... I dropped the kids off at my moms, then spent 2 hours of free time setting up for Vacation Bible School.
Yes, you heard that right.
My official stance on religion: I believe in God. I want Him in my kids’ life. But dancing and singing to an island themed Jesus fest entitled Treasure of the Son? I’m having some doubts. What happened to us Catholics being reserved boring folk who said the mass in Latin and convinced ourselves that since we weren’t on the pill we weren’t technically having sex?
I proceeded to lose my cell phone for the fifth time since Pip’s been born, empty three bags of crap from the SUV, flog myself for not going to Blogher, flog myself for being vain enough to want to go, flog myself for not having a better direction in my life, flog myself for putting myself so last on the list this week that my SUV is worthy of a FEMA application, my underware is still M.I.A., I’m out of milk for my coffee, I wasted all my free babysitting hours this week forgetting my wallet and messing up my computer, I was late taking Stink to school, my kids have no bottles to be found, and I can’t believe I spent 24 hours worrying about a job that in reality would have been horrific for my sanity.
Now how can I continue to beat myself up in good Catholic guilt if I’m dancing around a palm treed tent singing “God is Patient, God is Kind”? Personally I’m about as patient these days as a paparazzi squatting outside a port-a-potty attempting to snap a picture of baby Suri while Katie walks zombie-like through Colorado mountain regions looking more puffed than a rice cake. And let's not forget she used to be Catholic, so it's guilty rice cake - not a great combination.
Oh, so you're sick of hearing about Katie and Tom? Too bad.
Screw everyone. (But in a "loving" "kind" way.)