I have my greatest thoughts in the shower, like most. I used to sing, now I use the time to actually dust off my brain and let the wheels creak and possibly move. I wouldn’t quite say “spin” as of yet. This morning was a strange and lucky happenstance that my daughter was happily boob tubing on my bed while my son stayed asleep in his room so I could shower sans refereeing.
So here’s my big revelation of the day. I have evolved as a lady in the form of the characters from Peanuts.
When I was a little kid sitting in front of the giant cabinet television watching the Peanuts holiday specials – The Great Pumpkin was a fave – I always thought of myself as a Lucy. Sure, she wasn’t the warmest, but she seemed to have her shit together. Like, together, man. She knew what she wanted – to control everyone – and she just did it. I always thought it was a bitch move to move the football EVERY TIME, but that was peanuts (ha!) compared to what she got done. That Therapy booth? Genius. Who wanted a lame ass lemonade stand? And lets face it, which required more labor?
I even had a shirt when I was little that said her catch phrase: “Anything boys can do, girls can do better.” With two big brothers in the house, that was my mantra.
However, I noticed once I got older…got married, worked, had kids, moved, moved, moved. I became more Charlie Brown. I went from holding the ball to thinking I’ll be able to kick it if I just tried one more time. I began to hear the “Adult Talk” when people spoke to me at doctor’s offices and teacher conferences. Insurance details, mortgage details, utility bills, blah blah blah. Lucy always looked great. She had that same blue dress she wore everywhere, but it was functional and feminine. Definitely not the most comfortable of all the characters. I went from wearing decent socially-acceptable outfits to Charlie Brown-esque comfort clothes. I worry sometimes i’m one of the People of Walmart. That blue dress was swapped for yoga pants immediately after popping out baby #1. It’s a bad day when your stretchy yoga pants begin to feel snug.
I fear the next stage is Pig Pen. I certainly dabbled when I had infants. You simply don’t have the energy to care if you are walking around with body fluids smeared on your clothes/skin/car/shoes/bag. You figure you’re out in public so little, surely it can’t matter.
So this was my big revelation today. I have gone from Lucy to Charlie. But it can’t be all bad, right? Who was the star, afterall?
This was followed up with my conversation to myself on the way home from dropping off kid #2 at her Lunch Bunch preschool day.
me: “Oh. My. God. She will be there until 2!! Longest day for her ever!”
Brain: “You have a bunch of time, you should walk when you get home.”
me: “I should put on my tennis shoes and go for a walk … but there’s that weird stray that already bit someone…. and the bear… what if you’re walking and you see a bear?!”
Brain: “Fat ass, you need to go walk! Shut up and go walk.”
me: “I need to stop thinking about it or i’ll talk myself out of it. I still have a mile and a half before i’m home. Focus. You will walk.”
Brain: “Just put on shoes and go.”
me: “But kid #1 is only in until 12 today. That’s not much time for you to do anything for yourself. Maybe vacuum. Maybe start some laundry. Coffee?”
Brain: “Shut up and walk.”
me: “I bet I could get all the crap out of the office and into the garage now that hubby is out of town.”
Brain: “OMG, that office has been a thorn in your side forever. Do it. It’s foggy and cold and I don’t want a bear to expose me to the cold fog. Housework is still work. F- the walk, do the housework.”
me: “I’m a genius. ”
and that’s how I managed to finally clear out 50% of the crap from the office and not walk. Next, i’m making eggs and hashbrowns because i’m hungry fighting off all those spiders I imagined were waiting to eat me in the garage.