Some days I can’t win. Hell, I can’t even place. Not that I’m particularly competitive. It’s my four-year old who wants to race. “I winned Mama!” We race down the sidewalk, the driveway, up the stairs.
Kind of like I chased down the street pulling my garbage can this morning yelling, “I forgot! I forgot!” At its next stop, the driver was nice enough to tell me he was picking up recycling, not garbage. Only two of my neighbors saw me. And my recycling was already at the curb. Ugh, taking the trash out used to be my ex’s chore. I still tell myself every Sunday afternoon that I should take the trash up to the street. Then it gets dark and cold and I plan to do it Monday morning because the trash doesn’t get picked up until afternoon. Then I worry that the truck will come early. And today it did. Well, the recycling truck did.
The trash isn’t my only trouble though. Packing lunches for Cavanaugh is reminiscent of my old friend’s poem about being in an imaginary fire-building competition with some man his girlfriend used to date. The first day, I was nearly paralyzed imagining what the other kids might have in their lunch boxes, what the teacher might think of his lunch, and then telling myself I didn’t actually care what any of those folks thought. But Cavanaugh has a laptop lunchbox with four sections and I feel this pressure to put something in all four. It should be healthy right? And something he’ll eat when I’m not there. And it needs to stay good for the 3 1/2 hours between when I pack it and he eats it.
A friend of mine was complaining recently about someone at her daughter’s school sending macaroni and cheese every day. Cavanaugh will eat macaroni and cheese if I’m not there. And it’s kind of healthy. Really, what I’m saying is that I need some lunch ideas.
Today, I packed an orange lunch: macaroni and cheese, carrot sticks, pirate booty, and clementines. (As you can see, all he ate were the clementines). Then, it turned out Cavanaugh didn’t have school because it’s MLK Day and I don’t know about school holidays and vacation days and I felt like a screw-up as a mother, and a trash-taker-outer, and a lunch-packer.
So, I need to get disciplined about taking the trash out on Sunday. I put the school schedule on the frig with Cavanaugh’s Magnadoodle kitty magnet. And I will look through the little booklet that came with the lunchbox to get ideas. Today, though, it just felt like one domestic failure after another. If I can’t be a domestic goddess, I wonder if there’s some other option for me. Wood sprite maybe?