I am pretty sure that this parade was in my honor. Even though it was held two weeks before I was Freshly Pressed.It is common knowledge that they hone psychic abilities in band camp..
Yesterday, I had a blog featured on Freshly Pressed. I was stunned. First of all, because when I started blogging, my goal was to make FP by my birthday. I only missed it by one day. Secondly, because I couldn’t believe they had chosen that post as my best. Why not this one? But whatevs.
My life has become a crazy circus since receiving the honor. Here’s the wacky stuff that has happened:
I have been bombarded with requests for my autograph. UPS guy, cashier at Wal-mart, teachers. It’s nuts. How do these people know?
Someone has already approached me about the rights to my life’s story. Like I’m going to share my socioeconomic background and ages of minor children in my home for a lousy $5 Wal-mart gift card.
The paparazzi are already stalking me: Someone was going through my trash last night. Trying to get the goods on me, I am sure. Very clever to disguise themselves as garbage collectors.
I woke to find myself in bed with someone other than my husband. Who knew fame would get so wild so quickly. Of course it was Squish, and he was warming his ice-cold feet on my leg, but I prefer to think that he was actually basking in the glow of my fame.
I was greeted with applause when I came out of the bathroom this morning. Yes, Squish again. I’m pretty sure he was saying “Awesome blog post, Mom!” and not “Way to make it to the potty in time!” And he offered me a treat. He might be my biggest fan.
My financial advisor has been very involved in everything I do. She’s right at my heels, and she is oh, so enthusiastic. I think she senses a major financial boom as a result of my newest honor. I know it’s not because she’s hungry and I forgot to feed her. I don’t think…
But it’s not all applause and potty treats, friends. Sometimes fame turns ugly. As I was returning home after walking my son to school, I saw it. My heart raced as I ran my hand along the brand-new dent in my husband’s car door. On the passenger’s side. That dent was meant for me.
So there you have it. Be careful what you wish for. Being Freshly Pressed is a magic monkey paw. Use with caution.
I live in a zoo. Or a circus. Some days it is tough to distinguish which. I own a snake, have two imaginary friends, three kids, and I once purchased a sham-wow. I think that's all you need to know about me.
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