melissarudy.com

“Every blog post does not have to be a full-length essay.

“In fact, it doesn’t even have to be particularly smart or funny.”

There. Maybe now I’ll post more often.

I think about writing here at least several times a day. While getting Claire her bottle at 2 AM, I get hit with ideas for kick-ass posts and scrawl them on napkins. Great stories unfurl in my head like a dropped spool of ribbon. But when it comes down to it, I can’t muster the time or energy to tear myself away from my work and craft a respectable entry.

So, I’m saying to hell with respectable entries. Every day, come hell or high water, I will take a break from writing about colon cleansing and wedding planning and coffee machines — and the hundreds of other topics people pay me to write about — and come here to indulge in my own unpaid musings, however trivial or inane. Like those everyday Larry David moments (i.e. bulletproof packaging), funny things the kids say (”Mommy, you’re too old to wear that”), or the deeper stuff that robs me of sleep and sends my heart racing in the wee hours.

Not because anyone is chomping at the bit to read it, but because it feeds my soul and gets me in the mindset to pursue my life’s dream. And isn’t that more important than paying the electric bill?

Savannah showing off her guns at Great Wolf, spring 2010 (Abby's not sure what to think)

I hereby resolve to stop starting each post with an apology for how long it’s been since my last one. After all, isn’t that a little egotistical? As if people are lining up at their computers to hear all about my missed deadlines, failed potty-training attempts, and OCD symptoms.

So, yeah, it’s been awhile. When diving in after a long period of silence, I always like to start with lists.

5 Reasons to Smile

1. Spring break next week! No school for 10 consecutive days! Slow mornings, sunny afternoons, excursions to the park, kids in and out of the house all day, the girls changing clothes each time the temperature nudges up 2 degrees… wait a minute, I think this is on the wrong list.

2. Joined the YMCA on Sunday, and have discovered a wonderful new breed of freedom. Free child care, free fitness classes for me, indoor/outdoor pool… So far we’ve visited 4 times already, morning and evening. They’re already starting to give me odd looks each time our troop comes banging through the doors; maybe they’re wondering if we’re homeless and are using the Y for our hygiene needs. Or that I’m dropping the kids off at Child Watch and then sneaking out the side door to go shopping. Actually, that’s not a bad idea…

3. John got a new job! After a 3-month hiatus (during which we learned that there IS indeed such a thing as too much family togetherness), he started at Cintas on March 1st as a Marketing Manager. His love of all things corporate — right down to wearing the suit and tie every day — is one thing we don’t have in common, but I’m thrilled that he’s thrilled (and out of the house).

4. Claire asking from her car seat, during every drive: “Can I go crazy, Mommy? Wanna go crazy!” This is her cue for me to turn on her favorite song from John’s bluegrass CD, something about heading into Mary’s kitchen for some ground sausage. When the banjo starts, Claire proceeds to “go crazy”, which means kicking and flailing her skinny little arms and legs while shaking her head wildly back and forth, pale hair flying and teeth bared in a wild smile. Pure, unadulterated joy that makes the nauseatingly twangy music worthwhile.

5. Birthday season has begun. Claire rang in her 2nd at Chuck-E-Cheese on March 10th (that place really needs to get a liquor license), Abby turns 4 in a couple weeks, and Savannah will be 6 (going on 16) in May. John is convinced all of these parties will drive us to the poorhouse (shhh, don’t tell him we’ve already got one foot in the door).

5 Reasons to Pout

1. John’s out of town on business all week. It’s all Mommy, all the time. Bedtime is like trying to herd a trio of goats to their respective pens (do goats even have pens?) while they all keep trying to butt their way back out to the common area.

2. Still not finding time to write. I don’t mean my business writing or my blog writing, but the writing that beats inside of me like a caged animal trying to get out. I know there’s only one solution: to set aside the laundry, the deadlines, and the baby and just eke out a few hundred words of my novel each day… but that’s easier said than done. Alice Hoffman and Jodi Picoult didn’t get to where they are with the best of intentions.

3. Due to what I’ve self-diagnosed as a stress fracture in my foot, I haven’t been able to run for a month, and missed the Mini-Heart Marathon this past Sunday. I’ve been walking instead, but as any runner knows, that’s the equivalent of eating low-fat yogurt instead of UDF homemade ice cream - it just doesn’t measure up. Luckily, I’ve discovered spinning & kickboxing classes at the Y, so that should tide me over until I’m able to pound the pavement again.

4. Last month I resolved to kick the Diet Coke habit and switch to water. I did really well — for about 10 hours. Now I’ve resolved to stop making unrealistic resolutions.

5. I can’t think of another one, because truly, in spite of the never-ending messes and races against the clock, I’m a very lucky gal. So, might as well have a Diet Coke and a smile.

(By the way, my friend, former neighbor, and fellow mommy has just launched a new blog chronicling her hilarious escapades raising her two kiddos. It’s called Zoe and Xander and be warned: it’s addictive.)

Is it wrong that I don’t want my daughter to speak correctly? Going on 4, Abby still struggles with basic grammar and pronunciation. Her pronouns, tenses, and blended consonants get all jumbled together, so anyone outside our family may need a translator to interpret what she’s saying. The sad part is, I find myself loving every last garbled word. Here are a few examples that make me want to grab a spoon and eat that sweet girl right up:

Me: “You’ve had too much candy today. It’s time for a healthy snack.”
Abby: “Okay, but only if that be’s grapes.”

Me: “It’s time to brush your teeth.”
Abby: “Mommy, I want you to brush my own teeth.”

Me: “Grandma will be here in a little while.”
Abby: “I want she to come now!”

Abby: “Mommy, get Claire away from me! I don’t like the smell she’s making.”

Me: “Wash your hands if you want to help with these cookies.”
Abby: “I just washed ‘em, Mommy. Look, my clands are all hean!”

Abby: “I almost felled, but I catched myself.”

Best of all is when she’s trying desperately to think of the right word, starting and stopping and starting again, her little brow furrowed with the effort, until she finally gets frustrated and stomps her foot and yells, “I don’t know what I’m saying!”

That’s my cue to tell Abs we don’t have to talk at all — sometimes hugs are easier.

1. Why can’t I leave the house when I know there are clean clothes waiting in the dryer to be folded, clean dishes waiting to be unloaded from the dishwasher, or beds waiting to be made? Yes, I know they’re not actually “waiting” — but my warped OCD mind actually imagines I can hear them calling to me — “Melissa, help! We’re not as we should be! Rescue us from this state of disarray!”
2. Why do I thrive on procrastination? When will I realize that scoring one (relaxed) run per inning might be preferable to a stress-induced grand slam in overtime?
3. Why can’t I eat just one cookie? Or, for that matter, two or three? Why must it always be half a dozen? When I get the gigantic head-sized Chocolate Chipper from Panera, why am I physically incapable of breaking it in half and saving the rest for later?
4. Why do I find it difficult — no, not just difficult, IMPOSSIBLE — to just do nothing? Why can’t I ever just chill on the couch and watch TV or snuggle with a baby without simultaneously working, paying bills, scrubbing a stain on the carpet, or addressing Christmas cards?
5. Why do I chew 10+ pieces of bubble gum every day? What am I, twelve?
6. Why can’t I shake this “all or nothing” mentality? Logically, I know that spending 20 or 30 minutes working on my novel is better than nothing, but my evil alter ego always chimes in with “What’s the point? If you don’t have at least 2 hours, it just ain’t worth it.” Same holds true for lasagna, cookies (see above), and shopping.
7. Why do I spend the least amount of time doing the things I truly love, with the people whose company I enjoy the most?
8. Why am I obsessed with stalking celebrities on Twitter? Do I really need to know what Kim Kardashian is having for lunch (sushi), Taylor Swift’s lucky number (13), or why John Mayer can’t find love (brooding borderline bisexual)? Yes, I need to know. I MUST know.
9. Why do I instinctively look for drama in the most trivial events? Abby bringing 16 valentines to pass out to 18 pre-schoolers probably doesn’t warrant a mini heart attack. On the flip side, why do I downplay real, legitimate crises and dangers? (I know the answer to that last one: to annoy my husband.)
10. Finally, why am I blogging about myself when a dozen deadlines are suspended over my head, hanging by a quickly unraveling thread? Probably linked to the answer to #2.