When I was “younger” I had a mostly cliché vision of what my life was supposed to look like by the time I hit my 30’s and I’m sure most if not all of you can relate to this vision in some shape or form:
- Own the “perfect” home (insert your definition of “perfect” here ________)
- Have gifted children and a parenting ethic that other moms envy (I mean. They’re alive and they haven’t failed a school-year. Yet. And they haven’t landed themselves in Juvenile Hall. Yet. So…BOOOM!)
- Have multiple degrees and a high-paying job in a science lab or a hospital somewhere (At the very least, I belong in a science lab or checked into a mental hospital somewhere…so that has to count for something.)
- Or own a legit business (Insert your definition of “legit” here _________.)
Start traveling the worldLeave Florida Look like a bikini modelDon’t look like a hippo on who ate her baby hippos.
- Eat clean and organic and the kids too..wait. Not that I would eat my kids. Unless I failed myself in the bullet-point above? I meant that the kids would also be eating clean and organic. It’s before 8 am and I haven’t had my caffeine fix. Keep it moving, ya Nazis.
- Be fucking mentally stable (talk about reaching for the stars. Also? Insert your definition of “mentally stable” here ______.)
- Have a meaningful and consistent social life (oh, now my vision was just showing off.)
- Have a super organized and clean home (Oh look! This must’ve happened during that one time my inner-goal-getter experimented with crack)
- Have no lost or unpaired socks sitting in huge mountain-baskets of lost-and-unpaired socks (What?! You’re right. I took it too far here…)
Yea. All that shit. And yea. NONE of that shit. On a scale of 1 to what-a-fuckin-fail, I’d say I’m up there with the over-thinkers, the underachievers, and the Elvis Presley impersonators.
I have no idea what just happened. This post is a free-fall. I don’t know where we will land or what the bottom looks like kids. So let’s just embrace the part where we haven’t actually body-slammed the ground yet. Keep fallin’.
I live a pleasingly mediocre life. My kids are gifted at lying about homework, fucking shit up around the house, snitching on each other, and “accidentally” swearing. The Mr. And I purchased our home 2 years ago and still haven’t painted the other side of the house towards the back (who has time for the shit no one can see anyways?!) and we have yet to replace all of the outlet covers we removed 2 years ago to paint the walls inside. You know? Livin’ the dream, bro. Livin’ the dream.
Oh and the whole lost and unpaired sock vision? Can we just talk about that? Thanks. Because people need to have these kinds of conversations. This is an actual thing that actually destroys any sense of tranquility and adult-normalcy in my life.
To paint a vivid picture for you, let’s just say I still have socks that once fit my 8 year old’s newborn feet, sitting deep down in an oversized, overflowing basket. What the sox?! The thing is- I can’t seem to build up the courage to just throw them all out, but I also refuse to sit there struggling to match unpaired emoji, rainbow striped, princess, and sports themed socks for hours upon hours.
“Go kick rocks!” Said the Fox to the socks.
sometimes life rarely unfolds itself in the way that we hope or envision that it should and that’s ok. :::twitch::: Honestly. It’s ok. :::half twitch::: And I’m here to say that life is to fucking short to GIVE A FOX ABOUT THE UNPAIRED SOCKS! Or the half-painted house! Or the missing outlet covers! WHO CARES if we haven’t got it all together yet?! WHO GIVES A FOX if we overdraft our bank account during a sporadic Target trip. It was worth it, damn it. Spend the money- because you can’t take it with you when you die.
But then- there are also things we don’t give enough fox about…and we need to find that happy medium middle ground gray-ish area.
This week the Mr. almost lost his life over an infected abscess beneath a bad molar. A fucking molar. I convinced him to come to the emergency room Wednesday because he clearly needed antibiotics, but things took a wrong turn when they discovered that the infection was already traveling through his blood, and he was a few days short of sepsis. I’m not going to get medically technical here, but you can say that it’s an extremely dangerous situation. The infection also managed to reach his heart and cause a blockage that thankfully wasn’t severe enough to require any kind of treatment for the time being, but still. Are you fucking kidding me right now?
To make matters worse, the infection was sitting in his jaw, eroding it. ERODING one of the strongest bones in the body. Oh and he has type 1 diabetes since he was 10- which only complicates everyfuckingthing- the cherry on top.
5 days, a surgery, serious antibiotics, and a PICC line placed directly to his heart for long term antibiotic treatment later- here we are, trying not to stress the little things, like unpaired socks, you know? Again, he could have easily lost his life over a molar. Let’s take a second to process the level of bullshittery we are dealing with here.
It’s taken me like a week to even finish this post, and I’m pretty sure my initial goal was to compile some clever list of the petty things we need to stop giving a “fox” about-can’t you tell how my voice and attitude levels settle down half way through this post? But the things is, there are also petty things we maybe should give a fox about.
Like our health and taking care of a bad molar even if it means having to miss a day or two of work, for example. Like remembering to check up on the ones we care about every now and then, regardless of how busy life gets. Like remembering to stop, and breathe and appreciate the simplicity of being. Of being here. Of being alive. Like actually having a place to call home. Like having healthy kids- regardless of their behavior or their performance in a classroom. We should give a fox about the little things that matter and make a difference in our lives and not about the little things we can’t really fix or change or control.
This rant is getting too vaguely deep and philosophically broad, so I won’t dig any deeper. Just take care of yourselves first- and then worry about the other things. What’s the point of killing ourselves, to kill ourselves… when we’re all already born to die anyways? Make your time on this planet count. Cherish every single day and forget about the likes and the comments and the numbers and the unpaired socks. Seriously. Fuck the unpaired socks. Heal the world. Make it a better place.
Ok bye. Fox: out.