There’s sort of a joke in our family that we exasperated parents say to one another, “I don’t know how I do it all!” I think I actually got this saying from my dad who single-handedly raised my sister and I through our worst years (me–a (pre)teen and my sister–a sassy elementary school girl) and held down his normal management position with Southwestern Bell.
So the saying stuck, or rubbed off on me, or whatever…even though I vowed never to say anything remotely resembling what my dear parents said. But now…now it’s like I have to find the time to do it all. And it’s really getting difficult.
I asked my hubby last night, “Am I mom who writes, or a writer who mothers?” It seems I wear lots of different hats…and I wonder if I do any of it well. (He says I do…but that’s just his opinion).
I lost my temper at the girls yesterday…twice. Two different girls at two different times for two different reasons all about two minutes a part. I felt terrible. I didn’t get all of the bathrooms scrubbed yesterday and not every trashcan got emptied before trash pick-up this morning. I still haven’t called about that spring break camp for my oldest daughter, and I forgot to get something to the speech clinic.
I wanted to read my new Jodi Picoult book, but I knew I had my own book to make revisions on. I bought swimming suits for the girls through Hannah Andersson, but how dumb is that…it’s 43 degrees right now (in my defense, they were on sale and they’ll need them anyway). I still haven’t gone through the piles of spring and summer clothing that they have out-grown (which I sort of promise I will do before I make any new purchases). Not only that, I felt a strong desire to be crafty and get to work on invitations for my daughter’s April birthday. But I didn’t.
Am I a mom or a writer? It’s really becoming a gray line these days.
That carton of Edy’s 1/2 fat cookies and cream icecream stared back at me from the freezer with a look of, “If you eat me, you will feel better.” I curled up on the puffy chair, pulled the “magic blanket” over my body, and called to my honey, “I’ll take some of that ice cream…since you’re up.” (He wasn’t up). After reading a chapter of Jodi and eating my ice cream, I fell asleep in the chair. I don’t know how I do it all.
And that is what is in my brain today, Thrursday, March 10 2011.