Recently, on FB, I read some inspirational little ditty about “being the sum of one’s experiences” and me, being the kind of gal who hates optimistic musings, I blocked that FB friend because, really, I’m more of a glass is half empty and filled with cyanide sort of person and I hate it when people rain on that parade. Except now I can’t stop imagining myself as some amalgamation of my own decision-making. And from what I remember – there are a lot of hazy moments – it’s mostly poor decision-making. I guess not in a selling-my-body-for-crack-rock sort of way, so there is that, but it’s still questionable:

- There was my gang member boyfriend in high school. And while, yes, I know, teenagers shouldn’t even be allowed to choose breakfast cereal due to their crazed hormonal states, I’m not sure that breaking up with your first boyfriend because he’s doin’ 2-5 in the clink is really the same as letting some jock, playboy get to 3rd base.

- Then there was the clothing-optional, vegetarian co-operative (read: drug fueled hippie commune) I lived at in college. Certainly fun, but probably not the best for my G.P.A., although I was getting 2 art degrees so, really, it’s not as if the extracurricular activities interfered with all of the studying I had to do. Perhaps, though, if I had put down the peace pipe, I would’ve realized that I was most definitely NOT cut out to be a struggling artist. I’m a neurotic, overly-sensitive, germaphobe, who’s most certainly not cut out to live in the trenches, existing solely on the belief that art can change the world.

- And recently, I got rid of cable. It’s true. I thought I’d get more done. I’d finish my Pulitzer-prize winning novel. I’d become a yogi master and a meditation expert. I’d finally read Ulysses all the way through…and get it. The simple stuff, really. But it has quickly become apparent that all is not as it should be. Instead of mornings watching NY1 I now rely on podcasts and the hope that my 3 year old’s mouth will be so full of bagel he won’t be able to make a sound for 3 minutes.

Alas, most morning info sessions now go a little like this:

“Today in Pakistan, officials…” “…need chocolate cake? Because I like chocolate. It is my favorite.” “It has been confirmed that Gabrielle Giffords has been released with…” “…10 dinosaurs. They eat meat. Except for the brachiosaurus he eats plants. I don’t like green stuff so I must be a T-Rex.” “President Obama has…” “…colored on my table. It was an accident. And I colored on my shirt. That was an accident too.”

Also, I realized that without cable my confidence in both myself and my mothering has fallen dramatically. Unable to compare any daily activities to those of Snooki, a RHNJ, or some family desperate for the guidance of Supernanny, I’ve lost my way. How am I supposed to congratulate myself for making it through an entire day without throwing a table across the room or vomiting all over some policeman’s shoes?

At least there is the comfort of knowing there are some things I properly resisted:

The M.C. Hammer Tramp Stamp

Totally a picture of my back side.

The Kickin’ Kid N’ Play haircut

I do look good though. Could be the dope jacket.

The Chance to Rock Bret’s World

Perfect example of the crazy shit that gets created when there is no cable.

One of my best decisions to date has been to join the fabulous ladies over at The Mouthy Housewives! They, on the other hand, may view their decision a little bit differently…