I love all the topic ideas you guys
gave me yesterday for future blog articles. Lots of good food for thought, some subjects that are already in planning stages for a memoir, and some things that made me laugh -- namely, how I manage to be so balanced.
You've got to be kidding me.
The secret?
It's all done with mirrors.
Because I'm the most frazzled person on this planet most of the time, piling way too much on my plate, saying "yes" to way too many things, never looking at the calendar when I say "of course I can" ... and then panicking and running away when the beads on the table start to topple as they grow higher and higher and the emails start backing up into the hundreds and the PAPERWORK, my heavens the PAPERWORK!
(Gasp... heave... gasp....)
A lot of times, this is where I end up when I get overloaded and need to regroup....
But not today.
Today, instead of working out like I should have been doing, I decided to take a trip to Barnes and Noble in Annapolis, 40 minutes or so away and over a
Very Large Bridge to buy a book. I had a good excuse -- I had a coupon. Long live books, and long live book coupons.
I started out with the new VW Punch Buggy, complete with flowers in the vase..
... the pink one for me and the orange one for Zack, since he loves orange and loves the car. The weather was perfect for opening the sun roof....
... and of course, with this hair, which I recently had done so the pink is even further up my head.
I also stopped in to get my favorite travel drink, a venti skim mocha (but whipped cream, please). These girls are awesome. They see me walk in the door and they start making my drink. They see Rick walk through the door and they start making my drink. They rock, and they rock hard. They're sweet and hilarious and I love them dearly.
Now these next pictures are of the Bay Bridge, which is five miles long, very very high up over the water, and caused me to balk at first about moving to the Eastern Shore. These photos were taken with my camera set on sport mode (so the movement of my car and the bridge didn't matter) and I had both hands on the wheel (I put the timer on the camera and set it on the dash next to the GPS).
But still, don't tell my husband.
It sure doesn't look like much, does it? But it's listed
on this web site as one of the scariest bridges in the world.
Anyway! I cross that bridge with hardly a thought nowadays. Unless there's wind. Then I grit my teeth, feel my spine try to crawl out the top of my head, and just get through the next however-many-minutes of fear.
Barnes and Noble is a place of peace for me. Books -- I love them more than beads, I think. Ever since I was very small, they carried me away from a life where I didn't fit into a life where I could. Some have asked if I'm a speed-reader, and I honestly don't know. I would venture to say I am. I learned to read when I was three, and quickly jumped well above my age group by Kindergarten. Interestingly, I could read at an amazingly advanced level, but I couldn't tie my shoes or master scissors.
I always spend a lot of time in both the children's section and the how-to-be-a-better-mom section. Today I bought a book by
Temple Grandin and flipped through a dozen others.
Being a mom is the hardest job I've ever had. There's no instruction manual, even though it seems like there's always a new book for me to look over. Sometimes I read books on certain things and I get this hollow feeling in my stomach, and sometimes I read a book and I feel a wash of relief when I realize I'm not alone in how I feel or the struggles I have. It all depends upon the day and what's on the shelf.
Going to the mall makes me twitchy, so instead of heading in that direction, I decided to drive twenty more minutes up the road and surprise Rick at his office. Rick works on -- well, I have no real idea. Both of us are prior military, but he retired with 26 years and a Chief Master Sergeant rank, so he has a rather important job of which I no longer have the clearance to Need To Know. So I can't just walk in and say hi -- I have to call him and ask him to come outside.
Which he did. He wanted to collect on that hug and kiss!
That was fun. So back home, an hour of driving to a very eclectic mix of random tunes on a CD I'd burned -- Echo and the Bunnymen (
Lips Like Sugar), Dizzy Gillespie (Manteca), Elvis (
Rubberneckin', Paul Oakenfold remix), ELO (
Mr. Blue Sky), and a bunch of others. I sing so off key you can hear it over the road noise AND the blaring stereo, but as long as I don't have passengers, I'm good.
And then I got home and crashed on impact entering The Real World.
Most parents, I dare say, dread when school lets out. I, on the other hand, look forward to it because I dread the end of each school day. I worry to the point of a stomach ache about how Zack's day went. Was today a good day, or a bad day?
Today was a bad day.
This goes beyond "honey what did YOU do today?". This goes deeper, and it all goes back to the issue of needing a manual on how to raise kids, especially kids who are such amazing human beings that rather than throw your hands up in despair, you WANT to reach out and fix this or tweak that or, like Luke Skywalker, save them from a universe full of evil dudes.
It's hard for me to talk about being a mom and triply hard for me to talk about Zack when it comes to anything less than "behold, my wonderful boy, who you all know and love". Trust me, he IS a wonderful boy who is hilarious and sensitive, deep-thinking and literal. Yet sometimes I want to come here and cry, "Please help me, because X, Y, and then freaking Z happened and I don't know what to do!".
Then I saw these cars that Zack had set up in his playroom.
I think of Zack as that middle car, that bright shining yellow car in the middle.
He's surrounded by obstacles and challenges, some that will turn out to be wonderful adventures, and some that will turn out to be not so awesome. Nothing seems clear to him. Right now, that triple circle of cars may look completely impossible to break through. It may look impossible to turn that circle into a line, become, if not a leader, someone who can follow well with the pack, or not get run over as he travels a different road.
Zack is eight. I'm forty-two.
I took off half the day today to relax. Zack has days where every moment is spent being the car in the middle. Sometimes he likes it. Sometimes, like today, he doesn't.
The best I can do is teach him, over and over again if I have to, the right things to do, the way to react in the face of frustration, and how to handle life.
It's a tough job. And there's no Employee Manual.
But the pay is great.