I’m hibernating these days.
I’m keeping my hat on and my head down in the school drop-off lane. I’m declining all those glorious PTA committee chair requests — ‘Why, no, as much as I’d love to sell Krispy Kremes or head up the Second Grade Fun Run, I have to pass. Thanks so much for thinking of me!’
I’m trying my best to keep my social interactions intentional and to a minimum. I’m trying to settle in to our new place, sell/rent the old one, and write.
It’s unfortunate that I’m not a more renowned artist or accomplished writer. People might be more understanding of my need to hunker down with my thoughts — “Viv can’t be here. She’s got a plot twist marinating, but she wanted me to give you all her love and well wishes.”
I dream of the day when I don’t have to justify stepping off the busy train. Since having children, I’ve become quite comfortable with doing the bare minimum. That is until well-meaning family and friends start with the ‘So…what are you doing with yourself these days, V?’
Wouldn’t it be lovely if we could answer honestly?
‘Well, yesterday I actually COOKED dinner as opposed to slapping peanut butter on an apple and calling it a night, and I completed an entire load of laundry. Nothing short of amazing I tell ya!’
‘I broke up a fight and saved the 6yo from the angry, oppositional 7yo.’
‘I checked to make sure little asses were actually scrubbed and didn’t just hang out in the tub for half an hour. You’d be shocked to know how difficult those stubborn underwear track marks can be!’
‘I reminded my little angels exactly 572 times to put their shit in its proper local.’
‘Once my darlings were asleep, I made lunches, cleaned the kitchen, shoved a couple of ‘gourmet’ ham, mustard & arugula rolls in my mouth, sat down at my computer that I FINALLY set up only to remember that the blessed ‘O’ key isnt working.’
‘Then…I said the F word several times, considered pouring myself a stiff drink, decided against it because I’d like to maintain my reputation as the only family member who hasn’t stepped foot in rehab. Instead I collapsed into child’s pose on my bedroom floor and did some alternate nostril breathing. I mean, who needs booze when you have such effective coping techniques in your sanity toolbox?’
‘I drifted off to sleep and awoke to my sexy workaholic husband bopping in just before 10 pm, but I’m not complaining — one of us has to pay for this dream. He agreed to let me borrow his laptop but not without reminding me that as slow as I am, I’m barely making minimum wage and might as well not even waste my time…unless I “truly love the work” but I “seem a little stressed out.” He’s awesome like that. Unfortunately, it’s hard to appreciate his awesomeness at 10pm when I have deadline in exactly 10 hours and as we all know, I’m slow as a clogged drain.’
‘So that’s what’s up with me. Your turn! Now do tell. I wanna hear ALL about your perfect kids and that new corner office.’
Is it just me, or do you ever get the urge to slap people?