Crashing Waves And A Crcazy Girl

Did you read that book "Men Are From Mars.  Women Are From Venus." ?  Me too. 

I know.  Whatever. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures.  That is obviously a true statement, but it totally cracks me up because I think I read that book when I was 20. Like my summer romance of '95 needed some big awakening.....Ooooh yeah, 20 year-olds that don't understand each other.  Super Desperate.  Hilarious. 

**Writing that, I just realized how dramatic I am.  I must make my husband miserable.  

Anyway!  I did take one nugget from that book that rings true in my life.  Big time.
Women are like waves.  It was either that or rubber bands.

....... Something about a wave building, building, building to the pinnacle -----TA-DAAAA!  Followed by the big craaaash ..... calm.  Then build, build, build for the crash again.  It was either that, or a rubber band expands, tighter and tighter and long and longer until it snaps.  Same-same.  Potato-Potato. 

The point is, one day, hour, month, moment in time, everything is TOPS!  Never more bountiful or beautiful.  I have never been more patient, smarter, or funny.  I am super structured and my cuticles are TOTALLY moisturized.  My 401K bulges.  I've lost 4 lbs.  My hair glosses.  I baked a bundt and parked in the far parking spot to get vigorous with my walking.  I love kale.  My husband is the most romantic, thoughtful, wise man that ever lived.  My child?  A cherub.  WE HAVE DONE IT!  I've created such an amazing life I think I will foster a child and have my own afternoon talk show..  What CAN'T I do?

In a nutshell, Katie Perry wrote "ROAR" about my fierceness.  You're welcome Top 40.
8 minutes later, it's over.  Done and done.

Everything's the worst. You're the worst.  I'm the worst.  It's the worst.  I'm late to every dumb thing to which I don't want to go and can't believe I volunteered for such lameness.  My tiny human is so super sassy that I'm ABOUT to ship him off to boarding school at age 5.5.  That cruel old bag at Walgreen made me cry and "Spell Check" is such an arrogrant, foul, lazy person's scapegoat that it can't even guess what I'm spelling.  Siri too.  The phone.  Not the Cruise kid.

No one even liked any of my Facebook posts.  Not one.  Not even my mother who reposts every goosey "I love my children and will repost this ridiculous poem" post she ever saw.  EVERYONE from super power kick-start dance pilate candle light funk can suck my  toe.  Especially that spicy little Latina number in the front row.  Oh go shake it all about what's-your-hips-moron-lips.  I'm ordering pizza.  Deep-dish, cheesy-filled crust that costs $58 so I can go broke while I gain 7 more lbs since I'm a fat, lazy cow that is never even surprised with a simple gas station carnation from that dimwit husband that acts like married a cleaning lady named Mrs. Cleaver.  Well I can tell you one thing.  He's not going to be seeing this Beave anytime soon.  BLAAAAAHHHH

How does that happen?  How does that happen in the span of 27 minutes?  How can I be EVERYTHING and then NOOOOTHIIIINNNNG?

Was it a pre-congratulation on my part?  Did I celebrate too soon?  Did I assume that that 1 week was the new, all-the-time, adult me?  

I do that ..... the whole premature celebration thing.  Mostly when I'm making an awesome debatable point in the middle of a huge group of "important"  people.  I get so thrilled with my smooth sell that I forget what I'm saying and then my poignant point fades out into random words like "Summation ....... geriatric ..... socialization ..... organic?...... cheese curds ..... spearhead .... in so much as....enhancement .... pre-meditation .... Steve Harvey ..... prophecy?......whatevs."
I think I may be an extremist? (Enter huge gasp!) 

Maybe in my mind I can't be both?  Which, as I'm writing it, is ridiculous.  Because I know, I KNOW, I am all of everything.  I am fun and lame, smart and stupid, fancy and cheap.  I know I'm kind and lousy, selfish and generous.  But I don't want both.  I just want the great.  I just want the good-decision-making, parent-teacher-conferencing, fancy blousing, power lunching me.  I don't want the depressed, dirty dishes me.  No duh.  The awesome me looks and feels, acts and accomplishes so much better and more.

I bet you it's the universe, or God, or Oprah .... maybe some sort of planet-balance thing?  Probably for sure Oprah.  She controls everything.  Her and that squirrely Kardashian mom.

Nonetheless, I crash.  When I do, I'm always left with, "What is my lesson here?  What am I supposed to be learning?  What, pray tell, is Oprah desperately trying to tell me?!". 

Here are my top guesses: 
1.  I better check myself before I wreck myself!  As in, get yourself some humility, Boo.
2.  Give credit where credit is due.  I didn't get my cuticles moisturized all on my own.  That is a fact.  My mom bought me some fancy cream.
3.  Be grateful in the moment and enjoy it.  Because it can be taken in 30 seconds by1 flippant cosmetics clerk's comment.  Or muuuuch worse.
4.  Learn to swear in Russian.
5.  My "best" some days isn't as great as other days.  That's ok.   Just do my best.  Which, every time I tell myself to do that, I feel like I'm in some weird after-school special starring Kirk Cameron.
6.  Learn my lessons as easily as I can, so my world doesn't have to implode for me to catch on to whatever it is I'm supposed to be learning, giving, supporting.
7.  It's not all about me.  UGH.  That's the worst.  Because I kind of totally think it is.
Really, I guess the major, over-all lesson I'm supposed to learn, in all things, constantly, is to get over myself. 

How does one do that?  I'm actually asking. 

I hope it happens at some point.  I know it's for "the best".  But man am I going to be mad when it does.  Because honestly, what happens after I get over myself?  THEN who am I going to think about!?  All I can say is he/she/they better be infused with issues or I'm going to be wicked bored.