Suburban Goddess

As I awoke Friday morning, I had no idea that it would be a full 24 hours before my head would hit my pillow again. It’s been a long time since I had an “all-nighter,” and now I remember with great clarity why I stopped.

After work, my neighbor and I had planned a nice quiet evening at a local beer & pizza joint with our kids. Our husbands were both out of town, so we figured we’d have a “Mommy’s Night Out.” Shortly after I got to work there was a message on my machine: “I got a babysitter. Dress sexy, we’re going OUT.”

OUT is the word that strikes fear in the new Mommy’s heart. OUT is not in the schedule. OUT is indefinate. OUT involves even LESS sleep than I currently get. So OUT may sound exciting to some, but to me, all I can think of is a hangover with a baby, and that does not appeal to me.

I dress up for the first time since pre-baby, REALLY dress up, not just put the hair in a ponytail and slap on a little mascara. I was so out of practice that I ended up overdoing the eyeshadow, so now I was Goth Mom. But I was out of time to get ready, so I dropped the baby off at the sitter and began my night of adventure with huge painted black eyes. By the end of the night, the makeup was gone, but the eyes still looked the same. Go figure.

First mistake: Not taking my own car. I’m a bit of a control freak, so not driving was a HUGE step for me. (Needless to say, I’ve taken three steps back since then). K is an aggressive driver. It was compounded by the fact that she was immediately offended when the rest of the girls wanted to take their own car. Not a good start to the evening. So now, hurtling down I-45 at the speed of light with a hissing cat, I started to remember the Catholic prayers that I had stopped saying so long ago. After my seventh Hail Mary, we arrived at a trendy sushi bar. I immediately slammed down a glass of wine to ease the nerves.

Dinner actually went pretty well, minus one sake shot and some fruity drinks that gave me a splitting headache later. I ate raw fish, and I actually LIKED it, as well as some other exotic raw food. (”Don’t LOOK at it, just EAT it.”) Uh huh. I realized I wasn’t supposed to look at it because it still had EYES and was looking at ME. Side note: I prefer my food to no longer resemble what it actuallly was before it became food. It’s just a little thing about me.

Conversation went from civil to raunchy fairly quickly. I felt like I was caught in an episode of Desparate Housewives, only I was the boring one with no storyline. Two of the women actually got into a “shocking” match; they would see who could say the most outrageous comment that would make everyone at the table blush. At this point, I was pretty uncomfortable despite the alcohol running through my veins. Another side note: I am not a stranger to “shocking.” I, myself, used to be “shocking,” however, these women made me look like Mother Theresa. Seriously, I was WAY out of my league here.

By the time we got through dinner, my driver was seriously drunk. She assured me in slurred words that she was an EXCELLENT driver, ESPECIALLY when she was drunk. I’d seen this woman drive sober; I was starting to fear for my life. About the same time, K realized she’d lost an envelope full of money. I seriously doubted that someone would return an unmarked envelope full of cash, but she wanted to search the restaurant anyway. No luck. As the valet was bringing the car around, K made the comment, “You guys didn’t see an envelope full of cash in the backseat, didjya?” And of course, they hadn’t.

The car pulled up, and amazingly, the envelope was still in the backseat. K didn’t check inside; she put the envelope in her purse & got behind the wheel. Despite my entire being screaming “NO,” I got into the car.

Time, 10:30pm. I was already counting the minutes until 2:00am, because I am ready to climb into my bed and call it a night. But it was only the beginning….

I’m thankful for it. That’s really all I have to say about it, other than the fact that if we didn’t have it, I would have been bankrupt this past year. Alex goes in next week to have tubes put in her ears, and the bills up until this point have been $15 co-pay, $15 co-pay, $15 co-pay…. I shudder to think what people do who don’t have insurance.

These days it seems that I can’t stand in line at the pharmacy without hearing some old person in front of me argue about what their insurance will cover. I truly feel sorry for those poor pharmacy techs. Yesterday, a mean old lady pushing around an oxygen tank was cursing the girl at the counter. What is this girl supposed to do? If she tells the woman she isn’t covered, she gets yelled at by some crazy old sick lady, not to mention she has to deal with the guilt that this lady could die without the medication (although, I hate to say it, but she wasn’t doing a real good job of convincing anyone the world would be better with her in it). But if the tech hands over the drugs, she not only gets fired, but faces possible criminal charges. No wonder they’re always advertising on TV, “Be a Pharmacy Tech in Two Short Years!” You couldn’t pay me enough to get beat up by old people all day. What good does it do to argue? I guess if you don’t, then you die.

It just really sucks that insurance companies can place a value on your life, and if you don’t have the cash to cover the difference, you’re just out of luck. Game over. Scary.

I’ve been told by many different people that my negative attitude is unhealthy. I can buy into that; I believe the human brain is capable of things that we don’t yet understand and have yet to uncover. Personally, I can’t wait until someone figures out telepathy. Then, when some jerk cuts me off on the Interstate, I can send him a quick little mental note:

“Excuse me sir, this is currently MY lane. If you wait just a moment, you can move over safely.”

Better yet, I can’t wait until we figure out how to give people a little telepathic zap, kind of like an electrical charge, varying in strength from “Ouch-I’m-Static-Charged” to “Holy-Crap-She-Has-A-Cattle-Prod.” I’d sign up for that new age class in a heartbeat. Ooooohhhhhmmmmm……

In my current mental situation, my blood pressure usually spikes immediately, my hand jerks the wheel, and then I’m too busy trying to overcompensate for the driving mistake I have made to lay on the horn and alert the person that they are moving into my lane. That, in turn, sets off an imaginary conversation in my head that I would have with said idiot after the truck is through barrel-rolling down the Interstate, assuming I’m still alive. These imaginary conversations usually become heated arguments in which I end up pummeling the idiot into submission.

This cannot be healthy.

So in an effort to boost positivity within my life, I took a deep breath as yet ANOTHER Houstonian idiot driver pulled out in front of me this morning, and uttered the phrase:

“I’m POSITIVELY going to run over you.”

I feel healthier already.

I’m fighting this overwhelming urge to set my naked ass down on my scanner & email the picture to a certain co-worker to tell him exactly how I feel about him, his ideas, and his backstabbing immature behavior.

I’m sure there’s some corporate guideline about emailing pictures of your ass somewhere, so I refrain…

As a working mother, which is a COMPLETELY REDUNDANT statement, I often feel exhausted, overwhelmed & unappreciated. I work in the morning, work all day, come home to more work at home, and collapse into bed only to begin the whole vicious cycle again the next morning. I don’t feel I have the right to complain, because I was the one who wanted a child, so I try (most days) to suffer in silence. My husband, a great person, isn’t so sympathetic to my plight because, again, I asked for it. So, on those days when I think I can’t keep going, Mommy Blogs bring everything back into perspective. I’m not the only person dealing with these issues. I am not alone.

Reading about the misery of others is strangely comforting. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one struggling to get out of bed in the morning. The endlessness of motherhood can be so overwhelming at times; you don’t feel like the work will EVER be done. And the grisly reality of it is, IT WON’T! So stop whining and get on with it, already. But we’re women, and if we don’t whine then we’ll snap and start lacing dinner with a lovely cyanide gravy. Enter Mommy Blogs, a society of whining that is truly appreciated and understood by other Mommies. Don’t get me wrong, I love Issue Blogs, and Intellectual Blogs, and Blogs About Stuff, but Mommy Blogs are the heart of my day. In them I find a inner calm, a safe place to vent my frustrations without judgement or misunderstanding, and occasionally I am rewarded with Mommy Wisdom. Mommy Wisdom is that jewel in the rough, that advice that when you happen across a precarious situation, you will remember, “Oh yes, I read about that on a Mommy Blog.”

But my favorite part of the Mommy Blogs, after I’ve whined & complained and laid out my plan for absolute destruction, are the stories about Cute Things Kids Do. It’s because of those Cute Things Kids Do that we become Mommies in the first place, and they remind us that, in the end, it IS all worth it, even if you do have to do 3,454,399 loads of laundry before you die.

Many years ago, I stood on the front porch of a beautiful victorian house in a big white dress. I watched my best friends, all dressed in matching cobalt crepe, walk one by one down a small garden path and gather in front of all my friends and family as my soon-to-be-husband stood sweating in the humid Louisnana August heat. As they kissed me and walked away, I grew more & more panicked, until only my best friend & father stood there with me. The tears started rolling down my face, but I could tell by their expression that it was obvious. I was not crying with joy; I wanted to run before the bonds of matrimony claimed me ’til death do us part. My best friend gave me a worried look before she started the walk, leaving me alone with my father.

My father never said a negative word about the man I was about to marry; despite the fact the man was twelve years older than me, despite the fact he had long hair, despite the fact he was a DEMOCRAT, my father wanted me to be happy, and if this is what I wanted, then he would accept it in a way that only parents can. But this man knew me better than my fiancé, and he knew I wasn’t happy.

“We can leave right now, Sunshine. My truck is right out front. We’ll get in it right now and just go somewhere. We’ll go walk around the Quarter. What do you say?” But I didn’t say anything. I took a deep breath, squeezed my father’s hand, and started to walk.

Two years later I was divorced.

All this came rushing back to me because a co-worker’s much anticipated wedding was suddenly called off today. The guy is genuinely a nice guy and everyone here loves him, so they immediately all assume the girl is a bitch for calling it off. But I say better now than later. I wish I had had the guts to call my wedding off, but I didn’t. I knew in my heart it wasn’t the right thing, but I was worried about disappointing my guests that day. How selfless of me! How stupid…. I was so worried about what people would say that I sacrificed another two years of my life that I might have used for something else, like, say, experimenting with a REAL career. So although I’m sad for the guy, it is actually a good thing. They are both good people, & they both deserve a life better than that.

In a last-ditch effort to shed the remaining twenty pounds of baby-weight, I started a 1200-calorie diet today.
It’s 12:49pm, and I am STARVING!

I realized I was probably taking in 1200 calories by 9:00am most mornings… just because you’re eating healthier foods doesn’t guarantee you’ll lose weight. A pint of fat-free ice cream still has mucho calories, and eating four slices of whole-wheat toast in the morning probably isn’t on Weight Watchers agenda, either. I’ve known in my heart that this is what it would eventually come down to; all the fad diets aside, doctors still point to counting calories as the sure-fire way to drop the weight. Well of course it’s the only way! It’s like pushing your car because you want to save gas! Granted, it’s a little easier now that I’ve learned to live without eating anything remotely satisfying. When you learn to love a psuedo-cheese-flavored rice cake, you have offically brainwashed yourself into believing you can look like Giselle. And the amount of water I ingest could rival Niagara Falls. But this is what is takes to be skinny. And as I watch co-workers & friends happily stuff chocolate in their face, I have to ask myself…

…when did I become suce a masochist?

I was sifting through my webstats this morning and I was shocked to learn that there’s a link connected to my blog at the Houston Chronicle. I don’t know who felt that my blog was newsworthy, but I’m thankful for the publicity. It’s actually kind of ironic; in college I was a Journalism major, and I always harbored a secret desire to write my own column. I had a knack for it; my journalism professor worked for The Commercial Appeal in Memphis and often tried to persuade me to reconsider my choice of profession. Again, I was a stupid moron and ignored his advice, opting instead for the glamourous world of graphic design. But I’ve always had this nagging little voice in the back of my head, a deep desire to write something meaningful that makes a difference, and I’m really honored that someone found my little rants & raves worthy of broader syndication.

I had a new lens come in yesterday, a Nikkor 105mm, and at first I was disappointed to discover it had no auto-focus. I’m still new at all the camera lingo, & apparently I didn’t read the numbers right or something. So I put this heavy, clunky, MANUAL lens on my digital camera, and started trying to figure it out.

Holy crap, talk about a quick education in photography! Suddenly all the concepts I’d been struggling with in my head started to click… underexposed, drop the f-stop. Overexposed, adjust the exposure or up the f-stop. Nothing was safe; I clicked until the light wouldn’t allow it anymore, and since the lowest aperture on this lens is 2.8, that’s a whole lot later into the evening than it used to be. I had so much fun that I was completely disappointed when I couldn’t get the pictures I wanted anymore; it would have to wait until tomorrow when the light returned.

So I got up this morning & threw the camera in the truck, clicking pictures of taillights and car doors the entire way to work. I’m sure I made a few commuters paranoid; they would look over at the huge yellow truck and a strange woman would have a camera pointed at their car. I wonder if any of them had an attack of conscience. But unfortunately, my fun came to an end entirely too quickly and I arrived at work. I put camera back into my bag and went inside, but it’s like a drug calling me… I’m sure sometime before the day is over I’ll be prairie-doggin’ over the cubicle walls, snapping my unsuspecting co-workers. It’s amazing how a new lens can open up your eyes to the little things again. Suddenly, a paper clip becomes a composition…

Call me crazy, but when I was still living under my parents’ roof, I was not allowed to drink alcohol or coffee. They were considered “grown-up” drinks. So I get a little freaked out when I go in Starbucks and there are a pile of teenagers Oh-My-Gawd-ing over a venti mocha. What is this? It’s not like they need to stimulate their hormones; they’re already crazy as it is. Let’s just compound that by adding 500mg of caffeine. Don’t you know what that will do to your complexion??? Your beautiful little white teeth? Coffee is for OLD people whose schedules are so insane that they can’t cope with life on four hours of sleep.

When did it become trendy for teens to slam down cappacino? Honestly, aren’t they annoying enough when they’re not spun out on caffeine? The coffee shop was my one last refuge, my happy place. Artists have had the market cornered for years. Is this a sign that my profession is cool now? How sad would that be… maybe I show show little Suzy Caffeine my paycheck. That would send her screaming back to school where she belongs, instead of mucking up my happy place with her adolescent drama.