Confessions of a Facebook Failure: Let’s Get Down

CONFESSIONS OF A FACEBOOK FAILURE: Year 3 Day 11

Concerned commenters see me sitting on the concrete with a pile of little people balancing and bouncing on my belly and often share their sympathy on how hard it must be to handle, sympathetically stating, “Are you sure you should be getting down on the ground like that?”

So, I simply share that getting down has never been the struggle. It is the getting up part that poses a problem, with the wavering balance of the watermelon belly, while batting away the little leeches. So I have learned to be strategic. Let me explain…

The other day my husband saw me kicking the clutter of kid’s crap across the floor into a growing heap of randomness, and then proceeding onto another abandoned puzzle piece or pair of pajamas that had been littered by my littles, to claim as my fantasy futbol to kick towards the growing landfill goal. So he flashed me that look that says, “I want to ask what the heck you are doing, but I am afraid if I do, I might have to help, so…” So I put him out of his misery and explained my ingenious innovation. You see , every time I’m burdened to bend down I have the pleasant experience of having to hold my breath and grunt like a man, as I shove a baby into my lungs. So, as not to concede to laziness and leave the litter to consume us all, I have manufactured a method of maneuvering the mess into a single soccer-kicked pile,  so I only need to perform the watermelon roller coaster once. Laziness averted. Lungs spared.

So he pauses (where he should have stopped) and states with a smile, “Isn’t it funny how you say you are avoiding being lazy, by describing yourself in the laziest scenario imaginable.”

So I pause. Then stare. Then growl. And finally his sanity returns as he confesses, “I guess, maybe, I shouldn’t have said that to a pregnant woman.” You think?

Sorry ladies. He’s taken.

If you can relate, please LIKE, or SHARE, or FOLLOW, or read some more.

Help me avoid the morning-after-writer’s-remorse that wells from the paranoia of my signature self-shaming, by giving me your virtual nod and smile, and I will promise to divulge deeper despairs in days to come