**This is a blast from the past (well last year anyways). Cracked myself up and wanted to reshare. Not much has changed….except I am proud to announce that, shortly after I wrote this last year, the midget triplet stopped crapping his pants. Enjoy.
Where for art thou, my love? For years we enjoyed each other’s company lying upon the couch together, surfing the TLC, HGTV, MTV and WE Channels. We have such a restful history together enjoying mindless snacking on Chips-A-Hoys and Cheese Nips.
Do you remember those days when we were feeling spunky and would head to the mall for a retail workout. Whether strolling or speed walking we perused the store windows for bargains and “to-die-fors.” We’d end our outing with a cappuccino and the crisp new spine of a book. One that we’d promptly crack open amidst an overflowing tub of steaming hot water as the afternoon hours rolled into evening.
Do you miss me my love?…the way that I miss you?….when I’m dragging two reluctant T-ball players by their equipment bags to yet another T-ball game and yelling at their little brother who is “sort-of potty trained” to not poop in his big boy underroos. All the while cursing their father under my breath for staying late just to keep his job?!
My thoughts drift to you, my love, as I juggle 6 loads of laundry, saute chicken and veggies, and call out sight words for the big test tomorrow. My heart swells as I catch a fleeting glimpse of you when the little man goes down for a nap. But you disappear just as I turn and see dirty socks seeping under the laundry room door, dishes crawling from the sink, or I realize I haven’t posted on my blog in days.
Sadly, I’ve forgotten what you look like on a Saturday afternoon just after a syrupy stack at IHOP. The memory of your touch of possibilty on a Friday after five is lost to my busy soul. Instead I must schedule meaningless tasks, like clipping my fingernails and shaving my legs, lest they be overlooked and return to haunt me at the next “Mom’s Meeting” for whatever extracurricular activity I will be forced to volunteer you.
For that I am sorry, my love. It pains my heart to give you away as if you have no place in my heart. Our paths, I’m told, will meet again one day. And when they do, I’ll welcome you back with open arms. Together we will dye my hair a lovely shade of blue and return to the joys of our mall walking. We’ll mutter spitefully about those who don’t call or stop by, about the books I can’t see well enough to read, about the crap they put on TV these days, and we’ll use some of our time to install a handrail to get me into that steamy tub of bubble bliss.
Until then, my love, remember me and I’ll dream of you. But now I must go. The midget triplet just crapped his pants, the twins baseball uniforms need cleaning, I’ve got to get something out of the freezer for dinner tonight, and I can’t remember if I’ve brushed my hair this week.
The Mommy Mambo