Oy, that time of year. When the world falls in love?
When everyone gets present?
When you get dressed up and go to a fancy dinner?
No, the time of year you try to find your behind again. The time when you get back in the groove of preparing lunch the night before so you aren’t caught flat footed in the morning. The time when you once again have to make sure everyone-yourself included- gets to bed at a decent time so you can get out the door.
It’s post-vacation hustle.
I’m going to be honest: this is how I look right now.
Actually, now that I see it and knowing I was every couple of hours with Rex due to his stuffy nose and my husband didn’t help at all due to his stuffy nose (and early appearance on local TV to promote his cookbook), and I have no make up and need my roots done, don’t think I look that bad.
I did manage to get a mani/pedi before the real world slapped me across the face like a big, wet sock, but the hair has to be dealt with. I’m playing catch up with this site as well. Web traffic is a crawl over the holidays, so I was blogging light. Now, I have toget my video camera humming, my fingers tapping. I have to decide whether I park Vivien in front of a cartoon to get something done or stay up later and write then. Normal mommy management.
Okay, quick story about how kids can make you feel like crap but still crack you up.
A couple of nights ago Vivien announced “Mommy, you are old.”
“Vivien, that isn’t a nice thing to say.”
With her arms outstretched, “Sorry, mommy, but look at you.”
“Vivien, it’s not nice to say someone is ugly, fat, or old.”
“Oh, mommy, you are pretty, but you are old.” (Notice she didn’t say I was slim, but we try to avoid body comments in front of people who can grow up to have eating disorders. We’ll leave that to mom.)
“Vivien, that is not nice.”
“Mommy, look at you.” She said as she grabbed my arm.” My arm is not wrinkly, but due to my pregnancy rash, I still have red marks and tender skin.
“Are you saying I look old because of my red marks? Because Oliver has some red marks, and he is much younger than me.”
Like how mature I was? I threw my teenage stepson under the bus. Fortunately, he laughed at it. Didn’t matter.
“Mommy, you are old.”
And you are going back to school.
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