Thursday, October 10, 2013: Bock, Bock Baby (another day on the farm)

Dear Babies,

“It’s damp in here,” I thought starting the ignition on the car, checking the rear view mirror for any three-foot stragglers running into school (like a bioscience lab, the school parking lot is a dangerous place!), “chilly, too.”

The car started and Justin Timberlake’s “Love Stoned” sounded into the air.

And I drove, on my way to the gym, tired.

(“Why are you running,” your father asked last night. “Because I’m so tired, I have to go to bed.” “But if you’re that tired, you think you wouldn’t be running…” “I must go, Denby” and I barreled up the stairs calling goodnight.)

School, school, come on, get dressed, no, we have to go to school.

It was another one of those full lifetimes this morning just getting us out the door.

I checked the mirror again.

No cars were behind me, but, DAMMIT! I have crumbs on my chin! Pumpernickel bread, too? Son of a! Why didn’t anyone tell me? (Oh yeah, this: https://amydenby.wordpress.com/2013/10/01/tuesday-october-1-2013-youd-tell-me-right/)

And I’d spoken to the teachers, too. And that parent. Dammit. I look like a mess. I could’ve been so busy that I ate a piece of toast on the way there? Is that any better than the truth, that I was being so busy in the shuffle out the door wiping hands and faces that I didn’t stop to check a mirror, take car of my own coffee breath, wipe my own face?

{Sigh.} Mess.

…Justin Timberlake…

Where does he live, Tennessee?

Jessica Biel?

What’s she doing right now, strolling through her farm-house in cashmere slippers? (Which I think would make your feet sweat, right?) What is she, contemplating making a pie? Spreading preserves from a mason jar decorated with ribbon? Maybe later she’ll take a stroll out by the chickens…

{Red light.}

What the hell?

Why am I getting wet?

…SON OF A! THE SUN ROOF IS OPEN AND IT’S RAINING ON ME! HOW DID I NOT NOTICE THIS!

Maybe because I was busy thinking about Jessica Biel on a farm in Tennessee. Smelling of milk soap. Her hair, combed and perfect…

Bock, Bock Baby

A note on the importance of staying present, I guess.

Love,

Mom

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