The Mommyality of Lisa: Part 1

Life comes at you with all sorts of twists and turns. In my mommy fantasyland? I am the perfect mother whose son is the most well-behaved, athletic, scholarly child man has ever seen.  Sweat is never on my brow, I am the quintessential hostess, and my voice is carefully modulated. I am a mixture of Betty Crocker, Martha Stewart, June Cleaver, Audrey Hepburn, and Sophia Loren.

My reality is much different.

I do have a great kid. Athletic? Well, that’s debatable, but on the nine year old geek quotient? He’s right up there with the best of them. How else do you describe someone that is sixty trapped in a tween’s body?

My husband is pretty damn good for the most part. He’s funny, adores and loves me no matter what shape, size or color I am. He’s also the best father I could have picked for our kid and had to have been custom molded for our relationship. The man could be on verge of sainthood, but his crotchety attitude will always keep him off the list

Me? I would love to be perfect, but that would pretty freaking boring. I swear, a lot. My friend Amy’s daughter, Ava, put it best when she described her mother as “a nice mommy with a dirty mouth”. I was the kettle and all sorts of black, yet it feels like this delicious little club that I belong to with another like minded soul.

I love chocolate and would rather fritter my day away reading or sleeping. Fast cars, loud music and slow food thrill me to no end. Hockey is only made better when punctuated by a fight. Mom is a trauma nurse, so nothing you say can gross me out. Try me. Not only have I heard it all, but it’s been described in all of it’s vivid, glory detail. This causes interesting meals with unsuspecting guests and I really have to watch myself.  However, give me a snotty nose and the ick quotient registers on the Richter Scale. The voices in my head are many and from people that are my beloved ones, even if they have no idea that I keep them locked inside as sage guidance.

So, for my end, I can’t promise perfect. I won’t promise perfect. What I do promise is to write without my filter, to do it honestly, with integrity and speak my mind. Some of my blogging she-ro’s do it their way and this post and promise is dedicated to them:

There are many more brilliant bloggers that I read, but considering I wrote this at nearly 2:00am due to a massive bout of insomnia? They would understand.

To my brilliant friends Crystal Dempsey, Rhiannon Bowman, Ruby Begonia, and Emily “Shellie” Bridges: Thank you for making me strive to be a better writer. I can only hope to be in your leagues some day.


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