Now that I’m tanned, fed and no longer sleep deprived, I’m started to ponder some deeper questions. Is 5’2 the maximum height Snooki’s baby can hope for? Would Jen Garner have had a third if she had one of each first? Are Gwynnie’s ovaries whining now that she is always holding baby Blue?
And then somehow this question popped into my head: WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?
In sad contradiction to my 30s, I was the most certain teen I knew. Since my junior high days, I can recall countless essays and papers spent detailing my life in the YEAR 2000 (sung in the Conan theme). It looked like this —
Two kids, a boy and a girl. CHECK.
Home owner. CHECK (it’s not our home, but it is technically home to someone).
Wait a minute second! You know what this means?? I have accomplished all my goals in life! Woo-hoo! I never wavered in my path and now I am living proof that with determination and hard work you can achieve anything you want.
And then what??
I’m too young to be having a mid-life crisis, but I spend most of my days generally lost and confused. Even when I am happy and in the moment, there is the nagging feeling that something is out of place. Are Chloe’s pants on inside out? Are there a handful of Cheerios in the shoe I just put on? Oh no, I just don’t recognize myself at all. That’s what it is!
I’d love to blame this on my kids and say that being home with them isn’t stimulating enough, but it’s simply not true. I had a full-time job until just a few
months weeks days minutes, a short while ago (ok, that’s another story). Still I questioned my identity as a lawyer pretty much every second I sat behind that computer.
So I ask myself for the bajillionth time – WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE CARINN?
Back at the drawing board, I wanted to be armed with important information — 2012’s list of the worst jobs and a reminder that others have it worse:
#7, meter reader. Sounded ok until I read they get shot at regularly.
#4, oil rig worker. I have no idea what an oil rig worker does but I once loved watching Deadliest Catch. Does that make me qualified to judge?
#1 worst job, the Lumberjack. Not to be confused with my #1 favorite breakfast, the Lumberjack, consisting of two eggs, bacon and a light fluffy pancake.
Ok, well now I’m hungry. Figuring out the rest of my life will have to wait until after breakfast.