Dearest Xanax readers…. I have come to a point in my blogging … career? is that even what this is called…. that I need to archive Xanax or Running Shoes, and eventually shut it down. I know that I have many readers that have been with me from the very beginning, so I want to let you know that although I am shutting this down, I have started the next chapter. If you loved this blog… come away with me, and follow me over at: Jameson & Vinyl.
Last night I was out of the house for a few hours at my weekly pool league match. Things were going ok. Meaning they were not too bad compared to the last few Tuesdays I’ve had. As luck would have it, or karma, or whatever bitch is stalking my life this week…. my daughters refused to let it just be an ok night. The text messages start rolling:
Hailey: MOM… Can I stay the night at Abby’s house tonight so that we can get ready for the first day of school together tomorrow?
Me: It’s the first day of school. It’s a MOM day.
Hailey: Ohhhh mmmyyyyyy gaaawwwdddddd mom. I ONLY HAVE THREE YEARS OF SCHOOL LEFT.
Me: And I’ve take a picture of you every single first day of school, every year… I have 3 left to take.
At this point the SHEER FUCKING PANIC HITS ME. 3 MORE???? I ONLY HAVE 3 MORE PICTURES TO TAKE???? I have already taken 10 first day of school pictures of her? Tears are welling up. My heart is racing.
Me: NOOOOOOOOO!!! You will be home! I have to take a picture.
Hailey: Sigh…. can’t you take it on the second day?
(I’m screaming internally now… in expletives and curly letters that I can’t even understand).
Me: No. Just no.
Hailey: Ugh. Fine.
Pictures of her this morning turn out…. as they always do on Hailey’s first day of school.
Then…. there’s Faith. SOOOOOOOOO…… Our texting starts last night. She’s in a great mood. Chelsi is twisting her hair in knots for her to sleep on so she has gorgeous curls this morning. She’s elated. Until:
Faith: Mom… can I ride to school with Madi tomorrow? Her mom has time to drive her to school.
I’m instantly annoyed at all moms that have the ability to drive their kids to school, go to work, feed them, and get to sports practices on time… WTF am I doing wrong… I huff)
Faith: WHHHHYYYYYYYY???? They live in our neighborhood mom.
Me: Fine. But if Madi is sick and you miss the bus cause she isn’t going to school, then you’re walking.
Faith: God, Mom; Madi’s mom would totally still take me to school.
I’ve lost the battle. Of courrrrssseeee she would. My energy to keep arguing with the WHHHHYYYYY Monsters is gone.
Faith: By the way, your clothes are in the dryer, and it’s not drying them. I think it’s broken. Goodnight! I love you!
Sigh. HEAVY SIGH. FUCKING UGGHHHH)
This morning I wake up and realize I didn’t check the dryer when I got home. Sooooo my clothes for work are still wet. Yay. I make sure the girls are up. They are, Faith is mid panic because her hair is curled tooooooo tightly and I must fix it immediately. Hailey is growling in the bathroom we now share, and I am scared to enter.
Ahhhh, my sweet little dog, she looks like a safe someone to say good morning to first. I chance it. She doesn’t bite me. Small victory.
Time to try to get a few pictures of both girls together. This should go swimmingly. Faith is immediately standing too close to Hailey, there’s hair being pulled. Anger. Death. Blood, blood, blood. Ugh. I might have taken one that didn’t suck before Hailey’s bus came, luckily. I was just about to use my moves learned from Kung Fu Panda.
Sometimes there just aren’t words for what is going on around you. You just gotta go, get in the car, turn on some Rage Against the Machines, or Jewel… whatever… you don’t know me. And let their day, be whatever it unfolds into today.
Somehow after all the expletives and crazy thoughts I had this morning, sitting at my desk, my brain is still wrapped around how their days are going, how their friends liked seeing them again, if anything crazy has changed… and I can’t wait to see them over dinner tonight. As they roll their eyes and look at me as if I am from another planet.
Cause I’m old. And… ugh… so… just…. blah MOM.
Seems a long damn time since I picked up a pen… or a keyboard… mostly because when there’s one in my hand lately, I want to throw it through a mirror. A wall. A building. Doesn’t matter. There’s a monkey on my back, and the withdrawals are a bitch. Guess that’s the way that writing has always worked in my life. I have once again found myself in the middle of a divorce. In the middle of financial meltdown. In the middle of searching for myself.
Waves keep on pounding the sand though, and my feet keep me moving. Every time I start to think I made a crazy decision and that my life was simple, beautiful and … enough… that I should just suck it up, I get punched with another uppercut to the jaw, and it sets my feet back in motion. You know why? Because at the end of the day, I fucking matter. Took a dear sweet friend saying that to me yesterday about his own life, for me to hear the words. I matter.
Not the same way black lives matter. Or white lives matter. Or labs matter. Something else entirely. This is about me, dammit. Birthdays keep on coming. People around me keep doing whatever the fuck they want and waiting for me to clean up their messes, or telling me about them, or just making them and leaving them… but regardless… I digress. The point is… I’m 35 mfers. It’s my time. Me time. Jeanna-thirty. Ok, that was a little far.
I named this post through the looking glass, for two reasons. When I was a kid, I HATED ALICE IN WONDERLAND. HATED. LOATHED. It made no damn sense at all. However, since I fell through the rabbit hole of life, passing books, pictures, maps, touches, tastes; moving too quickly to grab on to anything…. only to hit the floor and need to be small, then becoming small to realize I left something way out of my reach…. ohhhh the irony is not fucking lost on me at all.
But my Alice, she’s a little twisted. She’s tatted, and edgy, and sassy.
When I stop and glance around my life, I see the things I have succeeded at, but I see my flaws too. They’re there. NICE… They’re there…. anyway. They are. And instead of standing here crying about them, I am changing them. Changing the things that broke me down. Changing the things that keep me from shining. Bringing things back into my life that make me sparkle. If I am going to keep on this journey through the looking glass, I’m taking my cat, the rabbit, and the hatter with me. Bringing some fucking friends for the ride. And I am taking the queen of hearts, cause she is after all, just in my imagination.
There are these moments when your children are small, when they throw tantrums or vomit down the front of your white pantsuit… that you simply forgive and forget. The reason you do this is because 20 minutes later, that same day, their cheeks look like cherubs, they snuggle in your lap and tell you how much they love you, or they fall asleep and look like sunshine breaking through on a cloudy day. My point… little kids have a way of being beautiful after they’ve been monsters. So you keep loving them. You keep feeding them. You keep allowing them oxygen.
But, the darndest thing happens. The monsters just keep getting bigger. One morning you wake-up to find that a full-fledged teenager has rolled out of bed in your child’s room. No more cherub cheeks. No more sunshine. Nope. They’re always cloudy. They walk through the day with a rain cloud above their head and at any given time they can call lightning down to strike you where you stand if you happen to disagree with them, don’t hand them food, or dare I even whisper…. ask them to wash a cup.
Your natural instinct is to run from these beasts. To arm yourself with kitchen knives and a helmet. To sleep with your door locked, naturally wild beasts are nocturnal. They’ve lost their means to communicate, becoming grunting, glaring, eye-rolling zombies of the sweet angelic faces you can vaguely remember from their youth. From somewhere in the back of your mind, the words to an old song you know comes forth and smacks you with the truth, “You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave….” oh dear Lord. I’m trapped.
I tiptoe through the house, daring wake the monsters. Let them sleep. Or meditate. Or whatever it is they are doing while they float 6 feet above their bed, pentagrams drawn on the floor. I have clean laundry. Dare I knock? I stand and throw it toward their bed, they’ll never notice anyway, as it mixes with the clean/dirty laundry already there.
I need a hero.
I’ve spent the morning pouring over the last few years worth of pictures in my phone, on Facebook and Instagram. The soccer games, band recitals, drama productions, holidays, picnics, dinners, you name it. What a blessing my world is. What an amazing place filled with beautiful little faces. Good luck today my babies. I hope 11th, 8th, and 6th grade is fantastic!