Tuesday, May 24, 2011

I’m The Jam

The way Russell makes a sandwich should be illegal. The peanut butter to bread and jam ratio is way off. In fact it should probably just be called peanut butter with sandwich flavoring. We’ve been letting him make his own sandwiches since he was three, and I keep waiting for his peanut buttering skills to improve, but instead he has just become an expert at taking a forth a teaspoon of jam and spreading it across across an entire piece of bread because I won’t let him have just plain peanut butter. For some reason, I think it’s important that he get’s a little fruit in his diet.

“Little” is the key word there, because every day, every time, he asks to skip the jam, but at least I’m holding the bottom line, right?

So now imagine my life is the bread and I am that jam. I’m spread thin because of the hundreds of moments like that I encounter everyday. I can’t turn around without meeting a test, a challenge, or just a constant need for my patience bucket to be full, and my brain to be sharp and alert. And this isn’t a post about parenting, it’s just about friggin’ life.

My awesome friggin’ life, but also the one that is stretching me like Wiley Coyote being smashed on the hot desert asphalt by an ACME steam roller in a failed attempt to catch the Road Runner. MEEP MEEP! I feel like I have about 20 very real things on my plate that need to be eaten RIGHT NOW, or they will become freaky science experiments before my eyes! “Okay!” I say, “I can do this!” But every time I turn my attention to one, the others start to scream like they’ve been set on fire, and I haven’t even taken a bite yet!

Some of these things are good things. Okay, most of them! Being present for my family and not allowing my angst keep me from enjoying the people I see everyday, and the excitement of the house hunt, and the love I have for being a person separate from “a mom” that sews, and sings, and writes, and dances in my underwear with Alice cause she’s a baby and doesn’t care as long as I dance with her… oh, I guess that does fall under “mothering”, but it sure doesn’t feel like a job to shake my booty in the mirror with my pink diapered counterpart to our own rap version of the alphabet. 

Jon, Alice, Russell, The House Inspection, The House Appraisal, The House Contractor, The Crazy Lady That Lives In The House And Won’t Let Those Other Three In The House, Sewing, Singing, Blogging, Traveling To Utah, Hosting Visitors, School, School, School Issues, Birthdays, Coordinating Babysitters So We Can Go To The American Idol Finale, Space Cowboy Parties and The Damn Sexy Spreadsheet

And that’s just the part of the iceberg you can see.

Oh and it didn’t include the no end in sight items like Sweeping, The Never Ending Line of Dishes that March Toward The Sink all Day, Sorting Clothes, Making The Bed Over and Over and Over?! (who keeps messing with my bed?!) Dishes Again, Counter Tops, Sweeping Again, Toys Away, then Repeat All That Ten Times, and don’t forget Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner, all of which hopefully involve food items that are actually food and not just processed and chemically enhanced food shaped items.

There’s that, too.

I know, I know!! Nothing about that list conveys how very difficult my life is for me sometimes. In the scheme of the universe, having a beautiful kitchen to keep clean and going to American Idol is not a bad gig! I’m a brat, but it doesn’t change the fact that at any given moment ten million things need my attention or I am going to screw something up very badly.

Which is why I’m here today. I’m having one of those days where I think it’s hard for me to enjoy what other people might see when they look at my life, because I feel like I’m the one who has to keep it all balanced and spinning on my finger or it will fall off and bounce down the driveway while I watch helplessly. Like this crazy house we are getting seriously close to buying. I wouldn’t have batted an eye at it’s problems a few years ago, in all it’s craziness it’s seriously amazing… but now I’m afraid of everything. Never in my life have I had so much to lose. So much riding on my whims and passions and medications working together.

I should have called this post Team Work.

Which reminds me, my husband is a stud. He does all the things on his lists, and always finds time to help me with the things on mine. The man deserves a shout out because while I’m trying to control all the moving pieces of our lives, sometimes I am just plain not nice to him. And he is building me a ROCKET SHIP in the back yard for Heavens Sake! Jon, you are the reason I want our lives to be above average, and I’m sorry if this embarrasses you, but I have a great big crush on you.

Yay, Team Work!

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