One More Thing I Learned
My mother taught me how to bake potatoes when I was but a young girl with hair that always looked like it needed brushing. Scrub, poke with a fork, wrap in foil and bake. I skip the foil part now, but I always stab the potatoes because I've heard they will explode if you don't.
I dutifully explained the explosion risk to my son when I taught him to bake potatoes Friday night. I didn't really believe it, but I passed along this wisdom because that's what we do. We teach our children what we have heard, right? Well, guess what? My mother was right. A potato will explode if it is not poked. I have the proof in my smoky oven.
My fingertips are cracked and bleeding, which is probably because I cleaned a toilet recently. Tonight I finished typing 110 pages of transcription (that's about 8-10 hours of work), so tomorrow I will avoid cleaning supplies in the interest of skin regeneration. As we learned in science class last Friday, our fingertips have a great many nerve receptors and so I say OUCH, especially when I type an "L."
Last night, I went to see "Finding Neverland." As usual, I went alone and arrived just before the movie began. I went rather reluctantly because Johnny Depp has never really interested me, but I found myself weeping intermittently through the movie. I also thought the following things:
1) My children would be so much cuter if they spoke in English accents;
2) My children would be so much cuter if they wore linen suits with Peter Pan collars;
3) The dog in the movie, a Newfoundland, reminded me of my own Newfoundland, Greta, who lived with us for two years. I missed her, even while I reminded myself of the shed hair and the itchy skin and the baby gates we had to step over to get into the kitchen;
4) I want an English cottage to summer in.
I loved the movie, even though I had to walk out with my eyes averted because I'd been crying so hard I was embarrassed.
I'm going to bed tonight with my house in disarray. Last night, I scurried around at 11:00 p.m., picking up dishes with spoons stuck to dried milk and bowls filled with popcorn kernels. I picked up trash and clothes and toys and videos and Legos. I cleaned off the kitchen counter and put a roast into the crockpot.
Tonight? None of that. I'm leaving it as is. It'll be here tomorrow morning. And so will I.
I dutifully explained the explosion risk to my son when I taught him to bake potatoes Friday night. I didn't really believe it, but I passed along this wisdom because that's what we do. We teach our children what we have heard, right? Well, guess what? My mother was right. A potato will explode if it is not poked. I have the proof in my smoky oven.
My fingertips are cracked and bleeding, which is probably because I cleaned a toilet recently. Tonight I finished typing 110 pages of transcription (that's about 8-10 hours of work), so tomorrow I will avoid cleaning supplies in the interest of skin regeneration. As we learned in science class last Friday, our fingertips have a great many nerve receptors and so I say OUCH, especially when I type an "L."
Last night, I went to see "Finding Neverland." As usual, I went alone and arrived just before the movie began. I went rather reluctantly because Johnny Depp has never really interested me, but I found myself weeping intermittently through the movie. I also thought the following things:
1) My children would be so much cuter if they spoke in English accents;
2) My children would be so much cuter if they wore linen suits with Peter Pan collars;
3) The dog in the movie, a Newfoundland, reminded me of my own Newfoundland, Greta, who lived with us for two years. I missed her, even while I reminded myself of the shed hair and the itchy skin and the baby gates we had to step over to get into the kitchen;
4) I want an English cottage to summer in.
I loved the movie, even though I had to walk out with my eyes averted because I'd been crying so hard I was embarrassed.
I'm going to bed tonight with my house in disarray. Last night, I scurried around at 11:00 p.m., picking up dishes with spoons stuck to dried milk and bowls filled with popcorn kernels. I picked up trash and clothes and toys and videos and Legos. I cleaned off the kitchen counter and put a roast into the crockpot.
Tonight? None of that. I'm leaving it as is. It'll be here tomorrow morning. And so will I.
posted by Melodee at Sunday, February 13, 2005
2 Comments:
Melodee I am really glad I get to read your blog. Really. I mean it. As a sahm I am frustrated by the mornings I wake up and have to clean up terrible messes in the kitchen from the night before, because I opted to spend time with the family, or to take some me time, over cleaning up before bed. I feel guilty that even though I'm usually able to get a load of laundry in a day, often times the clothes never make it into closets or dressers, but sit in disarrayed folded stacks on top of the dryer, or in laundry baskets. Sometimes a load stays in the dryer after it's done, forgotten in the face of more pressing matters. I often feel aggravated that I can't keep up. I can't have a spotless home, clean kids, and meet my husband at the door looking perfect with an adoring smile like June Cleaver. If I have learned one thing by coming here... it's that I'm not alone. I've learned that I'm normal. Thank you. I have tried talking about my short-comings and frustrations as a mom myself... but I find myself terrified of exposing my perceived inadequacies. Here you, and the others who comment here, have shown me... I'm not inadequate. I'm normal. Thank you. Please keep writing. As I read... Maybe I'll find my own voice.
I learned the hard way that poking forkl holes in the potatoes is important even if you bake them in the microwave.
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