Tuesday, August 2, 2011

The Smug Mummy Takes Her Leave

Subtitle: "Whatever Happened to the Champagne Bubble Who Blogs About Deeply Trivial Stuff Like Mom Uniforms and Shoe Addictions?"

Sub-Subtitle: "We - Yes, We're in need of the Royal 'We' This Week - Will Be Back to Our Usual Super Superficiality Shortly. Hopefully. Gah."

Ever wish for some sort of Intergalactic Decision Maker to answer those terribly grown-up questions you struggle with? Not just the "I can no longer bear the 'Real Housewives' franchise - do I give up on my old reality TV friends now?" questions of global importance, but the everyday stuff you're stuck on too.

This week at the Pretty is rife with questions for the Interplanetary Board of People More Qualified to Make Grown-Up Decisions Than & For Me ("IBPMQMGUDTFM") (see also, "God"), today's version involving a certain women's volunteer organization of which I've long been a member. For a number of reasons I won't bore you with here, my membership is no longer a fit for the stay-at-home-mom I am now - one with no pinch-hit sitter or husband available to cover last-minute childcare, more precisely - and so today, after months of mulling it over, I took a leave of absence.

I am . . . bummed. And relieved. More of that duality, push-pull stuff we - ahem, We - discussed yesterday. Sad to be putting on hold something that has been a part of my life for many years, when I've already put a career & other self-interests (such as doing my hair and my makeup all on the same day) on hiatus. Happy to have made the decision the Anonymous Husband & I feel is right for our family at this point. Both. Ugh.

The nice bit is, those Trans-Universe Question Answerers, whom I envision wearing giant, sequined turbans - I prefer my omnipotent beings to be well haberdashed - sometimes make the decisions somewhat easier with schmoopy unicorns-and-rainbows moments like this:

Lest you find this all far too Smug Mother-y to bear, Master P managed to scrape his sweet face no less than three separate times in the thirty minutes following this photo. Of course.

This is Master P waiting for me to chauffeur him around the living room, after having followed my polite request to "Get in yo' ride, yo'!" for the first time. He isn't talking yet, but he's listening. This - this - I would have missed had I been scrambling for a sitter to accommodate yet another last-second meeting tonight.

Thank you, International Be-Turbaned Arbiters of Important Stuff, for sending me a moment of Cozy Coupe clarity today when I needed it. Now if we could just get you on the crucially important case of "When will the universe send me that YSL bag I've been wanting?"too...


LPC said...

As an arbiter of all that matters, I say good idea.

Carly Anne said...

I think that you just have to put your life on hold period to raise a child personally. It's a nasty truth, which many a good-intentioned feminist have attempted to reverse with motivational sayings like "you can have it all!" Of course, now we have a generation (born to late seventies/eighties power mamas) estranged-ish from their parents and shelling out thousands in therapy...

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