As it appears…We’re the family with fluffy dogs frolicking in the front yard. We wave at the neighbors as they walk in front of our home. Our boys shoot hoops in the driveway and address adults as Mr. and Mrs. Our daughter comes and goes in the car she received as a sweet-sixteenth birthday gift. And my husband comes home every evening to a lovely dinner I’ve prepared.
What’s real…our daughter’s Christmas present just shit on my living room carpet, which is officially ruined and in desperate need of being removed. It’s puppy training gone sideways. This isn’t my first rodeo and I don’t know if he’s that stupid or just trying to piss me off. Either way…
Sometimes, I walk in the house and pretend. OMG!! We’ve been broken into!! Only, that’s not likely. The number of dirty dishes lying around indicates the robbers would’ve been too malnourished and dehydrated to steal anything. I walk around on pins and needles hoping my neighbors don’t drop by for anything. And when the doorbell does ring I nearly stroke out.
I run the sweeper and dust which prompts my children to ask who’s coming over?
My van is 7 years old. It’s a great van. But when I drop my 11-year old off at school French fries and water bottles fall out. And the side door won’t automatically open anymore because the boys spilled something on the track and it’s sticky.
My husband and I lie in bed at night and wonder how it will all come together. We laugh until our stomachs hurt.I fantasize about being that mom. I try. Hard. And fail miserably. The 6 of us are all passengers on the crazy train. It feels like we’re moving. It feels like we’re making progress. So, we assume we’ll eventually get there. But it doesn’t really matter. We’re just enjoying the ride.