Millions of people all over the United States are pumped for tomorrow's big Super Bowl game but I'm not one of them. I know, I know, I'm un-American and don't know how to have fun, blah, blah. When I was 20 I didn't want anyone to think that so I acted like I cared or half-understood the game, but I own it now. Because the only guy I care about impressing is my husband and I think he's on to me by now, given the fact that for the past ten Super Bowls I've only come into the room to hover over the snacks & watch the halftime show.
If you're one of the tens of people that are with me on this, read on--you're not alone! If you're one of the millions not with me it's okay, you can go get your snacks prepped for tomorrow (or continue to read and then comment about what a stick-in-the-mud I am).
It's not just the Super Bowl I don't get, it's our fascination with football in general. When you really break it down, it's just a bunch of large men chasing after a ball and knocking each other down to get it--and they get paid millions & millions of dollars to do this, while police officers who put their lives on the line for their jobs and teachers who educate the youth of our country are living paycheck to paycheck. It's just weird to me. I guess I just think to deeply about it and need to lighten up--it's just a game, right? I just think sometimes the things our country prioritizes are bit out of order.
So no, I'm not "anti-Super Bowl", we'll watch it & have some fun, but I won't be the one to ask what happened if you miss a part of the game. "They ran some more" will be my only response as I shovel down some more 5-layer dip on the couch and lament over how JLo is in better shape than me.
I think, unless you're a real die-hard fan of one of the teams, the big game is really just a chance for millions of people who are overworked and stressed out to have an excuse to let loose, eat some good snacks, have a few beers, and enjoy some good times with friends--and I'm always down for that.
Some realizations sneak up on you slowly — you look back & can’t quite pinpoint the “when” or “where”…they just happen over time. And then there are moments when awareness hits you like a bolt of lightning.
⚡️⚡️November 24, 2019 ⚡️⚡️
That’s the exact day I realized a sad, inevitable fact: I’m getting old.
It was 8:09 p.m. & I had just laid down for bed (yes, yes, I know…that should’ve been Clue #1). I turned on the American Music Awards. I saw the first presenter & wondered “hmm, who’s that?” (It was one of the “Lil” somethings…) Then he introduced an act I’d never heard of and she began “singing” in a way that seems to be the new style — a seemingly intentional off-tune whisper/slurring (“whurring”?) that really just seems more like talking.
Can we just agree it’s talking?
And the outfit…I just can’t. (Or couldn’t, I should say.)
“Who are these people and what kind of noise is this?! They call this music?! I don’t get it! What the heck is going on?!”
⚡️⚡️ And that’s when it hit me ⚡️ ⚡️
👵🏻 👵🏻 👵🏻 I’m getting old. 👵🏻 👵🏻 👵🏻
I was jogging (ok, walking & every now and then jogging for like two seconds so I can say I went jogging) & the song "7 Rings" by Ariana Grande came on. Catchy little tune, although I think the credit for that part mostly goes to the OG Julie Andrews. The lyrics, though...
Could we get more unrelatable? (wondered the middle class, middle-aged working mom).
I can relate to her mention of ATM's, although for me it usually involves a balance transfer so I don't overdraw at Publix.
I'm not sure what a "flossy neck" means exactly, although I can relate to noticing the first stages of "turkey neck" emerging.
And, yes, my receipts do "be lookin' like phone numbers" every time I go to Target even though I came in to only get paper towels. Unfortunately my income be lookin' more like a zip code.
I was just reading yet another article painting Millenials in a negative light (seems to be the thing right now) and I wondered to myself "what generation am I considered a member of anyway?" At 38, I seem a little too old to be a Millenial, but a little too young to be a member of Generation X. I looked it up and, sure enough, my birth year of 1980 lands right on the cusp. As one site puts it, 38 years of age is the "oldest possible Millenial", like I'm some kind of rare relic still roaming the Earth, yet also young enough to be considered at least snowflake-light. In other words, the best of both worlds.
I was born in 1980 and had about the best upbringing ever. Of course my mom would've been awesome in any generation, but in honor of Mother's Day and the popular "Top 10" countdowns of the 80's, here's the top 10 reasons why being raised by an 80's mom was bitchin'. (I apologize in advance for the forced overuse of 80's slang.)
#10-She didn't have to leave the house to workout. No gym daycares for us. She got her aerobics on and her mom on at the same time. As you can tell, good habits rub off.
I'm Krissy & I'm so thankful you're here. Teacher-Mom life is rewarding but it's tough--we need fuel (& each other) to keep going. I hope this is a place you can go that feels like caffeine for the soul--uplifting & highly addictive ;) Check out the categories below and, if you like what you read, subscribe to make sure you always have good Sunday morning reading to go with your coffee :)