Half of me was stitched together by the open mountain air, the flowing and fearless ocean, and the free spirit of adventure. Half of my heart will always beat to the rhythm of cultures colliding. My thoughts will always meander along winding paths between the polar points of norms. A rush of adrenaline, a thrill of adventure, a change of view; these traits engraved on my spirit, an ever hungry search. California raised me, and loves me still.
The smell of rain soothes the troubles of my mind. My eyes caress the green lush land, the stunning beauty of the bayous, and the gentility of grazing cattle. Food that promises to satisfy flesh, warms and feeds the soul. The midnight stars shine like visible Gods in the sky, as peace and tranquility sing their polite song. My Louisiana, where half of my existence and all of my plans, serenely dwell.
Half of me born of the former. Half of me formed by the later. All of me proud of the pieces.
I am not the typical every day parent. If there is such a thing. I try to listen to mom’s talk about life, kids, husbands, work and chores, but somehow I always end up with my eyes rolled so far back into my skull, I’m afraid I’ll actually see my own brain! I’ve started to categorize parents into groups. I’m not sure how many groups I have developed but I have yet to find one that I fit into perfectly. If you’re like me, you’ll identify with more than one, for any number of reasons. Don’t take yourself too seriously. Enjoy!
The “my house is always spotless” mom. OMG let me start by saying that you are my LEAST favorite mom ever! I’m not entirely convinced that you are human. Your hand sewn apron is worn neatly over your flowered dress complete with matching heels, earrings, neck lace and perfectly pinned up hairdo. While you look the part fair lady, your useless kitchen ensemble doesn’t do much to help you prepare an edible meal.
Just like the monsters in my closet when I was a kid, you are terrifying and eventually it is clear that you do not exist! Nope, you’re just a figment of every man’s imagination combined with some horror story from the 50’s. Your perfectly manicured nails in convertible red, make you proud but do very little for the starving kids and skinny, shriveling husband who’s too stubborn to admit he needs food more than eye candy. Please stop invading my nightmares with your imaginary perfection!
The “as you wish” mom. Wow, just wow. You keep your husband happy with a cold beer in his hand when he gets home, you have dinner thoughtfully planned every night, except of course, for your date night which you have expertly timed to fit into your husband’s busy schedule. You may not have all of the shades dusted daily, but your man is one happy camper sitting there with his feet up, while you keep the house running in tip-top condition. He knows your date night will revolve around conversation about his job, his friends, his wants and plans and his pleasure. Happy, happy, happy.
Where do you hide the vodka lady because you’re not fooling anyone! Husbands are great, I have one too, but there is no chance in hell I would be ok day after day with “yes dear”-ing my life away so he can sit and relax. Stop pretending you don’t want to break his jaw every time his dirty work boots leave mud on your recently scrubbed furniture. At some point he goes to sleep happy and you’re left staring at him in the darkness wondering how long it would take to smother him with a pillow! It’s time to say no dear.
The “sorry I didn’t get a chance to clean up” mom. I like you, when you’re honest. You have people living in your house and it is not demolished. Good for you! You did it! You don’t have your sexy outfit on but you figure “hell, no one is here, it’s just us, who cares”? Your husband might like to see you a bit more dolled-up, but he can wait for a date night because let’s face it, he’s not really paying that close attention and make up takes time that you really would rather use to get things done. It’s either this or the mess you say? The mess wins every time. Maybe your kids have left shoes out, dropped book bags in hallways, and forgot to flush the toilet in the guest bathroom, but it’s not the end of the world for you. It all gets done, eventually. Right? You’ll try to wear make up tomorrow.
You are right in the middle of the mom spectrum. Not bad at all. So what if you don’t feel pretty? Does pretty really matter anyway? You’re rocking the housekeeping duties like a champ! You should have a trophy for every month you succeed at this level! But let’s face it, you’re letting your looks slide, and he’s noticing.
The “demolition” mom. Something smells amazing coming from your kitchen! Your cooking skills are second to none I bet, and the mess you make getting that delicious meal cooked will be dealt with….eventually…maybe. Your kids have one set of clean clothes left which means laundry day can wait until tomorrow…night. Your mismatched socks and tennis shoes are barely noticeable anyway. That pony tail totally rocks like 90’s pop music and while your house may look like something out of an apocalypse movie, your family is fed to bloating by 6 pm, which makes you a total success. Almost.
Please teach the rest of us to cook, and while we are learning that- please for the love of all things sanitary go empty the cat litter box! The mixing of aromas is not helping us want to eat at your house! While I applaud your culinary mastery, your husband has been missing under a pile of old newspapers for 2 days now, and no one is brave enough to look for him…. Hmmm.. wait a minute, you may be onto something. (wink) No, we should probably try to find him…. Soon. After we eat.
I have a feeling we all switch between each of these groups from one day to the next. Or maybe it’s just me. Please comment and let me know where you stand, where you fit, and what I should add! We are all amazing & Hilariously flawed.