In The Light of the Moon, A Little Egg Lay On A Leaf

I was worried when I wrote that last post that it made me sound kind of assy, but Mr. E assured me that no, it was just depressing to realize how hard I am on myself.   To be fair I do know that I have many unique talents, and the truth is that what I really wanted to say was “I hate gymnastics.  I hate driving. I hate math” but I thought that was too negative, and I got a weird mysogynistic Barbie vibe from writing out such things as “I hate math” so I thought better to just proclaim my inability for such subjects, rather than my hatred.

But it reminded me of how much I hate to let go of the possibility of things.

Like certain days you wake up and maybe you just watched Blue Crush or something and you say to yourself “Huh. I am probably never going to be a professional surfer” and even though you don’t even really like surfing, you aren’t ready to let go of the idea of it…the idea that if you really really wanted to, you could still buy an old station wagon off craigslist and throw a roxy bikini on and head out and catch some waves?  And there’d be sandwiches for lunch, for sure, and you’d never gain weight, because everyone knows that surfers burn so many calories and they just eat all the time and you’d have a hot surfer boyfriend and enter surf competitions and wear a lot of floral prints and tank tops and you’d give surf lessons to NFL stars on vacation to pay the rent and fight off the tourists who tried to steal your surfing mojo and your little sister…

Oh, sorry, where was I?

This is not at all what I set out to talk about.  I was going to tell you that lately Eli has become obsessed with The Very Hungry Caterpillar and he drags it around all day and makes us read it to him over and over again, and this stuns me at such a basic level – to see him become a person who does persony things is just astonishing – at the same time as it fills me with a weird feeling of nothingingness.  I mean, for god’s sake. My husband is a paleolimnologist, people. I don’t even really know what that is.  Every night I ask him what he did at work and I understand NOT ONE WORD of any of the things he tells me, and then he asks me what I did all day and I tell him how many times I read that one page about the little egg and the leaf.   The most exciting thing I’ve done all day was to think about whether or not I should buy a Furminator.

I think sometimes the worst part of being a mom 100% percent of the time is that you are not a professional anything.  You don’t wear fancy heels or suits, you don’t click your way through a marble lobby on your way to work.  You don’t need spreadsheets to do your job.  No one else cleans your bathrooms.  You can’t demand that IT fix your computer when the wireless goes out.  Corporate doesn’t pay for your blackberry.  No one really cares what you think.

I think that may be why stay at home moms and blogs go hand in hand, why we get a little carried away with buying new shoes for our once a year crazy blog conference.  We’ve realized that we’re never going to be  professional surfers.   Our job doesn’t require fancy shoes, and so we leap at the chance to buy them, for any reason, now.  What we do isn’t, most of the time, something you can put a label on – when someone asks your father in law what you do, he will tell people that you are the mother of his grandchild, and to be fair, when someone asks what I do, I never know what to tell them.

“I read that one page in The Very Hungry Caterpillar over and over again” doesn’t quite have the ring of “I’m a professional surfer”.  Does it?

Sigh.  I think I’ll have an avocado sandwich for lunch and DVR Blue Crush.  I’m sort of caterpillared out.

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6 Responses

  1. YES. Yes.

  2. I know it’s totally not the point, but I am not a stay at home mom and have been thinking about that goshdarn furminator for months. My vet reacted with sheer horror at the very mention and claims that animals across the globe are stricken with painful abraison and sometimes even terrible skin rashes due to the evils of the tool. I’m wondering if maybe she hasn’t seen the video. Piles an piles of hair. So quick! So easy!

  3. OK, I had to google what your husband does for a living. It is decided, my brain is mush!

    I like how honest your blogs our. Honestly, I feel the same way. (And I go to work a few nights a week at the hospital)

  4. I have this wowza’ moments all the time: “Huh. I am probably never going to be a professional surfer.”

    Well said.

    The other day, at a wedding, someone said to me “And what do you do, Tricia?”

    And I said.

    “Nothing.”

    It depressed me to no end. It’s not entirely true. But sometimes, when I catch myself yammering on about my kid I feel ashamed. No one else cares. Usually. So sometimes it’s easier to say…nothing.

    Depressing. I know. And I don’t truly believe it, and of course we all had a good laugh and they said “Oh, I understand. You are of course doing something.” blah blah blah (she was a actually a mom of three, so she DOES know)…

    but still.

  5. This is apropo of nothing, but maybe it will make you smile. At storytime once, my coworker read The Very Hungry Caterpillar and had a 4-year-old correct her: “Acutally, it’s not a cocoon. It’s a chrysalis”.

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