There is a breeze tonight. It’s serving hope.
Tonight, nachos at the table, zoom on the screen, curriculum night and toggling between two classes again, hoping I didn’t miss anything. The children demanded the camera on, even as they crunched the nachos away. One said that the cheese should be both white and yellow, like the way her aunt makes it. Before I could consider the ramifications, I suggested adding some drops of yellow food coloring and she thought the idea brilliant. With a shrug, I allowed my child to color the Monterey Jack cheese orange. After I pulled it from the oven, melted atop all the beans and chips it coulda fooled anyone. Battles, picked.
Apologies to my neighbors for what came next. A series of harsh words and commanding tones that had no actual effect on each child’s respective homework getting done. Like, none. I was like a powerless, yelly ghost. IT’S TOO LATE TO BE DOING THIS HOMEWORK I screamed (mostly for my own benefit apparently, reminding myself that I was failing, again, at getting the children to bed before 9pm). OUR BRAINS DON’T WORK WELL AT THIS POINT IN THE NIGHT. Duh, mom. We’re all mad here.
I haven’t written in a while. Hello. I’ve been stuck, wondering if I have much to share, much of anything to say to anyone lately. I’ve read that we have 100 days til the end of the year and why not make each day count and finally write the magic thing I’ve always wanted to write. I want this badly, but also I’m thinking, will subscribing to a new meal kit service help me not feel so much rage while preparing dinner for the children?
I read about mid-life crises during my morning pee, I get the news alert about everyone under the age of 65 needing an anxiety screening the night before. I send a photo of my cat to a new friend whose cat looks like my cat’s cat cousin. I enjoy both a long facetime call and a lunch today with friends who are not new, who make me giggle like a fourth grader. I tuck the avocado seed into the leftover guacamole, put it into the fridge and hope for the best. I temporarily forget about my kid’s sore throat as my fingers recall how to type words.
How do we keep going?
orange morning light
sette anni peppers
two cats sleeping close beside me
Nightbitch
Yellowjackets
soft sweatpants
warm saké
potato masher
rain boots
Shirley Jackson
box of wine
Cuff It Season