There is a very funny scene in the movie “Date Night” where Steve Carrell’s character accuses his wife, played by Tina Fey, of fantasizing about a former client of hers (played by the hilarious and shirtless Mark Wahlberg). They’ve been forced to ask Mark’s character for help and upon leaving his apartment, the conversation goes something like this:
“You fantasize about him, don’t you?”
“Oh God, no. Mostly I just fantasize about being alone.”
Truer words were never spoken. See, in the world of homeschooling, it’s not PC to say you are sick of your kids and would love a day (or 30) to yourself. Since we voluntarily keep our kids out of school, thus spending the bulk of our time together, we aren’t supposed to express a desire for time without them. It’s all Kum Ba Yah, organic food and meaningful conversation, if the myths are to be believed.
But the truth is that there are days when I think that if I have to explain one more thing my head will explode. At one point today I was asked a question and answered, “Oh it was just…” And Maya said, “Just what?” And I realized that I’d stopped talking, because my brain could no longer form a coherent explanation about the texts I was receiving from a friend that needed to be re-worded to a PG rating. That same brain would not allow me to turn around and say, “Well, if you must know, she’s telling me that she hasn’t had sex with her abusive boyfriend since the abortion”, because that would be too much information AND would require far too much explaining; and god knows I don’t need more things to explain!
On days like this I find myself checking emails every five minutes or so and being generally grumpy. Sure, I got my new microwave installed and was feeling ok about it until I saw the photos of the house with the built in slides for the kids to use to get from floor to floor. 3 of them, in fact. “Hey kids, I can make your favorite mac and cheese again! We have a new microwave!” “So what? These kids get SLIDES in their house!” (That exchange only took place in my head, but still.)
This is why I watch shows about teenage vampires who look like they are about 25 years old, professing their undying love while simultaneously wanting to kill every human in sight. I need the escapist, sometimes comic, relief for days when I’ve heard, “Mama?” followed by a request for assistance, participation or explanation just a few dozen too many times. Vampire Diaries is not a show I would watch with my kids. It’s on line and I can watch it with headphones – it’s perfect!
Which brings me, again, to Heather Armstrong of dooce.com. (Not because she’s a vampire, although she may be a fan of the show.) She gets loads of nasty comments from readers whenever she says anything sarcastic about her kids. But I laugh, because we’ve all had those thoughts, it’s just that most of us refrain from writing them down in a public forum. I have no doubt that she loves her girls just as fiercely as I love Maya and Ben. Maya, my perceptive girl, came over to me as I was glaring at my email inbox this evening and asked me if I was ok. And immediately I was.
But I’m still dropping the kids off with friends in the morning and going for a pedicure….