When I first set my mind to creating this blog in 2010, I decided I needed to get organized. I function best in an organized environment. I can't think when there is clutter in my head or in my house. The clearing of the clutter in my brain typically starts with the clearing of the physical clutter around me. As I work on removing the wordly items that causing chaos in my existence, I find that my thoughts become more clear and I start to think in terms of "lists". Well, so long as I'm not counting to myself while I work - but that's a completely different topic for a different day. Anyway, as I cleaned the house that day, I started different lists - recipes to include in the cookbook I'm writing, things I think we want/need in 2010, books to read, movies to watch and things to blog about. That was nearly a month ago and the lists continue to grow - I have even accomplished some of the things on those lists so I think I'll stick with that plan of attack on organizing the thoughts in my head.
Back to the story at hand. As I mentioned, I have a list of blog entries - I've even rehearsed in my head how the entries would sound and what they would say - I've edited them in my mind, thought about where the commas belong, revised them, perfected them. So today - after a month of waiting - our internet at home was hooked up. I couldn't wait to get home to use that fast as a speeding bullet internet - to start my blog. At 3:30 p.m., my stomach full of butterflies, I anticipated the arrival of 4:30 like a child waiting to go to Disney Land for the first time. It was like I was getting ready to go on a long and exciting journey. I was giddy!!! At 4:30 sharp, I heard the quittin' time whistle. (we don't really have a quittin' time whistle at my office - but on days like today when I am ready to get the hell out of there I like to pretend we do have one and it's the same one that blows for the sheepdog on the Roadrunner cartoons - it makes leaving work all that much better). I raced home - I could already feel the keys under my fingertips - I think I might have actually drooled a little.
As I pulled in to the drive, I noticed I had a text from my daughter - needs to go to the mall to get a dress for tomorrow. I felt it at once - that sharp, but distinct jab in the gut - disappointment. I tried to convince her to wear one of my 800 dresses. None of them were "right." I tried to beg her that I really wanted to play on the internet. She didn't bite. So off to the mall we went.
I pulled out of the drive like a maniac - I was Richard Petty with road rage. Mall. I hate the mall. We drove in silence to the mall. I, feeling angry for not getting to do what I wanted, and guilty for not appreciating this time I had with her. But FAR more angry than guilty. When we got there, I tried to convince her to get something at Dillards - you know - in and out kind of store. I only have to take 15 steps in the door and I see something, buy it and I'm out! But instead, we traversed that entire wretched, horrid, miserable mall. Each store we came upon, she asked, "do you want to go in here mommy?" To which I replied, "I don't want to go in any of the stores." And she would enter and I would plop down hard on a bench outside the store and text my cousin - telling her of my misery (misery really does love company). As we trapsed from one godforsaken store to the other, I kept my arms crossed over my chest - my barrier - refusing to let any enjoyment or fun in. I hate it and I will NOT enjoy it.
My daughter continued to try to engage me into the excursion - "Do you like this dress, mommy?" YES. I like them all sweetie - you look pretty in all of them. She was on to me though and quickly accused me, "Are you just saying that so we can go home?" Yes. I am. But I lied and told her no. I pouted and frowned and stomped and was certain to walk 15' ahead of her everywhere we went. MAD. MAD. MAD. Finally - she found a dress, some shoes and the required accessories. Two hours it took us. Two hours. Two hours of my life I'll never get back. Two hours of acting like an ass in front of my daughter while she acted like the adult and did all that she could to coax me into enjoying myself. So much about this night gone wrong.
And why? Because the cheer squad is wearing dress up clothes tomorrow instead of their $650 uniforms. I call BS and I'll be sending a note off to that coach tomorrow - thanking her for ruining my perfectly planned, beautifully organized evening by inserting an unplanned trip to the mall.