Tuesday, February 08, 2011

dear crazy mamas,

i couldnt help but overhear you today, which lets be honest, was your primary goal while ranting and raving and straight up bull shitting about your sweet (someday in therapy) 4 year olds. while im not a huge fan of mindless small talk, i have occasionally struck up conversations with fellow moms (or nannies here in northern va) and found in them new friends or entertaining acquaintances. i am one of those people (blame it on the transient 'always up for meeting people because im always relatively new' military life style) who enjoys shooting the breeze with other mamas and im always thrilled to chat with someone about something other than our little people. however, you and your crazy insecure sidekicks are so over the top, i had to leave the waiting area to keep you from seeing me rolling my eyes and updating my fb status with YOU guys in it. i had the same overwhelming feeling i have when i see clearly neglected kids at walmart. i wanted to scoop up your three, destined to have issues daughters, and take them home, let them get dirty, eat sugar and NOT practice pointing their toes. you should hear yourselves...

if there had been hidden cameras and your whole bit had been a well scripted joke to gauge other peoples reactions to your ludacris chat, itd be funny. but, there were no cameras, you werent putting on a show and you were serious. crazy serious. first of all, within 4 minutes of your unnaturally high volume conversation, i knew all your kids were in private school and that the tuition, combined with your nanny was astronomical. you worked it in seamlessly, like ive always imagined i would do if i ran a marathon or the ironman. i have a feeling i would make sure everyone knew. like if someone asked me how i was doing today, i might answer, 'great. a whole lot better than i was doing during mile 26 of my marathon two years ago.' or if they asked what i was having for dinner, i might answer, 'something low in carbs. nothing like the pasta i put down the night before my iron man.' im telling you, i could totally see myself awkwardly working my ginormous accomplishment into every conversation whether it fit or not. which is why, its painfully obvious outside your weird circle that you are awkwardly working EVERY detail of your 'accomplished' high rent life into every single conversation.

seriously, the subject of weather comes up and you mention how your hummer handles the snow while dropping your kids off at the private school (that naturally doesnt provide transportation...the nerve) and how your kids are driving you bananas because their traveling gymnastics team that typically occupies 8+ hours a week of your 4 year olds life has cancelled practice along with her piano lessons. how are you surviving these long days with your own kid?? must be horrible. when the subject of the upcoming recital came up, you rolled your eyes in disgust at how ill prepared your child is because you cant get her to practice at home. holy batshit batman, shes FOUR. and perhaps shes a little pooped out trying to keep up with the insanely full schedule you have her on.

so basically, this week, im letting you know that the next time you say something super crazy, im prolly gonna call you on it. and your two equally unstable, envious friends who happily one up each other throughout your conversation will prolly talk about me later. who knows, maybe ill make their facebook status too. i dont really care. you guys are crazy. i feel sorry for your precious girls and i hope at some point you like yourself enough to quit projecting this level of crazy on your kids.

thanks for listening. i feel soooo much betta after allowing my passive aggressive side to vent awhile.

Friday, February 04, 2011

night night

you are passed out now and its 9:18 pm. passed out in the 'youre overly exhausted after getting up at 0'dark thirty this morning' way and not in the 'had a few shiner bocks and are now unable to hang with my need to converse' way. and while i typically roll my eyes and marvel at just how quickly you can be here one minute and lost in crazy deep sleep the next, i am from my head to my toes, thankful for you. right here. right now. sound asleep next to me. tonight, i know your need for sleep is born of a long day that begins hours before i open my eyes for the first time and awaken to the coffee you have once again made and not had time to drink. you wake early, work hard and come home with just enough of you left to greet your little people, who wait anxiously and enthusiastically, noses pressed to the window most nights for your return.

and i love that our children thank God every night that 'daddy had a great day at work', having never asked the question of what kind of day you really had. they are so confident that everyday is a great day because of you and the way you scoop them up, smile at them and hold them close every time you walk in the door. its no wonder they assume everyday is a great for daddy since everyday, daddy is great to them. so, thank you for getting up, showing up and allowing me to live my dream. the one i didnt know i had until my eyes met hers for the very first time and i was lost. gone. hopelessly taken in by her and wanting more than anything to be the one she spent her days with. sometimes, in the midst of snow days and sick days and long days that bleed into longer nights, its easy to forget that it is you, waking up while the rest of us sleep that makes this life i wouldnt trade for anything possible. so, thanks, we will catch up and check in and ill unload all 24,563 words ive been saving for an adult conversation when you are less tired. no worries. ill wait. sweet dreams.