A Red-Life Crisis

Nothing reminds me of my "mommy" status more than a Redbox visit on a Saturday night. There were 18 minutes left to beat the 9pm deadline. No one wants to be charged an extra dollar! It took 8 minutes to get out of the house, 5 minutes to load up, 3 minutes to get there, and the final 2 minutes to unload and insert the movies. Whew! Math is evil.

That's when I spot them. The single people with all of their smiling and fun. The dating, doting couples who have no idea how a moment of "getting lucky" can change their lives. The loners whom I envy for all of their...alone-ness. Then the feel-like-shit cloud hovers above and I'm instantly depressed.

I remember that the car has mirrors. Maybe I don't look as terrible as I think I do. Lord knows I rarely look in a mirror anymore. I first glance over my body. Bra? Bra on properly? Toys in bra? Pants on? Mismatched shoes? Ashy hands, feet, elbows? Deodorant? Nope. Then I check my hair. Yep. Still wrapped tightly under the damn head wrap. I hate head wraps. I now hate hair. Especially clean hair! How I miss that.

 I glance at the females walking along with their flowing locks. Why the hell is their hair so flowy and flowing and...wait?! The damn wind isn't even blowing! I. Just. Want. To. Scream. But that's not me. That's lil cub screaming (for real) to get out of her car seat.

There's just no way I have energy nor patience to apply lipstick. And it's not exactly like my little tag-along fan club is cheering me on. So I pull out my trusty lip gloss. If I find a glossy shade of red it'll match the exhaustion red of my eyes. Fancy are we?! "Mommy can we get out now? It's hot in here!" I knew I should've left them home with daddy. Shit. I could've had a few moments. At least a moment to make a clear decision about lipstick. A precious moment to be depressed and angry and jealous but thrilled, nonetheless,  to be out alone. Too late now.

So I give up on looking pretty. I'll have to suck it up and pass for the barely alive look instead .

My goal to avoid being seen gives me some pep in my step. That pep turns to a shuffle and then an all out scurry. I can feel just how ridiculous I must appear but hey, I'm consistent! I check out the cubs who look exactly as they should. Disheveled hair. Dried food particles on their faces and clothes. Dirt spots from being outside and wallowing on the floors. Oh God, WHY didn't I give them the once-over before we left? Sigh. At least we're all unkempt-coordinated right? I put on my best on-a-mission face and carry on.

I return the movies and try searching for more. Instantly, I'm overwhelmed with big cub's proclamation of "MOMMY, I NEED TO GO POOP!" The announcement may as well have been made over the store intercom. I'm so over the whole situation that I'm not even embarrassed by her loudness nor her gotta-go-poop dance! I do, however, fuss about WHY she didn't handle her business before we left home. That's the never ending story at it's finest!

In the end, we survived the experience. I survived the non-existent glaring eyes that I imagined were judging my womanhood. I survived the jealousy I harbored of the flowing locks, doting couples, single-ladies that Beyonce' sings about, and the loners. I remembered the loving Mr. waiting for me at home and fuzzy feelings surfaced like hives. I appreciated that although the cubs always had drama in tow, I was never lonely. I'm no longer the fancy-free chick I used to be and that's okay.

I have a life. I have people who love me. I have a form of stability that keeps me sanely, insane. I may not have as much sex as I once did, but no cobwebs are forming, I hope. No need to ask the Mr. At this point, even he wouldn't know.

A trip to Redbox almost turned into a midlife crisis but that will have to wait for another time. Until the cubs are doing their own things, the highlight of my Saturday nights may be dvds. But now I'm prepared. I'll make a few moments for lipstick and to take off the head wrap. I'll maybe even leave the cubs at home. Nah. A girl needs her little tag-along fan club. Who else is gonna keep me on my exhausted toes? And besides, when I feel others judgmental eyes staring me down, I can always look into theirs to see the unconditional love I need most. And it's always there whether I'm wearing deodorant...or not.