It was one if those weeks where lots of random little things happened, and for most of them I wondered if I could make a blog out of it. And despite my best efforts to stretch, prod, pretend, and plea to any higher being who would listen, no one single thing would save me from the yawning maw of the blank electronic page. But I realized I could gang them all up together and let you sort it out, since you are all so awesome and intelligent.
So enjoy the random events:
1. Have you noticed this new fashion thing of women wearing ankle boots with no socks? With the dresses, yes, I’ve seen this before, but they also do it with pants. So, you know, I’m a hip happenin’ chick so I put on my little socks no one can see and show my ankles to the world. And I was distracted by it all day. When all the others do it, it looks fashionable. But somehow I just couldn’t see myself that way. I went down the mom road thinking about cold ankles, and then I just felt like I looked like I’d forgotten to wear socks. I usually do not obsess over fashion, despite the pleas of some of friends to do so, for the love of god. So, I guess this just means I gotta wear the socks. I’m sure the fanny pack isn’t far behind.
2. I watched the first two debates and survived, but I drew the line at number three. I just had nothing left for it, but my teen was watching it with his friends online. All I could hear was his side of the four-way conversation and no debate audio. Oh. My. God. It was so perfect. Do you remember how awful being a teenager was? Well what we didn’t understand was the gift we had in our cluelessness. My son and his friends blissfully have no emotional investment in this campaign. They are young and they don’t care about what has come before or even what happens after. And I forgot what a gift that could be until I heard them calling out the internet meme moments. “He sniffed!” My son cried jubilantly. “Hillary just said ‘Russia’!” It was just as good as SNL, and no commercials.
3. I was in the car and heard the Talking Heads song, “All Night Long,” about a cute baby he wants to make stay up all night long. I haven’t heard that song in ages, but it took me right back to my kid, when he was an infant. There was a span of time (who can say for how long, mothering has a way of eating your brain) when he just slept for 30 minutes, woke up and breast fed for 30 minutes, until he fell asleep again for 30 minutes. Over and over again until he made spy movie torture look fun. I would have agreed to anything, spilled any secret. My dear friend Lora made up new lyrics to the song about my situation, made me a book, and then sang the song to me. When I heard it in the car I used the recording feature in my iPhone, and sent her 20 seconds worth without comment. She got it immediately and texted back about her version. And I realized that I need to change the story in my head about how hard it was to have a baby who thought sleep was for amateurs. It was was 17 years ago, and it’s time for a new story. One that emphasizes the great number of friends who kept me sane then and who continue to keep me sane now, and all night long. Thanks guys.
4. I have a sensitive disposition both emotional and nervous-system based–a two-fer, yippee! I’ve learned to be more emotionally resilient, although there are exceptions (see number 2 for illustration), but the physical sensitivities are harder to manage in a noisy world and even harder to explain. I’ll just say that when the ambulance is screaming down the street, I’m the one with her hands plugging her ears–me and the toddler set. But I recently had an epiphany that could help me explain my sensitivities. I was eating a Mexican salad that I ordered without jalapeños. But I think they were still in there. It was hard to tell, the salad was chopped to hell, but my mouth was on fire. Now usually I would say “I don’t like jalapeños,” but that just leads well-meaning people who seem to enjoy having their mouths on fire to try to convince me I should like it too. Saying it hurts is an exaggeration. It’s not painful, unlike that screaming ambulance. But this week I realized it’s uncomfortable. I don’t feel whatever exilirating, nasal clearing thing it is you all feel when your mouth is on fire. It’s more like I’m too close to a fire and my eyebrows are getting singed. Only it’s inside my mouth. Uncomfortable. I confess that like a new convert, I may use it for every sensitivity incident.
5. While I was purchasing some acne medicine on Amazon, (yes I have acne, it’s ridiculous), the helpful algorithm also suggested some ointment for puffy, baggy eyes. How did they know, I wondered? So I took a chance and ordered some. I tried it a couple of times, even being scientific about it and taking before and after selfies in the mirror to see if it worked. No one should have to see such an extreme close up of themselves, but I believe in the scientific method. And I can scientifically report that it doesn’t work, well, it doesn’t work if the bags under your eyes have bags–on either bag level.
So there you have it. Oh and apologies for all the accidental posts. I’m working from the app on my phone and clearly haven’t mastered the technique yet.