A Moment in the Life of.... by Patricia St. E. Darlington, author, You Can't Get to Heaven Wearing Tight Shoes
“Pssst, pssst, lady, yes you, the one carrying the baby in the gym bag and the workout shoes in the diaper bag. Can we chat for a moment?” “Yeah, I know, too busy to pause for idle chat. Gotta get to the office?” “Oh, but now you do realize that you forgot to drop off the baby at daycare right?” “Now you’ll have to schlep your way back across town and still get to the nine o’clock meeting. But not to worry, you’ve got your net book and you can Skype in from the cab, right?” Damn it, where is the net book? “No way!…..Did you really leave it on the kitchen counter after last night’s marathon *itch fest with the gals—all of them complaining about how much they have to get done, will never get done, and right now don’t give a crap if it ever gets done—at least until tomorrow morning when it starts all over again?” But wait, we were on the subject of dear little Jimmy whom you accidentally stuck in the gym bag when you picked him up from the play room at the gym this morning while managing to lose your workout shoes in the diaper bag.
“I don’t mean to add to your present discomfort dear, but did you happen to notice that you’re limping?” “Not to worry though, it’s not a result of the tight shoes you wore to the office party last night—shoes that had you propped up against any available vertical surface just so that you could relieve the pressure on your big toes and the blister on your left heel, where the Band-Aid had long ago slipped off and was now bundled up and snugly lodged under said heel. That’s not why you’re limping this morning. Honestly, Hon, it’s because in your mad dash to get out of the house and get in that life-sustaining, stress-relieving, mental health affirming, 45 minute workout at the gym this morning, you inadvertently put on two different shoes, one with a two inch heel and one with a three inch heel, both black, and that is where the similarities ended! Now here you are, frazzled, still sweaty even after the 3 minute shower at the gym, and late.
How in heaven’s name did you get yourself into this predicament? After all, you are a planner, you are an organizer, and you are known in the industry for being the best at what you do. You are so organized you actually worked out every conceivable detail of the timing of the entrance of your bundle of joy in your life. Everything was going to be rosy. You would get up in the morning, spend thirty minutes meditating and preparing for the day—just like you always did while you were building your career and moving up the corporate ladder. Then you would enjoy a great cup of coffee from that greatest invention in the world—surpassing even sliced bread and pockets--your Keurig coffee maker. Your awesome hubby would be packing the diaper bag and dressing little Jimmy while you got in an hour of working out, ten minutes in the sauna, a blissful shower to cool you down and thirty minutes to select your power outfit for the day at the office where you would earn all the money that you would need to send Little Jimmy to the Ivy league school of your choice. . . .
“Pssst, pssst, lady. . . is this the address that you wanted? You seemed to be daydreaming there for a minute. Want the Cabby to keep the meter running while you drop off the kid?” “Go on dear, I’ll wait for you here…keep the Cabby company. . No, no dear, wrong bag, you’ll need that briefcase today.”
“But wait, before you dash off, I didn’t catch your name” “I’m sorry, I must have missed that. “Did you say your name is Anoycan Doytal?” “Well I’ll be! So pleased to meet you Ms. Doytal…Think we can find some time to catch up again sometime soon?”
Check back at a later date for another installment of “A moment in the life of Ms. Anoycan Doytal" by Dr. Patricia St. E Darlington, author of You Can't Get to Heaven Wearing Tight Shoes: A Book About Personal Honesty.
Labels: later in life parenting