My House Looking In

You know how some days are especially long, or maybe overwhelming for whatever reason?

Those days when your anxiety is running high, and you can’t wait to get the kids to bed and run away as fast as you can anywhere? To Target. To Hawaii. To call a friend or your mom. Out front to get some fresh air and silence.

Those times when the kids have been constantly up in your grill all the hot, sticky day, with you refereeing so many squabbles. Or maybe after a long day at work when instead of getting a minute to yourself, there are kids to feed, help with homework, bathe and put to bed.

In those times I like to head outside into the cool night air, and take a couple of power laps around the neighborhood. Letting the nighttime stillness slowly fill my brain.

I look up at the moon and the vastness of the universe. I hear the crickets. I smell the jasmine and the dryer sheet-scented steam coming from people’s homes.

The walks are a chance to let the thoughts and frustrations of the day bat around in my head until they tire themselves out. Maybe I throw in some fantasies that I’m in Hawaii all alone or buying all the things at Target, or getting down with my celeb crush dujour.
Then I head home, but I don’t go inside right away. I look at my house from the street, and consider the good fortune of whoever lives there. The two (sometimes barely) functioning cars out front. The two whole stories. Safe and cozy. Just a house in a row of other houses. Not the prison it occasionally feels like from the inside.

This is a happy home. Full of so much yummy food and sand from shoes and yelling and kissing and love.

Finally, I go inside. Ready for some Netflix and a new day.


Pride Goes Down Easier With a Brownie Chaser

Blog brownie

Last night I got home after work and had one of those rare nights when you handle all the shit. With much assistance from your spouse if you’re lucky like I was last night.

I did the dishes. I mopped the floor. I made those brownies that had been staring at me from the just-add-butter-and-eggs box for months. I did yoga, and while in downward dog noticed dust bunnies under the couch which I promptly swept up. Then I went upstairs and read to a kid hubs had bathed, and foldedĀ my three baskets of clean laundry.

I was feeling like hell yeah, it feels good to knock shit out that needs to get done instead of putting it off. I planned to make a borderline sanctimommy post in the morning.

Then the morning arrived.

I put on my nice red power dress, still feeling myself from the night before.

My 3 year old saw me putting on the dress and remarked it looked like her Angry Birds towel.

Not yet knocked fully off my high horse, we prepared to head out the door for work and daycare. If only I could find my keys. They were NOWHERE to be found, and I needed to be at work in a hurry to do my weekly radio interview over the phone.

In the midst of my frantic search that included lots of begging my child to PLEASE step out of my way, I suddenly noticed the silence.

I looked up to find my daughter grimmacing in her favorite spot to poop in her Pull-up, behind the rocking chair. I didn’t have time for this literal shit.

With minutes to spare before my radio interview, I plopped her on the potty, emailed the d.j. to call my cell, and somehow found my keys in the mothereffing kitchen trash that was now in the big bin in the garage READY TO BE TAKEN AWAY FOREVER. Why were my keys in the trash? I. Don’t. Know. Maybe cuz life doesn’t like sanctimommies, even borderline ones.

The poop wasn’t happening after all that, so I threw her Pull-up back on (no time for clothes), and put her in front of True and the Rainbow Kingdom.

I huddled in the far corner of the living room to take the call. Mercifully, the cell reception held, and True worked her magic.

My daughter went to daycare a few minutes late, and I arrived at work in my red Angry Birds dress like “Come at me, bitches. You don’t know the morning I’ve had. I have keys in my purse, brownies on my counter and pride in my stomach I’ve been forced to swallow. Bring it.”