Neurotic

My husband and I are seeing our way through a major family tragedy. We have had some time with this new reality of ours and I am happy to report that we seem to be doing ok. We are not headed towards the divorce court. But,alas, with most tragedy brings change. And my husband welcomed this change. With open arms. Bastard.

So after nine years of a steady pay check, he decided to make the leap and switch things around. Go out into the field. After all, we live in ALBERTA. The land of the oilsands. Prosperity checks. King Ralph. There is money to be made, it's just for the taking. And he is right. Change is good. The economy is booming. Why shouldn't we take advantage of it. Right???
Let me tell you why. Because I am neurotic. Change is not good. It is stressful. It is hard. Nine years meant job security, higher vacation pay, R.R.S.P contributions, and a disgustingly good wage. All for pushing a broom. (Just kidding honey, we all know how hard welders work.)

Not only did he change jobs, he changed shifts. So now he works grave shift. No more crawling into bed together, no warming my freezing feet between his butt cheeks, I mean, legs. He now gets home when the kids get up and has breakfast with them. Makes their lunches. That is MY job, bucko. He then proceeds to sleep all day, and gets up when the kid come home from school. He helps them with their homework, makes jokes, helps me with supper preparations. All of this and he is making darn near double the money. So why am I complaining?

Neurotic. I believe I mentioned that. And my house makes really weird sounds at night when I am by myself.

Inaugural Blog

Welcome Internet.

To those imaginary friends out there, welcome to my life. This blog is dedicated to all the people, boys and girls alike, who feel as if their life is adrift. I recently turned 30, and while I have accomplished many goals i.e. marriage, parenting, post-secondary loans and a mortgage, I find myself feeling that there must be more to life than this. Perhaps it is because I have so few to share my thoughts with. Hubby works his fingers to the nub to support me in the life I have grown accustomed to (real Kraft dinner, not the no-name crap!) and so I rarely get a chance to bend his ear about the important things in life. (I mean, really, who DOESN'T care if Brad and Angelina get married?) Living on an acreage, without many neighbors and a proclivity for staring at a computer screen does not breed bountiful friendships. For the few friends I have managed not to drive away, don't get your panties in a twist, you know I love you, need you, would be lost without you. It's just I can only bore you with my woes so often.

So here I am, writing for the invisible, with little chance it will actually be read by someone with a pulse. After all, we mothers are in cahoots, and are clogging up the blogline. Yeehah. Has anyone actually spent a whole day reading blog after blog? Yes, that would be me, and I am here to tell you, besides the bruised bottom and the occasional chuckle, all I got was, you guessed it, bleary eyed with more blogs to read.

But in the spirit of there is never enough, here I am internet. I know that you will always love me.