I should be folding several loads of laundry, but am instead eating the last mammoth Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup Egg from our Easter candy stash. And obsessively checking Facebook to see if someone’s posted something as funny as the comments on the “Cougar loose in VA” thread I saw last night. I was on the floor rolling around with laughter, crying.
It’s the little things, obviously.
At times like these — when my children are tucked into beds and husband is outside sharpening his hand planes — that my thoughts often turn to what a crappy mom I am. I don’t know why, but somehow the empty quietness of the house invites a million insidious thoughts.
One: Yelling at your kids makes you a bad mom. You love those soft, fleshy little ones, don’t you? I yelled at them several times today, ergo I’m a bad mom. A cold, heartless mom.
Two: Not cleaning various things in my house on a regular schedule makes me a bad mom AND housekeeper. I consciously chose today to not clean many, many things… Cause after the first fifteen times, who the F cares??
Three: I have been serving only frozen vegetables at dinner lately, and my remaining wholesome, organic root veggies from the winter CSA have withered to a wacky science experiment in my crisper. Our onions and potatoes are sprouting amazing tendrils in our cellar’s damp darkness. Clearly this means my boys will have some sort of undiagnosed developmental issue soon, and perhaps will begin telling all their friends that vegetables grow in the freezer.
I could go on, but it’s a little depressing. Maybe it’s the Reese’s, or my evening yoga class, or the last glass of wine just poured me by said husband — but none of that seems so serious right now.
Definitely not as serious as a giant cougar on the loose in southern Virginia.
But back to that laundry. What do you do when the noise outside dies down, and your neurotic internal monologue moves in? How do you reassess, get perspective?
Chocolate peanut butter cups and wine allowed…