frazzled & frumpy

Today's all-alone-at-7am-on-the-freeway-so-no-one-can-hear-me-sing-at-the-top-of-my-lungs songs- You should have heard me. I was awesome. Well, not really.  I think I had a pack of dogs following me. I love 80's music. That is all.

The Handy Man came home from work today, took one look at our room and said, "It looks like the dryer threw up on our bed." (Maybe I should fold some laundry.)

(This was originally written four years ago. Funny how time passes, but the feelings about motherhood stay the same.) This afternoon, Noah begged me to push him on the swing. I dragged myself outside to help him. No underdog, he informed me. I complied .  It only took a couple pushes because (hooray!)he’s learned to pump.  I stepped back and laid on the warm, black surface of the tramp.  The backs of my eyelids blazed red as I soaked up some much needed vitamin D.  I laid there, listening to the creak of the swing, taking deep breaths,  thinking about my day and how much more relaxed I felt than the day before.  I’m not made for being a chauffer.  I counted a total of 7 trips I made on Wednesday. (Almost a half tank of gas! Ga!)  I came home angry and frustrated.   I growled at my kids and was prickly to my husband. Once dinner had been served, I parked my car-seat-shaped-butt on my bed, announcing that I was  not  moving for the rest of the night.  I didn’t.  When I said

(Original here .) She She is not hidden, silent or withdrawn. She is there, if I seek Her. She is in the craggy mountain peaks, Snow covered, tree lined majesty. I see her in the brilliant blue of sky, She lives in the curve of my body, And, the soft lines on my face. I hear her voice in the song of wind Lifting poplar leaves. She is in the call of hawks, grand and resonant, She echoes in the sweet, simple sound of my child’s laughter. I smell her when the breeze Carries the scent of spring, Cherry blossoms, lilacs, petunias. She is there in fall, In the crisp air, the fragrance of earth preparing to rest, The taste of tart apples, sweet plums, A bountiful harvest. She is in the taste of salty tears Filled with sorrow or joy. I feel her in the cool of rain on my skin, In the warm sun, the tingle of breeze, A lover’s touch. She is in my heart, each and every beat, I feel her reflected in the love I have For family, friends, Nature. She is not hid

Some days, ideas come to me like a spring rainstorm.  Thoughts drop and pelt my brain until they flow over into my fingers and onto my screen. I cannot type fast enough as my thoughts race ahead of me, looking back, urging me to hurry. Other day, ideas avoid me- wild, feral cats who want nothing to do with my tame brain. I chase them, getting oh, so close. Just as I'm about to touch one, grab it's striped tail, it scurries away and hides beneath a rock. Then, I sit, hands still, hoping one of them will wander over and join me. They stay back, watching me warily,  sending an occasional hiss my way. Today is a cat kind of day.  And, I really don't like cats. (I'm definitely a dog person.)