Sunday, January 30, 2011

The Long List of Have To's

My son once misunderstood the lyrics to a really great praise and worship song called 'He is Exalted'. The Number One Son insisted that the song was 'He is Exhausted'. I'm fairly certain now that he was right. I know because I've been humming it all week; I am exhausted. It's finally happened. Turn me over; I'm done.

I desperately need an entire week of nothing. No one needing me, not having to, no schedule, no calendar, no craziness. Somehow, I don't see this happening anytime soon. My To Do list is so long it has subsections and a reference page with an index.

It's my own fault. You wear that Wonder Woman costume around long enough, and someone eventually is going to ask you to leap tall buildings in a single bound. It's inevitable. I just want one entire day of Nothingness. A day to stay in my jammies and eat leftovers and not answer one question or find one missing shoe or hair ribbon. I want one day to read and sit and be so quiet that it's almost like deafness.

I want to dance around in my living room to dreadful, loud 80's music for about an hour without having to explain the song, the lyrics, or what I'm doing. I want to cook dinner of all of MY favorite foods for a change. I want to watch a Mommy Movie (something without cartoons, happy endings, or people sitting in my lap asking for more popcorn).

I want to get my nails done, alone. I want to go to the movies, alone. I want to write without interruption. I want to read until I pass out and simply fall asleep where I am. I want an entire day without sports, practices, or homework. I want to drive into nowhere with the windows down and the sunroof open with The Cult on eleven and never once pass a station that features Taylor or Justin. I want to eat when I'm hungry and not when it's Time.

I'm so tired.

And then, in the very middle of my pity party, without a word The Husband sets iced tea at my left elbow. My son in the living room hot whispers to his little sister, "Turn that TV volume down! Mommy is WRITING!" One of my girls comes into the office and stands at the chair behind me, casually running her fingers through my hair, reading over my shoulder. My mother enters a few moments later and sets down a grilled cheese sandwich next to me and says, "I took care of dinner." Another baby girl sticks her head in the door and says, "I'm running a bath. I love you, Mommy." And it's enough for a deep breath, a quick adjust of my cape and tiara, and I'm back in Super Mom battle mode.

Maybe I'll just wear my IPod and settle for the dancing part while I save the world (or at least preserve my little corner of it). I am the Mother Bear. Hear me roar.

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