[the life of a post-holiday weekend mother]
Sitting backseat, relaxed and reflective
enjoying the fact that I managed to grasp more sun –
achieved more late summer, golden ku-luh.
Not knowing
or caring
what lies in wait
for me
at home.
Chatting and laughing
I pull into my driveway
SLAM
I’m home.
Hauling, dropping, snatching, scooping, rearranging
little pieces, big pieces
before me
scattered all around me.
My stuff. Her stuff, His stuff. Whose stuff?
Load up, let’s go.
Back on the road again.
Rushing, rushing always rushing.
Persistent struggle against a
consistent spinning of the clock.
Made it. Just in time. One hour to find that perfect pair.
Yes. No. Yes. Maybe. No. Oh definitely no. The color’s all wrong.
Up one aisle. Down another.
My head’s spinning and I’m wobbling
upon two different heights of heels.
She’s convinced. These are the ones.
The color’s right and the heels feel nice.
And YIPPEE! They’re on sale!
Rushing, rushing always rushing.
A persistent, consistent battle.
Pick-up the friend.
Pick-up the son.
Drop off the kids back home.
Load the laundry.
Switch the laundry.
Make up the extra bed – for we have an extra child overnight.
Help fix dinner.
Set the table.
Eat our meal.
Then clean up the post-dinner mess.
Load the laundry.
Switch the laundry.
Repeat, as necessary, until the bedtime collapse.
Wake up. Get up.
Rotate individuals through the bathroom.
Socks. Where are my socks?
Don’t you know, my dear, we fish in baskets for our multi-colored fleece.
Hustle downstairs. Hustle through the pantry. Hustle through lunch-packing options.
Where is the bread? I don’t like that for snack. But I want to pack THAT for my beverage.
Rummage. Scoop. Rinse. Seal. Stash. Pour. Gobble. Sip. Slurp.
Pack your backpack. Put on your shoes. Have you fed the bunnies? What about their water?
Hurry up! Let’s go! This train’ll leave without you if you don’t get a move on it!
Load up, let’s go.
Back on the road again.
Rushing, rushing always rushing.
Our persistent, consistent battle.
Workday. School day. Play day.
Work. Teach. Learn. Snack. Work. Teach. Learn. Lunch. Continue to work.
Always one eye on the clock.
Resort. Repack. Rinse my cup. Relinquish another school day.
Load up, let’s go.
Back on the road again.
Homeward bound. But how long? Who knows. Never long enough.
Tea time. T.V. time. Lego time. Computer time. Reading blog time. Never enough time.
Load the laundry.
Switch the laundry.
Unload dishwasher.
Load dishwasher.
Read more blogs.
Oops! Lost track of time! Time to start collecting.
Load up, let’s go.
Back on the road again.
Rushing, rushing always rushing.
Persistent, consistent.
Sports over. High schooler picked up.
What? Sure, I can take another.
And another.
Certainly. I have room for another.
Drive this way.
And that.
Double back and drop off the last.
Chatting. Grousing. Laughing. Processing.
The ever-present music playing in the background.
Day slowly unwinding.
Arrive home and park. For a while.
Homework time. Shower time. Primp to get ready and go out again time.
Fix dinner.
Set table.
Shovel food.
Quickly clear the edible debris.
Oops! Lost track of time! Time to fly.
Bring cleats. Bring long socks and shin guards. Bring water bottle filled to the brim
Bring enormous backpack filled with unfinished homework. Bring cell phone. Bring iPod to while away the time.
[For a teenager, time is meant to be mutilated. To be killed.]
Hurry along you sluggish fiends. You scalawags and toe-dragging dawdlers.
Load up, let’s go.
Back on the road again.
Rushing, rushing always rushing.
Consistently, persistently late.
Drop off One. Then Two.
Back home for Three.
Homework. Do your homework. What do you mean ‘you’re done’? What about reading? What about writing? What about that missed period and capital letter?
Come back here. You’re not done. Don’t argue with me now.
Your T.V. can wait. Your Legos can wait. But my patience is at an end.
Though my work never, never ends.
Load the laundry.
Switch the laundry.
Unload dishwasher.
Load dishwasher.
Finally, read more blogs.
Oops! Lost track of time! Time to start collecting.
Load up. Always loading up. To begin the final collection.
Dark and winding, that same familiar road
rises up to greet me.
Meet me.
Thrice in one day.
The ever-present music continues to play,
as I contemplate the completion of my day.
Pick up One. Pick up Two. Three is at home with Calvin and Hobbes
and dad.
While I continue to drive
with conflicted emotions
knowing
that someday
this all
will change.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
$$wishes: to buy more time [and perhaps Exxon/Mobil stock]
$$sins: I burn way too much gas: I AM the greenhouse effect.
$$goals: Less rushing. More reading, researching and writing
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16 comments:
Yep, that it will all change someday. Right now, you're probably thinking it can change a minute to soon. But in a blink of an eye, it will and you'll be saying how did I ever do this and that and some other three things all at once and live to tell about it when now, I can barely accomplish one thing at a time!
I guess it's the old adage -"Be careful what you wish for" -at work isn't it?
Thirty years ago, I worked fulltime on campus at Penn State, part-time, selling avon, had three children to feed (plus the ex if he happened to leave the bar in time to make it home for supper), sewed many of the two younger kids clothes, knitted occasionally, even read books, magazines, etc., and today, it hurries me to just "Watch" (as in babysit) an 18-month-old and a four-year-old,cook supper and play with my blog! And I am beat!
I know exactly what you mean--in a blink-of-an-eye-it'll-all-change sort of way.
I'm also terribly impressed with how much you had to do (in that very typical multi-tasking maternal mode)while raising your own children. I can't even fathom what insanity I would have to endure if my husband weren't in the picture.
I'd probably be found, in a very Plath-like pose, with my head shoved in an oven.
However, here's to good friends (blog and otherwise), family and so many things that make life worthwhile -- caffeine, chocolate, good shoes, well-written blogs, tasty wine, soft fluffy sweaters and a really excited football game!
Cheers :)
Does anyone really do the oven thing anymore? That's like soooo 1955.
Good Stuff! I always feel like I'm fighting the dishwasher and laundry machine, too. I must say that this is why I plan on encouraging my children to be couch potatoes. AJ is almost there. He loves vegging in front of Scooby - - with a bit of drool coming off his chin.
And, if I can convince Mike, I'll split my Exxon stock with you (it's doubled in a year!!!)
I took a class a few years back on getting organized. I never felt like I had enough time...for ANYTHING...always rushing...Stressed out!...GO,GO,GO.
The class was so helpful..AND simple. It basically says, "You've Lost Control." And guess what?..I had! I now sit down every evening and plan out my next day. It takes 5-10 minutes. I stick to my schedule and get everything done. No effin around. And unbelievably, I end up with much more free time and I'm much more relaxed. You just can't allow everything to distract you. I bet you waste 2-3 hrs a day messing around...3 minutes here...10 there..it adds up! Try it for a few days. It really works and I'm much happier!...Good Luck
I felt exhausted after your first line and had to have a sit down between verses - were they verses? And I thought I was busy.
Iambic pentameter, right? OK, maybe not, but beyond haiku it's the only poetry word I know.
There once was a mother from Philly,
She lived in house that often was shrilly,
She left for a weekend, returned...
Nantucket.
free verse. I just realized, I didn't read the title. A new poetry word, that I actually now remember.
I'll tell you this much Molly - if anything should ever happen and you find yourself alone, raising three kids (and I really can fathom your husband putting you in a place like that from reading his blog) you would be surprised at the things you can and will do -out of necessity, for openers! Anyone who can balance what you're currently doing, will be able to survive once you've picked up the pieces and started to move on.
My life today is the most disorganized that it has ever been! LOL -I have no schedule, no real routine save for cooking supper cause the two little ones have their routine which changes pretty much daily. I know too from past experience when I was working and had a kazillion things on my plate just at work, I function much better when I am under pressure of a deadline type situation. I always thought I was more of a type B personality -pretty much laid back - but maybe I'm really a Type A, in disguise. Think that's a possibility?
Jeni --
When you said "and I really can fathom your husband putting you in a place like that from reading his blog" I sure as hell hope you left out a critical "'t". If not, I fear that I am giving off the wrong impression.
Word Verification of the Day: NOBULP - medication you take before eating cucmbers in the garden to prevent gassy burpage.
My eyes went wide open. Then reality settled in, Jeni missed the punctuation and the last letter.
Though, in the spirit of my lame meme, we could rocket around the blogosphere, I heard it through the grapevine, that Pos is a bad husband and father.
Little sis –
Bring on that next generation of spuds! I have my own starchy wonders to offer up to the world and *sniff* I’m so proud.
s.ray –
Just to let you know, I really appreciate the great advice you had to share and tried to write out a schedule to help me get through today.
[DISCLAIMER: This is our jammed-packed, crazy Homecoming Weekend and I have a Freshman–Freshwoman, actually–to coordinate with].
Unfortunately, my seven ‘bullet points’ of scheduled information got increased to ten and then eventually three of them had to be changed in a matter of minutes (due to conflict of interests: i.e.: football game ended WAY too late for the dinner reservation; middle son decided that flirting with the girls was way more important than going to soccer practice (he did manage to win us over with that one!)).
So I guess until I’m not beholden to the whims of others and the capriciousness of uncontrollable factors, I’m kinda stuck in “You’ve Lost Control” land for tad bit longer. That’s OK – I manage to have great conversations with my many passengers and I always get to listen to rockin’ tunes.
Thanks so much for popping over and saying “Hi”!
Omega Mum –
After reading my nonsense (which is all based on utter and absolute truths – stack off Bibles currently placed here under my right hand), you really need to forgo the ‘sit down’ and commence with a full-fledge lie down – with a full bottle of wine, a pricey box of chocolates and the T.V. tuned into some wonderfully trashy reality show.
And please indulge, on my behalf, in some special “me” time – you certainly deserve it after your brilliant Harvest Festival performance.
Dave –
Thank you so much for that catchy limerick – I’ve been caught a few times, while slaving away over the dinner dishes, reciting the words to myself in a rather lewd manner. Really doesn’t lend itself to very proper maternal decorum.
I am such a terribly cheeky monkey ;)
Jeni, Pos, and Dave –
Not a wrong impression. Nor an issue of speedy typing and misplaced contractions. Certainly never a bad husband or father.
No. He’s just a cheekier monkey than me ;)
I saw the "can" instead of the intended "can't" to late to change it -of course. And also, I'm too damned lazy somedays to go back and do an addendum too. But considering that typo also launched Dave into breaking into song - such as it was -and got a rise our of Pos -and Molly -I'm thinking it was best that it was left there. Not to worry Pos -there's no evil thoughts coming through from me about you - I think your words speak loud and clear.
And yet, one of the search terms used to find me has been "bad husband." Also, "poem about bad husband."
Perhaps that's what I need to do -- write a poem about being a bad husband.
A husband who was known as a slob
Discovered a gelatinous blob
He counted the kids
And was short, so he hid
And caught the next bus to Punjab
*ba-da-bum--ching*
Yes folks, he's here ALL week ...
;)
With a return engagement for the foreseeable future.
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