Friday, March 27, 2009
I am a pretty reasonable woman.
Practical. Fair-minded. Just. Diplomatic. Flexible.
Especially after two Jazzercise classes, am I right? HEY-OHHH!
But in the morning?
I really do look like that picture up there.
My motto is this: "MY MORNING IS SACRO-F*CKING-SANCT!"
It's vulgar but true, and since I can't curse in person anymore, my only outlet is on my blog, using lots of asterisks.
And i've been known to shout my motto when disturbed, or annoyed, or when someone uses the last of the hazelnut creamer. One time, pre-children and on vacation with my parents, aunt, and uncle, my mom opened the door to our room to paw through her suitcase, and a beam of sunlight pierced my sleeping eye, and I screamed, "WHY DON'T YOU JUST STICK A GOD*AMN NEEDLE IN MY EYE??"
And then my mom cried.
It was a fun vacation. I was a pleasant person in my younger days.
Now, with the extra-added-superhero-style patience that can only be found with two children, I just make a very constipated face while I quietly daydream of 1000 firy arrows piercing whoever is getting on my nerves. Dr. Crog, when he's opening the fridge as I cook eggs, which is more annoying than it sounds. The handyman, who just wants to cheerfully describe all the things that are going to cause the house to fall over next week. Anyone who calls on the phone ever, who can't see the phone, and just wonders why I sound so constipated.
But here's the difference between now and then: now, i'm going to turn it all around. I'm going to have a good day. I'm going to be patient and pleasant and loving, and i'm going to find something fun to do. I already did the dishes. I still need to denastify the Foreman Grill, which is one of my favorite inventions of the 20th century. And there are delicious leftovers for lunch.
Honestly, it doesn't take much.
It takes a scene like this, in which the Biscuit says her belly button "needs some air".
Or looking down and seeing this fat little sleepy chipmunk cheek.
And if i had a picture of Dr. Crog standing around being awesome, i'd show you that one, too.
I guess what i'm getting at here is that I used to think that having kids doomed one to a life of uncoolness and boredom. What I didn't realize was that I was *already* boring and uncool, and that having kids would totally redeem me as a human being.
My mornings may be sacrosanct, but they're not really that important in the grand scheme of things.
They can, in fact, be easily fixed by aerated belly buttons, sleepy cheeks, and the generous addition of spinach omelets.
And that's a lot better than making my mom cry at Cocoa Beach.