The Fam

“There is nothing more touching to me then a family picture where everyone is trying to look his or her best, but you can see what a mess they all really are.” 

 ― Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith

So this is the fam.  There’s me-you’ll hear a lot about me.  Talking about myself is one of my favorite things. There’s my handsome husband Joe.  He’s a mix between super intelligent and super annoying.  If you’re like me, you’ll really like him most of the time and then sometimes think, “this guy should NOT be allowed to interact with other humans.”  He would literally do anything for me.  I’m not kidding.  I think if I told him I want to sell everything we have and go live on some island and weave baskets for a living he would do it.  But he would be super annoying about researching the best baskets to make, the best materials to use, the most efficient way to build a business.  He would take the fun out of it for me so instead we will stay in our house and buy pre-made baskets when the need arises.  

Those three monkeys are the kids.  The first two are two years and one day apart.  Seraphina Ruth (8) and Andalucia Mercy (6).  Those kids were the plan.  They were the ones that we mapped out on our “this-is-how-we-want-to-live-life” paper.  Then there’s Zola Hope (1).  She’s the third one.  She wasn’t on the above-mentioned plan.  But as you’ll soon find out most days she’s my favorite (she can’t talk yet). Zola reminds me each day that God is smarter than me.  (I used to forget that a lot...now I have actual, physical, 18 pound evidence to the contrary).  

So...that’s us.  Oh, plus a cat a dog.  Lani (13) and Tex (2).  They actually fight like cats and dogs and most of the time the cat wins and is a total brat about it.  She does not have good sportsmanship.  

Anyway, I better get to saying something worth saying or I won’t have much of an audience.  I wanted to take this first post to really introduce myself.  But not in that “here are all the likeable things about me but I won’t tell you the other stuff because I really want you to be my friend.”  Nope.  We have to get real right away otherwise it’s awkward when I start to take off my mask and you’re like, “WHAT?!? I thought she was the picture of perfection.”  I think the best way to do this is to tell a story.  

While I was pregnant with Zola the whole crew moved halfway across the country from Maryland to Ohio.  I went through my pregnancy pretty grumpily and did not make a lot of friends or do a lot of social things.  So it was a nice surprise when after she was born, a mom from the big girl’s school contacted me and said she would like to take the girls out for an afternoon so I could get some rest while the baby slept.  I didn’t even know this woman's last name but I was like, “YES! Take my kids! You are an angel.”  She picked them up and I went to take a nap.  It was in those early days of having a baby where you don’t know what day of the week it is, when you last showered, or how something so small can eat so much.  It really does defy science.  Anyway, of course, instead of sleeping I did chores around the house, wasted some time on Facebook, probably called my mom.  So a few hours goes by and my new-friend texts to say she will be back with the girls in about a half hour.  Cool.  No problem.  The baby had been up for awhile anyway.  At this point, I go into the nursery to get the laundry.  And I see that there is something in the crib.  Investigation leads to anger as I realize the cat had puked IN. THE. CRIB.  So...I do what any rational, sleep-deprived, stay-at-home mom of three would do.  

I text my husband:

"The cat threw up in the crib.  Gross.  I’ll wash all the sheets but man, what a disgusting place for that to happen!"

Except that wasn’t my text.  

THIS was my text:

"THE GODDAMN CAT THREW UP IN THE FUCKING CRIB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I WANT HER GONE!!!!!!!  I DON’T CARE IF YOU HAVE TO KILL HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Except that I didn’t text my husband.

I accidently texted that new-angel-friend.

GULP.  So……...I realize my mistake, frantically text her like 30 more times “OMG SO SORRY”  “THAT WAS MEANT FOR JOE.”  “I DON’T USUALLY TALK LIKE THAT.”  “I’M JUST VERY TIRED.”

 “I DO LOVE MY CAT.”  Things of this nature.  And about 4 minutes later she shows up at the door with my kids.  My very happy kids who had a really fun day with a mom that doesn’t swear or wear pajamas 24/7 or look like a zombie.  They are holding Shamrock shakes from McDonald’s and their smiles are undeniable.  And so I do what anyone would do.  I start crying.  It’s a snotty, tired, ugly cry that basically says, “I just wanted a new friend and instead I showed you the worst side of me.”  And my new-angel-friend who I’ve probably only spoken 30 words to total in my life smiles, gives me a hug, and hands me a Shamrock shake.  She tells me it’s fine, and no worries, and that she’ll call me next week and do this again so I can have a break.  

Yeah.  It’s been almost a year since that incident.  Miwako is now one of my absolute best friends.  And even though I still cringe when I think about that day, I also smile.  It’s kinda amazing to know a person who can see you at your worst and just hand you a Shamrock shake and say, “it’s o.k.”