5 Things I Miss about Going to an Office

It's been three, almost four, years since I dropped out of the "rat race" and settled down quietly into the confines of home. Deciding on giving it all up (as if there was that much to give up---there wasn't) came really easy for me. There was no other option. I had to. The pay was better, I would be able to look after my son, and I'd have the freedom to go back and forth the little town where we used to live and wherever I wanted to go (although I truly am too lazy to ~travel~ like everyone else).

For the last three years, I've been comfortable. I've accomplished much because I stay at home. Although, sometimes---recently, it's been most of the time---I feel lonely. My son goes to school the entire day, my husband goes to work too. So I am left alone most of the day, and it gets boring.

I Want to Be That Kind of Parent

For every waking day of my entire seven-year parental life, I've been nervous. Saying that would be an understatement, actually. 

I am constantly at the edge of my seat. All I want is to be good at what I do. And to do it right. To not screw up. You can't blame me though. 

A Letter for Yuri

Dear Yuri,

At the time I am writing this, you are 3 days shy of being four years old. I am sitting in front of a beat-up PC and listening to Hanson, which you would hate if you were here. Don't worry, even if your father has not sent them to prison for no particular reason, I promise not to play any of their songs whenever we're together. That's a deal. 

I promise to not listen to Hanson as long as you promise to make this face more often.

So anyway, your birthday is coming up. And my heart is breaking because I'm broke. Well, as usual. I just hope that by the time you're old enough to know how to read and actually go through this post, you would have had several fantastic birthdays---birthdays that I actually paid for myself. But if not, please don't hate me. I promise to work harder and manage to throw you a grand one soon.

I'm talking about your upcoming birthday, but why don't I talk about the actual day you were born? Well, after 11 hours of labor and a million IE's that almost killed me of pain, I managed to cough you right out on May 14, 2008, 1:18 PM---oh yes I did! All 7 pounds and 6 ounces of you, baby boy!