Random Pieces of A Puzzle

Random Pieces of a Puzzle…. (The first entry from my book written years ago.)

      He is actually surprised.  Again.  “This isn’t new”.   That’s what I often say to my husband, John, when he acts surprised by our kid’s – and often my own, unpredictable behavior in the mornings, evenings, or during the weekends or vacations.  Basically, when he is home from work, spending any amount of time with, “the family”.  Our life is insane, but it sure makes a pretty Christmas card.

     I remind him that, children, specifically ours, are not adults…so do not expect them to behave as such.  Life with young children (who am I kidding?  ANY aged children), is unpredictable and can be challenging.  It can sometimes take you way outside of your parameters of comfort and into a dense, unmapped jungle of anxiety.  My jungle may be, running through the aisles of Target with screaming children for a last minute birthday gift (the party is in fifteen minutes). No list…shame on your sleeve- as well as everywhere else; and a very small window to do so…Doing and saying exactly what we said we wouldn’t, prior to having children.  I am struggling.  I admit it.  Is there a twelve-step program for this?

     I’m certainly not without fault; as I’m reminding him, I can’t help but remind myself that it takes a lot more than, “reactive parenting”, to achieve this fantasy state of existence that he is striving for.  It’s a continuous work in progress that often falls short of our expectations…so you have to tell yourself your life is a learning curve and park your fantasies of perfection at the Labor & Delivery Room door.

     I think my husband watched too many episodes of, “Leave It to Beaver”, as a child.  The image of motherhood June Cleaver portrayed years ago on a TV show, is that – a show, an image…one that couldn’t possibly be attained in the real world by any sane, intelligent woman who experiences any level of joy.  June had to have some dark facet or shortcomings that we viewers didn’t see.  Or else she had a full time house keeper that was never shown.  I take comfort in telling myself that she was a tad bit bipolar, had OCD, missed important appointments, had an eating disorder, and was having an affair with the milkman and that Beaver’s paternity was questionable.  Or, I could live with knowing that she had multiple personalities and by dinner she forgot the other bullshit from the rest of the day.

     God, are you listening?  Is there such thing as a “Mommy Whisperer”…or for that matter a “Man Whisperer”?  There’s one for dogs and one for horses….maybe even sloths by now, surely there must be one for me? I just need a small beacon of hope…a little help here trying to figure out my life and how I actually fit into it.  Sometimes my wants and needs are only important to ME.  And maybe if I can figure out my own messy life, I can figure out the rest of the seemingly perfect women (ok, the entire population), I interact with daily and more important, the people I live with on a daily basis.