I’m a writer. I make a living using my words. I know a lot of words and how to string them together and combine ideas to present concepts or “paint” pictures, but I have never found the words to explain the overwhelming business of being a woman, particularly a working mother.
If my husband could spend just one day in my head, he might understand why I am continually frazzled, irritated, distracted, and literally incapable of tolerating any story that goes on longer than 45 seconds.
Case in point: This morning, I woke up at 4 a.m. to cats yowling and hissing at each other on my front porch because, of course, the cat was out all night (I gave up trying to keep the cats indoors …let alone indoors at night, long ago…if they meet their maker due to all-night carousing, well, I’m sure they’ll die happy having lived free. Yeah, that’s how I rationalize it).
But I digress….
You see, I digress a lot because my mind is continually doing three or more things. I never just write a blog post. For example, just now, in the middle of writing that last sentence, I remembered that I needed to write my daughter’s next dermatology appointment on the calendar at home, so I just jotted that down in my bullet journal.
Wait…where was I?
Oh…right 4 a.m. this morning, the damn cats wake me up, so I stumble to the living room to flip on the porch light and offer an open door to the stupid cat who, of course, runs away from me. Fine. Whatever….get your ass kicked. I go back to bed, but now my brain is up.
I worry about my daughter having friends. I remember I didn’t get my mother anything for her birthday yet and ponder what to do about that. I wonder if Lauren’s swim suit ever got hung up or if it’s molding in a towel on her carpeted floor. I remind myself to remember to sign her up for the home meets, which I now have to do in person at the Y (IN PERSON, for the love of God…). I wonder if I can get a haircut on Thursday — squeeze it in between everything else and whether i should spend the money to get my hair highlighted. Then I worry about money because there is never enough…
And this goes on and on despite the fact that I’m telling my brain to STFU because I only have 30 minutes until I need to get up to meet Betsy for our morning 4.5 miler.
When the alarm finally rings, I’m almost relieved I can just get up and stop lying there worrying and thinking.
Yeah…that’s right…running with a friend at 5 a.m. at a challenging pace on a course that ends with a huge uphill is one of the best parts of my day, which won’t end till like 10 p.m. tonight (unless I sit down or stop moving at any point after 8:30 p.m. at which case, it’s all over….and I’m out.)
And…there I go, getting off track again. Story of my life.
Here’s another one, perfectly illustrated by an artist who put into pictures what I could never put into prose. It should be required reading for all husbands…though I really think they should’ve just called it then Men’s Guide to Women.