If I told you that I opened my door next to a financial advisor debt counseling retirement planning education planning who suggested that I perhaps go into training to do such advising myself and I contemplated it for the next six hours while I baked four more dozen cupcakes, each one a different flavor with a different frosting, picked up the boys from school and the carpool boy and drove them home to catch Sophie's bus and shuffled her right into my car with Oliver and took him to a tennis lesson for one hour and walked Sophie round and round the park and then back in the car and over to Verizon where I picked up the Blackberry phone that I left there yesterday when I got my new phone and marveled, again, like yesterday at the astounding obtuseness of the service "workers" there who drew cartoons, bad ones, while they talked to me and debated the merits of Fruity Pebbles versus Cocoa Pebbles, really were these servants of the free market any better than those much-aligned government workers (my point, and I digress, being that all this bashing of the government employee is just so much politics) and then back in the car where Oliver waited with Sophie not so patiently to pick up Henry hanging out at a friend's house and it was all on the way, all so organized but dinner was not --
If I told you that I drove through the drive-in of Burger King much to the surprise of my sons, Oliver who said I haven't been here in a year, Mom, can I have a soda and a double cheeseburger and fries? And I said Yes and I picked up the food and drove around the corner and back into the parking lot and changed places with Oliver who found this as exciting as the meal so that I could sit in the back seat and feed Sophie her disgusting cheeseburger and if I told you that I always, always feel guilty when I feed my children, especially Sophie, fast food, even though I know in the scheme of things it's no big deal --
If I told you I then headed home and brought Sophie inside while the boys cleaned out the car I don't want to see a speck of garbage in there from this meal, I told them and they did it, happily stuffed with the crap and then running inside an early dark from the June gloom while I busied myself baking four more dozen cupcakes each one a different flavor with a different frosting but I'm not complaining not at all because I can do this, I can make money doing this and it's relaxing in its way but difficult so difficult especially when I'm called on by the middle school principal and I have to figure out a way to help with the arranging of the end of school community gathering in a park? in the school? at all? --
If I told you that The Husband came home from The Mistress** for a few minutes to hear Oliver's presentation on Lance, the cyclist, presented in a silly voice that drove me nutty enough to say I'm not going to sit in here and listen to this unless you do it seriously, like you'd do it in school and it didn't happen so I stormed out of the room and back into the kitchen to make another batch of cupcakes saying from gritted teeth that you're wasting my time and I just can't do it and then felt bad when Oliver went to bed so knelt by his bedside and told him how much I loved him and that tempers were short because school needed to be over and we were all getting on each other's nerves and he said you mean I don't have to go to school tomorrow? And I said yes you have to go to school tomorrow but soon it'll be done and we'll all relax and I went back to the kitchen and pulled another batch of cupcakes out of the oven --
If I told you that Sophie didn't go to sleep, her brain a scrambled mess bumbling through her room in the dark, knocking her head on the wall and standing, staring, until I put her back in the bed, over and over --
If I told you that when I pulled out the last tray of cupcakes from the oven after 11:00 pm and placed them on the rack and looked, again, at the peonies sitting on my dining room table and felt pleasure, a surge of wonder --
would you believe me?
**The Mistress is my husband's job, his business and not a real woman. I love, though, that some of you thought I was tolerant of that along with the all the other shit I put up with!