My son is crying, bawling, whining to get on the roof just like Daddy. He's inconsolable. Daddy's on the roof, so Mommy's the bad guy with her eye on the time-out chair.
I'm in the process of writing a paper that refuses to be written. Ideas (brilliant ones, I might add) are in some kind of traffic jam in my head, detoured past my fingers and thus the keyboard. Deadline in 36 hours-ish.
I thought a quick, much needed trip to the grocery store might make some room in my head for the thoughts to flow, but there wasn't any space in there for my grocery list so I roamed the aisles -not in one of those "I have this hour to myself to leisurely walk through the store and see what I want and need" modes. I cut off old ladies, made u-turns into displays, and backtracked 672 times to the fruits and vegetables because I kept forgetting potatoes. There's always something more interesting than potatoes to make one forget one needs potatoes!
I came home to "fun" in the yard, which included dog-poo on the bottom of my son's shoes. Frozen foods sweat and meat spoiled, as I tended to that. Forgot which bag the eggs were in, but by some miracle I didn't break one in my haste to unload and de-poo.
Speaking of poo, the dog hasn't been walked in three days. His behavior is atrocious, but he can't help himself. He's the last priority in the busyness this week.
I take that back. My ferns, once lush even sensual and inviting, are shriveling in the arid heat produced by my electric thermostat. No amount of watering or fertilizing (my black thumb butt got to a store, purchased, and actually used the stuff on these plants-my previous efforts have left me with drawers full of old unopened fertilizer sticks) can possible restore their vitality.
So I turn my attention to humans. I have two dinners going, one for a dear friend who's whole family is sick with the flu. Let's be honest. I'm never going to win an award for my cooking; I keep us nourished in the most spartan but balanced of ways. But we are nourished. I panic a bit when I cook for others...and so I am panicking: will the chicken be cooked all the way through? How does one know that if one doesn't own a meat thermometer and so resorts to cutting the meat at eight different points before she decides something is done? One can't really resort to that when one is trying to pull off "I do this all the time and its no big deal to send a meal to show my support and love." (Actually, you have no idea how much I love you if I offer to bring a meal over to you! It's deep, abiding, profound...)
And my own family is having pot roast in the crockpot. Simplest meal in the world; just throw it in with some veggies potatoes and liquid: ta-da! WHY IS MINE DRY!?!?!?!?! Beef, the meat that puts a smile on my husband's face...such a seemingly simple gift for him. I'm in knots every time I make it because I'm pretending its not a big deal and yet I have no idea what the magic words are that I'm supposed to say over the crockpot to get the meat to tenderly fall apart while everyone oohs, aahs, drools and turns away the gravy. (don't even get me started on gravy!)
I'm missing some workshops at a major education conference in town this weekend because I'm swamped and exhausted from the busyness of the week.
Things could be worse. My husband and I could be at odds (what a lovely way to put stomping and slamming the door!)
This is my life today. It feels chaotic...I'm perpetually behind the eight-ball...stuck in the process of life...most things simply beyond my control: So I am left with little to do but accept life on life's terms today.
But, for a moment, I just want a sense of myself and a sense of peace. As I forked potatoes, I cranked this diddly courtesy of Bach and Yo-Yo Ma. I put the fork down, closed my eyes, and let the cello's tenor uphold my soul for a moment. I took a few deep breaths.
I am here. God is here.
It's just one of those days. But there was a moment of peace, and somehow I also connected with all of you.
Microwave just beeped. Another deep breath in my circle of quiet...exhale...and...
I'm off to face the rest.
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I think we can all relate to this post!!!!! Amazing what a moment of peace can do for us all. Thank God for those moments.
ReplyDeleteThese days come and go and we are still alive so there is hope :)
ReplyDeleteIn the last week I realized that the world will continue running without having me on top of everything so I took a book that I wanted to read for long time: eat, pray, love and made some time every day just for reading. Wow, it feels so good...no more education readings for my studies; only for my soul.
someone needs to deliver lactose-free pizza. that's all I can say. pass the soy cheese...
ReplyDeleteOh Christy that was wonderful I love things that make me laugh and cry and feel so conected with others all at the same time!! After we had our book club meeting I realized I have no reason to ashamed of my Supermom83!! I am super mom to my kids, to my husband, and to my grandfather and we all need to realize that, we are all supermoms and its ok to say it out loud it makes you feel stronger pulls things into perspective makes you not what to beat the kids (haha) ok not always haha. It takes all of us to work together to make this whole thing go forward everyday. The moms who are in school so we can make the world a better place for our kids, the mom who give the PTA their heart and soul, the moms who stay home and so lovelingly take care of our preciouse kids we are all awesome, Fabulous and spectacular. And my roast is never quite right either but my goodness does the house sure smell like its done to perfection.
ReplyDeleteRe: your cooking...you do a fine job! I've thought about those turkey mushroom burgers more than once. & then I saw this & thought of you, and myself--though I would compare you to Agassi when discussing scrabble! E
ReplyDeleteWorry Less, Cook More
By Mark Bittman
I recently did an interview with Time Out New York, and I thought that cooks who worry about perfection might find this part of it useful.
Question: “What would you say is the most important skill to develop in the kitchen?
Answer: “The ability to go in there and start. I am the least impressive cook you will ever see. I am completely without knife skills, I screw things up all the time. When I’m in the kitchen I’m not obsessively trying to create the perfect dish; I’m trying to put dinner on the table. Comparing yourself to the people who cook on television is like comparing yourself to Andre Agassi. If you can drive you can cook.”
http://bitten.blogs.nytimes.com/
WOW! (you know, that's Mom upside down, don't you?! :>) ) You will treasuree that written reacap of your day in 30 years, and marvel at your ability to survive and thrive. Congratulations for remembering. Remembering yourself, your value, your re-fill station deep inside. What a gift you are to yourself, your family and all the women who are and will be in your life. Thanks for this blog. All the women's comments remind me of how beautiful we are and how much we need to be sharing that beauty with one another. And here we are, because of you, actually doing it. Big Hug, baby.
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