Posts Tagged ‘wackos’

Mar

20

2014

And How Do You Ever Get Any Writing Done When You’re a Mom? Ask the Wackos

Filed under: Blogging, Check-it-out, Family, Pondering, Writing

You might have noticed I missed Tuesday’s blog. I attempted it, but the 11yo and I either came down with food poisoning or the stomach plague early Monday morning. I spent most of Monday in a heaving, feverish stupor, using all of my energy to get the 8yo to and from school. We’re finally feeling better, so this morning it was back to getting the youngest two boys on the regular schedule. Adding to the morning madness, the 13yo (on spring break right now) was also going into school with them to get some dyslexia testing done in preparation for next year.

Sounds easy enough–except it wasn’t. It rarely is.

For starters, the 11yo, on top of being sick this week, was having a lot of anxiety about school–a product of our WCSD fiasco. ¬†Grrrrrr So in addition to calming nerves, I was also making lunches and trying to find red clothes for the 8yo’s school production. There was lots juggling going on, but we finally got in the car. And then I realized my keys were in the jacket I wore yesterday. Time was getting tight now. So I started to back out of the driveway when I realized…SHIT! ¬†The 13yo is still in bed sleeping!!!!! I threw the car in park, regretting the decision to bring my regular coffee mug instead of a travel mug in the car as I sloshed all over, run inside and start bellowing. By the time I got to his room, the 13yo’s eyes were still clouded with sleep, but he was standing in the middle of the room staring at me like a zombie.

ME: YOU HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL AND WE HAVE TO LEAVE IN 2 MINUTES!!!!

HIM: but is was sleeping.

ME: AND NOW YOU’RE NOT. PUT ON THESE CLOTHES *rips things out of closets and drawers* BRUSH YOUR HAIR AND TEETH AND PUT ON DEODORANT.

HIM:

ME: NOW!!!!!

Photo on 2009-10-22 at 10.17

HIM: but i was sleeping.

ME: YOU NOW HAVE A LESS THAN 2 MINUTES. I’LL MAKE YOU AN ENGLISH MUFFIN FOR THE CAR. GO!!!!!!

HIM: ok

ME: *sends death glare and runs upstairs and makes english muffin*

ME AGAIN: (BELLOWING) WHY ARE YOU STILL DOWNSTAIRS?????

HIM: *sauntering up the stairs with a big grin on his face* You are so lucky I’m not a girl. *mutters something about make-up under his breath*

ME: I DON’T WEAR MAKE-UP. YOUR SHOES AND COAT ARE BY THE DOOR. DO NOT DRIP BUTTER ALL OVER THE PLACE.

We get in car…

OTHER BOYS: WOW! You guys did all of that in 3 minutes. You’re really lucky we’re not girls, Mom. *snort*

HIM: Why is there coffee all over my seat?

ME: I’M A GIRL AND I’M FAST. I’M LIKE THE FASTEST GETTING READY GIRL YOU’VE EVER MET. AND JUST SIT IN THE COFFEE. YOUR PANTS WILL WIPE IT UP. IT’S NOT LIKE YOU DON’T USE THEM FOR A NAPKIN ANYWAY. BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU SHOULD GET BUTTER ALL OVER.

HIM: *shakes head*

OTHER BOYS: You ARE fast but that’s probably because you don’t wear make-up. But Dad’s really slow for a guy and he doesn’t wear make up. *scratches head*

ME: BECAUSE DAD IS DAD!!!!! *guns accelerator* NOW EVERYONE PAY ATTENTION AND STOP TALKING ABOUT MAKE-UP. WHEN WE GET TO THE PARKING LOT IT’S A FOOT RACE TO THE DOOR. WE’VE GOT TO MOVE PEOPLE!!!!

 

And we did. Except for the discussion about the water mark on the wall of the gym and how it got there. Clogged gutter? But what matters is that WE WERE ON TIME and all was well. And after some fun retelling of the morning’s events to the school staff, my heart fell back into a normal rhythm. In fact, as I was walking back out of the school with a tiny little ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, I actually smiled until I realized…SHIT!

I forgot to do today’s blog post. Seriously? But I was already drafting in my head on the way to the car when I started to laugh at an Ah-ha moment that hit me on the head like a thawing icicle. Back in the day, these kinds of fiascos would have have stopped me in my tracks. They would have been the road blocks in my day that I just couldn’t get around. Instead of laughing it off and going home and writing a blog post, I would have considered myself a sucky blogger. I would’ve convinced myself that since I wasn’t “perfect” at it–I shouldn’t do it at all.

I let my mind extrapolate on that thought. And then I realized that all the successful writing I’ve ever done has been since I’ve had kids. That’s an interesting correlation to ponder because it certainly isn’t because of the calm, cool and collected mornings the kids bring to my life. Or afternoons, evenings, weekends, holidays etc. You get the picture. No, the connection between having kids and being a successful writer is that they forced me to change how I operate.

They were the first things in my life where quiting was not an option.

And since I’m obviously a deep and sticky vat of mistakes as a parent and a person (like we all are) I was forced to come to terms with my imperfections. I had to learn to get over myself.

I used to lay in bed at night as a child, wishing I had the power to hit a switch and get a do-over on my life. I truly believed that at any point in my own childhood I’d screwed it up so much I’d never get out from under my mistakes. And these weren’t big mistakes. It might be forgetting a homework assignment or something else just as insignificant in the big picture. I didn’t seem to have a gage for that sort of thing. No importance-o-meter. The funny thing was that no one put this pressure on me. But it was there. I some how grew up believing that there was a clear right and wrong and once you lost your way it was impossible to find it again.

Luckily for me, my kids saved me.

Not all my mornings are as wacko as today’s was. But I’ll be honest, we have our fair share of these little chaotic nuggets sprinkled throughout our existence. And when I tell these stories, which the writer in me can’t help but do, I see a lot of people holding their stomachs, tears in their eyes laughing as they ask…

And how do you ever get any writing done when you’re a mom?

And I just laugh and shrug and tell them it’s a challenge.

But the truth is that those little wackos are they only reason I ever got any writing done.

 

Tell me–how have kids changed your writing life? Or just your life? Are you crippled with perfectionism? Or maybe just freaking unorganized in the morning? Spill your guts–tell me I’m not all alone with the wackos. :o)

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