Why aren't Saturdays more fun?

There was a time in my childhood when I truly thought that Saturdays were a different colour.

I was a strange kid.

But seriously, for weeks and weeks I would get up and out of the house to play on Saturdays at a different time than I did for kindergarten, therefore the sun was at a different angle, and the day was a different colour.  And that colour was magic!

Saturdays were the days I could eat Wonder bread with butter and cinnamon and blow bubbles so they'd stick to the shrubs in the yard, chase butterflies and gather up worms and watch my cats stalk grasshoppers in the yard. (This was before we started keeping kitties safe inside.)

Now Saturdays are the day I start off with a delightful cuddling session with V in bed that lasts for at least an hour, and then once we get up it goes downhill from there.  I actually dread her tiny voice saying "Is it time to go into the liven room Mama?" Damn.

I start off with washing the diapers, then wade through the dishes, make a fried egg and french toast for V, might try to pick up the living room and pull out the vacuum if I haven't decided it is too much effort, oh wait I forgot my tea, I should really eat something, check the internet, kill a few dozen carpenter ants...

This is not magical. Or fun. Or fulfilling. And honestly by noon on Saturday I'm generally exhausted and cranky and haven't managed to do anything constructive with V and now I'm feeling like a total mom failure.

What the hell happened?

To be fair my time management totally sucks and I'm hoping that working a full time job will force me into being more on top of things during the week so I'm not so overwhelmed on my one full day off.

Yeah, wish me luck with that. Now I'm  off to get another cup of tea and introduce my daughter to yet another television show to melt her brain and mine. Mommy of the Year I am.

Back to full time

I got the job I was trying for and will be employed full time again for the first time since V came on the scene.  Ironically I will be starting the day she turns 35-months-old.  There will be a lot of adjusting to do initially until we all, as a family, find our new patterns. I have to admit that I'm really concerned about the extra time I will be apart from V, but I'm sure we will work it out.

As for my artwork, I have acquired yet more paints and am planning on participating in a local art fair this fall.  So I have to get cracking on getting an inventory of different things to sell.  Hopefully I could make a few hundred dollars or so in a weekend.

That would be a good thing.

V has started telling me stories. Yesterday she said there was a white doggie barking in her bedroom closet. Last night she was telling me about how when she wasn't a caterpillar she was a butterfly. And butterflies are NOT caterpillars. And when she was in a cocoon she was a butterfly. It was awesome.

She is awesome.

To be fair I sometimes want to sell her to the gypsies. But mostly she just blows my mind with her imagination.

I'm so lucky.

It has been/I have been, crazy

So I always promise myself I will actually "be a blogger." Then I never get around to actually recording everything that is going on... So I'm looking for yet another job, this time full time. And I was doing really well until my phone service go cut off and I sent an email to the veterinary hospital I'm applying with to let them know I can't use my phone, please use my email, and DH paid the phone bill right after. I really don't know how to fix that... V is amazing. I cannot quanitify how awesome she is, even while she is struggling through growing pains and learning milestones and being V. She isn't potty learning yet, but that is okay with me. I'm actually starting to "be an artist." I've sold two paintings, bartered one, and have more commissions lined up. Holy cats! I will try to be better at this. I have a lot to say, I just mostly say it to myself, and the cats.