a blog if life was perfect.

What makes it life is the spice!

And I am ONE HOT MAMA...

Til next time....COTTON