The not so Simple…

Yesterday was a SuperMom day. I went to bed in a freshly painted bedroom. I had two happy children. MQD and I squabbled in the morning but as per usual the conversation we had following was productive. I felt good.

The feeling carried over to this morning. I had coffee with Amy. The kids were good. I bought a mitre box and started a new project. I am framing out the mirror in our bathroom before I paint.  I scheduled a post for this afternoon about how perfect the last day of the Summer with your family can be.

I considered posting about my bedroom makeover but I feared it would sound like I was blowing sunshine up my own ass to compensate. For what? I didn’t know. But I worry when my posts tend towards the “Look at me!! Everything is peachy!!” too awful much.

So if you read and make clucking sounds and think “Damn, that chick must be so full of shit. No one is that happy” then pour yourself a drink!! Kick back!! This post is for you.

Lucy will not stop crying. Neither can I. I cut a perfect rectangle of molding to frame out the mirror in our bathroom. But the glue won’t hold and neither will the tape that is supposed to hold it until it is glued. I painted around the perimeter of the mirror with the color I have chosen for the bathroom and I am not sure I don’t hate it.

I want to open a bottle of wine and drink the whole damn thing but I can’t because somehow I managed to totally forget to buy anything to pack for Emily’s lunch tomorrow. And before you think “what the hell, can’t MQD go to the store?” he already offered but I’m such a control freak I want to go myself. God forbid I don’t pick out my own cheese sticks.

I called my mother when the third piece of molding from the mirror fell in to the paint and what came out of my mouth between the sobbing was not  “oh damn my mirror project looks like shit.”

It’s more embarrassing than that.

I don’t want to be home all alone with Lucy.

I love her with all of my heart. I want to feed her and sleep beside her. I want to console her when she is cuttng teeth. I want to see her take her first steps.

But I don’t necessarily want to hear the song that fucking singing glow worm makes again. I am not really that in to playing with stacking cups. Or putting the tupperware back in the cabinet 87 times a day.

With Emily home I had a plan. Get up. Exercise. Do a project. Eat lunch. Pool. Shower. Dad’s home. Dinner. All the while I am with my big girl. The girl that makes me laugh like no other. It was like a sleepover all day, for weeks on end with my favorite pal.

And I’m a little bit scared of the new routine. Wake up. Make breakfast. Kiss Em and Mike goodbye. Nurse Lucy. Change Lucy. Rock Lucy. Play with Lucy. Repeat ad infinitum until the bus gets here and my sidekick returns.

Who’s going to laugh with me?

I can certainly take care of a baby by myself. I’m not afraid to do that. But I’m a little afraid I’ll be bored. To be honest I’m a lot afraid of being bored.

You can save the well meaning advice about mommy and me activities, all the friends I’ll make, volunteering in Emily’s classroom, the walks in the fall leaves, how quickly the time will pass. Or the snarky comments about how I’m getting exactly what I’d wished for. Because I know all of this.

But right now I’m going to pout. It’s the last day of Summer vacation. Since the second day of break I’ve joked that I didn’t know what I was going to do when Em went back to school.

Well the joke’s on me. Turns out I wasn’t kidding. I’m gonna miss the hell out of that kid.

In the time it took to write this on my phone I have stopped crying. So has Lucy. I don’t give a good god damn if the molding holds on the mirror. I sent MQD a text “Get pizza for dinner.” I am sitting here.

My house  looks like this.

I have a tendency towards being a Perfectionist in the Mom category. Pizza for dinner and a blown up house and a half-ass DIY project do not Perfection make. I am gonna call this Progress.  Nobody likes a Perfectionist.

Fuck it. MQD can go to the grocery store. This is Progress, right? No one likes a control freak. Just one glass of wine. One big glass.


16 responses to “The not so Simple…

  1. Staying home is hard. I had more than a few meltdowns during my sahm years. I did it as long as I could enjoy it then I tagged out and went back to work. I guess you do whatever will make you the best mama. Sometimes, for some folks, its stay home and raise your babies, sometimes it’s grab a lifeline and get out of the house. Either way its trading one stress for another. Good luck mama, one day at a time is right. :)

  2. Pingback: Patience, I’mma get me some. | Excitement on the side

  3. oh, I can relate to the glow-worm part! Potamus has this book that sings “Animals love rain and sun, count them 1 by 1,” but he is simply obsessed with opening and closing the page so it’s “animals love,” close “animals,” close “animals love rain” close “animals”


    He loves it, though.

  4. Okay, so glad to see there’s someone out there who can let their kitchen look like hell once in awhile. I always feel like the biggest lazy slackass on the planet when I let mine go for a day without immediately loading the dish washer after every meal.
    I spent the day painting cabinets so I feel your pain. I think a vodka & cranberry needs me.

  5. “But I don’t necessarily want to hear the song that fucking singing glow worm makes again” almost made me pee my pants laughing. I hear ya, sister.

  6. Love ya, mama. That’s all. :)

  7. I’m gonna make you a tee shirt that says “REAL MOMS SAY SCREW IT”. Cuz nobody made me one.

  8. Routines can be a bitch. So can teething, for that matter. B went back to school a coupla weeks ago (he’s a teacher) and I hated recalibrating our day without him. You drink your wine, lady, and know that your kitchen has a kindred spirit in F’ville.

  9. Seeking Joyful Simplicity

    Oh yes, I know EXACTLY those kinds of days. Hang in there, if you can survive the tough days you will feel even better about the great days (at least that is what I tell myself).

  10. My main concern about this is…is that your big glass of wine?? If so, we are not related. ;)

  11. Even though I am on the total opposite end of the child-rearing spectrum from you, I can relate to your mood and fear of boredom etc. My sons are grown and on their own, Hubs is at work and I work at home now…too too quiet! My wine is taunting me but must wait till later in the day. right? Yes, I’ll be good and maybe I’ll go wake up the dog now.

Gimme some love!! Please?

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