Everyone has those days where you feel like someone is yanking your strings for their sadistic little puppet show. The past Friday was such a spectacle. First the shop’s air conditioning decided to protest leaving the shop a balmy 85 degrees. You would think with the three of us living in Florida over a decade we’d be able to manage heat, but instantly we turned into cranky princesses ready to pick a fight as we wilted. Oh and fun had just begun! To add insult to injury, the main force dryer decided that if the AC was on strike that he should join in as well. This of course was while we had 5 goldens and 2 golden doodles on the books. I got bit twice (one by a new client and the other from a 8 week nemesis) and throughout this fabulous day some lovely clients decided that rather than ignoring the TIP line on their credit slip decided a giant slash or X was in order.
Basically, by the time I reached my doorstep I was a blubbering, estrogen fuelled, hormonal, hot mess. As I greeted my family, instantly my husband realized all was not well. He did what any man would do in his position, gave me a quick hug, said he was sorry and ran for the nearest exit with fishing pole in hand. Shouting from his truck, which was hurriedly backing out of the drive, he assured me things would get better and he’d be back at sundown.
While mentally assessing how to dispose of his carcass in our pond, after his recent display of concern, I plopped on the couch. Instantly I was assaulted by furry and furless children. The furless variety decided it was the opportune time to bestow all their Mother’s Day presents they had been in school all week. Too exhausted to move, I found myself the new proud owner of an elephant pot, a ceramic fish and a trivet. Just when I thought the public school sweatshop had produced all the goodies it could, then came the true gem, my 7yr old daughter’s card.
The outside had the traditional hand art. This time fashioned into a butterfly, but the inside note was what caught my attention.
“MY MOMMY IS VERY NICE. SHE IS 33 YEARS OLD. SHE IS 9 FEET TALL AND WEIGHTS 98 POUNDS. HER HAIR IS RED-ORANGE AND HER EYE ARE BLUE. SHE LIKE TO SLEEP BEST OF ALL. SHE DOES NOT LIKE EATING. WHEN I AM BAD SHE SAYS GO TO MY ROOM. WHEN I AM GOOD SHE SAYS GOOD GIRL. WHEN I GROW UP I WANT TO BE ARTTISED. I <3 YOU MOMMY. LORNA 5-2-13”
After reading this opus, I about peed my pants. The frustration of the earlier events was quickly forgotten. However, I do feel I need to point out some unique aspects of this composition. First off for a Mother’s Day card it had an eerie similarity to a missing persons report or a description one might give the cops of a suspect. Secondly, there was some artistic license taken by my little author here, so I feel I need to clear some things up.
1) I am not 33! I’m 29 and was born on a cold Feb. day in 1984. Don’t believe me! Feel free to ask my mother who will happily recount the tale at the most inopportune time.
2) Unless my daughter is utilizing some new form of measurement or the metric system, I’m nowhere near 9ft tall. On a brave heel wearing day I’m a good 5’4.
3) Once again this alien form of measurement rears its head again with 98lbs. I’ll take it, but in all likelihood she forgot to place that 1 somewhere.
4) Yes, my hair is red, but red-orange makes me think I should have Béla Károlyi shouting at me as member of an Eastern European gymnastic team or something.
5) I do have EYES, plural. Four if you count the glasses.
6) I do enjoy a good snooze. Wonder why? I only get up at 5:30 every morning, take kids to school, work, pick up kids, dinner, activities and clean.
7) I don’t like to eat?! HAHA let’s just say I’m a firm believer that while men have beer and big boobed bimbos with sports car names to drown their sorrows, women have the trifecta: carbs, wine and Johnny Depp to cure what ails ya. And two of those three aren't waistline friendly!
8) You’re darn right you go to your room and thank heavens you gave the G-rated version. Whew! Somehow manual labor or nose in the corner doesn’t sound nearly as nice.
9) Yes, you are a good girl. TREAT. CLICK. SIT. TREAT. CLICK.
10) I know you love to draw Lorna, but after this I have a feeling you have a give for fictional literature as well.