insanity — Blog — Rowan Jetté Knox

Oh, hello there. Are you still visiting this dusty old place? Remember me? I used to post here fairly often before I was struck by the soul-crippling days of summer. And then vacation hit, the gremlins scuttled off their respective busses, and I was quickly buried by my seasonal responsibilities.

...What responsibilities? Did you seriously just ask me that? Do you read my posts?

Stay-at-home-moms work their aprons off when Summer hits. There is no time for bonbons. There is no time for daytime trash TV. We put on full protective gear and cute matching camo outfits and run into the fray for 2.5 months.

The tasks assigned to me over the summer included (but were not limited to): chambermaid, professional organizer, short order cook, event coordinator, life coach, lifeguard, personal shopper, personal assistant, complimentary shuttle van driver, payroll manager, and overworked referee --very overworked referee. And I did all of this for the low, low cost of my sanity.

By mid-August, I had completely lost ~~the will to live~~ my ability to blog. Being able to write involves having time to sit down and think about stuff. It involves not having to get up every two minutes to break up a fight, get someone a snack, or help someone figure out how to not be bored.

I seriously contemplated giving up blogging altogether. I really did. I thought that perhaps my time to share the crazy in my life with the world was coming to the end of its natural life. That maybe I should shut the whole operation down and turn this subprime piece of internet real estate into a mail order bride outlet: "Canadian Wives: We Got Your Beaver Right Here."

Why are you laughing? That part wasn't funny. I was talking about closing my blog down. It's a sad thought that is undoubtedly reducing you to big, wet tears, right? Right?

I was at a very low point in my creative life: feeling burned out, overwhelmed, with no hope in sight.

And then, yesterday, just as I had given up all hope of ever being awesome again, this little yellow dot appeared on the horizon.

Was it a canary?

A loud banana?

The Man with the Yellow Hat?

Nay, friends. It was the school bus. The wonderful school bus, packed to the brim with wonderful children going to wonderful school!

And just like that, I felt fucking wonderful again!

So, here I am, writing a blog post on day 2 of many, many glorious days of public education. Am I subpar parent for the joy I felt when I could hand two of my children over to the system five days a week? Probably. Do I feel guilty about it? Not really, no. I'm over feeling guilty about parenting stuff. I could find things to feel guilty about every single day. Do I want to be depressed my entire life? Do I want to feel like a failure 365 days a year? No. So I turn the guilt dial way, way down.

Then, I drown the rest of my conscience out with coffee. It's better for everyone that way.

And, with my guilt dial being held down with a popsicle stick and half a roll of duct tape, I did another great thing: I enrolled Spawnling in a pre-kindergarten program 2 days a week. That's six hours on Monday and six hours on Wednesday for a grand total of 12 hours each week, or 48 hours every month. If I do the math - and believe me, I have - that will be about 480 hours this school year that are entirely dedicated to The Maven and her craft. Minus sick days, of course.

But who's counting?

Don't look at me like that. He's ready, you know. He's been begging me to go to school for two years. And besides, after well over a decade of raising kids full-time, I could use a little scheduled breathing room. I deserve this. I've earned it. Been there, done that, have the after hours comfort food binge rolls to prove it. Stop judging me! I don't need your repressive eyes upon my person.

... Oops. I think someone moved the popsicle stick. Anyone see the tape?

I haven't been able to finish a blog post in over a week. Creativity has taken a backseat this week so that big, ugly Chaos can ride shotgun. Children screaming. Children fighting. Children messing up my home. Children being, well, children. Ick. Could they at least try and act mature? Chaos has been pointing its finger and laughing as I drive down the road of life. It didn't even open my coffee for me, which is the sign of a very poor co-pilot. As soon as I find a truck stop I'm going to send it in for chocolate bars and take off. Take that, asshat!

In the meantime, I'm stuck with very limited time to write about all the goings on in the life of Maven. A pity, really, since there are at least two or three people who want to hear about what's going through this brain of mine. The long and short: it's hovering near the breaking point and will soon be festering with insanity. This part of '09 will forever be remembered as The Summer That Never Ends. The Gremlins will throw a yearly street party.

I have so much to say, but no time to say it. How is that fair? Do you have any idea how much I want to tell you how I pretty much lost my shit on Gutsy on Sunday? You bet you do. So that'll be tomorrow's post, provided I can get around to writing. My shipment of kiddy sedatives hasn't arrived yet - and to think the seller promised quick shipping. Hmph.

To make matters worse, Pixie, my friend, my glue, calmer of my would-be temper tantrums, is away visiting family for the next week. She leaves in the morning.

Meh. Not that I care or anything. I mean, who needs her around, anyway? I'll be way too busy having a great time in my great life. I mean, she's the one who will be missing out on basking in my presence. She's the one who will be wishing I were around to make her days a little brighter. She's the one who will...

... Is this at all believable? Didn't think so. I'll quit while I'm ahead.

But I'm a survivor. I keep on truckin' because I find new and interesting ways to make my life work. And, in times like these, desperate and slightly unconventional methods must be applied. I need Pixie around to vent to, and she's abandoning me. Leaving me for that sister of hers, as if blood is thicker than water or something.

Well, screw you, Pix. I don't need you! Because, after a quick run the dollar store for swords and dart guns, I stumbled upon your replacement:

Introducing my new best friend of the week, Pixfish!

The top of her box says 'Play with Me', so you know she knows how to have a good time. With a few beers in her she'll be telling stories in no time! Not like boring ol' Pixie.

Pixfish is even better than a pixie: she has wings and a tail. Why? I have no bloody clue, actually. I don't understand how wings would be at all useful in the water. But the fact that she's two girly characters in one makes me incredibly happy. Her tail is even sparkly, see?

Isn't she fantastic? Her starfish-shaped tail even has glitters on it. Glitters! We're going to be very good friends, Pixfish and I...

...Um, except her hair's a little long. Pixie has shorter hair. Not that I'm trying to make her look like that girl. It's just that I'm supposed to have the long hair in this relationship. The problem with dollar store dolls is that they have all these bald spots, so you can't exactly chop it all off. But no matter. I took these pictures at my neighbour's house, and Gokalie has a girl child with elastics. Therefore...

Perfect. And she likes fruit? What a wonderful coincidence. I like fruit, too! Now we can definitely be friends!

I do like the bad girls, though. Being as close to saintly as I am, the rebellious chicks keep my life interesting. If all Pixfish likes is healthy stuff I'm going to have to dump her limp body in a Salvation Army dumpster. Maven needs a little spice in her friends.

Oh, what's that, Pixfish? You and I have similar tastes? How so?

... Coffee?!

... And... Saturated fat? Oh, Pixfish! You're the sister I wouldn't want because you're too damn perfect!

Pixfish and I will be doing a lot of great things this week while that has-been Pixie is out of town. Maybe when the ex-entourage member comes back from her visiting all those important people we can talk about her return to the group.

Or maybe I'll just be too far gone down the insanity slope to form any words. A likely conclusion to what will be an interesting week in the Summer That Never Ends.