I have no life. Yeah, yeah. Loving husband, great kids. Check and check. I am wife and mother. Also, I'm kinda cool, and kinda funny, kinda sometimes. And, also? I'm even better with alcohol. Of course, my husband is the only one who gets to enjoy this side of me. This is because, while my schedule if filled (which is particularly surprising because only a dozen of those hours are currently of the paying variety), it ain't with anything fun for me.
Coming up? We've got soccer. And pictures for soccer. And hockey. Oh, and more hockey. There are those nights at PTA! Doctors appointments- which we will come to, by the way.
Oh, wait! There are those couple nights a week where I close the place down, baby! And by close the place down, I mean I clock out at midnight, and my boss sets the alarm as we walk out the door.
And the most shocking thing of all? I'm totally satisfied. (Holy crap, did you know it was possible that a mom could be satisfied? Without prescription drugs? Totally true.) The thing that bothers me about my lack of social life in the extreme is that it doesn't bother me.
Probably a sign of deep depression.
That I will blame on my husband.
Because that's the kind of bitch I am.