Random thought this Sunday morning…. Dippy eggs.

Like ‘em or hate ‘em?  No, seriously. I want to know.

Because I can’t fathom why anyone would knowingly partake in ingesting the filthy, slimy little wretches.

Obviously, I hate them.

They chill me to the core of my being. But my youngest son and my husband request that I serve them. OFTEN. Which is totally shiver-inducing.

But I make them anyway.  See how much I love them? That is how you can measure the love your wife or mother has for you… she makes the horrific breakfast ANYWAY. (And then pukes in the toilet discreetly afterwards.)

I personally need my eggs to be dry-as-a-bone dead. Like, long dead. NON-SLIMY dead.

Yes, I am passionate about this subject.  Probably a result of my upbringing. If I dig deep into my brain I will probably find a blocked memory containing one of my younger brothers torturing me with gooey, runny, half-cooked eggs.  Evil little monsters that they were….

So what say you? Love ‘em or hate ‘em?

I’m gonna let you in on a secret… I’m an over-achiever. In a mid-life whatchamacallit .

“Duh? You say?” (Insert laughter from all of the people who really know me here.)

Funny thing is that I actually didn’t realize I was the “over achieving type” until recently when a friend *ahem* made fun of me lamenting about something on the phone.  She nailed it right then and there and called me out.

Totally made me pause and take mental stock: upcoming marathon, charity, new business, blogging, Momz Share, community manager, blah, blah, blah…

Huh. I guess I AM.

The funny thing is that I don’t feel like the over-achiever she declared me to be.  I feel like I do many things and none of them well. (Insert mental anxiety here.) NONE. OF. THEM. WELL.

I guess you could say that I am in  some sort of mid-life crisis.  My husband would probably agree. He has to live with me and with my 6:00am crying jags centering around laundry or dishes or other such nonsense.

I’ve been doing a ton of soul searching in the past couple of months.  And no, it is  not really working out that well at the moment. I just keep getting stuck in the woe- is-me mode.  Which is annoying. Honestly, if I am annoying MYSELF then how can I NOT be annoying other people? It is just not possible.

I’m like that 45 something-guy in your neighborhood who just bought a yellow Corvette for no reason.  I may have not bought the Corvette yet but I am contemplating a pink hair extension and a nose piercing.

I just feel like I am not doing anything REALLY WELL.  Like I am just “phoning it in” yet the “it” is my life.  My mom (Gotta love mom, dontcha?) says that I am crazy and that perhaps I just need to  drill it down and not DO SO MUCH or perhaps LOWER MY STANDARDS.

And that will make it better????

The reason I pouring out my feelings here is because this blog is one of the things I feel like I am not especially doing well.  I’m always afraid of being TOO REAL.  TOO OPEN. Which flies in the face of the reason why we read blogs in the FIRST PLACE, right?

I know. I am a mess.

Got any suggestions for me? Coping strategies? Tissue brand recommendations? Please leave a comment, a thought or some sappy sentiment in my comment box.  I don’t think my husband can take another 6am crying jag.

Heh.

My husband has a nasty, nasty habit.  Kills me!

He sleeps.

Now, it is not the sleeping itself that really gets me, it is WHEN the sleeping occurs that drives me up the wall.

Specifically, in the middle of a movie.  Watching a 90 minute movie together can literally take all night if he dozes off more than once.  Because once he dozes and wakes, he insists on rewinding the movie back to view the part that he missed so that we can all finish together.

This is especially excruciating while watching a kid movie.  I don’t know about you but I don’t want to see the 240 minute version of Hotel for Dogs, thank you very much.  Or Master of Disguise. (Oh dear Lord, spare me! Worst. Movie. Ever.)

It is like he is hit with a tranquilizer gun as soon as the movie begins to play. Spontaneous sleeping. Kinda like Pavlov’s dog.

I just want to sit all the way through a movie without  having to rewind the same scene over and over again.

Is that too much to ask?

(BTW – If you must know, my tranquilizer gun moment occurs whenever we get into the car. I go limp after a mere 20 minutes in the seat.  I more than pay him back for the movie rewind shenanigans, that is for sure. I’ve been sleeping on him for the last 15 years.)

I WANT people to like me.

Always have.

I’m what you would call a “goody-two shoes.” I’m pretty much always positive, always smiling, a glass half full, cheerleader kind of girl. I try not to think ill of anyone and always give the benefit of the doubt…ALWAYS.

I know, you can barf now if you need too. I’ll wait.

Anywho… lately I have been dealing with someone who I just can’t get to like me. Infuriating! Now, I am not naive enough to expect she and I are going to be best pals or anything like that, I just am having a hard time accepting her obvious, shall we say… “lack of enthusiasm” in regards to interacting with me.

The other day we had a conversation on the phone where apparently she was under the impression she was speaking with a different Jennifer. When I corrected her … her voice fell. (!) The enthusiasm was GONE. Long gone. It was so obvious that I almost laughed out loud. Really?! Am I THAT bad?

Can anyone else relate to this situation?

I’ve decided that instead of angsting over her view of me, I will instead use it as a life lesson. Oh sure, I could probably fawn all over her and perhaps earn some small “likability” factor in her mind… but why?

You can’t make everyone happy and you can’t make everyone like you. So why waste your energy trying?

I will continue to be kind to her and accept the fact that we won’t be friends or enemies. We’ll just BE.

You can’t win ‘em all, right?

Hey YOU.  Up there.  Yeah, you.  I can see you.

Don’t try to shuffle and hide and be all like, “What? Me? I’m not doing anything. What are you talking about?”

I get enough of that from my kids thankyouverymuch.

I tolerated you because you were behaving. In the beginning, there weren’t that many of you.  Those that WERE there knew to just exist, keep quiet and not draw attention to themselves.

But those young ones?  The NEWBIES?  Those little beasts that are all announcing themselves … “Woo hoo! Look at me! Look at ME!” Then they had to take it one step further and be all curly and sticky-upy.  Yeah, you know exactly what I am talking about now, don’t you?  The REBELS.  Well, they sealed your fate, hair.  You can thank them for what I am about to do.

Now it is war.

WAR.

And I will win, hair.  Oh yes, I will win.  Because I am armed with trained professionals who know how to mix concoctions and potions that you have never even dreamed of.  Their cacophony of chemicals will coerce you into submission.  Or they will eliminate you.

So there.

Grey hair be damned.