2 years

Tomorrow my little girl turns 2.  Yeap, it’s been 2 years.  I’m freaking out how quickly time passes by.  For example, my last post was on March 2015.  A year ago.  It’s been an intense year.

We’re moving to a new apartment, it’s been a week and I’m still carrying things from one place to another, I’m a total wreck.  This is the Holy Week and I’m missing everything.

But for the first time in a long time I feel good, and this post reveales my being happy.  I hope it lasts.


The crazy person

I’ve changed so much over the past 5 years.  With the exception of my mirror telling me this is me now,  it’s like I don’t recognize me anymore.  And the mirror, I’m telling you, it’s trying so hard.  I can see the time passing by, and to think I’m only 32, ok 33.  It has to be that I’d like to be 23 and who wouldn’t want time to stop at 23.  For some reason I feel desperate, the desperate housewife who wants to turn back time when she was happier or less frustrated or with no responsibilities what so ever.   Or maybe I’m just tired.  Tired of waiting for something to shake things up a little.  It’s the routine my friends I’m telling you.  It’s killing us.  Now, add a two month baby in the script and you’ve got yourself a crazy person.  The woman who fights with her husband over nothing, who throws things and yells for no reason, she is the one who talks to herself in the grocery store.

Ok, things are not that bad.  But, they could be unless I do something about it.  Let’s be honest, if it weren’t for this blog I’d probably be talking to that mirror I was telling you about.  What about my girl friends?  Yeap, my girl friends, they are the reminder of what life used to be prior marriage and baby.  They are helpful but let’s be honest again, can they really get into my shoes?  Truth be told they have their own problems to think about.  I have the luxury to stay at home with my baby, at least for now, but staying at home, this home to be exact, is plenty enough to turn me into that crazy person.  What’s wrong with my home?  I live in no-place land, I don’t even have an address, I’m alone, me and some mosquitoes.  Don’t forget the rottweiler.