Yes, it’s out there, as are its half-siblings, strange uncles, unvarnished great aunts, twisted second-cousins. Do I always tell the truth?
How about this. There are some things I know to be true and will not pervert:
- Jesus loves me.
- My husband loves me, and I love him.
- My kids need my love and care.
- The laundry will not wash itself.
These are the bedrock of my daily life and the substance of my existence. These are the things I know will not change from day to day. They are truth.
There are other things that might be true:
- The sometimes-alarmingly high level of insanity and chaos in my house.
- I’m losing weight.
- My kids will tell the whole story about who started it.
- I’m going to be on the New York Times bestseller list before I’m 40.
These are things which may or may not be true on any given day.
I tend to dwell upon the second list more than the first when I write. Why? Not because the first list is boring (because it’s not), but because the second list provides more grist for my mill.
Here are a couple of examples:
1. I have 4 kids, ages 10, 8, 5, and 18 months. My kids inherited their computational physicist dad’s brains, as well as his crazy sense of humor. My kids aren’t shrinking violets, by any stretch of the imagination. They’re more like screaming sunflowers. Sunflowers? you might be wondering. Yes, sunflowers. Those are the biggest flowers I can imagine at the moment. Larger than life. Full of movement – the blossoms follow the sun every day across the sky. Don’t really need time-lapse photography to see those bad boys in motion. Much like my children. Just now, the 5-year-old started yelling, “The baby’s on the kitchen table! She’s naked and she’s on the table,” then proceeded to screech with laughter as the other two kids came in to see. By the time I got there, all 4 kids were laughing at unholy decibel levels. All diaper-clad Baby K did was use a kitchen chair to get up to the Ritz crackers, but the other three thought it was comedic genius. I could have said, “The baby got on the kitchen table today,” but it wouldn’t have been nearly as exciting as the whole spiel I related above. Mostly true, by the way. Grist.
2. I’m losing the baby weight. Again. I already lost 60+ of the 80 lbs I had to lose from the first 3 pregnancies when I got preggers with Baby K. I was 14 pounds away from my goal weight, which I have not seen since my senior year of high school when I worked as a car hop at Sonic. I didn’t eat a thing from that place and I walked by butt off. Literally. Anyway, I’m still 30 pounds away from my goal, but not nearly as motivated as I was pre-pregnancy. So I run. Sometimes. And I behave with my food. Mostly. Except when I don’t. Like tonight. I had a Buffalo chicken strip, some baked beans, and a Reese’s peanut butter ice cream. Very good for the weight loss, better for my writing. Lots to contemplate there. What was the reason for the stellar meal? We just got back from a 16-day, 2100+ mile car trip (we = 4 kids and me), my DH is in Canada until Thursday, and I haven’t been to the grocery store yet. I spent today putting all our junk away and catching up on stuff here. Or I could have said, “I was lazy.” Again, not as interesting. Did I mention that I had Cocoa Pebbles with peanut butter for lunch? Grist.
It’s time now for me to wrangle my kids into the bathroom for what should be a 5-minute task, but will turn into a 27-minute fiasco. Time to brush those pearly whites, or in my son’s case, buttery yellows. Ick.