My Name is Kris and I Blah-g

I once saw a person eat a tomato like it was an apple. There’s nothing wrong with that. I am sure that if you’re a tomato person (and I am NOT), it can be an enjoyable experience. But if you have ever seen a tomato – and I am sure you have – and if you have ever tried to slice a tomato with a dull knife, you will undoubtedly know that it can be a messy thing. The same can be said when someone bites into one. The person that I witnessed engorging themselves in tomato bliss, although enjoying themselves, fell victim to the tomato. Most if it ended up on their shirt instead of inside their mouth. It was a mess. The only thing worse than watching this person obliterate the tomato all over their shirt was watching a lady in the car next to me at a stop light pick her nose and then eat her new found treasure. True story. But that’s another blog post. So why even mention this? Well, I always thought that I wouldn’t ever want to be such a slob. I mean, I am no beauty queen. I am about as graceful as an ox on a frozen lake. But I wouldn’t want to prance around town with a tomato stain on my shirt either.Then I became a mom.I don’t know exactly when it happened for the first time. But I started to notice that I had a drinking problem shortly after the birth of my daughter. No. My vice isn’t alcohol. I just can’t for the life of me take a drink of water, milk, soda – anything without it dribbling out the corner of my mouth and dripping off my chin. Inevitably if I eat spaghetti, for example, I will leave the dinner table with a new design on my shirt – polkadots made of sauce. Or pizza? I may find an olive, dried up and shriveled and STUCK to my shirt an hour later. My personal favorite is popcorn….I keep a treasure trove of that in my bra. My mom once told me that it was what happens when you become a mom. It almost sounded like a badge of honor that I should be proud to wear. Don’t get me wrong. I LOVE being a mom. I just don’t like looking like I am 4 months old and can’t hold my rice cereal. My mom has accepted that this just comes with the territory. In fact, it doesn’t even register with her that a Cheerio from 3 days ago can be a snack for later on today. What’s so wrong with that?So, anyway, what’s the point? I was just thinking about it as I was washing off the chocolate milk that I dribbled down my shirt a few minutes ago. I was thinking about how different my life has become. I’m not complaining…well, not really. Some parts of my life really suck. Actually, ONE thing really sucks. My husband is dead. It is a reality that I live with daily. What’s weird is that sometimes I forget that part of it. I just get so busy and although that’s really great to be busy, it’s a huge depression of my mood when I realize, “Whoa! Mike is DEAD! When did THAT happen?” But I digress….this isn’t supposed to be some wo is me post. It was only spilled chocolate milk, for Heaven’s sake. I shouldn’t cry over it (ha ha). I never really understood what it meant to be one of those frazzled – do everything Moms. At one time, I had a partner. He and I shared lots of the responsibilities – mainly getting Michaela to school, picking her up, etc. For years I would get up in the morning, get dressed and go to work. I’d work the 8-5 job and come home. Some nights Mike was there cooking dinner when I got there. Other nights when it was his turn to work, I would pick up Michaela from my Mom’s and do the nightly ritual of dinner and put the kid to bed. It was a ritual. It was the same every day. It was comfort.Now, it’s different. Now there is a sense of urgency in my day. Now there is a nagging need to make sure that I do it all. Sure I am bringing it all on myself. Gimme a break. I’ve never been through this before. I have heard people talk about how humbling it is to give service. Try letting some one render you a service. Those chocolate milk stains won’t seem so bad…