Ok, so the morning starts like this. I wake up and the bus will be here in like 15 minutes and none of the tweens, hidden under their covers have breathed a breath of fresh air yet. I go down stairs in my plum colored cashmere robe, that I got for a steal let me tell you, and is suppose to make me feel glamorous in the morning and is not, and began to make my coffee. I fill the pot at the tiny stream from my fridge, because I am convinced that my city water is trying to kill me. This tiny stream irritates me every morning. Maybe this is why I’m “morning challenged”. And, do I want to feed this little puff of joy, my puppy, this morning? No, decidedly not, perhaps because the sight of her reminds me that last night she just woofed down a tootsie-roll of her own “chocolate bunny enhanced” poop. Back to the coffee, which is sputtering and steaming and producing nothing but a burnt drop of jo’. I say to my freshly showered and crisply dressed husband, “fix it, do it, make the coffee happen”, in a grunty, snarly, not cashmire-y kinda’ way. Why have you vacuumed already this morning, he might ask, or not. The reason is that one of my kids has already managed to track in dog poo onto my kitchen rug, no less, a highly unsanitary place to have tracked it. What joy, to have the coffee maker break and to clean poo, even before my coffee this morning. I sit down, frumpy, my new hair cut gone Van Halen on me, my smudged glasses fogging my vision and my mood, next to my freshly showered crisply dressed husband, who has just made, freshly frenched pressed coffee, I mean freshly pressed french coffee. I add the last two drops of cream, to my mug and say out loud, “maybe I shouldn’t be doing this”. “Doing what?” has asks. “Doing this thing, this business, this blog”. “Why do you say that?” he asks. I say, “because if I don’t have the time for it and if I can’t do it right maybe I should quit before I invest more time and waste the time that I don’t ALREADY HAVE!!!!! And, to which I feel like adding, “ddduuuuuhhhhhhhh”!
Ok, I’m not loving myself right now. And, it doesn’t help to have so many things that I want to do well, things that aren’t getting done, not quite there yet, or not just right. Which is why I went to Covered again yesterday and bought an overpriced, “I heart CA.” tee shirt. Ok, I bought the “I heart CA.” tee shirt because I’m a mom and sometimes a mom just needs to say I love you to herself, because sometimes the people who say, where’s my laundry?, what’s for dinner?, and will you take me here?, do this or do that?….just don’t do it for me. And, yes, I realize it means I heart California, but, I’ve personalized it, my name is Chris Ann. And, I am at the point quite frankly, where under this type of duress I also bought a tye-dyed toga dress. Yes, the same weekend I went to the English Beat, and stopped at Covered, for something to wear, I also, bought a tye-dyed toga dress. If buying a tye-died toga dress doesn’t say it all, let me explain. First the girls at Covered, bless their hearts, insisted I was a size small. And, I only had 5 real minutes to shop. I also thought, why not, I might go out some time, someplace cool, like the Bradstreet Crafthouse. Because this is where the real bloggers go, I just read a story on it in April issue of Minnesota Monthly, by Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl. And, clearly if I was a real blogger, I would put my toga dress on and go someplace great, like that. Some hot summer night I might just want to be wrapped in this tiny, gold rope hung tye-dyed number. But, this week, I did not go someplace great, I actually fed my kids mostly through the Sonic and Subway drive-thrus and my dress sat in it’s bag all boutique-y like, mocking me. What kind of a soccer mom, goes to the edge of the field to pick up her kids in a tye-dyed toga dress? Not many. How many times would I wear it? Not many.
So, anyway, back to my coffee, this morning, my mood, my assessment of my capabilities, and my fear that actually I would not be taking over the world as the next Martha anytime soon. So, I decide to log on, only one mug deep in coffee, check in with my blog and see if any ounce of inspiration or drive will make me snap out of it. And, then, there it is: a comment!! A comment from Leslie, just last night! Why so amazing, well just last night, Kristin and I had been talking about the Baltimore bloggers and Leslie and B More Sweets came up. Kristin had read they had just bumped into each other at a local bakery in Kristin’s hood and B More Sweets, blogged about it. She lives in Kristin’s neighborhood and Kristin is hoping to meet her, maybe “accidentally” at the Red Canoe, just down the street in her ‘hood. Also, Leslie’s book just came out this month, Let Me Eat Cake. She’s a food writer, not a baker, and she blogs! So, back to the comment. A comment like this is huge to us right now. I feel loved again. I have hope. I can do this…..I’m going to go take a shower and put on my “I heart CA.” tee and blog about it.
Disclaimer: During the creation of this post, one yoga class was missed, one orthodontist trip was made, one pair of soccer shoes, and seven socks were purchased, one drive-thru run and one school-run was made, two soccer practices were nearly missed, two others were driven to soccer, one huge glass jar broke, one dinner wasn’t made, one puppy ripped the entry way carpet, and some homework was finished.
