Look at me

How charming. I’ve become that which I feared the most: A suburban single mom, living in a modestly-large house, driving a practical sedan, while dreaming (dreaming!) of upgrading to an SUV or a minivan. I somehow muddle through a life filled with work, educational and/or fun trips and activities appointments, and raising an almost-four-year-old precocious toddler whose purpose in life appears to be loving me, playing, and teaching me how to be a better person: “Mom, don’t talk with your mouth full!” Wait until you’re done.”

I struggle to find the balance between not living in filth, yet still having time to read. I’ve become quite adept at finding tiny pockets of time to keep up with my life, which is why on my lunch breaks for work I can typically be found cleaning the house (I have the luxury of working from home, all but one day in each work week), running errands, or grocery shopping.

Yet, I am still always a bit behind with something: The laundry, finding the missing library book about a boy and his dragon, or vacuuming (why does it need to be done so frequently?!)

My once relatively chic wardrobe has been replaced with mommyish clothing and I find I truly don’t care, I’m just happen to be clothed, even if it’s not terribly exciting or original.

I am learning, albeit slowly to stop living in the shadow of my former thinner, chicer, and less-harried self.

Welcome to Catidid Life.



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