Wednesday, March 20, 2013

From Frazzled to Fabulous - older piece, bit of new polish


The minivan screeched to a halt just as the cacophony of whining, screaming children, ringing-but-missing cell phone, and yapping dog reached an insanity-causing crescendo.  It is amazing how, due to the six o’clock witching hour, chaos can escalate to such an extent in the two minutes it takes to get from the soccer field to the library.

I’d like to say my life isn’t always this helter-skelter.  After all, there’s the occasional naptime when my breath can be caught, and sometimes, when the little…darlings are in bed for the night, relaxation can be had in triplicate:  red wine, dark chocolate and a trashy romance novel.  But, for the most part, this is life and escape, though cherished, is fleeting. 

Reality — that bitch — must find it hilarious that I am sneaking up on thirty.  All right, truth be told, there is little sneaking going on.  Next week, the big three-oh and I will be all over each other like white on rice.  This scenario wouldn’t be so bad were it not paired with the afore-mentioned harum-scarum, three-inch roots, and my current physical state — the misshapen result of an unfortunate combination of gravity, life stress, stress chocolate and childbirth — which, in a pathetic attempt at obscurity, I attempt camouflage with baggy clothing.  Despite the long-held, deep-rooted certainty that somewhere beneath all of this I am a highly desirable sex goddess, my love life shows a distinct lack of Prince Charming.

With my four-legged child behaving like a public nuisance inside my illegally parked van, my two-legged terrors — always one step from disaster — doing their damndest to push each other down the library’s cement steps, and my never-quiet inner monologue ping-ponging could’ves and should’ves mercilessly around my poor, tired brain, it is nothing short of a miracle that it even made an impression.  Normally, I would have scoffed at the too-good-to-be-true promises which leapt from the green and white flyer pinned to the bulletin board by the library’s front door, but, at this particular moment in time, it grabbed me like a savior’s hand grabs a drowning woman. 

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