My husband (my dear, wonderful, amazing, stupendous, remarkably kind husband) drove down to San Diego this morning to buy me a new car. My old car, Lucky is still in the prime of her life, but after too many signs from the universe, we knew it was time for us to get something bigger. It’s 9pm at night and after spending his Saturday trading in Lucky and signing paperwork, he’s now on his way back from “Santi-ache-o” as my daughter calls it.
“Will I like it?” I ask him
“You’re going to love it. It’s awesome.” He promises me. “Do you want me to take a picture of Lucky in the parking lot of the Land Rover dealership?”
My heart crumples for just a moment. A) because he’s so sweet to think of it and B) because I never really said goodbye to her. “Yes, please.” I tell him. “Drive home safe.”
I got Lucky in 2009 after a woman T-boned me at full speed in the center of an intersection in West L.A. She never saw the red light. I was in a small Lexus IS, she was in a huge Ford Explorer. My Lexus saved my life. Afterward, somewhat shaky to drive, I upgraded into a full-size Lexus sedan. A grandma car that I only ever saw women over 60 driving, but still she was my Lucky.
And now a new page begins and I haven’t even met my new car. Is she a she? A he? Will I love her/him the way I loved Lucky? I hope so.
I have never been so excited for Sam to get home. It’s like Christmas morning back when I was 10. What will my new car look like? I honestly have no idea. He couldn’t have surprised me more if I had walked outside and seen the car in the driveway with a big, red bow on it.
What an exciting and wonderful gift my husband has given me. Have I mentioned that I can’t WAIT for him to get home!
I just got back from orientation at my daughter’s new preschool where I signed up for…(wait for it)…HOMEROOM MOTHER! I know, I know.
I remember the homeroom mother from when I went to school; a roundish, matronly thing named Barbara who stayed at home and baked fresh cookies and cupcakes for our class. Her daughter, Erin arrived at school every day with perfectly curled hair and an ironed uniform. I on the other hand, didn’t even brush my hair and often could be seen wearing one blue and one black sock. I marveled at these people who had so much time.
And now here we are. Me, classroom mother. Except the parents are so cool. Hip, fit, funny, friendly, young, fashionable – these are not the parents I knew and scoffed at when I was at school.
I have to say, I am very excited about going back to preschool.
On Project Runway last week, the contestants went Glamping. For those not in the know, Glamping = Gamour + Camping. Glam-ping. Get it? And glamour camping it was; big white tents a’la Out of Africa, oriental carpets on the floor, silver platter meals, and beds that were real beds instead of god-awful sleeping bags on the ground.
Four or five years ago Sam took me camping. Up north somewhere. With roads that seemed to have been carved into the mountains and forgotten about. Long, twisty roads made of packed dirt and potholes the size of our Prius. Just me, Sam, and our 2 dogs in nature…except not so much.
It happened to be deer hunting season.
Just me, Sam, the dogs, and 7,000 armed men in nature.
We packed up camp the next morning. It was Sam’s idea. I said nothing.
And here we are again, facing the idea of camping. But this time it will be in our backyard. Just me, Sam, 1 dog, and two babies in nature.
Just me, Sam, 1 dog, and two babies in nature.
Blah blah blah – two babies in nature.
I can already tell this is going to be deer season camping all over again.
If you looked at my open tabs right now you would see that I like dresses at Anthropologie, books on Amazon, movie times (we saw The World’s End last night), and dance classes. Not that titillating, but it’s mine nonetheless. Mine. Mine? Not so much according to the new documentary, Terms and Conditions May Apply.
At half-past way too early (I was up from 3am-4:30am with the little one last night) I was thinking about all the secrets we share without ever wanting to. What if I was addicted to hardcore porn or Furry chatrooms or well, I can’t think of anything else right now (see above lack of sleep), but what if I was? And it was my secret. Mine. Not Google’s, not Joe Advertising’s, not Bank of Jamaica’s credit card department. But that’s not the case and it scares me like one of those old conspiracy theory movies.
Big Brother? Are you listening? I do not like it that you can track me on my cell phone at all times. That you can see where I live, what my laundry looks like, and what kind of cleaning detergent I purchase. So butt out, man! I’ve got a ganja farm growing in my garage and it needs privacy. (I just Googled how to spell ‘ganja’ by the way so I’ve got that tab going for me too)
You that expression FML? Yeah, well that’s what I was thinking from about 11pm to the crack of dawn this morning. My 16 month old son has figured out how to climb out of his crib. It began in early August and by Monday of this week he had perfected his technique. Rat bastard.
What does this mean? No naps. No sleeping at night. No rest. No rest. No rest. Every single time the baby should be sleeping, he is giggling like mad and hurling his chubby, little body over the side of the rails. What a fun game!
All I know is that no child this young should be so agile. It’s KILLING me.
When my daughter came onto the scene a few years ago I went from working full-time to working part-time. When my son came shortly thereafter, I went from part-time to part part-time. And now, in a few short weeks, my oldest is off to school and I feel at loose ends.
I want to work. I love to work. I love being out and about, using my brain, focusing my attention on matters bigger than myself. But how do I do that and be there for my children while they’re little? How do I “lean in” as Sheryl Sandburg recommends and still get to pick them up from school at 2:15? It seems impossible. If I do go back to work, I’ll miss the little things. If I don’t go back to work, my brain will atrophy so much I’ll never be hirable. I mean come on, the marketplace isn’t exactly kind to the job of Mom.
Talking to other women I realize this is a universal problem for anyone who decides to have children. It’s a juggling act full of sacrifices and stress. A full-time employee cannot be a full-time mom and a full-time mom can’t be anyone’s employee except for the little dictators she lives with. So I’m working it out…part-time for a few more years I think. Or maybe I can run for office – that seems like a pretty easy job. Those people don’t seem to do anything except fight amongst themselves. I’m into that. I fight with my little dictators all day long.
We’re back and skydiving into the thick of things. And by skydiving I mean jumping off of our Virgin America flight into an abyss of work, social obligations, and the patient parenting of 2 jet-lagged toddlers. Our vacation was lovely until the end when one by one we fell to the bayonet of a superbug thus tainting our relaxing visit to the East Coast. Meanwhile, we returned to our home to find the plumbing stopped up and the backyard full of poop. On the positive side, the house was immaculate and the refrigerator well stocked thanks to the little elves who make our world work.
And remember my poor car? Well I finally took her in and after a terrible ordeal, am driving a luxurious Ford Taurus. I can’t believe the struggle I’m finding myself in over an accident that was in no way my fault. And it’s partially the culpa of my insurance agency for allowing me only $30/day for a rental car. $30 will get me a Kia – how am I supposed to fit 2 gigantic carseats and a super stroller into a Kia, I ask you? So when I demanded something comparable to my own car I was told no way, Jose. So I’m paying the difference between the Kia and the Taurus out-of-pocket. My car will be in the shop for 2 weeks; 2 weeks of repairs for an accident that happened while I was grocery shopping inside a Trader Joe’s. Obviously, this battle hasn’t seen the last of me.
Lastly, sightings of Emiliano Zapata have been reported in local news. Stay tuned for traffic and weather…