Grown Woman

I feel like a stay at home mom minus the kids and husband. I move to Utah in 3 weeks. Groan/Yay! I don't know what to do with myself until then. I have two main objectives for these next 3 weeks: spend as much time with my family, friends and san diego that I can and somehow tackle to mounds upon mounds of clothes that need cleaning and packing. Seeing as how it's been just my mom and I in our home since I was a baby, we pick up each other's slack. She brings home the bacon and I try to keep the house tidy (epic failure most of the time) and keep the dogs fed, watered, played with, loved and out of any real danger. So I have grown into a housewife without the hubby, trading my gorgeous kids for 3 mischievous, hilarious and oh so cuddly dogs. I can't help but feel bad for my mom who not only has signed her life away to her 9-5 job trying to provide a comfortable life for us, but now she has the added stress of 3 dogs who think they're humans, a whole house to take care of, laundry to do, groceries to be bought, etc. I find myself moving furniture around the house, getting miraculous tasks and chores done, organizing like i've never organized before and I don't know what's happened to me. Then the other night...

Mom comes home from work.

"Omg Nicki! I can't believe you did this! I've been talking about doing this for months! Are you trying to get everything ready for me before you move to Utah?"

She cracked the code. I've been abnormally stressed these past few weeks, and now I know it's because I feel like I need to leave my mom in the very best environment so I don't have to worry. Reality check: My mother is a grown woman. She is fully capable of living her life while I'm in Utah. And I'm grateful she's going to have a house to herself, will get to eat what she wants every night, will have FULL CONTROL of the remote and DVR, endless upon endless puppy kisses and cuddles, her pick of two beds to sleep in, raid my closet of the leftovers, no one drinking all the diet coke, no one asking to use her car because mine's outta gas, no one leaving her radio on 93.3 or country stations, no one forgetting to move her seat in her car back to where it was or forgetting to turn the radio back down or the air off full blast, the only PMS she has to worry about is her own, twice as much shampoo and conditioner, not having to text me in the middle of the night asking me if my ears are plugged up because I'm talking so loud to Jason on the phone, not having to hear Michael Scott, Dwight or Jim Halpert ramble about Dunder Mifflin or Scranton on the TV at all hours of the day, not having to skip through Brooke Knows Best, Denise Richards: It's Complicated, Kendra, The Real World, The Duel, Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, Tonight Show with Conan, The Real Housewives, or any other trashy reality TV I live for on the DVR, and best of all: a whole shoe closet to herself, knowing no one is stretching out her new flats from Nordstrom.

She's gonna be fine. And I need to relax.

I'm thankful for quiet afternoons where the only noise I hear is the fan blowing cool air on my face. I'm thankful for sleeping puppies cuddled in a pile on a big fluffy blanket next to me. I'm thankful for a cold can of Diet Coke and delicious Fat Free Vanilla Ice Cream. I'm thankful that I live in San Diego where Summer is nearly perfection and I can leave my windows and doors open as long as I want. I'm thankful for Ingrid Michaelson. I'm thankful for afternoon naps.

I think I'll take a nap with my puppies now...