Calling myself the “Clueless Mom” is an attempt at humility. In real life, I’m not humble. I think I’m all that. It’s a good thing I now have parenthood to remind me how I’m so not cool.
I’m obsessed with hyperbole. I think it’s hilarious to exaggerate the truth and I don’t like to clearly draw the line between the reality and the exaggeration. (It’s gotten me in trouble in the past. Thankfully, no one has died because of it.)
(Okay, one guy died. But just one.)
(And maybe a couple of cats.)
(You see? I have a problem.)
I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to be good at crafts and dancing, and I’m not good at either. Also, I’m finally coming to realize that I don’t like crafts.
I’ve also spent a lot of my life trying to be good at cooking, but I’m pretty good at that.
I just graduated from college. I thought I would miss it, but I don’t yet.
I talk a lot. Especially at night when my husband is trying to go to sleep.
I grew up in a beautiful vacation spot that most people would consider paradise. I never want to live there again because I’m crazy and I love cold winters.
I’m a real goody-two-shoes. I’ve never done anything bad in my whole life. (Except for the time I killed that guy because I exaggerated too much.)
I’ve tried to write more serious stuff before. It’s hard and I’m not sure I’m very good at it. Maybe someday.
I adore my baby. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than stay home and snuggle with her all day. Even though I occasionally want to rip my own hair out.