Monthly Archives: January 2013

Hypothetically Speaking

You’re finally refinancing your mortgage.  The wheels are in motion thanks to your husband, who informs you that someone will probably come to the house this week to do a property appraisal.  No problem.  It just so happens that the property appraiser calls at 9:30am on Monday morning just after you’ve dropped the kids off at school and returned home from the grocery store.  He says he’s in the area and can stop by in about ten minutes.  Of course, you say.  Then, you hang up the phone, look around your cluttered house, and realize each and every room looks like the aftermath of a home invasion gone very, very bad.

Do you:

(a) Put the groceries away?

(b) Fill the dishwasher with the dirty dishes piled high in the sink, which would require emptying the dishwasher full of clean dishes first?

(c)  Unclog the toilet that, well, um, clogged earlier in the morning?

(d) Clean up the Matchbox car explosion, stuffed animal “hospital,” and Rescue Bot convention taking place on the on the floor of the family room?

(e)  Clean up the makeshift “car wash” on the patio that involved a cooler, a bucket of water, and a hundred plastic cars.

(f)   Pick up the dog toys, bones, and half-eaten dog treats strewn in every room.

(g) Put away the laundry?

(h) Make your bed?

(i)  Make the kids’ beds?

(j)  Put away a dozen or so pairs of sneakers, Crocs, and flip flops scattered in front of every entrance/exit to the house?

(k) Put away the tennis racket that’s been on the living room floor for so long it’s made tennis racket-shaped imprint on the carpet?  (Where do the tennis rackets belong, anyway?)

(l)  Use the handheld vacuum on the sofa, where breakfast was served?

(m) Swiffer the kitchen floor?

(n) Go through the mail?

(o)  Put the recycling in the garage?

(p) Lock the garage door and tell the appraiser there is no garage?

(q) Febreze…everything?

(r)  Brush your hair?

(s)  Update your status on Facebook to “FML.”

(t)  Cry

(u) Burn down the house?

(v) All of the above.

(w) None of the above.

Hypothetically speaking, if this happened to me, I would probably do a (easy), c (um, gross), h (sort of), j (I wouldn’t want anyone to trip), o (at least the wine and beer bottles), q (bathrooms first) and t (it would be more of demented laugh with hysterical tears) before the doorbell rang.  Then I would neaten up my unbrushed ponytail, tuck my bra straps back under my shirt, answer the door with a smile, and ask in my most charming voice, “A little mess doesn’t mess up the appraisal, does it?”

Editor’s note: After a non-stop, hectic, kid-filled weekend, it’s possible that my house might be the teensiest, weensiest bit unkempt when the alarm goes off at 6:15am on Monday morning.  In other words, Mondays aren’t the best days to have guests, especially unexpected ones.  In case you’re planning a surprise visit, Wednesday afternoons from 2-4pm are ideal.  That’s the day the house is cleaned (by professionals) and the time between when the cleaning is finished and the kids come home from school (and when the mess-making starts all over again.)

 

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Dreams

Do you watch Cougar Town?  The comedy used to be on ABC but now it’s on TBS on Tuesday nights at 10/9c (in case you’re wondering what happened to it).  I like the humor on the show.  That, and they drink a lot of wine (like normal people) (okay, like me).  Courteney Cox’s character, Jules, actually has a name for her wine glass.  Big Karl, I think.  Ha!

Editor’s note:  There is such a thing as too much Botox and lip augmentation.  It really must suck to be over 40 in Hollywood.

In the first episode of the new season, Jules has a dream where Grayson (Josh Hopkins) does something bad.  We never find out what he did (in the dream), but Jules believes it to be real and insists that he apologize.  Funny, right?  Because dreams aren’t real.

I had a terrifying dream the other night that felt so real that I woke myself up.  I dreamed I was on an airplane dangling in the sky…dangling as in about to fall…fall as in about to crash.  It was nighttime and all I could see were stars outside the windows.  I had no idea if we were over land or water.  There were other people on the plane but I didn’t know them.  I was me.  In other words, I was exactly who I am in real life – a Crazy Mama who spends too much money on owl tchotchkes.  As the plane was about to drop (and just before I forced myself awake), all I thought about was myself and that I didn’t want to die.

My family is my life, my livelihood.  Aside from a few precious hours during the day when I run or write (or watch Cougar Town), almost everything I do is for my family, Dylan and Riley especially.  So, why didn’t I think about my loved ones in the harrowing moments before my (dream) death?  Why didn’t I have gorgeous flashbacks of my childhood, my wedding day, and the births of my boys?  Just like Jules, I woke up wanting to blame someone for what happened.  The difference is that she smacked Grayson and I wanted to smack myself.

I struggle every day with the intensity of love I feel for my boys and the resentment I sometimes feel about losing myself in them – about putting their wants, their needs, and their everything above mine.  It’s not their fault.  I made a series of choices that led me to the off-kilter, unbalanced world of Stay-at-Home Mama-hood.  I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, but I sometimes wonder what I might’ve accomplished had I chosen a different path on the spectrum.

Guilty Mama alert!

I told Mike how selfish I felt about not thinking about the people I love before the (dream) crash, and he reminded me that it wasn’t real.  He also suggested that maybe the dream wasn’t about dying at all.  Maybe it was about writing the book and feeling – for the first time in a long time – that I was, in fact, doing something just for me.  He also thought it was silly that I was tormenting myself about it.  Silly, indeed, but I’m far too good at it to pass up such a rich opportunity.  He’s right.  The Book is all mine.  It’s my dream and my burden, and it’s forced me to give myself completely to the writing process, which is new, unfamiliar, not surprisingly guilt producing, and every now and then as terrifying as, for instance, being on a plane dangling in the nighttime sky.

Thankfully, it was just a dream.

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Filed under bad dreams, book, Crazy Mama, owls, Stay-at-Home Mama