Saturday, April 01, 2006

The Cowboy In Me

I have decided to take Fridays for myself and my kids. Here's the rules: no cleaning. No errands. No fulfilling any guilt ridden obligations to friends' friends' cousins' uncle's step kids I met once in a park last Tuesday who invited me to their shaker style condo to play Yahtzee. I am staying in my pajamas all day and being a couch potato.

And let me add: not only will I be a couch potato, but I will be one with low fat melted cheese, brocalli, and a dollop of protein on top. Yes, Mom, it turns out that Rex, too, is of your opinion that 'noodles' don't constitute dinner. And yes, Stella, I heard you loud and clear when you raised your martini glass and said "Here's to Mama P! A fabulous mother but a shitty shitty cook." While I'm huge on filling the heart, I'm low on filling the belly and it's got to change. So...

I've also decided to start dinner each night at 5:00. I suppose there's something to that "well balanced meal". The way I understand it, veggies and fruit are in, super sizing is out. Maybe the pre-dinner hour doesn't have to be as traumatic as an underwriting job at a mortuary. Perhaps I can put on my happy hat, roll up my sleeves, put on some music and attempt not to kill my kids with raw chicken juice drippings.

As I prepared my veggie meatloaf with side salad yesterday (yes, Call me "Rachel Ray-on" - as in "Mom, you'll need sunglasses because you won't believe your eyes") I played an old Tim McGraw CD. And what do I hear, but a song that has my inner soul written into its very fiber. (Parts transposed below)

Maybe some of you feel this way, too. Maybe some of you are so scared of country music that you'll want to vomit more than you would after eating my food. But, like my mom's advice about my diet, it speaks to me. I'm so busy running I miss the sites. I'm so busy talking I miss the listening. My kids are only young once. And so am I. Thanks, Tim, for helping me to remember it.

I don't know why I act the way I do
Like I ain't got a single thing to lose
Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy
I guess that's just the cowboy in me

I got a life that most would love to have
But sometimes I still wake up fighting mad
'Bout where this road I'm heading down might lead
I guess that's just the cowboy in me

The urge to run, the emptiness
The heart of stone I sometimes get
The things I've done for foolish pride
The me that's never satisfied
The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see....

I guess that's just the cowboy in me.

Being a mom and a career girl is kind of like being a cowboy. You're constantly saddling up, saddling down. Exploring new territory. Fighting off enemies. Worrying about food. Looking for signs of danger. Reeling in the herd. And yet with all that...

You gotta get off the horse and enjoy the campfire sometimes.

Happy trails to you, my friends.

1 comment:

Teri M. said...

What a great idea!

And really, I know you'd rather be known for your great momminess than theoretically good cooking.