I tried writing this weekend, but I just couldn’t make it happen. I stared for quite awhile at my empty computer screen, but nothing was coming to me. I even tried to think of something to write that I wouldn’t necessarily post on my blog, but still… nothing.
With Fall in the air I’ve entered into project mode. Most people get this cleaning bug in the Spring, but for me the Fall is the season for reorganization and deep cleaning. I think it’s because I do NOTHING all summer long and now that I’m forced to be inside I realize how great the Nast is around here.
Also, I feel like a low level cranky person these days. I’ve been the Sweden of mood swings – not particularly joyful, not particularly depressed. Just blah. It makes for less anger outbursts, but I also feel like I’m not very much fun. I’m capable of HAVING fun, if fun happens to land on my doorway, but it just seems like too much energy to go out and MAKE the fun happen.
Moods like this also make me prone to jealousy and lack of contentment because I see other happy, well adjusted people around me and it makes me want their friends or their stuff so I can be happy and well adjusted, too.
But The Marge is arriving tonight. That’s my mom, and she’s the cutest 72 year old I know. She’s a teacher, and for the last 20 years of her career she taught/administered at the preschool level so she is just a DARLING with my kids.
She also breaks out into song at random moments. Like when she suddenly remembers something she’ll say in a sing-song voice, “I forgot to call the deeeeeeeeentiiiiiiiiiiiist….” Or she’ll sing a song about taking out the trash, or she’ll just make up some sort of tweedle-dee-diddle-dee-doo to fill in the empty space.
And it’s hereditary, too. Only it skips a generation like the twins gene because I do not have the gift of song, but Ruthie does. She sings EVERYTHING she says now, and she sings it slow and dramatically so it takes FOREVER for her to follow through on something you’ve asked her to do because she first has to sing, “OOOOOHHHHHHHH KAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY, MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! IIIIIIIIIII WIIIIIIIIILLLLLL DOOOOOOOOOO THAAAAAAAAT!”
The other day I was with my girlfriends and one of them mentioned she had talked to her mom and we all gasped in sympathy. Then we just giggled about how, when some of us say we just talked to our mom, we have to go out for coffee to debrief. I’m happy to report that I do not have such a mom, and I hope all you locals will get a chance to see The Marge this week.
And look at that, even at the mere discussion of my mom I’m already in a better mood.