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About 30 minutes ago I commented to my husband about how, when I get home from work, I would like, just once, to be able to sit down on the back deck and relax. ‘Cause that just ain’t been happenin’ since I’ve become a workin’ mama.

So, in the spirit of all cosmic coincidences in which “you [might not] always get what you want… but, you get what you need”, I’d like to give a Hoo-Yah to toddlers heading to bed early and without a fuss, to patio furniture received for Mother’s Day, for Marigolds and a pumpkin patch that not only outlasted the drought but are vying to be prizewinners, and for cool, mild October temperatures and leaves just beginning to change. Oh yeah, and for Flying Dog Double Dog IPA. Ahhhhhh… A toast to my Calgon moment!

Tightrope walking aside, mothering and wifing and working is one hell of a death-defying balancing act. I’m still trying to find out just where I fit in. The fact that I am actually excited by my new morning routine– getting up at 5:15 so I can hit the gym and read magazines while on the elliptical machine before work– might be an indicator of where my own needs have been falling on the priority list. Yeah, I linger on the toilet so I can read the next chapter and pretend I need tampon so I can rush to the grocery store unhindered and lusciously alone. How did a just a spare friggin’ moment end up on my endangered species list?

(That last question was only a rhetorical one. I would imagine that the answer is more than obvious.)

Still, until duty calls you to juggle the tune of “my little potato” with a knife chopping dinner’s onions and a phone call from your mother about your grandmother’s intestinal surgery all the while throwing Annie’s Whole Wheat Bunnies into the open seal-like mouth of your feisty and impatient one-year-old while trying to sweep up the morning’s coffee grounds all before even taking your work shoes off, you can’t quite imagine the threat an innocent youngin’ can pose to your personal freedoms. I suppose that’s why evenings like this one– in which your husband is in the garage jamming out with guys and the baby’s in bed two hours earlier than normal and the sun hasn’t quite gone down yet– are so wickedly delightful. It is like Tolle states: there is no form without the formless. Yes, so there is no flippin’ peace and quiet without the domestic chaos.

(Have you noticed my gallant efforts at cleaning up my rhetoric? I have almost, nearly, sort-of stopped using the F-word since the moment last week when I noticed that my son stopped what he was doing to stare at me and quizzically contemplate my colorful reference to the stupid fucknut who almost rammed into me at the Main Street intersection. Oops.)

Anyhow, lately, this freedom thing has been more restricted than usual. I have been the only member of our quaint little household that hasn’t been spewing from both ends. And, since I imagine that alone is more information than you bargained for, I’ll stop there. However, I am sure you can imagine the exhausting toll that was placed on me because I didn’t get sick. It was definitely and without question a lose-lose situation.

Yet, brighter days are on the horizon. It’s Friday. It’s still a tad bit light out. And, I am actually soaking in the evening air and writing. Ahhhh…

And, you know, this little breather came at just the right time. While on most days I sail about as if everything is just peachy, often, underneath it all, I begin developing the habits of a domesticated rabbit. I hit a point where I’m
ready to gnaw my own paw off to get just a little taste of freedom.

What does this mean in human terms?

Well, for one, I’ve been having incredible urges to make contact with the villainous characters of my illustrious past. (Yeah, so, I spent one tipsy evening trying to scan Facebook profiles. That doesn’t make me a bad person!) And, I’ve been hitting the bottle a bit harder when the little one finally says “nighty-night”. And– okay, there’s just a bit more– I’ve been secretly buying curtains with my World Market credit card. (The shame!)

Does that sound outlandish to anyone? Because on my risk-o-meter, I’d only give these little setbacks a four. Honestly, they just seem to me like a slightly stronger than average bout of the old run-of-the-mill reaction to stress.

But, I’ve been cautioned– and I probably don’t need to tell you by whom– That’s Right, by the psychiatric powers-that-be that all these slightly less-than-wholesome responses to stress look a lot like “breakthrough symptoms” of my apparent bipolarity.

C’mon! Who isn’t curious about their former lovers no matter how loserly they may have become? And, shit, all of us Generation X’ers love to live above our means. Don’t we? It’s not like I sold my stake in Wal-mart to head off on a five day bender in Miami. (Except I don’t own stock in Wal-mart, or, for that matter, in any company large or small. And, I’d never go to Miami if I had an inclination towards a bender. I’m really more of a NOLA girl. But, you know what I mean.)

Okay, so, back to my thankfulness and the recollection of my inner peace. When I needed it most, the Universe took a turn in my direction and here I am breathing, typing, listening to the night-time insects. I don’t know who said it better– Jesus of Nazareth or Mick Jagger– but you do often get what you need.

(Is that the Flying Dog talking or am I really this much of a freak?)

Anyhow, breakthrough symptoms or no, the exhausting monotony of trying to make a living and trying to have energy to live out your ideals at home is down-right difficult. So, to all you other working mamas, may you ask for a quiet evening and receive it and may you know your immense worth.

Hoo-yah, Hoo-yah, Hoo-yah!

Until the next unexpected hour to myself… (or at least until the next time I sneak the lap top into the bathroom!)

Yours Truly,

Me

This entry was posted on Friday, October 10th, 2008 at 7:56 pm and is filed under On Working and Writing and Mothering and ..., Pure Raw Motherhood, That Beautiful Bipolarity!. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.