I just realised that there are two posts hanging on my website since August 2017. Well begun be damned, Hello 2018 and resolutions! Speaking of which, I spent a good 7 and a half minutes yesterday, teaching my daughter how to keep track of her new year resolutions. Of course she heard me for all of 2.5 of those 7.5 minutes!
Why is motherhood such a slow cooker life? You know, it feels like all the ingredients of a potboiler brewing very, very slowly and you are aware that there is redemption at the other side – but you really cannot see it, yet. That is basically a very bad analogy for saying that motherhood seems fun only in retrospect. Mostly it feels splat brained and totally drained.
It feels like it was only yesterday that I was top of my game in accomplishing tasks, taking mindfulness breaks and generally acing the personal hygiene game. But these days it is a wonder if I accomplish anything without being either really called into a real emergency or a pretend one. Also, I am suddenly turning very good at handling emergencies. Basically, I rock the blank stare look which gives the image of being in control. Try it.
And that will be the end of my self pity tripe. Motherhood is basically, very very boring. But it is a very different kind of boring. It has all the unpredictability of adventure without the adrenaline. Which is why they invented coffee. Honestly Nespresso, chuck George and get the other Clooney to endorse you. Seriously, you got your TG wrong!
Yep, I am a coffee drinker now. Seriously, after 38 years on this blessed earth and this had to happen. I guess I better sign up for a annual dental package of some sorts. Because, you know between my chocolate and caffeine addiction..well, let me just chuck it and become a early denture adopter. I’m not sure if that is a thing, but it could be, right? Oh this idea sounds good. Along with my perfectly coiffured and highlighted wig I will present myself with a set of perfectly aligned 32 whites for my 40th!
Now you know why I’m slow. It’s basically because I’m falling apart in more ways than one (I am of course talking about the teeth and hair). Wish those could count as weight. And that brings us to my pet peeve. Weight. If the weight of the world was all that I carried, I would not mind the scale. But apparently adipose also wants a share of the booty (puns are fun ;)). We have now dutifully invested in our favourite laundry room accessory a.k.a the treadmill. I have honestly got no idea how Uncle Murphy works but treadmills morphing into clothes hangers is a thing. A very real thing. Maybe they should just install a dryer function to assuage the guilt all around. They could call it the fat melter. Fat melter, clothes dryer – how does it matter. Just saying.
And I thought I was slow. I really should jot down these ideas, right? Who knows a patent could come out of the backside of yet another slow moving day!