Just Another Manic Momday

Get ready for a ramble. A rant. A fervent thank You to God that all of the men in my house have left. And peace reigns.

I miss quiet more than anything. I am never alone. Someone is always here. Gone are the days when the four little darlings trooped up the school bus steps at 7:20 not to be seen again until they descended same steps at 2:20.

And hubby left for work to an office every day as God intended. Now dear darlings work while attending college. Some days some boys go to school; some days some boys go to work. No rhyme. No reason. No sanity for Mom. Zero. Zilch.

And hubby’s worked from home for a year now – the final crushing blow.

I miss my house. I miss an empty living room. No one playing Call of Duty. No one watching football or basketball or f-bomb infested violent movies.

What happened to Lifetime movies? Gilmore Girls? My new favorite, Being Erica? To be able to just watch these show whenever I wanted rather than parceling out the time between the macho crap. I would love to blare Bobby Sherman but instead it’s country; it’s more man-friendly. It’s compromise. Everything seems to be a compromise these days.

So now here I sit scribbling to you. I’ve removed cups and other dishes, used napkins and Kleenex from my coffee table. I’ve picked up dirty socks from the floor. Folded afghans. Another laundry load is whrrring away. For some moronic reason, I decided it’d be fun to have a turkey so I bought one. We are eating it tomorrow so this morning I chopped onions and celery, sautéed sausage, baked cornbread and cubed bread. All in preparation for our most favorite stuffing.

My sink is overflowing with pots and pans. I don’t have a dishwasher. Did I ever tell you that? No dishwasher. Just me. Oh I go through my screaming phases of delegating, but when all is said and done, I wash every dish 99.9% of the time.

This past week a friend of mine sent me a lovely card from American Greetings. It begins: “We all know there comes a day when our houses will stay clean for more than a few hours” (Really? Do I know this?) “and we’ll no longer be tripping over childhood toys and teenagers’ sneakers” (Gosh, that sounds wonderful.) The card goes on to sing the praises of being a good mom. And it’s not even near Mother’s Day. How did my friend know I needed this right now? That messes, or lack of them, don’t make the mom. That I’m not the first woman on earth to be going through this inner turmoil. Somehow my friend knew, and she gave me God via the United States Postal Service.

I suppose in years to come I’ll look back and miss the teasing, the horseplay, maybe even the messes. The house will feel too big, too empty. But, for now, Lifetime here I come. Bonbons ready. Feet up. Smile on. Heart, mind and soul at peace.