I am a none-of-your-business year old woman. I am tall. I have had four children. I live on the shores of Lake Superior, in the most beautiful city I know of. I have been married for nine years. I am actively involved in community and semi-professional theater. I sing soprano. I am a bad tap dancer. I ALWAYS prefer autumn to summer. But I don’t know how to categorize myself except to say that I don’t fit into a category, at least not just one category.
Example:
Back when my eldest daughter was in pre-school, they had a Halloween costume parade, and of course I went (she was a bumblebee, in case you were wondering) and I was really struck by how much older than me all the other moms were. They came into the classroom, all grouped together, wearing their zip-up fleece vests, khaki pants, white socks and Birkenstocks.
The moms in this area seem to have shiny, scrubbed faces and a robust healthiness to them.....very Scandinavian. The median age appears to be 35. And then there's me.....in my red lipstick and head-to-toe black. No one talked to me. No one sat by me. Don't get me wrong, ----it didn't bother me. I am quite content not to be included in their yuppie/mommy groups and conversations ("did you hear Mary and Stan built a new deck onto their house? Cedar." or "I found this great pair of high waisted jeans at Chico's. I can't stand the hip huggers kids are wearing these days!" or "Would you like some of the squash from my garden? I am into pureeing organic vegetables these days and adding it to my brownies and cookies.")
These are the same mothers who grow older and suddenly start wearing holiday motif sweater with pumpkins and snowmen on them. These are the same mothers who cut their hair shorter and shorter each year until the 'old lady' haircut emerges.
That will NOT be me.
Maybe when my kids are older they'll think I'm the cool mom.
I hang out with my friends. I sometimes like to wear shirts that show a little cleavage. I have a very active life outside of my home that includes rehearsal, wine, friends, fun.
However, I am still a dedicated mom who thinks her kids are the smartest and best kids in the universe (no use arguing). I love to decorate the Christmas tree and drive around in the car with the fam and look at Christmas lights and watch my breath on the window. I love building traditions and watching them grow. I hang their art on the refrigerator. I monitor how much TV they watch. I am opinionated about breastfeeding and choices in childbirth. I like to cook and bake (some of the time) and I aspire to be a scrap-booker, although I never actually do it.
So, yeah. Contradictions all over the place. This is not a mommy blog. This is not a theater and arts blog. This is not a Christian blog, or a beauty-lovers blog, nor is it a social blog---but I still happen to be all of those things, all at the same time. So get used to it.
:)
Sometimes I think if people walked into my house they would think I am mentally ill. Not always, mind you--- sometimes (more and more often, I have found, as I get older) my house is spic and span, or as spicky and spanny it can get with four children under the age of 8. Those are the rare, beautifully peaceful times when I can feel justified in sitting and reading, or when I feel like whipping up something in the kitchen because the shiny counters and humming dishwasher call to me.
But often, my house is a pit of despair. A dirty, filthy, dusty pit of despair. You know it’s bad if the fourteenth poop-stain on the carpet just makes you shrug your shoulders.
Sometimes I think it would be nice to be like Martha Stewart—--everything gleaming and color coordinated and organized to the Nth degree. I see her magazines at various holiday-times and they successfully make me long for a cape-cod style house with pristine white wainscoting. I flip through the mag and mumble, “oh, that homemade prune cake looks good.” Or “maybe I could label and code my books by author, size and subject!”
And then I go eat another brownie and watch some Big Brother.
Here are Martha’s gentle suggestions for packing for a 5 day jaunt to Nantucket:
1. Sweaters-
To maintain the shape of knitted tops and chunkier sweaters, line the back of each garment with a few sheets of acid-free tissue paper before folding. These items should never be stored on hangers, either at hotels or at home; doing so can cause the fibers near the shoulders to stretch.
2. Footwear-
Each pair is kept in an individual drawstring-topped shoe bag. Stuff the toes of my pumps and other dress shoes with acid-free tissue paper.
3. Assembled Outfits-
To streamline both packing and dressing on trips, plan outfits ahead of time, complete with shoes and accessories. Put each outfit on a single hanger (unless the top is a sweater) and wrap it in plastic.
Acid free tissue paper? Plastic? Really, Martha?
Or you could follow MY packing advice, which is:
1) At the last minute throw all dirty underwear that was previously on the bedroom floor into washing machine.
2) Haphazardly throw other semi-clean clothes in old, ratty suitcase, praying that you can find a washing machine where you are going.
3) Go eat a brownie and watch Big Brother.
I was at the mall this evening and as I was passing Abercrombie and Fitch I almost passed out from the fumes. WHY does that store reek, and I mean REEK of men's cologne? I am not kidding when I say I can smell it on my clothes right now.....and I only passed it for ten seconds an hour ago. Good thing I always bring my gas mask to the mall. You know, just in case I come in contact with sexy male models wearing only scarves and sand.
I was also practicing my tap-dancing today, which I am not ashamed to admit. Flap-step-step-hop-shuffle-step-turn. That is called the 'traveling time-step', dearest ones. (For those of you who didn't already know.) Never EVER watch yourself tap-dancing in the mirror. It's pretty flippin' weird.
It’s funny, the minute I started a blog I no longer had anything to say.
What, you say? You want to hear about the minutiae of my everyday life? It’s the only part of your day you look forward to? Why, you poor thing, of course I’ll oblige.
Well, let’s see. Today’s exciting events include my daughter Audrey deciding to dump out two boxes of cereal, a box of crackers, a bag of pistachio nuts and a box of dishwasher detergent all over the kitchen floor. Oh, and then she broke a glass into smithereens on top of the pile and also poured a glass of water over everything. Because what else was she supposed to do with her day? She needs a little excitement too, people.
It took a while for me to build up the where-with-all to clean it up.
I also vacuumed the rug three times, because the carpet goes from being clean to looking like someone dumped out a gallon of lint and crumbs onto it in about 4 seconds flat. So there was that....hmmm, what else, what else.....
There are twelve loads of laundry sitting in my living room, staring at me-- but I stare back in defiance.
So there you are, my poor little readers. A little tidbit to make you feel better about your own spic and span floors and folded laundry.
Sigh.
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