My current-day-self is sloppy. Get over it.

So here's the thing:

Just because I WANT to blog again and kinda, sorta have the time to blog again, doesn't mean that I have the MATERIAL to blog again.

I know you all must think that raising twins is glamorous and full of hysterical stories about poop and tequila shots, but it turns out that parenting is 99% about routine.

Monotinous, mind-numbing routine.

They eat. They poop. They sleep. They cry. Every once in a while, they laugh (and thank goodness for that or parenting would be an exercise in futility).

Lather, rinse, repeat, and you have a day in the life of Lily.

And there's the 8:00 beer(s), which occurs because they finally went to sleep and I'm wound tighter than my cat when she spots my foot moving under the covers.

And I'm sorry guys, but I drink more now, on average, than I did before I got myself pregnant.
Because I have grown-up problems now, like termites and a shotty air conditioner, whereas before I had young adult problems, like overbooking my weekend and splattering chili-infused oil on my new D&G top while trying to cook a gourmet dinner for my husband.

On a Tuesday.

These days I'm really feeling my age. Not my NUMERICAL age, but my LIFESTYLE age. Which begs the question:
If you spent your day boiling butter-nut squash and getting an oil change, exactly how old are you??

Call it a mini-life crisis, I guess. My inner self is struggling with the fact that low-rise jeans, jello shots, and radical hair colors are no longer acceptable. Not that I ever acted particularly "young" (and at this point I distinctly remember asking my college roommates if we could please go home, because it was almost midnight and I had to take my delicates out of the washer), but there's nothing like a pair of adorable yet screeming twins to remind you that if your 22-year-old self was walking down the street and passed your current-day self, your 22-year-old self would probably notice how shabby and tired and (let's be honest) a little sloppy your current-day self looks. Like maybe your current-day self should make an effort to straight-iron her hair and maybe put on a shirt that accentuates the boobage and doesn't have spit-up on the shoulder. And maybe a tic-tac. Because your current-day self probably forgot to brush her teefs that morning.

you get the idea...

So it appears that I lost the point of this post. Or maybe I never had one.
Whatever.
My current-day self needs to lose the bra and grab a beer.
My 22-year-old self might not approve, but screw her. She's got 99 problems...and none of them are real.