or maybe I am.

So I know that my blog is mostly a glossed over peek into my version of motherhood and being a housewife. But I've been thinking a lot about changing that. I don't mean I'm going to go all "my life sucks" on you, but on the days I'm having a hard time, I'm not going to hold back. Well, maybe I'll hold back a bit, but I'm not going to post something fun when my head is telling me to just let it all out. I'm going to try to express what I'm thinking, but since I'm not a very good writer (did you read those two damn long posts about PW? I need to figure out how to be short and to the point!) try is all I can give you. Recently I came across a blog, well OK, dooce had been talking about it on Twitter, The Girl Who, that I was really getting into. I started reading the archives, and read her love story, Mormon to Married in Manhattan, and started to get to know her through her writing. Let me rephrase that: started to get to know her through her AMAZING writing. I love the way she writes. I just love it. She wrote a funny post about Facebook (or as she calls it, Facefuck) and came to the crazy realization that we not only grew up in the same hometown, but we went to High School together. And not only did we go to High School together, but we were in the same graduating class. (Not gonna give any details, I feel old enough already some days) So I read a bit more of her archives and found her maiden name, and read more about her childhood. I got out my yearbooks (yeah, I'm a little ashamed of that) and looked her up. We didn't have the same friends, although I knew who she was and who her friends were. She was a popular girl that dated a football player, and I was less than popular that liked drama and choir (and dated a geek, yes, I CAN admit to that now). As I made this discovery, I started thinking. I of course started thinking about how appearances can be deceiving (or from one of my favorite songs by Insipid Brown "appearances are so misleading") and how I thought things were perfect for the blond, blue eyed, cheerleader type that seemed to have it all. And they weren't. Not by a long shot. I also started thinking about how things change. How the people I though were going to be successful after high school, are not the ones I consider successful now, or the ones I thought would have it good, are actually screw ups. Every once in a while an old schoolmate will end up in the news, and not in a good way. In fact a few years ago, a girl I desperately wanted to be friends with, and I wanted to like me in the worst way ended up being caught stealing identities from college students, and committing fraud. What!? That was just about as bad as seeing a kid from Junior high on the news for trying to rob a bank with his brother (seriously. And I won't tell you about a former friend from Junior High that didn't help save a girl from ODing. It is just too crazy). The one thing I think most about though as I find out about people from high school and what their lives are like, is me and my life. I find out that The Girl Who is a TV producer for a local news station. I find out that the tall redhead with big boobs that could sing, and act, and make friends like there is no tomorrow, has written her own plays, and music and lives in New York and doesn't look much older than when we graduated (bitch). I know I should say "who cares" and I know I should be grateful for what I DO have (and I am, every day I am so grateful for my husband and kids and the life we have made, and the great friends I have) but I wonder what I have contributed to society. I wonder why my life isn't as exciting as theirs. I feel like I do the same things day in and day out and it is boring a repetitive. I know many of you feel the same way sometimes. Or do you? Oh my God! I just took a bit of a break from writing this post, and realized I sound a bit whiny. OK so really whiny. I'm going to leave it as is, since these are the things I think about sometimes. Do you feel that way? Or am I just a nut? And truthfully, I am NOT looking for validation, well, not in the "You have a great life. You have a great family and your kids are your contribution to society" kind of way. I mean, tell me I'm not alone, or not crazy. Or tell me I am. I might just need that slap in the face to get me back on track, and to realize that being "just a Mom" is OK.