I am surviving the chaos that is multiple jobs and multiple children in multiple sports in multiple batshit cray cray land. I haven’t been to Care Bear Land since school started.Good God – sometimes I wake up and turn around and it’s bed time again. There is absolutely no doubt that the chaos and events and board meetings and all that stuff are self-inflicted so yes – I enjoy 99% of that chaos….however, I don’t think I handled it well before.
Let’s face it though – “before” I was drugged every damn day for my migraines on a Triptan and a preventive med that made blinking seem like mountain climbing. I was just going through the motions.Not anymore (thank you Botox!). I am back to being an organizing, list-making, OCD whore. It’s effing bliss.
A couple weeks ago I decided to clear off our kitchen table for about the first time in 12 years so we could use it as a “supper” table each night. My kids were confused but they decided to just go with it. I planned out a week’s worth of meals and grocery plans and blah blah. Rambo and I cooked. The girls set the table and clean up.And I’m not going to lie. The first few days it was awkward. None of us knew what to do without the TV in the background. It was dead silent.
Now though? We can’t get the girls to shut up. We have to tell them to stop and take turns talking. They set the table on their own. They clean up. They do their homework while Rambo and I cook. It’s just what we do. No matter what.We all do it – even if we don’t step foot in our house until 6 or 7 pm that night from when the first one of us left at 4am that morning. We do it anyway. It’s become the favorite part of our day. Planning it for me is just a bonus. I got a new folder and color coded the days and lists and crap. You should see it. For an hour a day we look and feel and act and talk like a real family out of Leave It To Beaver….minus the apron. And we’re in color.
I’m seriously proud of us.The conversations have once or twice become slightly dicey though. Last night the 7 year old said, “I have a secret to tell and I don’t think Daddy will want to hear it.”
Oh Jesus. Sooo many bad, bad things went through my head at that moment.We said, “Families don’t have secrets – so you can say it.”
What a dumb thing to say. I should have given her ice cream so she couldn’t talk.She says, “You know Pete in my class?”
Yes – we all answer. I already know where this is going.Except I don’t.
She says, “Well he says that Mommy went out with his Daddy and Mommy still wanted his Daddy but he broke up with Mommy and me and Pete are brother and sister.”Sonofabitch.
Stupid mother-effing history rears its ugly head.Listen here – I dated Pete’s father when I was THIRTEEN. I was in 6th grade! *I* broke up with his ass.
Ask him – he smashed a mirror and cried for the first time in his life. << I kept that part to myself.You and Pete are NOT brother and sister.
Dating at 13 does not a baby boy and girl make. Well I guess it could sometimes but not this time. Not with us.If I would have been thinking I would have told her that they are indeed brother and sister – therefore – they can NEVER date each other.
I know Pete’s Dad….because of course he still lives in Podunk. I see him often. Talk to him often. Just like every other single guy I dated when I was in school before Rambo. It’s weird with some, not weird with others.It’s a good thing Pete’s Dad is an amazing and kind man that I totally respect or you’d have bet I’d have been on the phone yelling “Dude – you so know I broke up with you. Come on!”…just so the record was clear.
Oh the benefits of Podunk and family sharing suppers. You grow up and your kids date the kids of everyone you dated. It’s f*cking fantastic.