I received a text message this week from a life-long friend. We don’t often get to see one another, so we like to touch base when we can and catch up on the happenings in each other’s lives. We chat about work, family, pets and all the other things that get us out of bed each morning.
However, this time, she caught me while I was working on dinner dishes at 8:30 p.m., in a week where my husband was away for the second time in as many months. My response was about 87 sentences long and surely violated several laws of text messaging. It went something like this:
“School is a freaking roller coaster. Brian’s away in Vegas again so it’s all me, all the time over here. There was ballet and parkour tonight so we just finished dinner, which had to be homemade pizza, because I promised. Scheduling is rough this week so THANK GOD for my parents! And can I just say I’m totally ready for menopause? Because this PMS thing is out of control. Until olives and chocolate become an acceptable meal, I’m out. How’s your mom? Isn’t it her birthday? Are you going to visit soon?”
I did apologize after, but neither one of us believed it. She asked if there was anything she could do to help and I asked for a time machine. I’d like to go back and seriously think through the decision to adopt three dogs, two cats and a pig. Oh, and I’d also like to have my kids about 10 years earlier, when I was young and still had energy.
OK, if you’re 17 and reading this, I’m kidding. Really, don’t start having kids. I’m just a tired 40-year-old woman who insists on living life like a pioneer. Sometimes it’s exhausting to be a freak.
Though my dear friend is sympathetic to many of the outside-of-the-norm decisions that I make, and even has a few of her own, there was a moment of shock when I continued my pity party and complained about hanging laundry. I believe the exact comment was, “hanging laundry in 22 degrees is just silly.”
I was able to assure her that even I’m not that much of a lunatic. Instead, my laundry hangs on multiple drying racks next to the wood stove. It’s a lovely look that shouts, “design by Sanford and Son.” It’s also, apparently, a playground for the cats, who love to get in there and wrestle the wet clothes, particularly items with strings and/or ribbons of any kind (remember, I have a princess in training, there is much ribboning). I just try to get there and pick up the items before they get caught in the tumbleweeds of animal hair. Or wood chips. Did I mention the exhausted freak thing?
It was too late for her to pretend someone was at the door and that she had to go. Anyway, at that hour, had she claimed such, I would have forbid her from answering and made her call the police. She’s out in the-middle-of-nowhere, Pennsylvania. You have to watch out for those Amish.
I felt sort of bad, unloading like that, but isn’t that what friends are for? Admittedly, this may have crossed a line, an unbearably boring line, but she has the unfortunate role of being my personal confidant, so I think she’s used to it by now. I guess I’ll find out if it was too much if she doesn’t answer next time I text. Or if she tells me there’s someone at the door.
Until then, I’ll hold onto the short reprieve from household chores and parenting responsibilities that our little back and forth allowed me. Because don’t we all feel a little better after a good rant? There’s nothing quite like blaming everything that has ever bothered you, on someone else. Though it’s childish and ridiculous, abdicating all responsibility for my woes, even for just a few minutes, it allows me to then accept that responsibility, put on my big girl panties and move on. Plus, I know my kids were happier that I was furiously typing away, instead of grumbling under my breathe like I was having a conversation with Lucifer himself. And it’s way cheaper than therapy.
I joined the whole texting party a little later than some, so I had to seek out help when it came to the many, many abbreviations out there. When possible, I asked other adults, so as to avoid the embarrassment of going to my kids. I’ll save you the pain and suffering of having to ask your kids for yet another technological tip by giving you the link to abbreviations.com, where you can find over 1,000 text acronyms — a collection for confused parents everywhere. So JIC you’re sending a text to your DD, or your BFF, you’ll know the proper lingo. HTH!
Laurie Nigro, a mother of two, is passionate about her family, her community, and natural living. Laurie resides in downtown Riverhead and is co-founder of the River and Roots Community Garden on West Main Street.
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