Tuesday, December 11, 2012


Usually I sit down to write a blog because I have something I want to say.  Tonight... well, tonight I have time.  Such a rare commodity in my life that I am almost paralyzed by its presence.  My laundry is done.  My dishes are done.  My room is clean.  The kids toy room got organized and cleaned today.  I mean, I even have lunch and dinner ready for tomorrow.  Seriously folks, I got time.  It's so surreal.  Now of course there are a million other things that can be done... Start plotting spring's garden so I can order my seeds.  Work on Matovu Farm's website.  Read a book.  Watch a movie.  Take a looooong shower.  But none of those appeal to me right.  Except for the shower which I plan on getting to after this blog.  But for now I want to just be with me.  And by that, I mean share with you.  Because that is usually how I learn the most about myself.  So I thought that if I sit down to write without any particular point or subject in mind, I might just surprise myself by what comes out.
I imagine confetti and balloons appearing out of nowhere.  I think I imagine a lot of things that just never will happen.  I think I have watched way too many TV shows and movies and have a completely distorted view on what reality is and how it works.  For instance, when an extremely messy room needs to be organized and cleaned, it does not happen in clips with upbeat music in the background, finishing triumphantly back in real time with sweaty brows and smiling faces.  No, it happens in bits.  With kids interrupting.  And a lot of overwhelming anxiety of how it's ever going to get done.  And when it's finally over, it doesn't look amazing and polished, just a lot better.  And there's still some more drawers that you know you ignored.  And you just anticlimactically move on to dinner or whatever is needed next.
Or take love.  That one is definitely different.  And after watching so many movies, I too often find myself fantasizing my own death so I can finally see how much I mean to those who love me, because in real life, love is never expressed as often or as deeply as it should be.
Or mealtime.  Mealtime on TV is the focus.  In my house, way more time is spent on preparing the meal, serving the meal, and mostly cleaning up after the meal, than the time spent on actually eating it.
Or how about friends.  In Screen Land friends are always there when you need.  They don't try to change you.  They really accept you for all of your quirks and bad habits and annoying tendencies.  And they talk so damn honestly to each other.  They say things like, 'Stop being a bitch' or 'your wardrobe stinks as bad as your breath' or 'I hate you for ruining my life' and then they walk out of the room only to still be best friends an hour later.  Do you have any friends like that?  Friends you feel you don't ever need to impress or change for at all?  Friends you never have to make any explanations to?  Friends whom you never have to say goodbye to on the phone because there is absolutely no awkwardness in just hanging up?  I think I have one.  One.  Not six best friends.  Not a social network of these friends.  One.  And I feel extraordinary lucky that I do.  And I see her once every few years and we talk on the phone.
Am I the only one who feels incredibly let down by the lack of similarity between my life and Screen Land?  I thought that the sweet little happy moments of my kids telling me 'I love you' would help me through the exacerbating moments of poop and chores and all the rest.  Nope.  I turn into bitch mom from hell when I am overwhelmed and over tired and the kids are being brats.  I forget all those perfect little moments.  They disappear from my view completely and I am shocked at what a horrible mother I sound like (am?) when I start yelling.  I put them to sleep tenderly, with their favorite songs and kisses.  I am TV mom extraordinaire!  But when they get out of bed for the umpteenth time to 'tell me something' or to argue about whether or not the nightlight stays on, or to switch to a different colored blanket... I yell.  I threaten.  I growl.  And they go to bed with my voice yelling in their ears instead of singing them sweet lullabies.  I hate it.  That doesn't happen night after night in any family dramedy.
And then there are all the moments that seem like they ought to be witnessed by an appreciative audience who have been rooting for me the whole time.  Those quiet moments where it looks as though I am totally content with a wonderful moment and don't need to share it with anyone...  Like when I talk to the spider in my kitchen every morning whom I've made peace with.  Or after I totally keep it together while my son is having a meltdown about his school work.  And slowly I talk him through it.  And I do it so well.  And he gets back on track.  And I walk away to finish doing the dishes.  Theme music fades in.  Slow, subtle smile spreads on my face.  Audience takes a collective sigh at the challenge that our heroine has overcome.
Only there's no audience.  There's just me.  Me knowing that there will be a thousand more moments like that.  Where I triumph.  And no one knows.  And no one appreciates.  And I wish personal satisfaction was enough.  But more than often I wish for the unseen audience.
So here's where I want to go with this.  I think I have that audience.  G-d.  And I think G-d plays a theme song for me.  (I think it's probably an indie pop-ish song with a beautiful, but very un-produced, voice like Beth Orten.)  And adds background laughter to my more witty moments.  And I think G-d appreciates my little moments of triumph.  And if I can reach out and connect on my end, I think I will know this more deeply.  So G-d, tonight I will be on channel 13.  Please tune in as I sit in bed and speak aloud to You for fifteen minutes, as is now my custom.  And feel free to send any thoughts and/or comments to my network.

1. My amazing neighbor and all her help getting my toy room cleaned!
2. My amazing family who are providing me with frozen meals and cleaning help!
3. Time
4. Leftover lunch from Make Your Own Pizza Monday

1 comment:

  1. Damn. Surprise indeed. You are a shining, brilliant, vulnerable, human star. I am so awed by my little stinky. And you do no worse, and maybe no better, than anyone else in your trying situation. Don't single yourself out for the failings, know you are in a sea of mamas and other people, doggy paddling to stay afloat, sometimes with graceful, soaring strokes, sometimes screaming the F word amidst mouthfuls of salt water. And you are loved, unequivocally, unconditionally, judgement free, and all the time.