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Crazy Just Got Crazier

November 4, 2010 15 comments

I talk about struggling for balance, for never having enough time in the day.  I lament that I want to cut back at work and spend more time at home with the kids.  So what is my genius solution?  Enter a writing contest. 

NaNoWriMo is a writing program where you write a  novel in 30 days.  50,000 words in 30 days. 1,667 words per day.  The goal is not have a finished product, but rather just to get ideas down.  I am not supposed to edit, just write.  Hmm, run my mouth without censoring, I can probably handle that.   

You are entitled to skip straight to the comments and tell me that I am an idiot for signing up for this.  But here’s the thing, writing gives me balance, it’s how I sort out emotions, diffuse anger and appreciate life.  I have always dreamed of writing a book and a good friend suggested I turn my stories that I blog about into a semi-fiction book about being a crazy parent.  So I am going for it.  Will I have a finished product December 1st? No, but I’ll have a very rough draft.  Very rough I said!

Occasionally I might share an excerpt here, both to get feedback and to not overwhelm myself with blogging and writing.  So here we go, your first sneak peek (remember, just ideas, not a Pulitzer submission) of “Parenting Taught Me I Don’t Know Sh*t”.  (I haven’t made the philosophical decision about swearing in my novel.  I don’t swear on my blog, but I do swear in real life).

Okay, I am stalling, hear you go:

Pregnancy and Private Planes

A week into bed-rest my husband has to attend the wedding of a college buddy.  It’s a 2 hour plane ride from home and he “has to go” because he is the best man.  What about his best wife and best, going-to-be-born-at-any-moment baby?!  After a few hormonal battles, I agree to let him go, like I ever had a choice???  My cousin, who has a two-year-old agrees to come stay with me since I am still on bed-rest which clearly means I need a baby-sitter! (I was also bored and thrilled for the company!) 

I call my husband and… get f’ing voice mail!  What?! He is supposed to have his cell phone on him at all times in case I need him.  We had agreed he would only turn it off during the 20 minute ceremony!  Fine, I leave a message and will call again in 21 minutes.  19 minutes later I call again – voice mail.  I leave another message and wait. 10 minutes, 20 minutes, I am approaching hysteria! 

My cousin tries to point out the obvious – I am not in labor, but all I can say is , “But what if I were?!”  I leave another irate message about him not caring about me and the baby, and being an irresponsible father before he even has a baby.  My husband will tell you I left 15+ similar messages, I say prove it!  When he finally calls me back SIX HOURS LATER he is breathless, panicked and remorseful.  “I am sorry babe, my phone battery died and no one else brought their phones into the wedding.  I have been running around for hours trying to find a phone to call you.  Is everything okay?  I checked my voice mail and it said I had 15 messages, what happened?!” 

As I listen to him talk, I realize the impossible – he is drunk!  “Have you been drinking?!  You promised me you wouldn’t drink in case you had to get home in a hurry! What were you thinking?”  “Babe, listen.  I have had a few drinks.  It’s an open bar and I am the best man.  When the father-of-the-bride handed us shots, it would have been rude to say no”.  “Rude to say no!” I thunder, “Rude would be missing your baby’s birth because you’re too drunk to get home!”  “Honey,” he says as if he’s talking to a tantruming two-year-old, “you’re not in labor, right?” “Well, no, but I could have been!”.  He then tried to be the good guy, “Babe, I know it’s hard being on bed-rest, but if I needed to get home, I could take a cab to the airport and be on the next flight.”  I can’t be pacified, “Well what if I needed you in the middle of the night and there were no flights?! Would you charter a private plane?”  “Sweetie, the doctor said first babies are usually late and labor takes hours, even days, I am sure I would make it”  “Well OUR baby is not most babies!  Tell me you would charter a private plane if I needed you!”  “Honey, a private plane is tens of thousands of dollars, get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning”.  I will not be dissuaded, “TELL ME YOU WOULD CHARTER A PRIVATE PLANE!” “Honey, I promise I will get there for the birth of our child, I’ll see you tomorrow.  I love you and our baby.”  At this point, my cousin takes the phone, hands me some herbal tea and just smiles.  She’s smart enough not to try to reason with crazy.

Of course, it’s fiction, who really acts like that?  I did.