"ignore the story. see the soul. remember to love. you will never regret it" --- Seane Corn
it's a jungle out there
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Sunday Confessions from the Beacon Satellite Chapel of the Church of the Batshit Crazy
Saturday. 5:01 pm.
On line at walmart. I was supposed to be on a date with Ty to hear a cello soloist but he blew me off.
Wanted to play at the park with his friends instead.
I showered and put on a dress and eyeliner and everything but no bra
OK. I put the dress on so that after the cello concert Bruce and I could just take off for Date Night.
Dinner and a movie.
It's not a fancy dress. I wore it every day in Mexico.
Now I'm wearing it layered with a hoodie and scarf and leggings and my mom's old sweater.
It's a floor length dark brown knit maternity dress from Old Navy.
Very flattering and super comfy.
And no I am not pregnant
When Ty blew me off I felt stood up.
I thought about going to the cello concert by myself, but figured I should be productive instead.
If I stayed home, I'd feel compelled to clean but then I'd get my dress dirty.
There's no food in the house. We're even out of ketchup and the gerbils have been eating cat food for a week.
So. Off to Walmart. In my dress.
Walmart on a Saturday afternoon sucks. Walmart at any time sucks.
So here I am on line spewing into my phone and Fuck I forgot kitty litter.
Poor kitty is pooping in a half inch of litter...
OK. It's 5:08
I'm on the fastest line ever in the history of the tumultuous hell that is my relationship with walmart. The question is can I leave my cart on this line and get to the pet supply end of this airplane hangar and get back with kitty litter before it's my turn to get rung up. strung up. strung out.
Made it. Carrying a 34lb box and now my dress is covered with kitty litter dust. Fuck it.
I'm waving the white flag of surrender. I'm giving up kind of on the fight.
I've realized it's a goddam waste of my energy to try and save the planet one local organic unprocessed unpasturized unpackaged meal at a time.
It's a frootloopless endeavor.
I've fought long and hard, but my resolve has been beaten back too many times and my troops are diminished.
I'm not home 3 evenings a week.
For 3 years my most awesome babysitter has been tortured by my food issues.
It's her responsibility to feed my kids dinner, yet I'm so conflicted in my food purchases that frequently she only has spaghetti and goya black bean soup and organic butter and illegal amish meat to work with.
And she, by her own admission, can't cook.
My Tuesdays and Thursdays I spend half my day cooking a Real Family Meal ending in an Epic Fail and lots of leftovers for me to take to work.
My poor kids are tortured by my food issues and they torture me right back.
Mom can we get Pop Tarts? How bout Fruit Loops? Or Trix?. Or Trix Yogurt?
How bout Hot Pockets?
Do you know the first ingredient in Hot Pockets is ham water?
What the fuck is ham water?
I can't bring myself to buy that kind of stuff. I've tried, but then I look at the ingredients label and it's so fucking long.
So I allow them to eat Rocky Road ice cream for breakfast instead. And Oreos.
I just turn off my brain when I think about the partially hydrogenated double stuff that they love so much.
I'm the poster mom for Arbitrary Rules.
Yup. I'm fucked up.
Orthorexia Nervosa. Unhealthy obsession with "right" eating.
In my quest to solidify partially hydrogenate a budget, I looked at our food spending.
And this is what I've decided.
I'm gonna give the Most Awesome Babysitter a hundred bucks a week in food allowance.
They can do with it what they wish. This way her life will be easier, the kids will be happier, and I won't have a goddam nervous breakdown every time I open the fridge or stand in the frozen food aisle.
I can stop buying a gazillion dollars worth of food that doesn't get eaten.
And Bruce makes delicious yummy healthy organic mostly unprocessed totally dinners on the weekends.
That the kids love. I can take comfort in that.
Hopefully they'll respect the limits of my sanity and not come home with anything that will put me over the edge.
Or at least eat it all and dispose of the evidence before I get home.
"it occurred to me that the only real sin you can commit as a mother is to deny your children's right to be who they are and what they want to be and that the only real sin you can commit against yourself is to deny who you truly are and prevent yourself from being who that is"