I am a perfectionist. I only pursue perfection in areas I think I can actually achieve perfection in, such as:
- go kart racing
- word usage
- fashionable ensembles
- untidy surface of my dresser (okay, disastrous would probably be a better adjective here)
- unfinished craft projects
- pie crust (I just buy it. Boo-yah.)
So naturally I married a Type A man. I calm him down. Or try. He spurs me to action, without which I might never leave the house on weekends.
I take parental attention for granted. Children 3 and 4 are constantly seeking that attention, or obsessively pretending like they don't need it anyway. Poor middle kids. I think they get the crappiest piece of the family pie.
My brother (#2) once fantasized that our parents had stopped at two kids. What a fabulous life we would have had, he mused. It's true we would have had nicer clothes. Much nicer clothes. But when my sister (#5) calls me to let me know that if I love her, I will buy a magazine for her high school fundraiser, or I leave completely random information on my brother's (#3) Facebo0k wall, knowing he will find it hilarious, I can't help but be glad for all those siblings.
But I could really use a break.
*NY Jill got married this summer! Shout out to the married lady!