Not Overstock.com, although I would love to go crazy shopping.
Not orgasm, although I am now cleared for sex after my six-week post-natal appointment with the Ob-Gyn.
No, think bigger.
OVERWHELM. That's where I am. Smack dab in that big O. O-VER-WHELMED.
How did my mother do this? How did any stereotypical housewife in the 50's excude such perfection in their lives? (Did they?) (V.A.L.I.U.M. Where's mine?) (I'll even wear the pearls, although the high-heeled shoes are OUT.) How does any working woman (with more than one child) keep it together?
I have a job. Her name is NJ. She's a high maintenance gal. Hold me, Mama, I need you near. Unfortunately G is largely this way too. "Look at me, Mom." "Watch this Mom." Forget laundry. Forget dishes. Forget cooking. Can I please shower now? Brush my teeth? Is 9 a.m. too early for a margarita?
It's a Catch-22. I need to schedule "me" time. Janine and I have been walking some and scheduled to walk tonight. It was her turn to cancel because I think she's visitng O-zone too. And I was a little relieved that she canceled because now I have time to load the dishwasher. And vote for Rockstar Supernova. And vent in my blog. And perhaps sleep a little before I have to whip out The Boob again.
Really, I wouldn't do any of this differently. Just sometimes, like now, I would like to slow down this runaway train. I guess Chef said it best this week: "What did you just say? Slow down a little? We still have ten tickets in the window, you can't slow down now." (Hell's Kitchen, my other summer TV obsession.) There is no slowing down. You gotta complete the service. Otherwise you leave people hungry.
(Baby steps. Yes, I remember, Topher.)
Yes Chef!
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Where did I come from,
and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere,
I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
I didn't come here of my own accord,
and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here,
will have to take me home.
~Rumi
Places I Go
Places I Go
Moi
- Gwynnethe
- Just a woman swimming the seas of life: being a wife of 13 years to M, being a mom to seven year old son (G) and two year-old daughter (NJ), dealing with fibromyalgia, and figuring out what I want to be when I grow up. I think the last one is the hardest of those I have to contend with, personally.
1 comment:
I feel this way, a lot. And I only have one. But she is very demanding. I see it in my sister's face, too.
My hub's gram is still alive and she is still the perfect wife and mom. I marvel at how she did it and the only thing I can come up with is that the kids spent more time on their own.
And I guess I'd rather read "Maisy" for the 1,000th time than load the dishwasher.
And some days, it makes me feel like my head is going to explode.
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