It's that magical time year, when I drag up the last little bit of my Catholic school catechism and observe Lent by giving up Facebook. I know this sounds like a silly and superficial thing to give up, but I love Facebook with all it's time-wasting quizzes, funny posts, and cat pictures. It gives me a quick break from my alter ego as Office Manager/Amazing Wife/Doting Mother. And while it's not going to get me any closer to sainthood, it's hard for me to go the six weeks without it.
Unfortunately. this Facebook Fast coincides with all sorts of other adult responsibilities that I really don't enjoy and would really like to complain about on social media--but cannot. Because, you know, Catholic guilt.
My husband has his own business and it was decided that, as I knew how to add and subtract, I could run the business office. And somehow I was also put in charge of choosing a health insurance plan--not just for our family, mind you, but for the whole company. You would think having taken three kids to all those well-child check ups I would have a strong opinion about health insurance. But trying to sort through all the variables of coverage, while trying to keep costs down (but employees happy!) has been like trying to juggle strawberry jello in a china shop on Thursday in the rain. It makes no sense. I considered just closing my eyes and pointing at one. And the paperwork and forms and waivers and applications! Wait, did I just but a house? Okay, well at least I met my deductible.
Tax Time! Since I have an English degree and only the aforementioned accounting skills, we have a CPA that prepares our personal and corporate tax returns. However, this CPA, not having been blessed with ESP (LOL), wants me to gather all sorts of minutiae and documents and forms that only CPAs and government officials have ever heard of. What is the square root of our home office and how much did we spend on our toast bill last year? Ummm... Form 940 and our W-3? Uh yeah, I have them filed under "WTF". Luckily for me, everyone in our CPA's office understands my little financial-development delay and patiently explains "it's the paper with the numbers on it, Kristin."
My older daughter is finishing up her junior year of high school and beginning to plan for college. SATs and GPAs and MGC (Mothers Gone Crazy) are all in a swirl at our house. You would think, having been through this a few years ago with my son, this time would be easier. You would be wrong. The idea of my daughter, my baby girl, being practically an adult and moving away freaks me out so much I can only consider it in little snippets. I've gotten to the point where I can hand her the brochures she gets in the mail from potential colleges without having the urge to rip them up and run away. That's all I can promise for now. How can I get through this stage without commiserating with all my Facebook friends who have gone through the same thing? What if I feel the need to post the picture of her on her first day of kindergarten?! Ugh, even if I was promised a spot right up there next to Mother Teresa, this might not be worth it.
In conclusion, adulting is hard. Complaining in a joking manner on social media is fun.
Stay in school and don't do drugs.