Who Thought This Was A Good Idea

I'm just going to continue my trend of book reviewing, because I need shit to talk about on here for my two readers (Hi, Karen! Hi Jess!) and because I don't usually get to enjoy two books in a row, because I have serious issues. Seriously, I'm kinda nuts.

You probably know I listen to my books on Audible so I can listen in the car or while I cook (both of which compose exactly 92.6% of my life), but for someone who is a little cray like I am, this can sometimes pose a problem. Narration. If you talk too fast, too slow, too lispy, too Australian, too much like Bernadette on the Big Bang Theory, whatever, I just can't with you. I will return your book like a hot damn potato if I can't stand how you talk. Regardless of content. I want my credit back.

So finding a book with quality content AND quality narration is quite the feat.

Last year I got in to listening to memoirs. Well, first I got into books read by their author (which, in my most humble opinion, brings a whole new level of enjoyment to a book because you can hear it how the author meant for it to be heard) and then I asked myself which books would be best read by their own author, and the answer of course, was memoirs. So far, this plan has panned out quite nicely and I have learned about some things I ordinarily wouldn't have. Like Hollywood. And the Obama White House. And soon, the life and times of Rob Lowe. I'll be sure to let you know how that goes.

Recently I listened to Who Thought This Was a Good Idea?: And Other Questions You Should Have  Answers to When You Work in the White House by Alyssa Mastromonaco. (The number of times I had to reference her amazon page for the exact title and how to spell that name correctly is kind of embarrassing and kind of took the wind out of my writing sails if I'm being honest.)

The book was fantastic. I, obviously, am not a Democrat, so I was a little hesitant to dig into her book and then be disappointed by constant political commentary or attacks (like in Thanks, Obama), but seriously, the woman is HILARIOUS. I really want to be her friend. Anyone who can be forthcoming about an attack of IBS at Buckingham Palace deserves a cocktail.

This book gets the Double Yes! Funny content and an engaging, non-lispy narrator!

On Motherhood.

I try really hard not to yell at my kids. I did NOT want to be the cranky mother. I read all the books. I pinned all the pins.

Turns out kids make it really hard to be the mother you planned to be.

Turns out, kids are maniacs.

End of post.

Forty Five

When you ask Piper how old I am, her little lispy voice sounds like she's saying "forty free." God bless me, I try to correct her. In fact, no person has ever been more motivated in speech correction than I, each and every time she says her mommy is "forty free."

In a few short weeks, I'll be turning "forty four," which, God willing, will lead to "forty five." And "Forty Five" seems like the age by which I really need to have gotten my life together. I do not mind aging, or even being the oldest person in the room (which is happening more and more as Erik advances, if I'm being honest). I'm not sure how to act my age.

I still feel like I'm in my early-twenties, with maybe just a lot of life under my belt. I'm pretty sure I still dress like a college student. And I feel like our house still looks like a mish-mash of shit that we cobbled together from our parents basements when we moved out.

I was telling someone recently, that when I look back on "senior spouses" at unit events from my time as a baby Captain's wife, they all looked so beautiful and accessorized and clean. I do not feel like any of these things. I feel like a hot, frazzled, scraggly mess most of the time. I know that part of the difference is they didn't have very young kids at home, but I'm not sure how long I can ride that wave. I really don't want to be the conductor of the Hot Mess Express anymore.


Last week, I had my friend down the street give my hair a desperately needed trim; it's short enough to hold curl and look more put together again. I really feel like some highlights might be in order too. But alas, ain't nobody got time for that. Curls instead of a mom bun will work for now.

This week, I'm on a mission to revamp my closet. I've spent a little money on some new spring pieces and I'm going to do a really brutal purge of what I have left in my closet from my last one before they come. I'm done with "more is better." I've been working on that for years, but not in respect to my closet.

Then I think we're gong to move on to more intentional decor of the house. I'm tired of my eyes falling on things I don't "love."

When we first moved here I went through and "Kon Mari'd" our possessions (we lost 1,000 square feet moving into this house from our last, so something had to give) but the cheap skate in me didn't replace the things we "need" with things I love - and I can feel a difference. I'm not keeping things because they "work" anymore. And I'm going to apply this to my closet as well.

So here we go. My last few weeks as a "forty free" year old are going to be filled with organization and reflection on what truly brings me delight as I prepare for 34.

It will be a good year.

Wonder

I am constantly on the prowl for a good book to read but lately I have been struggling to find books that stick out to me. Am I the only person who feels like EVERYTHING in the fiction world is tired and repetitive?

Recently someone on my Facebook NewsFeed posted that her sister-in-law was starting an online book club and was looking for participants. This rang.my.bell. I joined ASAP.

The first book was Wonder, by R.J. Palacio and I am not ashamed to admit that I was NOT excited.

If we're real life friends, you've heard me say and discuss online when asking for book recs, that I don't want ANYTHING Holocaust-y, anything where a kid gets hurt or killed, or any kind of martial discord or Sophie's Choice shit. (You see now why I struggle to find books to read...) Wonder seemed to fall into the category of a kid getting hurt - not physically, of course, or that I knew of, but I knew the basic premise and I didn't want any part of it.

HOWEVER, you may NOT know that I am absolutely a buckler to peer pressure. Or maybe it was just my super guilty conscience. But I didn't want to seem like a jerk by punking out on the first book of the club, so I added it to my Audible list and started off on my journey.

I won't give you a synopsis here because now that the movie is out, pretty much everyone knows the basic premise of the book.

But I WILL tell you...

I loved it. I laughed. I cried. I learned how to be a better mom. And I remembered what it was like to be a kid that was a little bit damaged but so much more than that.

Get your hands on this book!

#353

I have published 352 entries on this blog. I have such a love/hate relationship with it. I can't be funny or insightful on command anymore, it would seem. I need a plan for what I'm gong to talk about next or the blog itself is just another ball I'm trying to juggle but keeps getting dropped. Unless my house needs cleaned, like now, in which case it's easy to come up with crap to write about. Like this:

Recently some friends and I got together for a Fiesta Dinner in observance of National Margarita Day. One of our friends' mothers was in town and joined us for dinner after folding 10 loads of laundry at the friends house because Grandma's are cool like that). She had raised 5 kids (4 girls and a boy) and we were laughing about what a chaotic scene the whole thing was - 10 kids, 4 moms, 1 dad and a Grandma. Someone pointed out what a hot mess everything was and the Grandma laughed.

I said "Oh God, please don't tell us now that we're going to miss this."

She said, "Don't worry, you aren't."

HAH!