Do I really want to be a spy with expert negotiating and mad interrogation skills?
Have you ever felt like you were going through life, looking like Bernie from the movie Weekend at Bernie’s? I have! After life got done fucking me and finished smoking its cigarette, it shoved a stick up my ass and turned me into a dead Bernie puppet. I flopped around day to day for a couple of years, like a noodling dead man being held up by whoever was willing.
No joke. Dead on the outside, dead on the inside, just bopping, flopping and being dragged through my life, with an occasional hair pull from the back, to hold my head up to show I’m still alive. I hope to hell I didn’t have the matching stupid ‘Bernie’ grin on my face because OMFG I don’t think I could handle that! Anyway, I finally got sick of that stick and I recently removed it from my ass, put my big boy panties on and am getting with the program. Ain’t that something?
It’s amusing how I reflect back and pull these oddball characters out of my ass to portray myself. There’s just no other way to describe what I thought I looked and felt like. I can only imagine what you think of me ha ha!! Hopefully Bernie doesn’t take offense! Someone should do a remake…just kidding, the well hasn’t run that dry yet in the movie business…or has it?
All of this getting with the program shit was all fine and dandy, but then January hit. The dead of winter really made the blues kick in and take hold of me this year, or maybe the sad feelings of loss had just been amplified. Not sure, but I have ideas. I know that this is the time of year I relied on my sister to motivate me to leave my house weekly, and with her gone, I seem to have holed up much worse. I must say though, whatever it is, it’s kicked the ever loving shit out of me. I swear, I feel like it’s launched me into a full blown mid-life crisis. It’s strange, suddenly I want to pierce my genitals to my face, leave Clem and the girls and start touring with some random band I found at Homesense.
Bahahaha! Sorry! Not even close, but I got your attention, didn’t I?
The maid said she quits
I don’t really feel like it’s a crisis though, maybe I’m in denial and I’ve been in a mid-life crisis my entire adult life. In reality, I feel like this is more of a ‘mid-life course correction’. After being a stay at home mom for many years, and going through some shit, I feel like I’m ready for a change. That, and I’ve been walking around the house informing everyone that the maid is fed up with their shit and she quits. That’s me, I’m the maid, and I didn’t sign up for this shit.
I’m beginning to worry about my mental health too because walking around muttering under my breath all day, everyday, things like, “What the fuck?, Who the fuck?“, and my favorite, “I fucking quit.”, doesn’t sound like my ‘Best Life’ ever. Yeah, isn’t that just reality? Fuck you self-help ‘gurus’! What the fuck do you know? Take a step into my life for a minute and let’s see you live your ‘Best Life’. If you’re not reduced to the same puddle of piss I am, I’ll give you a kick in the ass for trying. Ready? Go! I think everyone feels that way, especially when the guru lives in a mansion with servants feeding them grapes and wiping their ass for them all day long, as long as the millions keep pouring in. I love that shit, what a farce.
Since the dust has begun to settle, I thought I might start considering what I’d finally like to be when I grow up. I have real big dreams! HUGE. If some of the people I see in the world can become what they have, why can’t I?
Do you like my kitchen towel cape? Blue check or green line pattern thingies?
First, I want to nicely tie a kitchen towel around my neck, place a metal colander on my head and wield a wooden spoon while wearing nothing but my gonchies and fight crime. Wait. Maybe I want to sell caterpillars to all the friendly people of the world, just like when I was 5 years old. That was awesome! We had a major infestation of Woolly Bear caterpillars (the yellow and black striped ones) that summer (way back in the 80’s, when it was awesome!) and we didn’t know at the time, but Lea was allergic to them! She was covered in a red rash from handling them, and once my mother found out, Lea couldn’t play with her beloved furry friends. The day we went out selling them, she was covered from head to toe in our precious merchandise and itchy and red to boot, too funny!
What pisses me off, still to this day, was when my mom came running to collect Lea, my aunt (she’s two years older than me) and I, from a screaming lady’s doorstep down the street. We were just about to close the deal on all of our stock, when mom came in and destroyed our dreams. Mom, you sucked that day. Now you know why I’m so fucked up…just kidding, it was dad’s fault…ha! Kidding again! Yes, I am an asshole.
Yeah, heavy deliberation over my options, what to do, what to do. I’m certain that many can attest to what I’m feeling right now and I wonder how or if anyone finally answered their own question of what do you want to be when you grow up? How did you arrive at your answer or are you still searching?
Over the years, I have acquired some pretty major skills, besides ass and nose wiping, but the ‘where’ and ‘how’ the hell to apply them in the real world, evades me.
You know what’s entertaining? I still don’t have a bloody clue what I want to be or what it’s going to look like, but I can tell you that the experiences I’ve had in motherhood, have me prepared for pretty much anything. I feel like I’m ready for the Special Forces or maybe even espionage! Ooooooh Fancy! Espionage….makes me all tingly inside! How exotic!
Perhaps I’m better suited to zoo keeping and looking after shit throwing monkeys, or maybe a professional wrestling referee? Professional concealer or discoverer of miscellaneous items? Would I get to keep all the change I’d find in whoever’s couch? Dog food taster? Pet rock trainer? Professional fart sniffer, wait…no to that one. The thought of a professional SBD (silent but deadly) fart detector is off the table. I have smelled a lot of things, I won’t do it voluntarily, so maybe a mystery fart sniffer? Yeah, no. Changing the name doesn’t make it sound any better. Couldn’t pay me enough. Ick!
Over the years, I have acquired some pretty major skills, besides ass and nose wiping, but the ‘where’ and ‘how’ the hell to apply them in the real world, evades me. For instance, I made a Queen Amidala costume for Lola, using a crocheted hat, a chunk of burlap and a pool noodle, all in one very long night. Why an all-nighter? Because she told me at bedtime (mommies and daddies everywhere can attest to the timing of these information sessions with their children) that she needed it the next day. I must say, I did a bang up job on that one! May the 4th be with you! I wonder, what job would require those talents?
I make a mean cheddar fishy cracker crusted chicken breast. The secret is all in the ingredients! 14 month old aged, crushed to a pulp, ‘cheddar’ flavored goldfish crackers, pulled right from the backseats and floor of my minivan. Some, of my best crumb batches came from the bottom of my purse, lightly flavored with spearmint gum (a rarity because peeling the crumbs from the stick of gum was tricky). The flavor profiling is exquisite. Oh! If you think that concoction is handy, you should hear my ideas about smashed Nutri-Grain Cereal Bars! Again, I don’t think anyone would eat at a restaurant featuring the old disgusting crumbs from the back of my minivan. But hey! My inner frugal chef was inspired! Okay, I haven’t actually fed anyone this disgusting creation, but I did consider it!
I can’t believe I’m sharing this
I’ve managed to figure out how to remove many a stain, or completely conceal it with the clever use of furniture, home décor items and long sweaters. I have contemplated sending my child with a pretty vase to cover up a stain on the sleeve of her sweater, but it was glass and she was 6. At least I reconsidered and went against my ever feisty inner artiste! I am the boo boo whisperer, giver of wise (sometimes) advice, and a professional duster of pretty items. I give old songs new meaning by substituting the lyrics with my own (that really backfired when my kids went to school and argued with the teacher that she was singing it wrong).
And then, there is this valuable lesson. I’ve had to negotiate with a nearly 4 year old and nearly 2 year old, to secure the kid’s camera they cleverly used to take photos of me, naked in the shower when I had soap in my eyes. All I saw through my burning eyelids was a bright flash, followed by the cacophonous giggles and cackles of my ‘cute’ little girls. They were fast, and when working together, almost impossible to intercept. Needless to say, negotiations failed and I had to revert to chasing, pleading and bribing…thank goodness it wasn’t on a phone where they could send it out into the world, but still scary nonetheless. I did succeed and secured said camera, thus completing my mission.
Funny thing was, the pictures of my naked ass were clear as day, and the rest of the photos on the card were a garbled mess of obscure blurry images. Don’t buy your kids those damn cameras, or even the video recording ones. The shit that kids catch on those damn things, makes me wonder if my children should work for some spy agency.
One time, I had to use my super mom powers to run to the school, just moments before the lunch bell rang, to remove the potentially toxic sandwiches Clem made the girls that morning for lunch. I love when he makes lunches!! Anyway, I discovered that he used the wrong lunch meat later in the morning, which was one that had long past expired and had taken on the characteristics of something other than ‘meat’. The admin staff in the office thought I was nuts because I was trying to haul ass to the girls’ backpacks to switch out the ‘sammies’, but was too out of breath and in a panic to explain as I ran by. Real Mission Impossible like! I hope other parents have the same stories, or I’m really going to feel like shit!
I’m human and will tell you with honesty, that I’ll probably change my mind again later on, when I finally sit down for the evening and have a beer and some snacks.
Clem has also tried to poison himself with miscellaneous rotten fridge items. Two weeks past expiration, a homemade tuna casserole. It was green. He thought it was parsley. Yeah, this is my life. A word of advice, if I may, don’t clean out the fridge while making lunches folks, it’s bad news. He not only grabbed the lunch I made for him that morning, but ALSO the old tuna casserole. I DO clean my fridge, honest. Clem just has a knack at finding the shit I can’t reach, way at the back in the top most compartment of the fridge.
I’ve had more FML moments than I care to admit, and even with the odds never being in my favor, I managed to survive them all. As you can see, I’ve become a well-rounded ‘carer’ of family but what the hell do I do, with all these mad skills, and when do I want to take a leap of faith and jump on into this new and exciting part of my life?
The answer actually found me today, I think. I’m human and will tell you with honesty, that I’ll probably change my mind again later on, when I finally sit down for the evening and have a beer and some snacks. But, for now, I think I’ve fallen for…
No Idea!! I still haven’t a clue nor any idea where to buy one on the matter of what to do with myself! That said, I am really enjoying writing!
See? I am an asshole ha ha! I still can’t answer my own question about what I want to be when I grow up, and jumping into anything at this time, might not be very good for me or my family. Acknowledging that and that alone, is a good thing and it tells me that I am in sync with my reality. One day something may come along, and the stars will all align and everything will become crystal clear with pretty music playing in the background…and maybe it won’t. C’est la vie. I can live with that.
For now, some days are boring, and others are just downright comical. I love being at home and I’m okay with handling the day to day stuff. Having the flexibility that it allows, is important to me but I think adding in a bit more of this somewhere, will make life that much sweeter. I’m considering taking on a bigger role with Clem, similar to before I became a mom. We did work together and did quite well. I haven’t specifically chosen that line of work, but I think I may have learned how to make it my own, and that inspires me.
For the time being, I’m still going to wander around the house, picking up the moldy sandwich containers from Lola’s bedroom, from school lunches made the week prior, while muttering ‘I fucking quit’ and ‘what the fuck?’. I’m still going to be scrubbing shitters and mopping floors every week while trying to manage the unexpected things that get thrown into the mix. I’m still going to be volunteering at the kid’s school, doing insane field trips, some of which are things I’ve never done before, and that excites me. I’ll still be sucking up mountains of guinea pig shit with my ‘shaz sucker’ (Dustbuster) every morning while spoiling our little fur baby. Best of all, I’ll still be mesmerized by the beautiful birds singing outside my window each day.
I don’t think I’ll ever work on Wall Street, invent some lifesaving something or become a super hero, but I’ll continue to explore who the hell I am and what the hell I want to be when I grow up, if I don’t kick over first. Maybe that’s what keeps some of us alive? A never ending quest perhaps? In the meantime, I’m just going to keep writing and see if I can’t figure out this ‘life’ thing we’re all doing, and along the way I’m certain I’ll have many more mad skills to showcase, complete with stories requiring further explanation.
The Hopeful Pessimist 