Excuse Me While I Run the Other Way

There are times when you just don't know what is going on in your life. You've woken up and taken your shower, washed your hair, washed your face, and scrubbed where the sun don't shine (assuming you're not a nudist). You've brushed your hair, or combed it, put on a suitable outfit, found your comfy shoes, brushed your teeth, put on your deoderant, and are ready for a good day. Scratch that. Great day! You've even smiled at your self in the mirror. The sun is shining. Awesome! What next?

Well, I'll tell you what's next. Your shirt is really on backwards. Your shoes really don't match. Your kids are finding everything they can to fight about, and they bring it all to you, with no intension of having you solve any of these problems, as what they are really looking for is for the "other person" to get into trouble so said child can feel better about life in general. You really don't know what to do first, so you don't do anything at all, you just think about what you could or should be doing in between, "Mama. Mama. Mama," and, "Mama." When you wipe your face in exasperation you feel that gross, big, red, greasy pimple that, yes, was there when you thought you looked so beautiful this morning. It was there all along, staring you in the face. But you didn't notice it because you were optimistic and feeling gleeful after your smashing shower rendition of 9 to 5.

It is almost four in the afternoon and you realize your brain is mush. It's almost dinner time and childen are STILL grabbing food from anywhere they can, including out of eachother's hands, due to sheer boredom and one upping their sibbling. (Ha, haaa, ha-ha, ha). Your sweats are feeling tight. Your face is starting to feel not so fresh. You want, well, you're not sure what you want.

Okay, for starters, you want the crying to stop, because that's all they're doing is crying. For no reason. They're not going to have their periods, they don't have four tantrum ridden children, they're not menopausing -- You are! PLEASE!

At this point, you're wondering what kind of booze you can get away with at this time of day and if you have any on hand. And you're fantasizing about taking a "mommy's little helper" and streaking into the woods laughing maniacally.

You really want the day to start over from scratch. You want to have some sort of control over something. You want everyone to get along at the same time. Bottom line, you want that great day you started out believing you were going to have.

Okay, let me start by saying, in the nicest way possible, you went about your whole day wrong, wrong, wrong.

This is what you should have done:

• Taken a determined, not relaxing, shower.



• If you were insistant on singing, you should have sang something a bit more somber, more depressing, like Pink Floyd's Goodbye Blue Sky. You should have found this inspiring.



• Noticed that stupid pimple on your face, because it WAS there.



• Put on your best drill sargent outfit, no nonsense shoes, and a voice to match.



• Told everyone what to do, when to do it, how to do it, no exceptions, no excuses, no leniency, and enforced strict and clear punishments.



• Made your children call you Mrs. So and so, not Mama; Mama is much too familiar, not to mention it screams, "take advantage of me... please!"



• Paddlocked the fridge and cabinets, and placed the key on a chain around your neck.



• Told your children you would hand out tickets to the neighbors to watch them stand in a corner if they had anything that isn't nice to say and used the bad judgement of saying it.



• By now you should be able to demand "you time" as they are hopefully terrified of you and want to live to see tomorrow.



• Voila, you now ought to have the peace and quiet you were expecting, AKA your great day.

But since you didn't do any of these things, it's safe to say that you should drop everything and run the other way. Just run. There's really no hope for you now. Don't stop to fix your shirt. Don't stop to match your shoes. Do not collect 200 dollars, (you're never going to pass go anyway, besides which, your children have already spent it online using your name and personal information; you really need to keep your purse in a safer spot. Another post perhaps on this subject?)

Run. Run like the wind. Run the other way! Run with gusto, screaming won't help, but you can do it anyway. With any luck, you won't be followed. Yeah, right.

P.S. This post was so painful to write I had to use second person with the pretense that perhaps other people might be just as bad off as me, or at the very least suffer the same morning optimism. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some running to do.