guilt shmilt

I am sick and tired of feeling guilty.
About what? you ask.
Well, about everything.

It's pathetic. Really.

OK, fine. I'll list them for you, if you insist.

I am tired of feeling guilty about eating that last chocolate chip cookie. You know. The one I'd promised to save for Noni. The one that I will look into her little blue eyes and tell a bold faced lie to - Huh. No, honey, I guess that I don't know what cookie you are talking about. Maybe, your dad ate it...? - The cookie that I ate after 9:00 PM. After I'd already brushed my teeth. After I'd let the dog out and after told Daddyman that I was going up to bed because, Oh, I am so tired... The cookie that I was certain that he'd eat if I didn't get to it first. So, I got there first. And I ate it. In two bites.
Yea. That cookie.

I am tired of feeling guilty about not raking the leaves off of my lawn. I know that the leaves will give my grass some strange mold. I know that my neighbors think it looks trashy. I know that next spring it's going to be impossible to have a nice looking yard - but, heck, I've already got 3 kids and a dog who poops everywhere. The dog. Not the kids. That I know of - why should I even bother trying? So what if the kids would love to jump into the pile so mommy can rake them up again so they can jump in it again so mommy has to rake them up AGAIN. I don't really care. I call it yard art. Get used to it.

I am tired of feeling guilty for telling my girls to keep their rooms tidy, when all I've done is shove every piece of clothing I've ever owned into my closet and then wedged the door closed. You know, the 18 black sweaters that look exactly the same to Daddyman - How could you possibly need another black sweater? Don't you already have like, 20? - No. More like 18. But I can't seem to find one right now. So what if they are in a jumble in the bottom of the closet under the muddy boots that I wore to the pony ranch last weekend Yes, the same closet that I finally had to put a curtain on in place of a solid door because I couldn't lock the avalanche of black sweaters inside! Yes, the same mountain of clothes that the dog and cat sleep on. At the same time. Yes, I know that they hate each other. They can't even find each other once they've entered my closet. Yes, the same closet that the girls quit playing in because they'd get hurt falling over the 24 pairs of black shoes that never found their way into the boxes on the shelves again. I still think that the girls should keep their rooms tidy. It will help when they grow up and have to keep their own homes tidy (HAHAHAHAHA - what a stupid 'girl' thing to say. I promise, I would say the same thing if I had a son.) Can't you see what keeping my childhood bedroom neat and tidy has done for me as an adult?

I'm tired of feeling guilty about putting the milk in the cupboard. Instead of the fridge. Several times. I've obviously got other things to think about. Like all of these feelings of guilt.

I'm tire of feeling guilty about not taking my dog for a walk. Ever. Yes, the dog who looks at me with big, dopey eyes. The same dog that sleeps on my bed every night. Actually, he doesn't sleep as much as snore himself awake over and over and over again. That's how I know that he needs to go for a daily walk. He has sleep Apnea. How do I know that? you ask. Because he's fat. Because I don't take him for a walk. Because I don't own a pair of sneakers and thus, I am fat, too. So just one more thing to feel guilty about. I could just get the poor fat dog a Breathe Right Strip, but I don't think they come in Black Lab. I know they come in clear petite. It's the only think petite on me and I don't mind bragging. I use them every night. Did I mention I need to buy sneakers. But I can't just go out and buy myself a pair of sneakers because I feel the weight of so much guilt resting on my poor, tired shoulders that I can't hoist my big, fat ass off the couch to go an buy myself a pair of sneakers because who can justify $150 bucks on a pair of shoes just to walk the dog when I have 3 little kids who need to eat and I, obviously, need another black sweater to try to camouflage my fat ass.

Oh crap.

All of this guilt. I'm going to go hunt for another chocolate chip cookie.

Don't tell anyone!