Thirty One

  My birthday is approaching again. This is the time of year where I engage in meaningless self- reflection. I generally don't make a big deal about my birthday. Turning 31 isn't special. I am grateful that I've lived through another rotation of the sun but I'm not going to go around blabbing about it and inconveniencing people by making them feel like that have to acknowledge it. I get annoyed at people that make a big deal out of their birthday. Some people are like, "I'm celebrating my birthday month." I'm in the background thinking, Bitch, please. Unless you are Oprah, you don't need a whole month to celebrate.

I usually don't ask for anything on my birthday because I can never think of anything good that I want. But this year, I am breaking tradition. I am asking for a gift. Wait for it.....I want a steam mop. How depressing.

When I lost my job, one of the first luxuries to go was our weekly house cleanings. So now I have to clean my own house. It's bullsh*t if you ask me.

                  
Now, I have to mop my own floors. I seriously have not picked up a mop in 3 in a half years. I try to mop now at least twice a week. One day I was mopping the floor and hating it. I moved the mop back and forth across the floor and had a little chat with God. I know you have a plan and everything, and I trust you and I am grateful for all that I have but I think there might be a mix up. I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be in St. Tropez right now on holiday. I also am wondering where my mansion and Mercedes is. I know there is Elbola and wars and starving people and what not, but if you could work on that....that would be great. I know I am a horrible person, but admit it - you've done the same thing at least once.

I stuck my mop in the brown, dirty mop water. That's when it came to me. I can ask for a steam mop. It's not a million dollars, but it will make mopping a lot easier for me - so it's a step in the right direction.

As I have gotten older my expectations have changed so much. When I was younger, I was sure that I was going to BE somebody one day, I was going to change the world. Every kid thinks that. I wanted to be an OBGYN. I was going to deliver babies. Then, I discovered that I would have to do the GYN part too and the thought of having to deal with people's smelly vaginal discharge and menstrual cramps did not appeal to me. Then, I decided I would be an English teacher. I would teach in an inner-city school. Can you see me now? Sitting at the corner of my desk, reciting William Carlos William poems? The would-be thugs in my class would be so inspired that they would chose to express themselves through the power of poetry instead of gang banging and lives would surely be saved.

I went to college for English and Education. As part of the program, I had the opportunity to shadow a high school English teacher. Her kids were dumb. She told me I should jump off a bridge before I become an English teacher. Consequently, I have a minor in English because I went to the registrar the next day to jump off that train.

Then I had kids and I realized that I didn't really care about changing the world or being somebody. All I really wanted was more sleep and to eat a pint of Ben and Jerrys ice cream without gaining 3 pounds.

When did that happen? When did I start getting excited about household appliances with retractable chords? When did I start examining my hair for grays and bitching about my fine lines? When did granny panties start appearing in my dresser? It happens slowly, the slide from hopeful youth into jaded adulthood.

At 21, I wanted to world. At 31, all I want is a steam mop, a Groupon for Botox, and 20 minutes alone with my husband without the kids interrupting. It doesn't even have to be a good 20 minutes.

I don't know where I am going with this exactly, I'm tired and rambling. I think the point is that I hate mopping and I have given up on life a little bit. But, I'm sure you knew that already.