Artist & Writer, San Francisco Bay Area

My Face in My Hands

So it was a pretty good day all in all, and yet five p.m. comes and two little ravenous boys have a way of reminding you that Be Prepared should be the motto for parents, not Boy Scouts. I just forget sometimes, I don’t know why- but my boys can’t make it to a proper dinner time (which in my mind = when their dad gets home at 6.) If I am not ready for their appetites to hit them hard like semi-trucks going downhill with brakes out… then I get hit by that very same truck. I should at least stop what I am doing and put together a proper meal. But when I am in the middle of preparing a family meal that is not at all ready at 4:30p or 5p, I don’t want to stop cold and prepare a separate thing. And so I don’t. And my kids become that dripping faucet (more like gushing water main) of Want Want Want: I want yogurt, I want crackers, I want fruit, I want that essential ingredient that you are using in your recipe, what’s that on the counter (nevermind that it is an empty box) and I WANT THAT. Ahh! Why do I forget? If only I could remember that two hours after I feed them a meal, I need to be thinking about what the next meal will consist of. You know, fruits, vegetables, protein. Proper food. Not cheesy goldfish straight out of the box. Easy enough.

One day I will Be Prepared.

Maybe tomorrow.

So I get on my knees to pray a little, you know- I am desperate. I just finished cleaning up an old, dark brown, sinewy banana off the carpet that has a striking resemblance to poo, and I have almost lost it. Guests are coming in 20 minutes.

I stand with my face in my hands, God- Help me! And this little face peeks up from below me, and I can’t help but laugh. I pray a little more, and he peeks in at me again. I can’t go on- I just crack up! And what a life I have, filled with the love of two sweet boys that will only continue to eat and eat and eat until one day they go to college. And then come home to visit and eat. Yay. Too bad I’m not crazy about cooking.

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