I’m having one of those days. You know, the kind where you find yourself craving all the fat, sugar, and salt in the world. In other words, you desire an opportunity to eat your feelings. Or chips, salsa, and guacamole chased by a margarita, whatever.
It is seriously not my finest moment. Well, last night when I forgot to get Littlest from his friend’s house until 30 minutes later…that was probably a really not-fine moment. But today is ranking up there too.
It’s like I’m at the epicenter of a storm of pet ownership, menstrual angst, parenting, and career issues. I’m probably only about ten minutes away from being given a new name by the weather bureau. In case you are wondering why I’m so close to flying off the deep end, let me elaborate.
As folks know, it is November and we are heading quickly towards the US holiday, Thanksgiving. (Which falls this year on my 21st wedding anniversary. Turkey flavored cake, honey?) For several years, I have briefly considered participating in the NaNoWriMo writing competition, but never have. However, for some reason I felt this year I should ignore my strongly held beliefs that NaNoWriMo is the worst idea on the planet and participate. (To be honest, it actually is a great thing, it would just be greater in say February when there isn’t as much going on besides stocking up on chocolate which most writers would totally get behind.)
Anyhoo, I’m NaNoing and it’s not going badly, if sleep deprivation and a really messy home aren’t issues for people. They are for me, so I’m not only feeling a bit more crazed than usual, but I keep trying to get sick.
I decided to grab a fresh cup of coffee and the last gluten free chocolate chip cookies and head upstairs to my lovely new novel I’m working on.
But first, I realized the pet gate in the laundry room was down. Now, normally this is a sort-of issue. But today, it is a big issue that needed to be corrected. Because old cat peed on Middlest’s bed. Again. Mister Soandso got most of the stuff in the laundry last night, but the comforter is still in the laundry basket.
I was reminded of this because Charlie was standing just inside the laundry room with that look on his face. The look that says “I smell Pepper’s pee. I think I should go eat all the cat food and then pee all over the floor. Because I am the dog and my pee shall reign supreme.”
At this moment, I had a few choices to make, and you can bet that I made the one that didn’t work out so well.
Instead of putting down my very full coffee cup, or the chocolate chip cookies down (because that would be gross seeing as how they were not on a plate or anything), I attempted to use my MOM-POWERS to set up the pet gate. Which pretty much means I use the last three fingers of my right hand to hold my coffee cup, whilst pinching the cookies between my index finger and thumb AND my left hand to pick up gate, balance it on my foot, while I lifted the pressure bar to get the gate in place, all the while hip-checking Charlie who is really interested in going in the room.
Alas, a cookie broke and fell on the floor, my coffee spilled, the gate pressure arm was off its track, and the dog ignored my commands (aka pleas) to not go in there.
Meanwhile, I’ve only got like an hour before I have to get the kids from point A to point B, I still haven’t got Middlest’s comforter washed, nor have I phoned Littlest’s friend to arrange a playdate (for like the millionth day in a row). Instead, I’ve eaten my remaining chocolate chip cookie, drank all the coffee, and McGyver-ed several items into heating pads for some of the worst PMS related issues I’ve had in the past thirty-five years.
So yeah, please send all your comfort foods. And Advil. I seem to have run out.
Much of the world is talking about motherhood today in view of the impending arrival of the next member of Queen Elizabeth’s family. Having given birth three times, I hope that things are going well for you, Kate. Even when it goes well, it isn’t an easy process going from awaiting a child to being the mother of a child.
That connection between mother and child continues long after the umbilical cord is cut. In fact, an umbilical cord need not even have connected a mother and child, if the truth be told. Mothering is more in the day-to-day than the growing and birthing of a child. I believe in the connection between a mother and her children. That connection is apparent in every adult’s life when they realize they have said or done something exactly how their mother would have said or done it. (The same is true with dads.) Read more…
I have a teenager. Biggest is thirteen years old, his voice has gone to that crazy place of deeper valleys and broken crags; his feet seem too large for his body. There is no way I can ignore that he is a teenager very near the cusp of the man he will, one day and all too soon it seems, become. And yesterday, loving him sucked so much.
I suppose I should be more clear – I adore my son. I love him with all my old lady heart. And loving him doesn’t suck. Except when it sucks my old lady heart out and leaves it hurting. Read more…
I give thanks for many things. Many of them are you.
The girl paused, one hand on her belly, the other holding a can of tuna fish. There was something about her face that caused the old woman to leave her shopping cart and approach her.
“Are you alright my dear?”
“What? Oh, I’m fine. Just feel odd, that’s all. Perhaps if I sit down,” the young woman mumbled, setting the tuna back amongst the tidy rows and then leaning against the shelves. Read more…
Over the weekend my daughter was invited to attend a birthday party held at the local roller skating rink. I tend to stay at the birthday parties my kids attend, mostly because I know how exhausting it is to be the adult in charge. It is a big old barn of a building and smells a little funny, as if thousands of sweaty folks have encircled its space for the past forty-odd years. Which, we can assume, is exactly what has been happening.
I stood alongside the wall for 2 hours as I watched my daughter stubbornly move around the rink, progressing from that painful mincing shuffle to small glides on her rented skates. It was great to watch her gain confidence and see her smile get bigger and bigger. It was also a 2 hour trip down my own memory lane. Read more…