KIDS AS GLITTERY ACCESSORIES

NOT!

Her raven hair spilled over her bare shoulders. Her lips glistened red. She was undeniably glamorous, luscious. She caught her own eye passing by the hall mirror and struck a pose, marveling at her transformation into an unabashed vixen. Yes, she still possesed "it." Her sleek black velvet gown hugged her Rubinesque volupte with a gripping intensity only her passionate lover had ever wrapped her in. Tonight she would sparkle at the black tie affair in the nation's capital, where she would mingle with who's who of Washington in support of a worthy cause. She would be the envy of every man and woman in the packed ballroom, rendered breathless from her astounding beauty and heaving breasts....until...

"MOM...I think I'm gonna be siiiiiick!"

Snapping out of her self-admiration trance, she quickly turned her focus to the three year old standing in the middle of the kitchen, little lip aquiver.

"Do you feel bad?" she asked.

"I think I'm gonna 'throw uuuup!"

"NOW??"

"YES"

Rivaling Wonderwoman's speed and authority, she snapped into action, grabbing up the time-bomb tot and aiming her, AWAY FROM THE VELVET DRESS, and toward the kitchen sink. Her charmed evening spiraled down the sink drain as well.

Never had the dichotomy of glamour and motherhood been so poignant.

Sitter sent home, velvet dress flung on the bed, her cool evening of looking hot had suddenly and unceremoniously morphed into cool washcloths and hot wash cycles. Rather than 4 hours of scintillating social butterflying it was 4 rounds of changed bedding and 4 hours of head petting and motherly loving.

In her ratty t-shirt and sweats, hair hastily yanked back and smudged mascara, she could think of no more beautiful way to spend an evening than tending to her little one "making it all better." Her most worthy cause to be sure. Motherhood is a come as you are party that can spring up at any time!

(This is a true story although recount of elegance may have been subject to artistic license.)

THE ROAD TO THE DOG BED IS PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS.

Husband on travel, daughter at away camp, animals doing their usual 23/7 snoozefest. All I can hear is the whirr of the refrigerator, the occasional muffled clunk of the ice-maker, a 17-year locust outside that is either early or late by 8 years....

AHHH, my chance to live the life of a single gal with nothing but time. I had an imaginary list of how I would spend my day playing, floating on the wind, wherever it wanted to take me. Isn't it what we all fondly reminisce about....

In reality, my big plan was to attack all of the things I can never get to while I am on task when everyone is in my face (and I say that with all the love in the world.)

Tidying a room is not like painting a room that will stay painted for 3 years. It's good for 15 minutes if you are lucky. I was relishing in the concept of cleaning up the house, and then watching it keep acting clean each day until the Category 5 storm returns.

I was going to rip everything out of Madison's closets and reorganize .... I've gotten as far as plunking a laundry basket in front of her closed door. It now feels like there is a drooling, fire-breathing, pointy prickly scaled, bloodshot-eyed gurgling growling monster on the other side of that closed door. I can tell you now, I've already given up.

I was going to wash & fold every stitch of errant dirty laundry in this house. I've gotten as far as making three piles on my bedroom floor. The thought of carrying a load down, finding a holding pen for what's been napping in the dryer for 4 days until I am in FOLD-ALL-IN-FRONT-OF-TV mode.....it just makes me TIRED.

I was going to clean out my closet, declare things 'graduated' that I know I will never fit back into, and if I did, do I REALLY want to be wearing a yellow leather mini skirt at this stage in my life? I did have the distraction of gabbing with my friend on speaker phone while I tossed and sorted & rehung. I found a total of $23 wadded into various jacket pockets, which was magical. Manicure pennies from heaven, I say.

I was going to clean out the garage, go to Goodwill every day with a new load of things I know I will never use, acknowledge that their Garage-Purgatory days have concluded and be rid of the clutter finally. EUchh...maybe another time. God forbid I ruin the manicure.

I was going to wash & shine the kitchen floor. Full of fresh gusto, I cleared out the table, chairs & stools into the family room, mopped like I was getting paid by the stroke....and... then... while admiring the 'ballroom effect' of a cleared out room and appreciating the vast uncluttered tidiness... I lost my spell of motivation.

So here I sit, on the dog bed that I've tossed into the corner, on a pristine floor that I don't want to cover up, OR shine, OR think about any more...I'd much rather be writing because so much ELSE that needs to be done!

Productive procrastination at its best!

RED BULL...LIFE'S LITTLE EPIDURAL

"Natural childbirth" to me, meant simply going without makeup! I was lining up my epidural as I was signing in, still smiling, at the nurse's station.

Did you go through childbirth? Did you get an epidural? Did you recognize the insanity that anything in the world could possibly make the concept of a horse needle being shoved into your spine appealing?

The smell and taste of Red Bull nausiates me. I liken the taste to the smell of a Greyhound Bus bathroom deodorizer (can't speak for the taste of that!)

However, the thought of 'natural mothering' is more terrifying than Red Bull is nausiating. Much the same way I did the math about the joys of an epidural, I conclude that Red Bull is my friend in helping to minimize the pain of being devastatingly tired so I can deliver a clean(er) house, walked dog, a meal on the table, a properly nagged family, a load or 10 of laundry a day AND do my work as designer and writer.

Someone turned me on to Red Bull while I was training for a marathon, where one is challenged to the limit to find and maintain energy. I reserved it for just the long runs. I would glug it down like a bitter tonic and count on the 'red' or the 'bull' part to carry me through some portion of the distance. After the marathon was complete, I still had one lone can left in the fridge. I knew it was in there...it gave me a friendly hello every time I would open the fridge. I gave it a nod in return, but I had discounted any other use for it.

One especially allergy-bitten, lack-of-sleep foggy headed day, still groggy after a mere 8 cups of coffee, I staggered to the fridge in my habitual "auto-explore" one learns when working from home. Not only did the can say it's usual hello to me, it broke into songs of a chorus of angels. I found my savior.

I freely confess on the days when schedules are overloaded and pollen count is on high, coffee is about as effective as taking an aspirin for labor pains. I keep on special reserve for those days, a stash of little silver cans that I used to love to hate and now hate that I love!

What do you do the make it through on those especially exhausting days?