Surviving kids, marriage and life with only the suggestion of sanity
A caffeine fueled, smart-ass Mom blogging about her three oddly charming children, all the while trying to sound very busy and important. A woman striving to elevate small talk to medium talk, and relearning how to navigate in the adult world in spite of herself. Lover of chocolate, and occasional runner (because of all the chocolate). Not just another paper cut survivor.
Last night while my husband and I were brushing our teeth, the topic of coloured pencils came up. There is a proper name for these colourful, graceful beauties, but it was not a name that my husband and I could agree on. If you have ever had a spirited discussion while trying to brush your teeth with an aggressively loud and cumbersome electric toothbrush, you will know that the entire experience is as wild as it is exhilarating. Add to that the fact that my husband and I are both embarrassingly stubborn, and you have yourself party!
Not only could we not hear each other over the incessant buzzing, brushing and running water, but we had to dodge spit, toothpaste splatter, and wildly gesturing hands that made no more sense than our mumbled, frothy words. It was like an out of control sporting event where rioting fans stormed the field and tried to cause as much shit as they could before finally being hauled away by security.
I promise you though, as insane as this sounds, it’s moments like this that bring my husband and I closer together. Eventually. But only after the spitting and hysterics die down. Then we go back to behaving like the mature and responsible adults that the rest of the world thinks we are, and we wonder why we were ever disagreeing in the first place.
(For the record though, it’s “Pencil Crayons”. So, I win.).
I’m now officially “that” Mom in the eyes of my children’s school. I just burst into the main office, sputtering and gasping for air, all the while holding my daughter’s backpack up in the air like baby Simba from The Lion King. I had on my best “I’m late because I didn’t have my shit together this morning” look, and I didn’t even need to explain myself. Everyone just sort of nodded knowingly as they gently pried the backpack from my hands before patting me on the back and ushering me quickly back out the door. I think they prefer it if the crazy parents stay outside so as not to scare all the children.
I just saw a woman with the sexiest walk ever. The kind of walk that stops traffic, which is literally what happened. She very nearly caused an accident.
I want that walk. I need it. Now that I’ve seen it and know it exists, I need to find a way to own it. Which is why instead of being quick about picking up the few grocery items that I need tonight, I am prepared to sashay slowly through the produce department until either my hips give out, or someone drops their apples. Whichever comes first.
That awkward moment in the public change room at the pool when you are politely chatting with someone, then you turn away to undress, but realize that they are still talking. So you try to act all casual about public nakedness, and attempt to nonchalantly wrestle your body out of a wet, one-piece bathing suit that has nowhere better to be. As body parts start flying around in all different directions, and sweat begins to bond with the chlorine on your skin causing your bathing suit to suddenly super glue itself to your body, you try to smile and maintain strict eye contact, all the while trying to avoid smacking your head off the lockers behind you and ending up in a pitiful pile of shame on the floor.
I never was very good at small talk. Turns out I’m even worse when I’m naked.