by ivan | March 19, 2018 3:27 AM
You know those Sunday afternoons around 3, when your kid casually mentions he has a project due the next day and he needs a bunch of supplies from Michael’s. You yell and maybe scary scream, but you go anyway. Upon arriving home, your wonderous child points out that you have, in fact, neglected to bring the one color of felt he absolutely needed, and by the way, the scissors won’t cut. So, back in the car you go, bitching, moaning, and muttering to yourself in between the soundtrack of the Greatest Showman. You park your car, get a phone call from your father filled with a million bar mitzvah questions. Once you are off the phone, you open your door to the car only to realize you forgot your wallet. Back in the car, now Hamilton on full blast, maybe a few frustrated tears. You run back into the house, grab your wallet, and get back in the damn car. Upon reaching Michael’s, you fly out of the car, start pulling sheets of yellow felt off the rack as if they are paper towels needed to clean up vomit. You’ve broken into the kind of run reserved for fat girls and grumpy old men. Down another aisle one loan pair of 29.99 fisker scissors mocks you from the top shelf. You jump awkwardly, your short arms pushing against the thick plastic encasing the scissors. Success, you jump out of the way, as the abnormally sharp scissors fly blade first off the shelf. Snatching them off the floor, you move towards the checkout counter where an overexuberant lover of crafts prattles on about the wonders of her scrapbooking room. You restrain yourself from shoving her as you can’t help but wonder how many cats she has or how often she puts out. You suppose the latter is much fewer than the former. Finally FINALLY, you get to the front of the line wishing you were one of those organized people like the scrapbook lady who carries 50% off coupons. Well, at least you can assume you put out more than her. Environmentally unfriendly bag in hand, you race back to your car, turn up the Civil Wars, pretend your harmony matches theirs, and speed back home. Your darling child sits at the dining room table, snack in one hand, phone in the other. You look down at the ridicules project, and he says, “Look Ma, I found all the materials I needed right here! I’m all done. Well, except I think that piece of felt is superglued to the table…but I’m sure you can fix it.”
Written by Shoshana Kohn
Source URL: http://detvch.com/community-news/mom-guilt-2/03/2018/
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