Today on the way to church Jackson asked me (again!) about the restaurant I went to last night. It's called Bella Bella and he's very interested in it because our dog's name is Bella. He wanted to know why we never go there to eat. I told him because it was "fancy" and it costs a lot of money. (That and because every eating establishment which we give the honor of serving us a meal, we leave them a small beach of crumbs, spilled drinks, and sticky tables while we are being really loud and impatient during the entire meal.) Last night he was very concerned because I was all "fancy". All I had done was take a shower, braid my hair, put on a cotton dress (with flip-flops) and was wearing a necklace. He wanted to know why I was getting so dressed up. I guess since my usual attire is jeans and a t-shirt, yoga pants, or paint clothes, I looked pretty good.
So anyway, he asked me again this morning about it. "Mom, does the chicken at Bella Bella have curls on it?" I asked him what he meant by curls. He said, "You know, like curls and lace on it, since it's fancy." I said no, and thought it was quite Amelia Bedelia-ish of him to think so. But really, if the restaurant is fancy, shouldn't the chicken come out wearing lace and curls? (Amelia Bedelia actually does "dress" the chicken in one of her books.)
Having this discussion about fancy restaurants and lacy chickens are just some of the things I have to talk about around here. Someone always seems to want to talk to me about what is going on with them, no matter how big or small the problem. I feel loved and appreciated, but lately I've felt pretty overwhelmed. I can't tell you how many times someone will be talking to me and someone else breaks in. Who am I, Sally Jesse Raphael? Is it the glasses? Because sometimes I feel like a talk show host.
On our panel today we have Libby and Cash. Libby feels hurt because Cash messed up her doll house and Cash seems unrepentant and aloof. Audience, let's welcome Libby and Cash!
Julie: Libby, can you tell me why you've come today?
Libby: Cash messed up my dollhouse!
Cash: It was an accident!
Libby: No it wasn't! He did it on purpose!
Julie: Cash, did you mess up Libby's dollhouse?
Cash: Don't spank me!
Julie: Let's bring in our expert, Jackson.
Jackson: Thanks for having me.
Julie: Jackson, did you see what happened?
Jackson: Yes, Cash pushed over Libby's dollhouse toys.
Julie: Cash, look at me. Cash...Cash...look in my eyes.
Cash: I won't do it anymore.
Julie: You need to tell Libby you're sorry...
And so it goes. My life is really just like a Jerry Springer episode without the mullets and microphones. I am a problem solver, an exploiter of people's mistakes, and I make a spectacle out of people's bad behavior in hopes to get... ratings? Well, it breaks down there, but I do feel sometimes like I need a microphone and cue cards to 1) be loud enough to be heard over the screams and frustration and 2) remember what I'm supposed to say that is patient, loving, Godly, yet still just and firm. Can I get some scripted mommy-isms to get me out of a bind? And while we're at it, how about an arsenal of good-loving-supportive wife comments to utter when I'm feeling overwhelmed by all my husbands crazy ideas? Thanks. Just drop them off at my trailer. I'll be hanging out at the food table, since I seem to not be able to get through the day anymore without chocolate.
Ooh, even now I hear a fight breaking out in the back of the house. Here I go. JER-RY, JER-Y, JULIE, JULIE...