I’ve always been lacking in motivation. I find it difficult to get off my ass to do anything, even things that I think will be fun. I want to do a lot of things, but am too lazy to go about doing them.

Despite this, I’ve had a successful career. I’ve been lucky that I can be good at my job without much effort. I had a college friend say to me (somewhat bitterly), “Who would have thought that you’d be the most successful out of all of us?” Actually, I love my job, but as I’ve said, I’m lazy, so I am not as good as I probably could be if I applied myself.

Ironically, I’m married to the most motivated person in the world. He is the opposite of lazy. He started his own business a few years ago and has been working really hard to build it up. Recently, because he loves me and because he knows I’m a lazy bitch, he gave me the choice to retire on my 40th birthday. That’s when he’s estimated that we’ll be able survive on the business income.

I know there are tons of stay at home moms out there and it is nothing new, but to me this is an amazing offer. I’ve worked since I was 14. (Even younger if you count the time in elementary school when I solicited all my friends to buy my self-published magazine. I cut paper into small rectangles, stapled them together, and wrote lame made-up jokes and stories on them. I charged $1 per issue and made around $20). My parents were always poor, so if I wanted anything I had to get a job and work for it. I have no idea how it will feel like to not work. I might get bored in 3 weeks and want to go back. Or I might become MORE lazy.

In any case, his offer has made me waaaay less motivated, knowing I’m going to retire in less than 2 years. Which is why I wrote this blog post instead of working.


Another point of view

Recently, on Carolyn Hax’s advice column, there was an interesting post.

I was a little disappointed that Ms. Hax didn’t consider an alternative explanation. Such as, perhaps the letter writer’s friend had other reasons to remove herself from the friendship. But I might be reading too much into it because of my own similar experience.

Normally, a friend cancelling on me would not end a friendship. And in my case, it was not the cancellation by itself that ended it.

Three years ago, while my friend was in the midst of her divorce, I invited her to spend Thanksgiving at my home. The day before she was to arrive, she called to say that she decided to visit another (single) friend instead, because seeing me and my happy family would make her feel bad. Basically, she was initially coming to see me because she didn’t have any other plans. But something better came along, so she cancelled on me. She had done this to me many times throughout our friendship. In hindsight, I think we stayed friends for so long mainly because we lived in different states and thus did not make plans to see each other often. But the point is, this was not a standalone, out-of-the-ordinary incident.

I was upset, of course, but wasn’t consciously planning to end the friendship at first.  I mean, I really did understand. I wouldn’t have wanted to come either, if I were her.

But my mind kept replaying other times I felt used by her in the past. So I wasn’t quite ready to pick up where we left off, which at that point was her calling and texting me at all hours of the day and night to complain about her ex-husband. I needed some time from her, but I didn’t think it would be fair to stop answering her calls and texts without explanation. So I wrote a letter explaining why I was upset. I purposely did not re-hash her past behavior, but instead focused on this one incident.

It was her response that actually ended the friendship. She completely missed the point, saying that she was “finally standing up for herself.” Which is great, but that had nothing to do with what happened. This is a person that would call me at 2am to cry about her life but wouldn’t do any of the things I suggested. I wasn’t sure what she was standing up to me for, exactly. I think she meant she was standing up for herself in general, but again, that’s neither here nor there. She also kept talking about honesty. Like, “I have been nothing but honest with you.” And, “my therapist said that if I was honest, you would understand.” I didn’t understand this in the context of the situation. I hadn’t accused her of lying or being dishonest. Was she planning to lie to me about why she was flaking, and thought I should have given her props for telling the truth? I really don’t know.

She went on to say that she was allowed to be selfish “for once,” implying that this was just a one-time thing. I believe she has rewritten history in her mind and convinced herself that it was not something she would ever normally do. She claimed that even her therapist said that I should have understood. I am pretty sure her therapist didn’t know that this was already typical behavior for her before the divorce. This is why I feel the letter writer in Carolyn Hax’s column didn’t represent the whole story. It’s so easy to make yourself look like the victim.

I started to draft a reply, but her entire letter was so out of touch with reality that I didn’t know how to answer it. In the end, I decided there was no point and we have not spoken since. I wonder if this is why the letter writer’s friend decided to end their friendship. There are always two sides to every story.



I am so angry that I don’t know what to do with it. I can’t talk to anyone about it because no one I know will really get it. I can’t talk to my husband about it because it will make him feel worse than he already does. I want to cry when I think about it (I cry when I’m angry). Fuck, I’m starting to tear up.

My FIL and his wife just built a house. He was recently showing off the pictures. He pointed out what he called “the guest room” and said that we can stay there when we visit. Then he pointed to another room and said, “And this is Stepbrother’s room.”

Stepbrother (FIL’s wife’s son) doesn’t live with them anymore.

My husband said, “Why does Stepbrother get a room?”

His father looked at him with a don’t-fucking-question-me look and said, “Do you know mothers?”

My husband was quiet a couple seconds and then said meekly, “No.”

FIL responded, while nodding his head at me, “Well, you will know mothers.”

And it was understood that no more should be said on the topic.

Every single time out of the hundreds of times I have re-played this scene in my head, I wish I had said something. It doesn’t matter that my husband would have been furious at me. I hate that I didn’t say anything.

Of course he doesn’t know mothers! He has a shitty narcissistic mother who doesn’t fucking give a shit about him, a horrible woman that you left him and his sister with when they were babies, even though I am sure you knew she was a fucking nut-job since you were married to her for 12 years. He has no mother who would say, “Hey, I want my son to have a place in our home.” He doesn’t have a single parent who would stand up for him at all. Because of you and that shitty excuse for a human being who gave birth to him, he has no idea what unconditional love from a parent feels like.

And you know it isn’t about having a room at all. I don’t have a room in my parents’ house either. It isn’t about Stepbrother, who is a great guy. It isn’t about FIL’s wife, who, despite having no room in her heart for my husband and his sister, is just doing what a mother is supposed to do for her son. It is how FIL answered the question. It was the shittiest, coldest, most hurtful thing he could have said. I hate that my husband has two supremely selfish people as parents.

We are going there for Thanksgiving. When we are giving our thanks, I am just going to think to myself that I’m thankful we only see them once a year.


This happens every Thanksgiving.

I have been thinking a lot lately about an ex-friend. Our friendship ended three years ago on Thanksgiving. I had reached a point where I no longer trusted her not to hurt me again. Unfortunately, I got to that point when she was in the middle of a divorce. While I have no personal experience with divorce, I have heard that even the most amicable divorce is extremely difficult and emotionally draining. And hers was not going to be amicable. So whenever I think of her, I feel a tremendous amount of guilt and sadness. I can’t do anything about it now, but sometimes I wish I had waited until after the divorce – even though I know why I didn’t.

We are still friends on FB and other social networks. I don’t hate her. I don’t think she hates me. Neither of us posts much anyways. We have a lot of mutual friends who don’t even know that she and I aren’t friends anymore. I wouldn’t mind being friends with her again – from a distance. If our paths ever cross again, then whatever happens, happens. But I am not going to go out of my way to do it.

When I start feeling really guilty, I have to remind myself why we are not friends anymore. That when I finally cut her out of my life, it felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. That no one else in my life condemned me for my decision – and in fact, supported it.

It was not any single thing she did. It was a ton of things over almost a decade of friendship. If the last thing had been the only thing, we would still be friends. But instead it unleashed a decade of memories of all the times I felt used. I tried to tell her how I felt. She tried to make me feel bad about my feelings. I was supposed to overlook her behavior, because she was getting a divorce. If our roles had been reversed, she would have understood. Even her therapist thinks I should have understood! That was when I finally realized it. She has always been selfish. The divorce did not make her selfish; she was selfish already.

Still, I wonder if she is OK, if she ever did get divorced, if she is seeing someone new. My husband asks why don’t I ask one of our mutual friends how she is doing? But I’d rather not. It would be pure gossip. I don’t want to put any of my friends in that position. And I guess I just don’t want her to be gossiped about, if that makes sense.

I have no point with this post. I have just been thinking about her a lot.



I feel almost like I’m returning to the land of the living.

I had Child #1 six years ago and now Child #2 is about to enter kindergarten. So for the last six years, all I could focus on was being a mom, because having little kids is so fucking draining.

Even though I still worked, and the SO and I still went on date nights and trips away from the kids, the rest of my life was occupied by the kids, feeding them, entertaining them, making sure they were OK. I love my kids, but I have since realized that I am not a baby person. Children and parenthood are my least favorite topic. I don’t talk about my kids and hate when people talk about theirs.

If I am being honest here (and on this blog I can be), I was probably in a mild depression for the last 6 years. I gained weight, I escaped into books or computer games, nothing interested me. I dreaded weekends and holidays. Don’t get me wrong – I didn’t neglect my kids. I delighted over them, took thousands of photos and videos of them, but I constantly had to remind myself that they wouldn’t be little forever, to get through the mind-numbingly boring or tiring or frustrating moments.

I think it was at the beginning of this year that I realized that I no longer hate weekends. The SO and I joined a gym last year to get back in shape. The SO lost 40 pounds, and I’ve gone from a size 12 to size 4. (I’d never been a size 4, even before kids.) Sex is fun again. Everything is fun again.

Right now, life is almost perfect. The kids are so easy now. They can talk and I don’t have to guess what they want or need. They play together so I don’t have to constantly entertain them. They have amazing and funny little personalities. I love my job and have a plan for my career that makes me happy. A few months ago, we bought the house we’re going to grow old in.

We still have money struggles. Child #1 has developmental issues and is in special education. There are other things. But the overall outlook is positive.