Jesus, take the wheel

Life as the parents of two young children takes a daily toll on my marriage and my home. We had no idea how easy we had it with Shawn Joaquin prior to Madelena's arrival - he was a neat freakin', 12-hour sleeping, caution-seeking sweet boy who had a penchant for thousands of questions but few temper tantrums or other less-than-appealing behaviors. Now he's been replaced with a flailing, red-faced, screaming banshee whose life has been ruined by his parents insistence on good behavior, sleeping in his own bed for at least a few hours every night, and a sister who points at him during his fits and says in a bored tone of voice "Hermano CRY, CRY, CRYYY."

Amidst the madness we attempt to have a few sane moments, some child-free, and focus on the times when everyone is fed, clean and happy. This is more difficult to achieve than one might imagine, primarily because of my own inability to achieve success in those three areas myself.

When I worked in the city, I shined up every day. My clothing was current, fitted and flattering. My footware was hot, heeled and unscuffed. My hair was bouncin' and behavin' and my makeup natural but complete. I had my non-fat yogurt and Peet's coffee before leaving the house, and picked up a nice plate of ham and eggs on the way to my neat and fashionable office. Fast forward to today.

Current attire: baggy jeans with a suspicious stain on the right leg, running socks that have apparently swiffered the floor near the dog bed. Hair in a pony tail since a shower was not to be this morning, make up reduced to tinted moisturizer and a quick swipe of the lip gloss brush. Underwear MIA, since none were conveniently near the jeans crumpled on the floor. Breakfast of an Atkins bar and some once-hot coffee, shoved down while making a ham sandwich that will surely be abandoned by Shawn Joaquin come lunch time. My only accessories my watch and my pedometer, showing the priorities of my life. Yet Gregg leaves the house showered, shaved and well-dressed. Shawn Joaquin sharply put together in his Oaklandia shirt and jeans, face shiny and hair wet but neat. Madelena looking like her usual catalog-baby self, matched from her hair bands down to her socks. This is the most common circumstance - one of these things is not like the other, and one of those things is ME. To quote David Byrne, how did I get here?

I must remind myself, as I look at my tired eyes and less-than-put-together self: By choice. I chose this life, I chose these kids, and I chose my sharp-dressed man. And someday, when the kids are able to take care of themselves and no longer need me to pick out the clothes, make the lunches and wipe up the bottoms or tears, I will look back — well-dressed, coiffed and once again ready for my close up — and ask again...how did I get here? And miss these days of being needed, however painfully, with all my heart.