Someone left a comment here at notcinnamon the other day, which just made my week for two reasons: one, hey! A comment! Woohoo! two, he remarked that my blog is so real-life.
And my blog IS so real life. In so many different ways. First, I have bucked the trend of embracing parenthood and married life as just one beautiful, unicorny miracle after another. I'm just not buying it.
Second, as I do in my actual life, my blog just sometimes blanks out for days on end.
Which brings me to my parents, who call and say, "you haven't blogged, you haven't called! We're beginning to wonder."
Wonder what? If I'd fallen off a bridge, been in a car wreck, gone insane, or somehow disappeared, then surely a morgue, a hospital, a mental institution, or a milk container would have notified you as next of kin or asked if you'd seen me. Sure, it's not Facebook, and you wouldn't instantly receive my status update: JULIE "is kidnapped. In trunk of '87 Cutlass, traveling west on I-10, near Pascagoula," but eventually you'd hear about it through the appropriate channels.
In fact, what I have been doing is FAR worse than falling off a bridge. My butt and the driver's seat of my car are becoming molded to one another. It's like some horrible evolution. Instead of developing webbed feet from being in water, I've developed carpool ass, which is changing the contour of my body to be more commuter friendly. Without exaggeration, I pack up my car as if for a road trip: water (it's a bazillion degrees out and I'm giving up soda), protein bars (trying to eat healthy and don't want to just grab junk), Kindle (reading in carpool line slows imminent mental dulling), walking shoes and clothes (for exercising during carpool, but I don't want to run errands in the Springhill Walker uniform, so I pack it and change behind the reflective dashboard solar blocker thingy), cell phone (so as not to be incommunicado), calendar (to schedule more crap to do during the upcoming days/weeks/months), cooler with snacks and cold drinks for kids, music class materials (for S, not me), lap desk (for E to do homework during S's music class), reusable grocery bags (to save the planet), insulated grocery bag (so everything I just bought doesn't spoil in bazillion degree heat), library books to return, coupon folders, extra car seats, baby wipes, car wipes, umbrellas--you name it, I've got it. And I'm schleppin' it around because I just NEVER KNOW. How is this possible? When did I become this person? Where did the day go?
It's not like everything in the day is slavishly devoted to my family and my errands, and my kids. But, if I want to visit with friends, or meet for coffee, or have lunch out, I have to wedge it into the day with a crowbar. And, the worst part is, I don't have an out-of-home job! HOW is everybody doing it? What is it that everyone is neglecting that is suddenly going to explode from neglect and bring us to our knees? Am I the only one worried? Am I the only one waiting for Martha Stewart to show up and say, "Hmmm, I see you have not been following the six month plan for rotating your furniture cushions. Just go ahead and throw that couch away now. It's gonna be useless." What am I forgetting? I have to be forgetting something, because right now I'm functioning like a super-saturated solution. Everything's going along ok, as long as no one adds one more crystal of sugar. Cuz then we're doomed. Everything's going to come to a grinding halt, and we're going to be paralyzed in a maze of rock candy.
So, no I didn't call. No, I haven't blogged. I haven't updated my Facebook status. (To my current knowledge I still may be "waiting for the weekend! Or "wishing summer would end!") My butt has melded to the seat in my car, and I can't move. I'm supermom! I'm doing it all and loving it. Right? RIGHT?!?
Oh my... did you just crawl up in my brain??
ReplyDelete