We are not even in the holiday crunch time, and I am already fried to a crisp. I cannot pinpoint the exact day that I lost my mind, but the evidence all around me suggests it’s long gone. My mind is somewhere drinking a fruity drink adorned with a swizzle stick, while sitting next to Elvis and Donald Trump’s original hair piece.
I shudder when I think about how flaky I will be once the holidays hit, and I am staring down a cross-country flight with the junior members of my household, AND Costco will be crowded TWENTY FOUR SEVEN. Oh, god, it’s gonna suck.
The good news is that maybe because I have already lost my mind, I won’t have the wherewithal to care. In fact, I probably won’t.
Don’t believe me that I am cracking up? I have proof. I am not so far gone that I am unable to blog about my beloved-and-now-departed good sense.
Here are the 10 signs that I have lost my ever-living mind:
- Toy Tampons: It was a low point when I realized that I had let Simon play with a box of tampons so I could take a shower. On the plus side, they were unopened, so there were no sanitary breaches. Also, I had gotten extra when they were on sale two for one so the fact that he opened and ruined a few was not as tragic as you might think. My main defense: don’t call your company Playtex if you don’t want me to have my children play with them.
- Homecooking: Wait, here’s another low point. I decided that I would make us all a home-cooked meal. So, naturally I heated up a Trader Joe’s chicken burrito. But, I didn’t want to appear to be “phoning it in,” so I also made a pizza by spreading some tomato sauce on a pita and melting cheese on it. I had the nerve to call it “International Cuisine Night” at my house.
- My hair: Despite the Cindy Brady-esque bangs that I have right now, I nevertheless have thought they looked “decent” on the two occasions I have taken off my do-rag long enough to see them. I’m not taking a picture of them, but trust me, these bangs are a lot of things, but they are not decent, I am simply loco.
- Costco: I have forsaken my beloved Costco on 2 (not 1, but TWO) family outings. I heard myself say to Jeff, “You guys go ahead without me,” and I should have known something was gravely amiss. Skipping a Costco trip means only one thing: someone needs to up her medication because she’s not right in the head.
- Halloween Candy: Sadie’s purple plastic Halloween pumpkin sits on our counter with her dwindling candy supply. We are down to the fruity Tootsie Rolls (a travesty if you ask me) and the Smarties. I finally dipped into her stash to eat a DumDum lollipop after bragging for weeks on Twitter that I hadn’t touched her candy. Excuse me, what dumbass forgoes Snickers, Reese’s, and Twix and decides to give in to the temptation for a stupid blueberry lollipop? A Woman Who’s Lost Her Mind, that’s who.
- Music: The other day I went on a run and I was 15 minutes into it before I realized I was listening to my kids’ music. My endorphins were queued up and ready to kick in, and I found myself humming along to “B-I-N-G-O.” I stopped on the sidewalk and wept for the 15 minutes of adult, cardio-friendly music that I could have enjoyed. Then, I stopped in a church and lit a candle for the three songs I would have listened to but for my total lapse in sanity: (1) Michael Jackson’s The Way You Make Me Feel, (2) Erasure’s Give A Little Respect, and (3) Milli Vanilli’s Girl You Know It’s True.
- Shopping: Three times I have gotten that urgent email from the Gap about how I can get 400% off my entire purchase by midnight. Each time, I tell myself that I will do some early Christmas shopping for
myselfmy loved ones and take advantage of the deal. I even put items in my cart. But then, POOF! I just forget to finish the purchase. Do you know how impossible it is for me to “forget” to finish shopping? It’s unheard of. I finalized purchases within 15 minutes of a C-section (on two occasions). I don’t even know myself anymore. This one’s going to hurt when I have to buy those “boyfriend cords” full price in a few weeks.
- Make-up: I’m from Texas and was raised to believe that lip gloss and powder are as essential to life as oxygen (the gas, not the network) and water. I have watched my Estee Lauder powder dwindle down to about 3 flakes. For weeks, I tried to remind myself to order it on Amazon or run over to Macy’s to get it. Have I? No. Now, I have nothing but an empty container and an Estee Lauder powder puff to keep me company. This is very, very bad. Who is so busy she can’t order her everyday powder? I’m sorry, Texas. I swear I am better than this.
Well, that’s it. I said 10ish. 8 is in the ballpark. Someday, I will tell you about the comb I let Simon play with while I took a shower and where he stuck it when I had soap in my eyes. It’s more proof, but I have to get treatment for my PTSD before discussing it with you on the Interwebs. I could also mention the ill effects of my dried apricot addiction, but you know what? It’s late and that story is gross.
Let’s call it a night while we are all still friends.