So I’m home sick again.  again.  again.  When will it end?  Yesterday I was nauseous all day, which led into me passing out on the couch (literally) when I got home, which led to me feeling (and sounding) like crap for the entire evening yet not being able to go to bed early because of said nap, which led to me feeling like more crap this morning.  Yea!

But sitting here today, I’ve been thinking:  How would it be to be a SAHM (Stay at home mom)?  I wonder if I would like it, or more to the point, if I could handle it.  I’ve been working pretty much constantly since I was 15 years old taking breaks only for 6 weeks following the birth of my kids and the occasional week or two for vacations.  Those second six weeks following the birth of my daughter had me firmly believing that I would never be a SAHM.  Never. I spent most of the time at ex#2′s parent’s house (chaos), dealing with post-partum that I hadn’t yet figured out, with two children who didn’t sleep through the night, one of them being really colicky (or maybe it was just her reacting to all the chaos and negativity around her), and my marriage was falling apart.  When I went back to work it was a heavenly escape from the absolute hell that was my home life.  But now things are different.

One concern I have is that I’m really lazy because I’m tired all the time. Or possibly I’m tired because I’m lazy…-but anyway.  The time that I have taken off work has historically been filled with a whole lot of nothing.  Well, there has been extended sleeping and naps, catching up on mindless tv and romantic comedies via On-Demand programming, and, yeah, that’s about it.  So if I was a SAHM, would my life slip even more into a endless pit of laziness, or is my laziness a product of my working 9 hours a day for the last 2 years and at least 6 hours a day, plus school, for the last 15 years.  (Or maybe I’m just lazy…)

But theoretically, if I wasn’t lazy, life could be great! First and foremost, I would easily have the girl full time, maybe even without the need to move.  I would be able to take care of my house properly.  Without the assistance of a maid (yeah, we still have her.  I know my previous justification was that Mr. W was gone, but I really hate cleaning bathrooms!  I’m sure the conversation is coming on dropping her services in the near future…).  I could take my kids to and from school.  We (as a family) would have more time and energy to do extracurriculars and I could actually take part in them (you know, the time and energy thing).  Now that the kids are in school, I could take time for myself as well.  I could work on my photography, maybe take a class, find some new material.  I could exercise during the day, work on my health, maybe take a yoga class a couple times a week.  With my recent sick-i-ness, I could use a little more time in my day to get adequate rest and work in some exercise, not really an option with my current schedule.  I’ve even played with the idea of taking a leave of absence from work and taking time off from school to work on my self…of course, that would mean no paycheck and no education assistance check from the VA, so, yeah, maybe not an option…

Yep, it all comes down to the fact that I/we desperately need to win the lottery. 

So, I may have mentioned my imminent increase in age coming up, you know, the big 3-0 and all the crap unfortunate side effects stuff that goes with it.  Well, it’s Monday.  Yep, I am a 13-baby.  As a matter of fact, I was born on a Friday (yeah, go ahead and think what you want about Friday the 13th…but I swear it’s not true…well mostly not…well, maybe a little…). At 11:44pm.  6 minutes to midnight.  In July.  In Arizona (so my mom’s last few months just totally sucked!).  After 16 hours of labor.  By C-section…yeah, sorry Mom.

Anyway, so Monday is my B-day and of course Mr. W, in all his wonderfulness, has been plaguing bugging inquiring what I would like.  I did my list, but don’t really expect anything from it.  Yes, I would like to have someone buy me all of it, but I’m of the mind that if I want something, I can just go get it myself.  It may take a little longer, but then it’s really mine. Maybe it’s the whole you appreciate something more if you get it yourself.  Maybe it’s that I held out for so many years for things promised by my dad (computer at 14, Mustang convertible at 16, Honda Del Sol at 17, visits at graduation from high school/basic training/technical school, digital camera* at 26, MacBook at 28…) that I finally figured out to stop waiting thus ending the imminent disappointment attached. In the end, I simply told Mr. W that I would rather us take a trip somewhere than have him spend too much money on my birthday.  Damn he’s a good listener!

After work Friday, we will be driving up to New York!! We are staying at a fabulous bed and breakfast walking-distance from Times Square, and then Saturday…Wicked on Broadway!!! (At the Gershwin Theater!) Yeah, lots of jumping up and down and screaming and stuff has gone on since he told me.  I read Wicked about a year ago, and convinced Mr. W to read it as well.  We both loved it and have been foaming at the mouth at the possibility to see it, anywhere.  And now we are going.  (Did I mention on Broadway?!) Ok, so I’m a little geeky about the whole thing, but really, it’s Broadway. In New York! Of course, I will be taking Mr. D ( my lover, my soul-mate, my Nikon) with Mr. W’s encouragement, of course.  Times Square at night…Central Park…the Brooklyn Bridge…*sigh* I’ve also heard rumors that they’ve reopened the Statue of Liberty for tourists, so we may try to stop there too.  I’m so freakin’ excited!!

I’ve been to New York once.  Ex#2′s sister was at one of those IMTA conventions, so we went with his parents and the boy for support.  It was hell.  Ex#2 and his father have strong issues with crowds (among other things), so they were basically stressful assholes the whole trip.  The boy peed through his diaper on the subway, onto my shirt.  The sister didn’t get any call-backs, and was in fact told she was too fat to model.  Hmmm…I wonder if this experience fed into her later hospitalization for eating disorders…  Anyway, I didn’t get to see much of the city, and was sorely disappointed by the whole trip.  But now, all that changes thanks to my Mr. Wonderful!  He’s been there once before as well, with his Ex#2.  Better than my trip, but not exactly ideal for him either.  Apparently they rented an apartment for a week there, which she was responsible for.  Turns out the owners had cats there, and Mr. W is severely allergic.  Seriously, he coughs, swells, itches, the whole deal.  So they couldn’t spend much time there, which isn’t such a big deal in itself.  After all, it’s New York. Stuff doesn’t close there, so why the hell would you want to stay home??  Unfortunately, Ex-Mrs. W was/is a little, uh, high maintenance.  She has eating issues…so when she is finally hungry, MUST.  EAT.  NOW!  Also, due to the non-eating thing, she wears out fast.  And where does one rest when away from home…oh yeah, the cat hair-infested apartment that you rented.  Nice. Anyway, I’m hoping I can give him a good trip, as much as he is giving me.  (Give and take…that’s what it’s all about!)  Did I mention how excited I am?!

On a side (yet no less meaningful) note:  Mr. W’s wonderful childhood friend, and my friend, The Girl From the Ghetto herself, took time amidst feeling like crap post-surgery to send me something so sweet:

How wonderful is that?  (No wonder Mr. W adores you so much, Girly!)  Who sends Thank-you cards anymore?  Especially when feeling like crap and stuck in bed?  It’s the small things that touch my heart, and this surely did.  Thank you, Girly! I’m glad I could bring you some laughter, and I truly hope you feel better soon!  And to all you miracle-makers and wish-granters out there (and any editors, magazine-runners, and other writing-involved people), who may happen upon this, check TheGirlFromTheGhetto out…she is simply fabulous and truly deserves a miracle!

*To be fair, about 3 weeks after I bought found my one true love (my Nikon D-40) my dad did send me a check to cover the purchase price.