Mr. Robinson, yes Paul’s wife……..that’s right

“Yeah, Hi……My name is Lisa Smetzer and I know we’ve never actually met.  My husband Paul works for you?  Yeah, just a heads up, he may be a little lagging this month, so I thought I should warn you.   Yes, I have taken a sabbatical from my job”….He responds, “Oh what is it?   I was unaware that you worked?”  “Oh yes, I just was promoted actually to senior house wife and grocery procurement officer, my kids are teens now so that took a while.  It’s just that you know how precious reputation is and I really want to meet all my goals this year and there is no room for error as you know, million dollar contracts and all, you know all too well.  SO, I am doing some field study with my cohorts and I just want to be focused so, please, if you can just promise me, his job is safe?”  “I don’t I understand Miss Smetzer?”  “Well, you realize our kids are extremely challenging personalities; so we keep them fully engaged in Swim team, select socceer I mean no like “over booking” or anything like that- but just enough so they don’t have extra down time to gain momentum  on their parent bashing.  For a while their my husband and I couldn’t keep the wine rack full enough, (forced laughter)  so we realized that perhaps they were taking a toll on us? I mean they were kind of assholes to put it bluntly, calling us names and fighting bed time, sneaking onto the blocked parenting channels what is it called something Ranch?…anyway.   I just need to sharpen my skills, refill my cup so to speak, are we cool?:  It will be noticeable, he will be away from his desk a bit,  he’ll in charge of driving a lot, in and out of the car, the ortho check-ups and lice checks, field trips, PE waivers, drivers ED.  Do you have minute, you have a wife and kid?  Wow three?…….Shit…so this could be helpful to you both?

That is how the discussion would go if we mom’s finally realized that we have no dress up lunch hours or weekends unless we call for back up no sick days.  No whining opportunities either, that’s for wimps.   Seriously,  When is the last time you did call a back up sitter or old lady to sit on your couch and watch them? Did you get to that party or check out what’s playing at the movie?   Didn’t think so-Yeah, that is no self care!  You can do better.  It’s important to hold hands and throw back some unnaturally yellow, greasy  popcorn at least monthly, heck the idea of living forever….well don’t get me going on long term care……  We barely make moms’ nights out,  what with all the germs they bring into the house from school  and the sheer exhaustion from trying to get from soccer to Piano lessons to PTA meetings, right, you got me,,,.I don’t really do those anymore- why is everything on Thursday?  Do moms think they’ll actually make adult friends post career anyway? That’s laughable.   Thursday’s sheesh! There are four other days!

So gals, if you suffer from Momnesia, where you have  a lapse in yogurt picking, who wouldn’t there are twelve kinds- from the kind that makes you poo daily to the ones, when squeezed come out electric blue and have Scooby Doo on them; and that was before the Greeks got involved….I love the reaction I get or Kiniption shall we say,  if you get the orange juice with pulp or GOD FORBID, the sugar free pudding at the store!

Moms here it is, I forgive you!   I believe in you- you will get it right next time! I know you are a good listener, despite what they told you. I even know that YOU know they hate sandwiches,   I too am on the side of the sandwich! and again and again I too try to sneak in it the smelly insulated lunch sack.   Its those fucking gluten haters, they brainwashed them, I mean Jesus broke bread to feed the masses, BREAD people!   I say savor the rebellion in you, keep putting in things you love.  It has to come out somewhere if nothing more than to make a statement; to tell those fussy moms who read too much whose boss.  They  should stop blaming their moms and leaven gluten alone!  The  kids…they’ll never get it-well- or after 30 maybe.  They don’t know how much you sacrificed for them!  They have your husbands I.Q to boot.  They think 401K is a fun new app for 3 D car racing on their Kindle.  Me, I get it. I am mom hear me roar. Botox is for liars….damn straight I am proud of my wrinkles and everything I learned from my mom.  Some day your kids will be repeating your recipes with a smile, yes with Quinoa substitutions and your phrases my mom’s- I still use today, “as useless as tits on a wall” and they will forget they used to call you anything less than “mom” with that nuance of questioning fondness, need and warmth.  Mom, mama, mommy, Lisa… decoded through  your ears as Mother superior, tenacious to a fault, clairvoyant by nature, more superhuman and  forgiving than Jesus Christ himself.  For just another a day I encourage you to call in for back up-it’s the hardest job you’ll ever do and more rewarding than any you’ve done or will do ever again, try and make the time to enjoy it!

“Hey Thursday, quit bugging me!”

The writer’s wheels are spinning and the parenting wheels are in all wheel drive. In fact, sitting in my Prius, which wreaks of sour cleats, I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror, “looking gooooood.”  Is this what single parenting feels like?  Day four and I stopped to get my brows waxed and the new fuzz on my top lip cause this week If my son points it out, I could start crying?  I prefer my husband be on the couch yelling at the t.v. instead of traveling for work.  I am well over the “I want a career” envy of his career and just wanting him to tape the remote in a foolproof pattern so I can work the bloody t.v. while he’s gone.  I do also miss hearing his voice, barking at the premiere league soccer game I managed to record-somehow, probably accidently.  It’s worth it, it brings back the boyish glow he had when we’d met.  I long for him to be next to me resting his unsocked calloused feet against mine, rather than be making spreadsheets and pitching investors to put money into his drug trial.

It’s November-the writing season and none of this matters.  What I want is to attend to the monster living upstairs weaving tidbits of the novel I am supposed to be writing.  It’s Nanowrimo month and the aches never goes away-so much to say, the dirty underwear pile up and friends want to meet me for coffee.    Friends never want to meet me for coffee!   I rise to the challenge of recognizing the path however cluttered it becomes with life foibles thrown in my way to make me trip.  I get up, I keep going I barely take time to tie my shoes, because it’s the sixth, and I have until the 30th to realize my goal, to submit a draft Novel. I give thanks to contests that motivate me to finish the story that has steeped so long in my head, its bitter and needs honey.  I want so desperately to make my heart and brain align themselves; free the words that come to my fingertips to my keypad, to you. I hope what I say is meaningful and insights change.  The kind that we can all feel, the kind that betters this world.

Not So Alone

The people down below

Have been doused for days;

a proper washing…

Where’s the scrub brush?

A little misting wouldn’t do.

The sunshine, a large kindly dose,

Was sent to warm them fully,

To rebirth their kindness,

To widen their eyes….

To the needs of those hurting,

To remind them,

even beauty can be harsh;

Even Blinding at times,

Why did they not slow….to smile at one another?

Why didn’t they stop to splash about?

I didn’t want to pummel them with non-stop rain,

But they needed to be soaked,

Plastered, sopping, cold to the bone

Look up, take note

You are not so alone