the one about the yoga pants and the name change

Since welcoming a surprise addition to our family a little less than two years ago, I have been scrambling to find that new normal that everyone says will come. Since having a baby at my "advanced age", I have been feeling a little lost in the process. I don't look like myself, I don't feel like myself, and I don't have much time to act like myself. Such first world problems, right? The need to find oneself? But here I am in the midst of it. Eh, who am I kidding? Most days I care more about finding time to shower than finding my purpose in life. Not sure what my kids have against me bathing, sleeping, and eating, but damned if they don't manage to prevent one or more of these things from happening on a daily basis. So, when you are knee deep in plastic toys and sleep-deprivation, tiny issues can look like big issues. And if you have a flair for the dramatic, you may end up standing in a pair of crumb-covered black yoga pants (that you swore you would never have), wailing about not having showered, and never getting to leave the house, even if you have to leave the house in a minivan (that you swore you would never have). Your husband will stare back at you, with eyes wide, but as tired as your own, and you will envy his stupid job that allows him to leave the house and speak with people in the outside world, even though you don't even really like speaking to people in the outside world. The fact that he gets up at 5:45 every morning means nothing in that moment, because HE GETS A LUNCH BREAK! Then you have a pepsi, and take a shower, and put on some makeup, with the bits of brushes that haven't been relocated or re-purposed by your toddler, and you put on jeans instead of yoga pants, and you feel better. At least until you walk downstairs and see the house that looks like it has been looted by wild animals, and realize that you have not managed to accomplish a single thing on your to-do list, 90% of which was pretty damn important. Then your stress level rises, and no amount of denim wearing and pepsi can stop it. You realize that something has to give........You argue that everything has already had to give..........You get mad......You get sad.........You get mopey.......You get crabby..........You get mad because you are sad, mopey, and crabby. You wonder how the hell everyone else manages to handle their lives, while you are constantly running around in damage control mode. You blame their competence on pinterest and unhealthy levels of caffeine consumption. They must never sleep, right? No, that can't be it. Can it? You wonder why you are the only person that is still in pajamas at dinner time. And speaking of dinner....why have you never made a crock pot meal, or frozen a month's worth of healthy meals? Slacker. Geez. Then you just want to take a nap....I mean, you're already dressed for it. If this is just me, please don't tell me. You can post a whole pinterest board about it, though. I'll never see it there. So, in the midst of all of my diaper changing and existential angst, it became clear that something had to give. I took a quick inventory.....husband? No we like him.......Kids? Pretty sure its too late to return any of them now, and I'm pretty sure I couldn't find the receipts if I tried. That left one thing....my business. So, I have turned it over and over in my head many times, trying to determine exactly what that means. For now, that means scaling back. Less business and marketing stuff. Less workload. Adding a little bit to the turnaround time. I have also decided to go back to just being myself. No more double scoop photography. Just me. Melodee Tonti. Not sure why that was so important to me. Maybe because it is the best way I know to feel like myself again. Maybe because it is one thing that belongs to me, and only me in this family, considering my phone is covered in tiny fingerprints, my ipad is filled with pages of toddler apps, and my daughter fits into my clothes. And until one of my children discovers my passwords, my blog is pretty safe, too. So, here I am. Back at the old blog, ready to try some new things, to try to find the old me, to make a new start. Or something. I never promised that I would make sense. So check back and let me know you what you think every once in awhile, because I desperately to talk to someone about something other than Team Umizoomi or firetrucks.