Skip to main content

Stop N' Stare

Hey, Crimson,

Yes, I am talking to you in your fabulous crimson-colored pea coat with the matching leather gloves. You look positively regal climbing into your G-Class Mercedes Benz with your pursed lips and perfectly styled bob.  Everything about you is exquisite except for that side eye. Oh, how it made me cringe. It was an unmistakable scowl in my direction and it was as blatant as it was unnecessary. There isn’t an ounce of you that doesn’t scream constipated with a Prada bag full of laxatives.    

It was 7PM and nearly 40 degrees out and my ten-month-old’s feet were sock-free, but you should know that my daughter has an insatiable hunger for anything that sooths her aching gums. Like stuffed animals, fingers and her pink heart socks. So by the time we drove from school to the grocery store, her socks were saturated with enough saliva to morph them into two spitballs. Anyone who has had an overprotective Mother or even better, Grandmother, knows that wet socks equal the plague. And so after this dribble-induced monsoon, the socks were promptly removed. Are we good on the no socks now, Crimson? Let’s move on to the other reason why you were staring at me like I was wearing my bra over my clothing.

Perhaps you were also judging wondering why I was out that late with my two little ones to begin with on an idle Tuesday. Surely I must be a selfish hussy that drags her kids out to CVS because I ran out of KY Jelly. I mean I look the part don’t I? I look young enough to be rolling around in the sheets with my husband in an attempt to create another baby who I would willingly not put socks on. And of course slutty enough to drag my girls out during what surely should be their bed times. Was it the smoky eyes that gave me away? Promiscuity increases with the amount of eyeliner used ya know. Sleep deprivation be damned, I needed the sex and I needed the lub because dirty diapers, snots and kid-drool are such turn-ons. … SAID NO MOM EVER.

Crimson, look, I don’t know your background, just like you don’t know mine. You have no way of knowing that I spilt the last of the baby formula early that morning and had a crazy work day which made it impossible to pick more up during lunch. You weren’t privy to the fact that my husband had a client meeting after hours and wouldn’t be home until 9PM. You don’t realize that I have the best mother-in-law in the world, but she lives just a touch too far away to ask for formula-favors on the days she doesn’t take care of my girls. And because of our crazy lives right now, no matter how hard I try to plan, with two kids and a full-time job -  I have to improvise. I improvise a lot. I improvise so much so that I should be cast on Saturday Night Live!... I wish. 

You also don’t know the craziest and most unprepared days create some of our best family memories. My older one often references one rainy day leaving her school. The only spot I could get was all the way on the other end of the parking lot, which meant a sprint with a 15-pound baby and diaper bag in one hand and a half-broken umbrella and four-year-old in the other. Every time a puddle splashed my legs I screamed which instantly made my girls giggle.  We would have been better forgoing the umbrella altogether considering the amount of water that ended up spritzed all over us. Memories like that make it all worth it even though my less-than-perfect umbrella would have made your skin crawl, Crimson.

I haven’t been very fair in my assessment of you either though- have I? I too have never walked in your shoes and now shutter at the day you may have had. Maybe you found out that your husband was cheating on you. Maybe you had just bought a pregnancy test, hoping that you had finally conceived after a year of heartache. Maybe you were passed up for a promotion at work.. Maybe you had an absolutely mundane day and wished to God you had someone to share it with. It’s also possible that you have resting bitch face and just really wanted to get the hell home and out of the cold! 

Let’s pretend to meet again, for karma’s sake. This time you won’t stare at me like I ran over your cat and I won’t call you names like Crimson. This time we nod in acknowledgement and send each other good vibes; honest vibes- vibes that only a woman can send to another woman. Because within the #metoo movement is another one unfolding, it’s the one that knee-jerks the commiseration out of us and makes us appreciate one another as a human species. We are the lucky ones that get to grace this earth, so let’s make the most of it and support each other. 

Weeknight Stop N' Shop Mania gives birth to Weekday morning  crib Mania!


Popular posts from this blog

Pink Balloon

I bought you a balloon today.
I blew it up, tied a string, but it flew away.

It sailed over parks and jumped over bridges.
All the while dodging a few unsuspecting pigeons.

It swayed and whirled through winds so great.
It was no wonder it did not have a cape.

The faster I ran the further away it got.
For over mountains, valleys and oceans it appeared to hop.

It danced under the sun, while its pink surface glistened.
I swear I could hear your laughter if I closed my eyes real tight and listened.

Before I could grab it, before I knew,
The balloon had made it's way up, up, up, and was headed straight to you.

No more hesitation, no more delays.
This balloon was serving it's purpose,
And was happily on its way.

Happy birthday to You,
Happy birthday sweet Mother,
My best friend, my confident, there will never be another.

When that balloon gets to you make sure to send it back.
From earth heaven isn't too far off track.

Send it back for birthdays, holidays and special occasions w…

Spiked Lemonade

It has been a marvelous beginning of summer. The birds serenade us every morning with their beautiful song. It makes me want to open up our French doors and sing with them until my entire house wakes up to join in our sweet melodies. My pale pink, baby doll nightgown would blow in the breeze and my husband would cook up an amazingly decadent breakfast that he would somehow manage to make fat and calorie- free. There would be a carriage waiting downstairs to take us to the beach where we would spend time with our mermaid and unicorn friends in seventy-degree perfect, weather.
We would get great tans without the threat of strange sun spots that beckon WebMD’s dooming diagnosis. Our kids would behave like two little cherubs and not whine, hit each other, or need to poop or pee the entire day. I would have no desire to go to a separate part of the beach to have alone time, because being with my well-behaved, self-sufficient and loving family would be all I could ever want in the world. I …