One of those Sunday Mornings

dad-screaming-at-kid     It was unusually chaotic this morning.  Which really got things off to a good start.

In retrospect, this day was a by-product of human error.

Beginning with the ill-conceived idea that my husband and I could get a few moments to enjoy a small luxury – like coffee in bed, maybe a little light petting -by putting on the Wii and letting the kids play a tank game.

I know… We are the worst people in the world.  Within 5 minutes I’m forced to race into the living room, topless, in full view of the street below and condo windows across the street, to pull my son off my daughter, who was just going for his eyes.  All while my husband runs around screaming that someone in the building will call Social Services for sure and have our children removed from our care. Naomi begins to have an anxiety attack. Just as Felix decides to teach us all a lesson about what the future will be for us all if we don’t side with him over Naomi:  He starts hyperventilating.  Yells something he knows will be very offensive, then starts shrieking,”No. Daddy No,” while running down the hall into his bedroom.  All because my husband has finally lost it and yells, just behind our thin front door, that Felix had better stay in his room or risk being killed. Maybe for real.

brad-pitt

Brad before people found out that he is a normal parent

 Poor Brad Pitt.  I am instantly filled with gratitude that we cannot afford to have staff since one of his staff was certain to have reported his “child abuse” to the LAPD.  This is a complete reversal from my earlier position, which was that the only thing standing between me and complete happiness was shortage of staff.

I have to accept a ruined Sunday morning as punishment because really this was all my fault. For breakfast, I allowed our daughter to finish off the last of Thanksgiving Pumpkin Pie (Sure. Take as much whipped cream as you like). And Felix pretty much finished off half a box of cinnamon buns, under my direct supervision. Just because I was just a tad hungover (just one double gin and tonic – Fuck, I hate getting old) and didn’t want to make anything for breakfast or do the dishes after.   So how can I be mad at the kids for my own idiocy?kill-me-now

To celebrate this amazing mental breakthrough, I reward myself by leaving.  (don’t judge me – it was after II make them some eggs and get everyone to the table, chests still heaving from their exertions, still smarting from the injustice of it all.)

“Bye. Just running to the store. Love you. Take care of each other.”

Since Amsterdam, I have been orchestrating and savouring these moments of true Freedom.

I float down the street to the chocolate shop so I can shoot the shit with Heather, the owner and my new life-coach.  She has an idea, easy to execute, that will make me look like a rock-star with the PAC for my kids’ school.  I just love her.

Then I wander up the street to the grocery store, where I try all the samples.  And also pick up the ingredient I need to prepare a glorious Family Sunday Dinner, which is going to become a weekly and mandatory thing – but hopefully in a happy, quality time sort of way.

As I walk home, I look up and am rewarded again with the most beautiful cloud-shaped shades of grey and purpley black.  I let the rain patter down on my face, soaking up all the negative ions. Feeling my heart open and grow patient again. Feeling the tightness in my neck and shoulders. Then holding onto a tree trunk for a little stretch.  I drink in calm and the beauty of a peaceful, glimmering city by a gorgeous body of water.   Thank you. Thank you. My church rocks!! I just have to figure out how to incorporate a little sip of wine during my service and a little more “body” (if you get my meaning…) And I’ll be ready to apply for tax-free status.storm-clouds

I invite you to join my congregation and take a little time away to savour something that makes you feel free.  (and make it a news-free day. Unless it’s John Oliver, then it’s ok.)

Please share a time you’ve found magic in the mundane…

And also I’d deeply appreciate it if you’d subscribe.  This way I can send you this new thing I’m trying:

I’ve got two lines of snappy little quotes you can print off and stick on your fridge…
1) Unsolicited Advice  2) Weird Shit I Overhear

recite-u5hllx

I can also let you know when I’m doing a storytelling gig near you and want to crash on your couch.

xo
Maia.

Medically Sanctioned Parenting Aids: Because giving medical advice is my new hobby

herbal cool kid

 

My kids are six and eight years old.  I am aware that this is considered the “sweet spot” in the whole parenting journey.  This is the time when they’re independent, but still love to cuddle and hang out with me.  Now they’re getting into cool stuff, have interesting conversations, while still believing all my lies – we can just enjoy each other’s company.

I know this and yet, I continuously choose to be overly concerned by how they’ve only eaten half the pizza on their plates, leaving the crust and all the actually nutritious bits – rather than adding my two cents to the debate over which is cooler: Nerf water guns or the rocket launcher looking ones from the dollar store.

Why do I care so much if my kid goes to every single one of his soccer practices (“Do you have any idea how much those classes cost?)  Or if they’re late for Kindergarten?  Really who gives a shit??? And yet, I continuously choose to make this the focus of my attention – over just enjoying their crazy and wonderful little minds.

The problem stems from my brain getting fucked whenever I try to be too responsible.  The pressure to helicopter parent is turning me into someone I don’t like and that asshole is raising my children.  I know this, but my awareness is so delayed, I only realize my missed opportunity after I’ve done it all wrong.

more honest medicine

 

I am ready to admit that the only way to prevent myself from turning into a tight-assed, lame parent, lies in the responsible usage of marijuana. I have a legal prescription for medical-grade pot to address my anxiety and insomnia.  But I find it even more effective as a parenting tool.

For those of you who are judging me or who are reaching for your phones to dial Social Services – consider this:  what would it take for you to get on the floor with your six year old son to play dinosaurs versus lego ninjas – and actually really enjoy yourself? The answer for me is two long hits on a vaporizer.

“Mom? Is Jar Jar Binks bad?”

“Well,” I answer thoughtfully. Because now I’m his intellectual equal.
“He’s good in that he’s supposed to be a Jedi Master, but he’s bad because he sucks and his stupid character ruined the entire movie.”

We spend the rest of the evening lying on the floor philosophizing about Jedi powers and the proper and effective usage of them, while dinner dishes go unwashed and wet laundry moulders in the machine.  It is also hands down my favourite night in recent memory.

These days, I’m experimenting with a new medicine.  Its ingredients include: one thinly rolled joint, two cups of epson salts, some relaxing music, a copy of Vanity Fair and a hot tub of bathwater.

Last night, I barely wait for both kids to get into bed before I indulge.  A feeling of deep relaxation and bliss begins to wash over my tired muscles and over-taxed brain when I feel someone in the room staring at me.  Felix is standing just out of reach. Normally, I would start hollering threats. “Get to bed now or I’ll….(fill in the blank).”  But he’s aware that the effects of my medicine have kicked in. He knows nothing he does will pull me out of the tub, so he sits on the toilet and asks,
“Mom, where does inspiration come from?”

In my current state (hell, in any state) I am powerless to ignore this line of questioning. So we start to talk. Suddenly it’s 11:30pm on a school night and I realize that little fucker has totally played me.

Normally I would be mad, but I’m pleasantly medicated and so I decide just to enjoy. And anyhow it’s my husband’s turn to get the kids ready for school the next day.

What’s working for you right now??