Look At Me.

So I’m starting a blog. A little late to the party, I guess. Just so we’re clear from the get-go, I want to let you know that this isn’t a “mom blog” in the strictest sense. Or a city blog or a work blog or a relationship blog. I guess what I’m here to write about is all of it. Just life.

I’m pretty new to this. Not just the blogging, per se, but the sharing. The assumption that you’re going to take time out of your day to read what I have to say. I’m not inherently the kind of person my husband likes to refer to as a “look at me.” I mean, I was a nervous wreck the day of my wedding, not because I was at all apprehensive about committing my life to another soul for all eternity, even despite said soul’s ridiculous obsession with video games, but because I just didn’t want all those people looking at me, for Pete’s sake. But as a full-time working mom of two trying to juggle it all, I’ve been feeling a bit jumbled lately, and I suppose I hope writing it all out will somehow make my thoughts a little more lucid. I think we can both be honest and admit that this is a little awkward so far. I mean, we don’t really know each other, and we’ve been thrown together here in this room to make small talk and hope we can find some genuine common ground before everyone loses interest. I’m not even sure I dressed appropriately for this party and I can already feel my palms starting to sweat from the nerves. But if you can bear with me for just a bit longer, maybe I’ll make a go of it all the same, and see how it shakes out.

Before we get started, I guess there are a few things you should know about me. I don’t know any famous people, I’ve traveled the world far less than I’d prefer, I don’t play in a band, and I’m not a spy. In other words, I lead a pretty ordinary life. Which is not to say that I don’t live in a constant state of amazement (and confusion), but if you’re looking for some hard-core shit, you might want to excuse yourself while you have the chance.

Which brings me to my next disclosures: I swear. Like a trucker. I’m great about reigning it in around the kids, but since we’re all adults here, I’d rather not worry about it, if it’s all the same to you.  Also, I have a lot of opinions about things some people say shouldn’t be discussed in polite company – like politics, God, childbirth and Angelina Jolie. So if you have any expectations of a certain level of propriety and reserve, I’m not sure you and I can ever truly be great friends. Please don’t take that the wrong way. It’s not you, it’s me.

The things I know for sure in life are that I love my husband and live for our 2 kids (ages 5 and 3), my mom is my rock, my job is killing me (probably literally), I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, and I would eat sushi every single day of my life if I could afford it and somehow avoid turning into Jeremy Piven.

So, maybe if you’ve got a spare minute to join me, we can make a deal that I’ll keep rambling for a little bit, and you have full permission to look on with that slight head tilt that conveys empathy and maybe a smidge of pity-slash-embarrassment. You don’t have to close down the bar, but you’re welcome to stay for as long as you’d like, as long as you buy me a drink before you level with me, and promise to tell me if I have something in my teeth.