Fit of giggles and happiness

This past week, my mom had the boys enrolled in a day camp a few miles from where she lives, an hour away from me. I had a whole week to myself!  I’ve spent the past year redefining what kind of parent I am on my own.  This week was a rare opportunity for me to rediscover what I like to do on my own-not as a mother, but as a woman. It took a few days to decompress completely and wrap my head around it.  I was still working but I had the evenings and mornings to myself.  It was glorious!  I went for runs, long strolls into town for no other reason than I could, swimming in the morning and at night, watched TV whenever I wanted, had friends over, stayed up late and ate left over pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner. By Friday night, I could tell that my breathing had slowed down, my pace had changed to a sauntering stroll, my whole attitude was centered in a much more peaceful place. I had finally had a chance to completely recharge! It felt great!

I couldn’t have it all, though. Oh no, not this girl!  A full week going by without a problem coming up just doesn’t happen for for a gal like me.  Something always, always pulls me back and grounds me.  While the kids were away,  I ran into some serious car trouble that will likely leave us without transportation for at least the next few weeks. That combined with the fact that in order to fix it, I’m going to be completely broke (as in negative bank account, as in make the food last as long as we can) could have been bad. By the time they’d returned home on Sunday, I’d resigned all of us to a couple of weeks of biking where we needed to go.  While it was frustrating, to say the least, I couldn’t help but see the silver lining in all of it.  Maybe this was who I was now.  The week of recharging had changed me! Perhaps I’d been through so much lately that a problem with an actual solution was enough to keep the skip in my step.  {This wasn’t so bad.  I’m a peaceful, happy person now. I can totally make this work!}   When relaying my plans for the upcoming weeks to the boys, I found myself saying things like “We could really use the exercise anyway!” and  “It’s supposed to be fairly sunny for the rest of the week, why not enjoy the weather?” “I’ve been meaning to check out the various meals we can make using Ramen Noodles!” (I think there are over 100, btw!!)  Thankfully everything we need (my job, their camp, grocery store, etc.) is all within a  two-mile radius and we live in a town in which biking is a completely acceptable form of transport.  My peppy pep talk to the kids was met with long, blank, stares and a few grunts and moans, but I skipped right through it and moved along, using words like “team” and “bonding” and “namaste.” (No really- I bowed out of the dining room, while my younger son looked on amused and perplexed with his hands in prayerful pose as instructed, as I repeated Namaste until I was out of sight.)

As positive as I was trying to be, I admit, I had some seriously sobering moments of panic that could not, no matter what, be squelched. {What if we wanted to leave and go somewhere else for a weekend?? Everything outside of this place is at least 45 miles away!! What they hell was I thinking? I hadn’t even checked the weather! It could totally rain the whole time and then what?!  I pull up to work on my 5 speed, drenched and freezing all day and then have to turn around and bike 2 miles to pick up my equally wet and frozen children from camp?!}  But the most terrifying thought was: {What if this whole thing never ends and this is it?! This is how we get around now-the biker family….”there goes old widow Ashley and her poor children….biking through the snow…”}  The more I thought about it, the more terrifying the whole deal seemed to me. It wasn’t just the car, it was the financial worries and eventually every bad decision I’ve ever made.

So I stopped thinking about it. The reality was that we didn’t have a choice. This was just what we had to do and we could do it and feel good about it or we could do it and be miserable. I chose door # 1.

IMG_3929

Sunday night we were fortunate enough to accompany a friend to a small little theater situated at the edge of an enchanted old farm, with rolling hills and picnic tables and perfectly lined stoned walls.  It was beautiful and such a unique place to celebrate theater!  As we waited for the show to start, I looked around and wondered how we could possibly be upset about  obstacles in life?   We were so lucky to be in this little place!  I leaned back in my seat, grinning from ear to ear, so proud of myself for having chosen door #1!  This night was validation that good things can happen as long as you commit to happiness!  Ahhhhhh..  A quick glance over my shoulder to share this moment with the boys but when I looked over, they were gone.  Still calm, I thought “they must have gone to the bathroom.”

I scanned the length of the tiny barn, turned theater and found them blocking the entrance and in the throes of some barely audible, but clearly very intense battle over a sweater. People were skirting around them with annoyed glances at one another or requests for them to please move. All of which had no effect on them whatsoever. I couldn’t hear but when I squinted to get a better look, I noticed one had a cup of water and a crumbling cookie that he was clearly intending to use for ammunition against the other if the sweater wasn’t released.  The little one caught my eye just as the cookie hit his cheek and  let out a wail so loud that almost every head in the audience turned to see what was going on. They made their way back to me but it didn’t end there so I had to sit in between them.  It calmed down for a moment until a little hand made its way behind my back and slapped his brother’s head so viciously that a shout escaped.  Ordinarily I would have taken them outside and unleashed my usually very effective speech in which I threaten to rid my house of every electronic piece of equipment.  But we were trapped in such close quarters that I had to resort to whispering potential consequences through gritted teeth until the lights dimmed and a pianist began the play’s introduction. By this point I was so hot from embarrassment and angry from trying to control them in that barn that my bangs were stuck to my forehead and my mouth had never been so dry. I tried to find the brochure to fan myself off but couldn’t, which just made it worse. When I finally found it, crumpled up in my son’s sweater, I was so angry and frustrated at the whole situation.  I held up the crumpled remains of the brochure along with the sweater and with my lip stuck to my teeth and my eyes bulged out of my red face, I proclaimed to both of them, in a sinister, throaty voice :  “It’s mine now.”

I was clutching the sweater so tightly that my knuckles were white and my fist was shaking.  I held their gaze for a full 30 seconds.  My face must have looked completely psychotic.  Upon receiving my preposterous declaration and holding my alternating glare for as long as they could, it occurred to all of us how ridiculous this was. I looked like the Hulk, head moving from side to side, sweat pouring down my face, arm raised with a miniature piece of cloth hanging around my wrist. I had made one last attempt to hold my happy place together and all I had to show for it was a sweater and a crumpled brochure. The facade was cracking and we all knew it.  My older son bit his lip to stop himself from laughing as his brother’s hands flew up to cover his own mouth. By now, the curtains were opening and we’d all completely lost it. The first half an hour was spent stifling laughter as random parts of the play would remind one of us how ridiculous I looked.  All it would take was a sigh or twitch and we were, all three of us in stifled, uncontrollable, hysterics, heads down with the biggest smiles on our faces and tears rolling down our cheeks. We eventually had to excuse ourselves and return collected.  By the time the play ended, I was in the middle, their heads on my shoulders and we were breathing in sync, trying not fall asleep.

I don’t know how these next few weeks will go. I imagine much like the first few days. I foresee some unavoidable inconvenience and struggle but I hope those things are mixed with pep talks and great fits of laughter that lead to nights cuddled up on the couch together.  When we make it to the other side of this, I don’t want a trophy at the end. What I want is to be given another night like that. I want a chance once in a while to appreciate and savor the moment with my two boys.

By the time we left that old barn, turned theater, I felt like I had the richest piece of chocolate melting in my mouth and I didn’t care that the euphoria had allowed to me to laugh when the chocolate dribbled down my chin.

A poem for the working mother

If I were a stay at home mother, I’d give BJs like no other.

The house would be clean, dinner cooked. “Here Schnookums, sit down, relax with a book.”

If I stayed home, the kids would be sweet. They’d fight over nothing. Their rooms would be neat.

I’d dress them in clothes you’d know I’d made by hand. Each little collar would have stitched a “domestic” brand.

The things I would do if I were home all day long!

I’d bake pies and cookies and have weekly meal plans. We’d have HBO, Netflix and of course, On-Demand.

I’d wait for your paycheck on bated breath. The thought of your cock would always make me wet.

If I were a housewife your life would be great! You’d be adored and respected. For sex- you’d never wait.

But sadly for you, I’m a working mother. I clock out of one job and start in on another.

No BJs for you ’til everything’s done. And who am I kidding? Sometimes, you take forever to cum.

The dishes are stacked high, the dog peed on the rug.  You want your dick sucked? Well, I need a hug.

I work all day and I hate every minute. But the kids need shoes and clothes and food. So I’m in it to win it.

When we were first dating, I promised the world but having a job has jaded this down home girl.

I’m sorry my darling,

Most days you’re forgotten and saved until last.  “Tonight if you wash the dishes, you can put it in my ass.”

*ding

Saved by Science

My 6 year old asked: “Mom, can I have some more of that delicious fruit?”

I was astonished that my picky eater -who typically only wants seconds of anything that’s orange and glowing so brightly it can be seen from outer space- wanted more of a healthy snack.  I enthusiastically (and maybe a bit frantically) started cutting up another piece of fruit!

6 yr Old: “Who made Kiwi’s, anyway?”

{If I say something like nature -as in the earth -as in it’s good for you, will it deter him? Think fast-what would my mom have said?}

“Hmmm.. God,” I say with a little smirk.

Pointing to the seeds, he says, “God? God made these? Where did he find these tiny nuts?” 

My 11 year old, sitting in the living room remarks, “God?! HAHA- I’m going with the Big Bang theory on this one.”

goofy

Pressure’s a good thing, right?

I need to write. It feels great to have had a little momentum: posting consistently and getting some great, positive feedback.  In an attempt to feel like I’m being good and actually working on this, I have resisted the impulse to scarf episodes of the new Orange is the New Black, browse reddit, scroll facebook, stall on the phone with friends…

But despite my best efforts, I can’t concentrate for the life of me and as a result I have 5 tabs open with five words here and two paragraphs there- including the post I promised for today: Fifty Shades of Widow Grey (Round 2). {see https://thewintermakersbelt.wordpress.com/2015/06/16/fifty-shades-of-widow-gray-round-1/ if you’re interested}

I thought music would help get me in the groove, but my music has gone from streaming Pandora to YouTube and inevitably on to google searches about the song/artist i’m listening to  : /

I guess the lesson here is that you can’t make the mind do what the mind don’t wanna do…

IMG_1220 And then there’s this guy….Ok- I might have browsed online a little bit 🙂

Guilty pleasures

I don’t know what’s possessed me, but I’ve decided to spice things up around here and secretly wink at each boy individually whispering “favorite” while pointing to him. Hahahaha!! They each blush and smile and eventually one tells the other that their my favorite and they fight over it! They buy it every time! I need a hobby! Freud would have a field day with this :/

cone head

Meanwhile….

…..In tweeny, book report, twilight land:
Me to my 11 yr old son: Ok. I’ve reviewed your rough draft.  You should be proud of yourself! There’s a lot here you can use! I did make some corrections and just a warning, this is not a copy and paste scenario. You will have to develop more of your original thought where you see an asterisk.
Him- blink blink
Me-a little red star
(still staring at me)
(I start again- slowly and clearly) You know?  I didn’t write everything for you. It’s not all grammatical changes. My notations are prompts for you to embellish what you’ve started writing.
Him- I don’t understand.
Me- You. Will. Need. To. Think. And. Add. More. Words.
He rolls his eyes and walks away.
I crack a beer and mutter “good talk” while I finish dinner.
That’ll do Merica. That’ll do.

fao schwartz

‪#‎sweetandsour‬

I was just followed out of a deli by a young 20 something who said “ma’am- you’re gorgeous.” I didn’t know whether I should bend him over my sore old knees and spank his little butt for calling me ma’am or hug him for calling me gorgeous! So I just smiled and thanked him with a Chinese bow.

Dog vs. Cat

My dog hates cats. She hates cats in such a visceral way that when she sees one, she shakes uncontrollably between growls and snarls and raised hair. Aside from tug of war, walks in the woods and sleeping in my bed, hating cats is her life’s blood. So imagine the horror I experienced this morning, as I am awakened by the bold “meow….ME-OW” of a sweet little black cat IN MY BEDROOM!! I tucked and rolled like a general at zero dark thirty to get that cat out of the room before sleeping beauty realized what was happening. But my pre-coffee, dazed and confused mind was a just a second too slow.. There I was, pj pants, twisted up shirt, crazy hair, crawling on the floor between cat and now gnarling, gnashing, completely shocked dog. In one perfectly timed jump, as if she had dreamed the moment true, River landed on the cat. Cat went down. Maybe it was my screaming or maybe she just didn’t know what she was supposed to do next but River backed off for a second and the cat ran down stairs. And all I could think was, huh…isn’t that way it always is? When you get something you dreamed of having, when everything works out the way you wanted it to….You have to be smarter than a dog to know what to do next. Often times what we really want is what comes after we hold it in our hands…or paws…but we allow ourselves to stop at the achievement or bask in it too long. We need to keep reaching and plan beyond the dream itself… And then, I cried in my cereal because it’s Monday and I have to work on such a nice day. (hehe)