I Am Jealous Today

I rarely get jealous anymore.  I really don't have time for it.  I've just got too many things to do to constantly be comparing my stuff  and skills to everyone else's.  or maybe I try not to do it because it does no good to compare, because out here in the suburbs it is so easy to be caught up in the sickness of keeping up with the Jones's. For a while there I really did feel the pressure, not so much to keep up, because for us it is financially impossible, but I did feel the obvious tension of not fitting in.  There's not a luxury car in our garage.  No paid extracurricular activities for the kids.  Our kitchen sprayer is still broken.    We are making do with what we have in this tough economy.  I'm done with those comparisons.


But today I was jealous.  I read through some blogs and came upon one of my favorites:  jennifervdavis.com 
Jennifer is a friend of mine from church.  A fellow momma, cook and blogger.  I always love chatting with her, and am always surprised by her dry wit.  She is an amazing woman.  And today when I read her blog, I realized that I am jealous of her.  How in the world does she manage to be so thoughtful and articulate in her blog?  How does she have so many brain cells left?


There was a time, about seven years ago when I was smart.  You may not know this about me, but I was valedictorian.  Granted, there were only 95 people in our class, but still.  I was number one.  Numero Uno. 4.0 The top... all that Jazz.  I got to give a speech at graduation and it was good.  In college, I was still good.  No speech, but I still had pretty cords and ribbons and trims on my robe announcing to the world as I crossed that stage...  "Kristina is smart"


Then I had children.  


My brain cells started melting away when Sweet G's fertilized egg implanted into the wall of my uterus.... like ice cream outside of the Mayfield Dairy at noon in Mid August.  I noticed it most in my vocabulary.  The bigger, fancier words that used to decorate my language like my expensive glass ornaments on my beloved Christmas tree vanished.  I still had the ability to decorate and coordinate my language with my cheaper Walmart and Target words. But nowadays, three children later, FORGET ABOUT IT.   I can't even think anymore much less articulate those thoughts.  It really takes so much more effort to decorate that proverbial Christmas tree than it used to, and most times I know it looks like Charlie Brown was involved.  


Maybe I like blogging because I have more time to coordinate my words. I can spend more time focusing on their arrangement and I can even use a dictionary and thesaurus and spell check.  It's not as exposing as conversation is.  It's like comparing the live, raw American Idol performances, to a Miley Cirus or Britney Spears single.  Maybe I can fool my high school friends into thinking I'm still smart, just like Miley can fool those 10 year old little girls with her albums. All it takes is some extra time, some editing and auto tune.   That works until I really compare.  Jennifer Davis, you my dear, are smart.  no fooling done there.  I've heard your live performance and your studio recording....  You shine at both conversation and blogging.  You are always thoughtful and intellectual AND you have three small children.  sigh...  so now you know... I'm jealous of you and your Christmas tree.  You still have your pretty ornaments and can still arrange them so perfectly.  


OK, so I feel better.  You all now know that I'm just a mediocre studio artist.  I can no longer shine "live."  I've outed myself and the pressure is off.  I'm no longer smart, but I have to say I still enjoy decorating my little online Christmas tree using the dixie-cup-full of braincells I do have left.

The Things I Say

There are a lot of things that motherhood brings about that I never thought about before the line turned pink on that little plastic stick.  For instance, I never wondered when my next shower was going to be.  I rarely got excited about a clean floor.  And I never, ever questioned my ability to get an uninterrupted night's sleep.  But what shocks me the most about being a momma are the things that actually come out of my mouth.  I mean sometimes I am amazed about the things that I have to say.  Not just those things we expected we would say just because our parents did to us when we were kids:  "Because I said so"  "How many times do I have to tell you"  "You just wait 'till your father get's home"  "Go pick a switch" (yikes)  What really gets me are the things that a person just shouldn't HAVE to say.  It's like we are raising little nincompoops... These are all things that I have conjured in my brain* and have exited out through my lips:  


(*please note, I will not express here the things that were conjured in my brain that I actually caught through my filter and never allowed to exit out of my mouth.  I will not be held responsible for said thoughts...  I am only human and if we all actually said what we thought, our poor children would be in counseling forever)


"Stop licking me!"  This one was said to Wild Man J just moments ago.


"Please don't ride your bike in my bedroom." Sweet G thought for some reason that this was a good idea.  What's even more surprising is his puzzled "Why not?" reply.


"Why are you in my bed naked?"  nope - not said to my husband.... Thanks for waking me up this way Wild Man J.  apparently, he didn't want to snuggle with me in a wet pull up.


"I'm gonna tear your butt up"  This one I must have picked up somewhere growing up in Pelion.


"Why is there another apple core on the floor?"  sigh... a constant battle


"I can't come right now, I have poop on my hands!"  Thanks for that nice little diaper change 


"Please don't run over your sister" -- the bike is still in my living room.


Last but not least -  "Momma loves you,"  and I never can say it enough.