Last night I wrote a long and involved blog entry about the fact that I feel like I can never get caught up, but then my computer restarted itself, lost the entry, and almost got murdered.  So tonight as I sit and try to rewrite last night's thoughts, I realize - I can't remember exactly what I said and I'm not quite feeling it any more.  So tonight, you get the cliff notes version.

    I look around at some of you and you look so together.  You are good at your jobs, you are great parents, you sew, you dabble in photography, you are great cooks, you find time to exercise and dress cute, you read, you are active and involved at your church, you never miss a ballgame or practice, you are caught up on all the latest tv shows, you paint your fingernails, your house is clean, you coupon, your ironing is done, you don't have suitcases from last week's vacation still sitting in your dining room, your flowerbeds have no weeds, you shower, you study your Bible, you're tan, you spend quality time with your children, you have s*x with your spouse whenever you feel like it, you're on facebook, and you are best friends with your sister who you talk to every day.  Congratulations, I hate you.  Well, technically I don't hate you, I am just jealous of you but that sort of feels like hate sometimes. 

    So I look out at so many of you that embody a lot of these characteristics, and I start to wonder - "I feel busy all the time, but none of that stuff ever seems to get done.  What am I doing with my life for pete's sake?!  Why can't I exercise or get the suitcases out of the dining room?".  And honestly, I don't know.  It just seems like I can't because of some glitch in the space-time continuom maybe.  I think it would be awesome to experience life for just one day with nothing looming over my head waiting to be done.  With no cheeto smeared on my couch and mail piled at the back door and fecal matter waiting to be dealt with.  But that day does not exist.  Instead I am wondering how I am going to finish couponing in time to shop while Super-G is at piano so I can get home and get Destruct-o-girl down for a nap in time to start the dinner that will be ruined when I realize part of it has fallen victim to the current ant invasion.  And what makes is worse is that I know ya'll are all doing it too.  All of you.  So why then do I feel like many you are doing it better than me?   Do you ever feel that way?  Surely it's not just me?  I need reassurance, and advice, and a few more hours in a day, and a life coach, and a Reece's peanut butter cup as big around as a vinyl record to feel better about this.

    Why do all of our clothes seem dirty at once?  Why do I get the electic bill on the pink paper because I forgot to go by and pay it this month? Why do I hate showering?  Why do I get so consumed with guilt over things not done that I won't go enjoy the pool in my own back yard with my  kids? Why did 7-up change its taste a few years ago and become awful to me?  Why am I the only person on the planet who can't make my hair do the cute, loose curls with the straightener?  Why will my children only pick up after I scream and get out the spanking spatula?  Why do I like to blog so much that I stay up until all hours of the night instead of sleeping?  Why am I full of mixed emotions about the fact that I'm a stay-at-home-mom who doesn't spend enough time with my kids? Why do I love icing so much?  Why won't the ants in my kitchen go away?  Why do I miss hanging out with my husband even though we live in the same house?  Why do I still have no idea how to work my camera after more than a year?  Why are my calves too big for tall boots?  Why don't I have any idea what "True Blood" is?  Why does fingernail polish take so long to dry?  What is the weird yellow coaggulate substance all over the back seat of my truck?  Why don't I go to the dentist like I'm supposed to?  Why do I feel some sort of uncontrollable need to post all of my worst flaws on the internet for the entire world to see?

    If you know the answer to these or any other ridiculous questions, will you please clue me in?  I need to know how you're doing it all.  And if you are not actually doing it all, it wouldn't hurt to let me know that either please.  It makes me feel better about myself to hear of others' failures.  And also, could someone please remind me that my children are small and it will not always be like this?  Remind me that one day they will grow up and I will find myself wandering, "Why do I have nothing to do anymore?  And what am I doing with my life for pete's sake?!". 

Thanks a million.
Cassie (a usually proud and happy disaster who seems to be having an introspective week)
 
   Super G wrote and performed this song last night on the way home from church.  He meant nothing but good from it - it flowed naturally in conversation.  (that's what conversations in our car are like.  people occasionally break out in random song)  The tune is one you and no one else on the planet has ever heard before, but feel free to make up your own sing-song accompaniment as you read.  It will help you "keep it real" as an experience.
My Daddy is skin-nay
I am skin-nay
My brother is skin-nay
My sister is skin-nay
But Mama is a little bit fat
Be-cause-she...
had.a.lot.of.babies.and.ate.too.many.desserts.that.had.too.many.ca-lo-rieeeeeeees
 (how does he even know what a calorie is?)
But she is a good Mama
The best cooker
The best cooker in the whole city, the whole worrrlllllddddd
Even better than the Mexican peeeeeeoplllllllle
(???????????????????)
    The only explination I have for the last line is that we live in a town with a restaurant issue.  Besides fast food, we only have a smattering of eateries that may or may not be open depending on the day, the weather, the alignment of the earth with the moon, etc.  Except for Mexican food.  In our tiny town we have two Mexican restaurants.  We did have three but my favorite one, Los Oxaquenos (the buffet one in the side of the gas station) just closed it's doors for business. *moment of silence please*  Anyhoo, that's basically all the poor boy knows as professional chefs.   It's true - we get out very little.  
    But back to the song, I know I have talked alot about my egg obsession and pants issues on here already, but I am in one of those phases of life where I have decided to put in a little effort again.  I do this every so often, especially if I have to pick out an outfit to go somewhere.  I am just so terrible at dieting, so I think I am going to exercise it all off. It's always my plan.  This time I have decided to follow the crowd yet again.  I currently have 6 facebook friends at different stages of the Couch to 5k program and actually have some friends who are leaders/coaches (?) of the program.  The whole thing sounds awful to me.  Completely awful.  Anything where running is involved is automatically out as a rule normally, but I have decided to give it a try.  
    My dear friend Molly is younger than me and loves me and is a little scared of me, so I have used my powers over her to force her into participating with me.  Pretty much because there's not a snowball's chance at Satan's house that I will actually follow through with this alone.  So a little while ago, in the safe cover of night, she and I went out and did Day 1 Week 1 of the program.  If you do the math it is actually only 7 minutes of running.  I could have died.  There was a cardiac issue, a respiratory issue, and a self-worth issue all swirling in a sea of gasps and heaves.  I run so akwardly anyway (always have.  ask all my friends from high school)  and the added issue of a pulsing vericose vein and the two sandbags up front I have to lug everyhere I go (too much?  sorry) makes it ridiculous to watch.  Sad really.  But we did it.  Yay us.   
    So let me just say this-  If this is to be something that I stick with I will need encouragement, and probably oxygen.  Any of you with experience let me know if it actually worked so great for you.  I am not too proud to be a quitter otherwise.  And let me also say this - if you happen to be one of the four people who possibly read this blog and who live on the street behind my house (you know who you are) - if you so much as peek out the window at me dragging my sad gigantic butt around out there in the dark, I will totally quit.  That's why I'm doing it late.  You people are supposed to be in bed, or watching tv, or doing anything else.  So don't look at me - or my future health and well being will rest solely in your hands.  Plus I will be wearing leggings and a t-shirt, and you don't want to experience that.  There is no telling what will happen to propery values if word gets out.

Love you like anything but running,
Cassie
 
Dear Cassie, if you buy one more bag or box of Cadburry eggs, we're through.  I just wanted to warn you before I end it, so you can't say it was a surprise.
                                       Sincerely,
                                        your pants

I have a serious problem.  I have a deep love for two specific things - Cadburry eggs (both the large, delicious, cream-filled kind and the small, crispy-shelled kind) and buying things on sale.  Unfortunately for my pants, currently Cadburry eggs are on sale at Walmart for 75% off.  $.67  Every time I am there (which is pretty much every stinking day) I am unable to withstand some type of gravitational pull associated with the rotation of the moon around the earth which forces me to pick up at least one bag.  Currently my stash looks a little something like this. 

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What in the name of type II diabetes am I doing with all of these chocolate eggs?!

   Seriously, right now I have 11 large eggs and 8 bags of the small eggs, one of which is super-sized.  That my friend is a lot.of.chocolate.  I can't stop.  Help me.  

    Since I'm bearing my soul here about my egg problem, I'll go ahead and bear my soul about my pants issue too.  I am not skinny.  (This is not a plea for all of you to reassure me that I am not fat, etc. etc. etc.  I've been at peace with it for a log time now.)  This is just a fact.  God never intended for me to be thin.  If he did, he would have made my love for carrots stronger and chocolate eggs less passionate.  I've always been shaped like this, just at varying degrees of "thickness".  If you don't believe me just ask anyone in my third through sixth grade classes.  They will tell you that I had a big butt, ran weird, and was com.plete.ly awful at all those stupid Presidential Physical Fitness challenges.
    The rest of my family is, however, rail thin.  Especially my children.  Turnanator eats nothing but snacks and junk food and has 0% body fat.  And he is the world's most unknowing fat joke maker-upper ever.  He doesn't intend to say mean things, he just states what seems to be obvious truth to him, and leaves me to stew in my emotional cesspool of self-loathing. 
    Prime example (and by the way I can't believe I am sharing this.  Apparently I will do anything for an audience.)  One day as I was literally standing up to get out of the bathtub (please do not picture this in your mind.  It will burn in there and no matter what you do you can't get it out) Turnanator burst through the door because we have four toilets in this house but mine is the only one that my boys can use for some reason.  He looks at me for a second and says as calmly as a cucumber, "wow.  That is a lot to wash."

"Thank you son.  Thank you."

Going to eat some eggs to feel better about the whole thing,
Cassie
 
    First of all, let me head you off at the pass.  I know those of you closest to me are going to see my title and read this post and immediately write all sorts of comments about how wonderful I am and I shouldn't loathe anything about myself, yada-yada-yada.  So thank you in advance, but please don't.  I really don't actually loathe myself.  In fact, I'm quite at peace with myself in so many ways.  However, I think a little self-deprecation is healthy.  It helps to "keep it real", ya' know.  Plus it's funny.  I know I love to hear people laugh at themselves and their faults.  If not, they are just boring, and  little too uptight for my liking.

So here is a tiny list of things I absolutely, positively hate about myself.  Feel free to laugh, throw up in your mouth a little, wonder how I function in society.

1. I am not a huge fan of showering.  It's disgusting, I know.  But I rarely have anything to do besides the carpool line and housework and it all just seems so useless.  What is the point of getting all bathed, shaved, shampooed and conditioned when I'm in for a big day of diapers and cleaning out closets?  Seriously?

2. I will go to Walmart looking like anything.  Anything I tell you. (see #1)

3. I will take my children to Walmart at lunch in their pajamas

4. I have vericose veins and I'm only 30.  Not cute little spider veins that you can kind-of see through the skin.  Gross, exploding blue nastinesses

5. I had to look up the correct spelling for two words in this post already and half of my words are made up

6.  There is not another person anywhere on this planet more last minute than me

7.  I do things sometimes that cause my husband to call me by my mothers name.  I love my mother but I don't want him to call me her name.  I fully expect destruct-o-girl to feel the same way in a few years

8. I love to eat

9. I do not love to exercise

10. None of my clothes fit (see #8 and #9)


Now here are few of the things I do not loathe about myself

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I rock at picking a husband
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I also rock at spawning
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Thanks for stopping by again today.  Feel free to leave comments about your own self loathing issues to make me feel better.  Or don't, I'm probably about to eat some cadburry eggs to make myself feel better about the whole thing either way