...Happy Hour

My day started out with my husband gently kissing my forehead before he walked out the door. You would think that would be the beginning to a beautiful morning. Instead Brooklyn woke up with "growing pains" and proceeded to rotate in circles on her back screaming that her leg was hurting for an hour. I quickly give her medicine and try to calm her banshee like screaming only to burn the side of my cheek with a curling iron. I scramble to get ready for work and swear that I will have her tested if she continues to act this way. Fast forward to a shitty day at work and I find myself racing to stop by a local bar before returning home to the inbreds. I anxiously approach the small table with my choice of poison only to find my much needed peace interrupted by a very loud college girl. This little twat had the nerve to bitch and complain about how her summer would suck because she had to spend it in Oxford of all places and not New York like she planned. I felt myself hating this little girl and tried to remind myself that this spoiled little shit was someone's daughter. I then had an epiphany of one of my little shits sitting on a balcony drinking my money away while complaining about life and how I would bitch slap them to the moon and back. I peered down at her new Tory Burch sandals and thought about how many pairs of Tory Burch sandals I could have if my children would stop breaking my shit or better yet if they would stop growing. I finish my drink and as I exit I listen to the girl whine about the over population of geriatrics in this wonderful utopia college town called Oxford and I find peace in knowing that one day she would be a mother hopefully. One day her children would suck the life out of her and all will be right in the world. Cheers to karma!!! I head home only to find my children and mother in law MIA. What the hell? Where could they be? Did they not know I was coming home? Holy Shit...what if something happen to them? I couldn't bare to live another day without their screams, their whining, and fighting. I giggled to myself. Just short of an hour before, I was cursing them in my head and now I sit not sure what to do with my extra quiet time to myself. Instead of napping or heaven forbid cleaning, I concoct all of these awful scenarios. Really...what the hell is wrong with me? Am I so used to the insanity that I can't find peace in being still. To any event, they arrive home within minutes and my youngest runs up to me and tells me that she loves me "too much". My heart is warmed and I vow to myself that tomorrow will be different. I will have the will of 100 men and the patience of a saint. Tomorrow I will be better and do better. Then they break a picture in my bedroom and the sick cycle starts all over again.

Strips of Paper...

Imagine picking up a nice piece of stationary and then putting it threw a shredder. HA!! I always feel like my life started out with this perfect stack of beautiful stationary full of such vibrant colors…clean, crisp, and sophisticated tied with the most beautiful Tiffany’s colored bow. Well I lost the bow with the first child and now this stack of stationary is no longer neatly stacked and bound together. Funny, this stationary represented me and my plan on how I would conquer the world as a working mother. As I rise every morning at 6:00 am, I watch how that sheet of paper is shredded to pieces by the demands of my children, my husband, and work. As I kiss my three little girls goodnight, I leave their bedroom and look at the strips of paper….the dirty dishes, the piles of unfolded clothes, the toys that are thrown everywhere, the papers that need to be signed, and their shoes that seem to omit this odor that I cannot get rid of. Instead of trying to put each strip back together perfectly, I collect them all and realize the beauty in the chaos of torn paper brought together. All of the strips seem to come together as fireworks and they remind me that I am alive. The stationary cannot remain whole. It has to be torn apart and shredded to form something different. I have learned to gather those strips and admire such a vibrant display of disarray and with that display I continue to remind myself that I am alive, I am human, and I am many things put together.