Friday, August 6, 2010
Why I am single and happy I have kids who are weird
It is likely I will be single for the remainder of my days. I have accepted this with more grace some days than others. Quite simply, no real flesh and blood man will ever live up to the lovely ones I can make up.
A made up man knows just what to say at all times. He never says the wrong thing. He absolutely never says that thing that cuts you to the quick and leaves you bleeding for days or weeks. A made up man doesn't mind your flaws... actually, they usually love you for them. They love you for who you are, not who they wish you to be. They never want you to be someone else or do amazingly stupid things like cause family feuds. They resolve the century old family feud then bring you flowers.
They also love to cook and do dishes. Mostly, made up men love doing these things because I hate doing them. They also like plump women and never ask them to work out. Often, they will bring you cheesecake. For breakfast.
Made up men would love the way I shop.
My kids love the way I shop. I realized yesterday that I no longer buy vegetables. I am not sure when this transition took place, exactly. Probably right around when the kids started going to the sitter 5 out of 7 days of the week and the sitter started feeding them 3 meals a day on said days. So I only had two days to feed them. By Virginia Logic, this meant they had enough veggies so as not to need me to continue to force them on them. Fruit I buy. I bought strawberries, nectarines, plums and grapes. I like fruit and so do the kids. Veggies... nope. I occasionally have been know to grab a bag of those little carrots that don't resemble carrots but look like crayons without the paper... Justice likes those. But I certainly do not eat them. I eat spinach dip once in awhile. Or broccoli covered in cheese if someone invites me to dinner. I also suddenly realized yesterday that probably this is causing my vitamin D deficiency and wondered if it could cause skirvy... or is that vitamin C???
Things I do buy? Coffee. Fruit. Cheesecake. The makings for vampire dip (if you haven't read Odd Stuff, this is philly cream cheese, Hormel no bean chili, shredded cheddar cheese and you nuke the whole mess and eat it with nachos.) Pudding.
It is not a Mommy shopping cart. I shop like a twelve year old.
I stared in dismay at it all and looked at my son when we got back and asked him, "Why don't I buy more useful things?"
"We don't eat here much."
"You don't like to cook."
I nodded and frantically wished I was more Betty Crocker. Do you know I have never in my life owned an apron?
"Most moms can't write a book. Most moms can't teach us to paint with oils and acrylics. Most moms don't know who is who in an art gallery. Most moms don't know what you can eat in the woods. You do other stuff."
I blinked at him. None of that was useful mom stuff. I felt like a failure. Some of this must have shown on my face because he stuck one little hand on my arm.
"You are good at putting on band-aids. You tell awesome bedtime stories. Most moms can't just make them up outside at night. You give the best kisses and you smell like love."
I almost cried.
Okay. I am not Betty Crocker. Martha Stewart would bitch slap me. I may be single forever. My imaginary men will probably be the only ones who ever really apprieciate me. But to three little kids... they like having me as a mom...
Unless, that is, I mention the dastardly state of their rooms.
at 4:24 PM