Martha Stewart Wanna Be

Does anyone ever just get so tired of the day to day life things that sometimes you just wish for that car that is riding your bumper to actually rear end you (but not too hard) so that you could be laid up in the hospital for just a few days of rest-kind of like a vacation with really bad scenery, terrible food, an uncomfortable mattress, and a dreary atmosphere, but a vacation all the same. Although this thought has fleetingly entered my mind while driving to yet another engagement that I question why I am even involved in, please don’t get on your phones and immediately call for a group suicide intervention. I am fine, just having one of those days. The kind of day in which immediately after you get up, you just want to close the blinds, crawl back in bed, hide under the covers, and sleep the day away.

One of those days where you really do feel like a little rat in the big maze running around with all the other rats who seem much more put together and with it than you are. And they definitely don’t contemplate an arranged hospital visit in a desperate attempt to get away from it all. In fact, they seem ready and willing to do any task thrown at them with a dollop of whip cream on top and tied with a fancy bow.

Come on now, you all know who I’m talking about, people who seemingly have it all together. You even try, with a very guilty conscience, to find a skeleton in their closet, a little break in their perfectness, a pimple for cripe’s sake; but, there is nothing. They really are robots-Stepford wives-who thrive on this chaotic race. And really, it’s not the cheese they are looking for, they actually enjoy the race. That’s right, they love it. They live for the chance to offer their services, chair the neighborhood welcoming committee, organize the PTA fundraiser, bring a made from scratch side dish, quilt blankets for the children’s hospital, host the book club, coach the girl’s soccer team, and make signs and t-shirts for all the boy’s football team parents. Oh, don’t think that they have forgotten their own families. Oh no, waiting at home is a Martha Stewart decorated house complete with clean blinds & windows, a piping hot home made meal on the table every night, clothes ironed (Do I even own an iron?) and mints on the pillows. Somehow they also find time to get in a daily work out so they look good in their coordinated, stylish, up-to-date outfits, be completely pedicured and manicured, never wear pony tails or “clippies”, and shave their legs every day! Why won’t they share their time stopping secrets and the drugs that they evidently must be on to get all this done?

Sadly, I think the only reason that I vent about this today is that I secretly wish that was me. I try, I put forth my best efforts, but truly, I don’t enjoy the race too much. I’d rather eat take out than cook or stay home and watch a rented movie than go to the party and socialize. I put my hair up in a pony tail, wear hats, couldn’t tell you what the latest fashion trend is, and shave only when my husband starts to complain about something scratching up his legs while he’s sleeping. I’ll admit to buying some gold chargers thinking I was getting some great deal on these decorative plates that I would use to create a beautiful table setting at Thanksgiving dinner and, after humbly returning them, I decided to just use my mismatched plates after all. I’ll throw some canned beans in red-stained Tupperware, take it to the pot luck that I didn't want to go to in the first place, and set it next to their Wedgewood china bowl of roasted broccoli with grated manchego (This is an actual Martha Stewart recipe. Yeah-what the hell is manchego? I am sure I could not find this at the local Wal Mart.) I’ll smile at the party and rack my brain to keep the conversation going, but beneath my smile I’m teetering on the edge of going postal. I try to convince myself that everyone has their own trials and problems beneath their beaming Mary Kay smiles and Jennifer Aniston hair, they just might not be as visible as my own. But, I’m beginning to think it’s just not true. And, it wouldn't be my "problem" if I didn't let it be and was able to not care, but I do.

Please don’t come to my rescue and bring me dinner or help me clean my house or take my kids for the day (Although I think my husband would be fine with any of the above). I really am fine-and besides, I don’t want to contribute to pushing you over the edge of your canyon. I just needed to vent, it’s some what cathartic for me-my own cheap therapy. See, feeling better already-ha!

Ahh, but this is today when I am just feeling like I can’t hack it. I can’t keep chasing them any more. Tomorrow, I’ll be back to trying to reach the modern Mrs. Cleaver status. In the meantime, I’m feeling a little bit of mischevious Calvin (of Calvin & Hobbes) coming out and I might just seek to purge some of this inferiority complex I’m having today. So, if you find your house egged in the morning, be flattered. You are one of them.