Over the weekend, Joel had a very important work thing on. A very civilized work thing.
I, of course, fretted somewhat, and by somewhat I mean alotwhat.
Because I don’t get out much you guys, and especially not to important civilized things. So, as a result, I spent more time than I care to admit flapping myself around the place yelping the following questions:
What do people WEAR these days?
Is anything even washed?
What do people TALK ABOUT by the way?
How on earth am I going to keep my voice un-sing-songy and not end every sentence with a high-pitched coo?
What if someone starts talking to me about some world event? Oh sweet Lord, what if someone throws in something that’s happened in the news lately? I’ll have to explain that we are above modern consumerism and therefore have no television and, quite frankly, I’m just so busy, what with all the child-raising and volunteering and charity work and writing and community involvement stuff I have on. I just don’t have the time to follow news stories the minute they happen. Then walk away, Rachel. Quickly make an exit.
Up or down hair?
Is my hair even washed?
Where is there a MIRROR around here?
O dear God, HOW AM I GOING TO KEEP ELLA FROM CRACKING IT? Just walk away, Rachel. Not my child. Can someone please find out who this child belongs to? I’ll say, all bothered-like.
And most importantly, WHAT AM I GOING TO DRESS THIS CHILD IN?
The questions kept flooding in and since there was no adult around to help me, I looked desperately upon Ella for any words of wisdom or quick pep talks. She looked up, flashed me a huge grin, then proceeded to vomit all over her jumper.
Yeah, honey, I feel like doing the same.
The truth is, I just wanted Joel to be proud of me, proud of us. I wanted him to feel pleased that his little family were there for him and not falling apart at the seams. At least not visibly anyway. I wanted him to feel like we were normal people and when he looked at me I wanted to find pride and appreciation dancing across his big blue eyes.
I remembered that I’d just bought a new red skirt a few days ago when we “went shopping to buy Joel a new winter jacket”. By no fault of mine, our shopping expedition resulted in no winter jacket, however I surprisingly came away with two new pairs of earrings and a skirt, and Ella scored herself three very adorable tops. By no fault of mine. None whatsoever.
Anyway I got myself and Ella ready for this civilized event. She looked cute. I looked….well, I was out of my yoga pants, so I’m sure Joel would have been proud of me on that fact alone.
Joel was already there, so Ella and I drove on our own. We arrived relatively intact and as we walked in, they were all in the middle of a meeting so I took a seat and did my best to look pleasantly in control.
I noticed Joel looking at me strangely so I smiled even more. I oozed togetherness. He was obviously incredibly confused about who this amazing, radiant, composed woman was in front of him and where in the sweet blazers his real girlfriend was.
There was more weird looking. Joel’s eyes were darting all over the place, going back and forth between my hands and my confused face.
What?? Oh God what? What is going ON HERE?
I did not see pride in his eyes. Nor appreciation.
I saw urgency.
His eyes pointed themselves to my right hand.
The right hand that I’d been painting our new house with.
The right hand that had obviously not been washed very well.
The right hand that looked like it had a nasty skin disease all over it.
ALL OVER IT.
And the paint was oil-based, people. So I needed TURPS.
I quickly slipped my hand behind Ella and thought Are you freaking JOKING?
I try so hard, friends.
So very hard.
I’m home now and back in my yoga pants.
It’s much safer here.