The Feast is your People

The wine prevailed as the drink of choice

But oddly enough,

There was no real voice,

The topic lingers…near the surface

Like plankton needs light,

Underneath the words

Devoid; neither passion nor fight

Like Cinderella dashed;

So were hopes of something new

7:30 arrives, again we bid adieu,

Like cats the family scattered

Wishing, another year, that they knew

What it is I’m thankful for, what it is I do?

They may never know what makes a meal

It’s the gravy…I mean the people, that’s most rich

All that matters; there’s so much more…

Beyond the cranberries, deeper,

Than just ridding the holiday itch

Mother’s, I forgive you!

“Yeah, Hi……Mr. Robinson, 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 am taking 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 much a job can sap you, and reputation is everything. I really want to meet all my goals this year and I am still waiting for the second ring to go with my engagement ring, so it’s imperative I get a good review. You know parenting, like managing, there is no room for error, you of all people should know, million dollar contracts and all. They only call you out on something to ream you a new one really. The other day I forgot Catsup, sheesh what scene! Anyway, I know you’re a busy man, so I’ll keep this short, can just promise me, his job is safe?”  “I don’t I understand Miss Smetzer?”  “Well, you realize our kids are extremely challenging personalities; they’re involved in lots of activities to keep engaged in Swim team, play practice, select soccer, and all these require paperwork too. I mean we don’t “over book ” them or anything like that- but if they don’t get their musical outlet the parent-bashing some days they call me retard and tell me, and take over the t.v. for hours. For a while their my husband and I couldn’t keep the wine rack full enough, (forced laughter)  So, we realized that perhaps our own children were taking a toll on us? I mean they were kind of challenging, calling us names and fighting bed time, sneaking onto the blocked parenting channels what is it called something Ranch?…anyway.   He may be called away from his desk a bit,  he’ll be driving a lot, in and out of the car, ortho check-ups, he has to maintain my blog while I’m away I have like 200 followers I need to keep. Driver Ed, my son will driving him to work so that could take a while…… lots of paperwork goes with kids.   Do you have a minute, you have a wife and kid?  Wow- three?…….Shit…so this could be helpful to you both?

This scenario probably goes through a mom’s head once in a while.  It’s good to have a dress up lunch hours and a hotel say to clear the head, Great Wolfe lodge doesn’t count. It’s also okay to assign him Catsup and toilet paper pick up, maybe even he does his laundry until you catch up? Fluffy robes are available to make you feel like you at the spa, go buy one and take a long shower, that is what movies are for. When that voice in your head is fixated on the wine section at the grocery store, think of what it does to you skin?   When you do slip away the spa with the brown rice and Kale may be just what you need, rather than martini night out?

And when you get back thank him and his boss.  It’s important to hold hands and throw back some unnaturally yellow, greasy  popcorn at least monthly, movies are an escape, and never gamble 4 star picks only, so that two hours isn’t a waste. Take a break from PTA meetings,no one is truly impressed or unimpressed if you attend so use that time to go buy a new bra, lipstick and cards for all the birthdays next month or white roses for that new vase you found hiding in the cupboard.

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 cause that’s appetizing; and that was before the Greeks got involved…. if you get the orange juice with pulp or GOD FORBID, the sugar free pudding at the store, here it is, I, your peer, forgive you!

Moms here it is, allow yourself some time to fail and be okay with it.    I believe in you- you will get it right next time! I know you are a good listener, despite what they’ve told you. I even know that YOU know they hate sandwiches and you put them in to be a rebel.    I too am on the “side” of the sandwich itself kids have no respect for the compact portability and beauty of the Its those fucking gluten haters, they brainwashed kids as moms. I mean Jesus broke bread to feed the masses, BREAD people!   I say savor the rebellion in you, keep putting in things you love.  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. Try to have more fun everyday, and your kids will reap the rewards. And if it all plays out over the years, they’ll be calling you for your famous Quinoa stuffing recipe and using all the those endearing “mom phrases just as I used my favorites today, “don’t dawdle”   and “as useless as tits on a wall” right, I turned out fine?   Stop modeling yourself after Mother superior, be tenacious enough clairvoyant enough, superhuman enough, and keep forgiving your imperfect mothering. I urge you not to really get the point you want to “call his boss. Be moved, enough by my words, to plan a day off. and start enjoying the hardest job you’ll ever do and more rewarding than any you’ve done or will do ever again, motherhood is here to stay!

“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