Thursday, January 27, 2011

Wonder Woman?

Last night I got more than 9 hours of sleep.  This morning I've had more than 5 cups of coffee.  I am positivly bursting with possibilities.  Ahhhhhggrrrttt!  Quivering with potential...or possibly caffeine.

This must be what superheros feel like!  The profusion of energy.  The acute senses.  The razor sharp focus.  Yes!  Not like my normal self, functional but not running on all cylinders, senses slightly dulled, protected against the real-ness of everything.  Kind of like walking through life with Vaseline all over your glasses.   No.  Today I am a superhero!

Well I'm seeing it all today and I have decided that I am Wonder Woman.

I wonder why Al, the guy from Sears that was here yesterday, even bothers to call himself a repair man.  I wonder why he doesn't just call himself an "Open up your machine and tell you what part is broken and can be ordered at an extraordinary cost for parts and labor and then set you up with a follow up appointment after I place two pieces of heat tape on your dryer and charge you $129" man.  Or maybe a "Here's a coupon for a new machine because in the long run and the short term for that matter it's a better investment" man.  Too long to put on the business card I guess.  Just call me Wonder Woman.

I wonder when I will get to go through a whole day with out someone calling out, "Mom! I pooped! You need to come wipe my butt!"  And before you judge me and suggest I ought to teach her some wiping skills, the alternative is letting her do it herself, badly, thus producing multiple pairs of underwear per day with skid marks in them leading to more laundry, recall that I have no dryer, and the nagging thought that my 3 year old is roaming the house with feces on her fingertips. Who would choose that? Really?  Just call me Wonder Woman.

I wonder where the hell my husband is and why he's never home when someone urinates on the rug (human or canine, you pick), spills their milk (and yes, I do cry over spilt milk when it's on the oriental rug that will need to be sent out for cleaning), or pukes on their carseat (which has to be handwashed, damn European designers).  When he's home alone with them, I get stories about trips to the zoo, children who eat all of their dinner and hours spent playing board games and doing playdoh art projects.  Lies?  Just call me Wonder Woman.

I wonder when the new puppy will stop having accidents in the house. We are following all the rules for puppy training.  He is doing better, but c'mon really.  It's been 6 months and I'm tired of the constant vigilance.  I wonder if the fact that it's the slogging frigid MiddleBit of winter, and the snow banks are way over his head, which is only 6 inches from the ground, has anything to do with his dislike for pooping al fresco?  Just call me Wonder Woman.

I wonder if the those blundering toy designers intended Polly Pockets to be an exercise in forced Mother/Child interaction or if they were just inventing microscopic toys for the fun of it.  I wonder if I am the only mother whose small children are incapable of dressing these synthetic damsels without the assistance of their unenthusiastic mama.  I hate Polly and her small gang of scantily clad plastic girlfriends.  I abhor the rice sized shoes that get stuck to the bottom of my feet.  I loath the process of tugging and stuffing these tiny females into their sticky clothes.  Is Polly an anti-neglect device in rubber clothing?  Just call me Wonder Woman.

I wonder when I will get over the fact that I leak. I leak when I exercise. When I laugh. When I get up in the morning. I wonder if you think this is too much information and now you have this picture in your mind that you can't get rid of? I wonder if you realize there are other blogs out there that reveal less about the writer?  No offense.   Just call me Wonder Woman.

Nine hours of sleep.   Excessive amounts of focus centering, caffeinated beverages.  A lens to more clearly examine my life.  Wonder Woman my ass!  Can I just get the costume and go back to ignoring all this crap?  Just call me Wonder Woman.


  1. It is time for the Vacuum to meet Polly. yes, i said it. yes, i have boys. but my Vacuum has met many many legos in its day...
    nine hours, wonder woman.... nine. pretty damn great. . .

  2. I just leaked from laughing so damn hard! Stop it! You're killing me!!