1.24.16 Common Denominator 

 
 What do a hole in my dress, a rough day at work, a dead mouse in my garage, and a hairball on my carpet have in common?  Nothing! They are a series of unrelated-awfuls whose only common denominator is that they all happened to me on the same day, and might I mention it was the day my husband left for Dubai for ten days?  It was the very same day he called to tell me he saw the best two movies on the airplane, the day he told me he worked out for an hour and a half at the hotel gym, and the day he shared six pictures of the amazing suite they just happened to upgrade him to for no reason! 

Awesome!” I said, in a just north of crazy but south of sane voice.  It was a day … period. Many of my friends know he’s gone, and they text me and ask me how I am, and I say fine, because, well, what else is there to say? I’m not going to lie and say great, because, as my hilarious sister once said, “I’ve got better things to save my lies for.” 

The thing about mothers is, we have to be fine, and we have to carry on, because God only knows what brand of unbalanced we’ll face tomorrow. I just got a text from my world-class traveling husband who is, yet again, working out. I, on the other hand, am having a grand sit in my car while I wait for soccer practice to end! So similar! 

I hate how men age well and women just, well – age. But it makes sense as to why. It’s because of days like these, and those, and all that are yet to come. We’re beautiful messes going insane as we try desperately not to forget anything! 

Quality and efficiency don’t mix. Trust me I would know. I brush my teeth in the shower, do squats while I’m flossing, and blow dry my hair by putting the vent on high in the car on my way to work. Sometimes I test my dishwasher by not rinsing first, realize that it, indeed, doesn’t get everything off, and proceed by just running the cycle twice. I never iron, just repeatedly put my dryer on “Freshen,” as if it’s the same thing. I take short cuts. I survive. 

I’m not winning mother or wife-of-the-year anytime soon, and I know it. That’s okay with me, but I’m well aware there are also things I can do to keep me closest to the best version of myself (or the better version, depending on the day). 

My husband is amazing, truly. He helps out (when he’s in the country).  But whenever he leaves for a significant amount of time, my stubborn streak kicks in, and Little Miss Independant, comes on strong. He returns and wants to come to the rescue and I just get annoyed, claiming I can do it all in a desperate attempt that my saying it will somehow make it true. But it doesn’t. 

So what are some solutions to me becomming a better me in these situations? 

Getting to church late, but still getting there …

 Going out with a friend who doesn’t ask how I am because she lives the same rerun I do … 

Pretending I’m picking up a biology sample instead of agnowledging there was a legit mouse in my garage … 

Taking a bath even if I’ve got kids and cats wandering in and out of my not-so-private, private time …

Making sure I work out every time I hear my hubby got to … 

Thanking God that he gave me the humility to laugh at almost every scenario …

Snuggling up with my children, even at the cost of less sleep, just so I’m waking with a view no wonder of the world could compete with …

These are the answers to my exhaustion, my pride, and my wrinkles. 

At the end of the day, even a day like some I’ve been living, love is the common denominator … love of my husband for his patience in seeing a version of me I never will, love in the two sets of eyes that crinkle with smiles, and love in this chaotic string of days that are both aging me, and making every moment ageless. 

Embrace it all, 

Elle

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