Maybe every mom sometimes feels like Everymom
This is so odd. Searching for some tax info and came across this outrageously prosaic "Everymom" stuff written in 2009.
No matter how many dishes you do, they're never done, no matter how many meals are prepared, someone's still hungry, no matter how many clothes you pick up off the floor, it still looks like a group of 1st-graders went tearing through your house with a costume parade. The things that always used to fit into the in-between, never-think-about-it, this-doesn't-matter-at-all moments, that minutiae, has become the center.
I don't remember feeling that, really, or at least not in a despondent, is-it-noon-yet-so-I-can-have-a-vodka-tonic way? What I do remember feeling (and still often feel) is how odd it is that I think about things now like: grocery shopping, laundry, errands. I make To Do lists. I wonder what we'll have for dinner tonight (not that I usually go much further than that). I sigh at the dishwasher being clean again. HOW SPOILED CAN YOU POSSIBLY GET IN LIFE? I mean really. Really. That is appalling. But I often find myself thinking--I just unloaded that thing. It's so friggin' annoying to unload and Wally alternates between climbing on it or yanking the bottom shelf out as hard as he can so he can hear a big, loud, crash and me going "Oh Sh----". Most people turn sh*t into shoot or I remember "sugar" was popular when I was young but I do this annoying thing, "Shikes". Hate it. It annoys me so much when I say it.
How did I live nearly 32 years without ever ONCE thinking about when I'd do laundry, shop, cook, eat or clean? Never once. It just happened or didn't or I picked up a slice of pizza on the way to the studio or whatever. And now how is it like a daily, hourly concern? I mean it's not hard to figure out why but I remember a few years back how some friends with kids had the "laundry on Tuesdays" thing or weekends spent putting Christmas ornaments away or Sundays dedicated to errands and housework. And I was always like, "What on EARTH is going on?" And they had to leave early from drinks nights. And you're like -- come on, you can't you spend one night away from your kids? Would it really kill you? But maybe it wasn't even the kids they didn't want to spend the night away from, maybe it was themselves. Maybe they got so little space to themselves, just fifteen minutes or less every day, after the kids had gone to bed, maybe to give even that up was too much of a sacrifice. (Also hangovers are one thing in an office but they don't work with dishwasher crashing.)
It’s the old don’t judge someone before you’ve walked a mile in their Birkenstocks, I guess.
On the back of that page in my journal is a rather amusing list..banana slugs, annual hot dog eating contest, length of intestines, waterbugs, cockroaches, dust mites. It was a book proposal. I don't know if anyone ever ended up taking it.