Spring is over just as it arrived--par for the course in our little corner of the world. It was in the 90s all weekend and even, cruelly, on MONDAY. (Monday doesn't suck bad enough without insanity inducing temperatures?) Warm (hot as Hades) weather means open windows, which means sharing our little slice of craziness with half the neighborhood. Last night, deep inside the house, away from any open windows, Son-Three was "singing" a "song" which consisted entirely of the full-spectrum of noises that would be made at three a.m. by horny tomcats defending their territory. I was in the bathtub, trying to have a Calgon moment--but as ever, I am stuck in the first half of the Calgon commercial, all the stuff Calgon is supposed to whisk me away from. With the water and the porcelain acting as vocal magnifier, Son-Three's musical improvisation was not only heard, but felt--inside my head.
I sat straight up and yelled, "KNOCK IT OFF!!!!!!" I yelled this in the bathroom, which not only has a window (which was of course, wide open), but has the echo-chamber acoustics of most bathrooms and it overlooks the backyard, which itself has some echo-chamber characteristics owing to surrounding buildings, etc. I sounded like Psycho-Mom, arch-villain of kiddies and right-thinking Moms everywhere.
Now everyone in the neighborhood thinks I am some evil dictator--is it just me or does dictator sound like the kind of thing that should be taken care of with periodic body maintenance? Toe jam, eye boogies, ear wax and dic-tators? How evil can I be if I still think like a seventh grader?
Masked Mom's message for the week is that all moms everywhere should withhold judgment--remembering that when we see a mom lose it, we may not be aware of the minutes, hours, days, years of provocation leading up to the moment we witnessed. Remembering, too, that our turn to lose it may be right around the corner...at least I hope the lady next-door is ready to blow any minute now. It will take some of the attention off me.
1 day ago