Posted on May 2, 2007
Filed Under career, parenting, snark, suburban joys | 7 Comments
Oh damn, the best laid plans and all that…as I dug around in the pockets of G’s backpack to retrieve her sweet little pink headband now slightly dingy from riding around in her book bag for a week, several stones from the driveway and yesterday’s breakfast bar still in its wrapper but crushed into breakfast bar sawdust, I discovered a pink slip of paper sent home by her attentive teacher reminding all brain dead parents that today is a half day. A HALF DAY. WTF. DIDN’T I JUST DEVOTE TWO PERFECTLY GOOD WEEK DAYS TO SIT AT MY SICK SON’S BEDSIDE WHILE HE COUGHED AND MOANED AND BREATHED LOUDLY THROUGH HIS MOUTH INSTEAD OF BEING AT SCHOOL?
Okay, I’m done shouting now because rage has passed to sorrow and I feel all weepy about the things I had planned to accomplish that will now languish on the To Do List for another month or so before I have another day without absolutely anything on the calendar. And I’m sure on that day, somewhere in the far off future when I plan to finally tackle that huge heaping mound of mulch in the yard, and wash the mittens and scarves and gloves so they can be placed in their air tight tupperware receptacle in the attic, and get that suspicious mole on my right arm examined and scrape peeling paint off the side of the house and exercise and shower and clean the bath tub and return an overdue library book and pay some bills and call my mother, there will be another half day or a snow storm or a sick child to thwart me.
And this blogging thing is becoming a bit of a drain too because I’m the type of person who goes at things full-bore. I wake and read 25 blogs so that I can make comments and attract blog traffic and then I write the next day’s post and then I check my traffic report several hundred times during the day and find that I’ve fallen off the radar and must read more blogs and leave wittier comments to lure new audiences and this leaves little time for anything else including real conversations with people I actually know, like my children.
Just this morning, as I was reading someone’s clever dissertation on their child’s pink eye, my G was trying to tell me about yesterday’s playdate with the neighbor. I wish I could tell you what she said but I was too busy making a clever comment on a total stranger’s observations on the difficulty of mothering a sick child to even hear my own. I actually snapped, “Can you give me a frigging second to do something else other than listen to you tell me about playing with Fiona yesterday. Can’t you see I’m busy?”
She left the room sobbing and I quickly logged off and followed her begging forgiveness. “Please tell me all about Fiona and playing Club Penguin and explain about these Puffles because Mommy really does care.”
So as I watched the little people traipse off with heavy backpacks to begin their brief school day, I realized that I need to reconsider what’s important in my life, what I’m trying to achieve with this blog and what I’m sacrificing in the pursuit of this vague goal. I’ve stopped writing my novel stopped listening to my children and can’t make time for the real people in my life because of some sense of duty to the blogosphere, it’s time for intervention.
Off I go to consider my life and the benefits of blogging. I’ll let you know what I come up with.
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