Stirring the pot, raising hell and rearing children in the Bay Area

A Long, Strange Day

Posted on Apr 6, 2010 in Silly |

You Are Here

I woke up this morning reading an NDA and a Gigya report, Social is the Next Search. By the time put the T-disc in the coffee maker, things were awry. My bangs sucked (and I even used Bumble & Bumble styling spray); my kids were sick but had to go to school anyway for school testing; my fridge so empty that the lowly apple in the back make an echo. It was a long day by 7:20 a.m.

Somewhere before 10 a.m., I’d done an incoming Kinder tour, pushing the Spanish Immersion program like a crack dealer, and then, busted out of it to take my best friend to get a facelift. I all but peeled-out of the plastic surgeon’s parking lot before heading to a marketing meeting on how to target Latino families in San Jose. Only being half Latino and not at all a part of their community, my marketing efforts were let’s say: malo.  In-between, I fielded calls on selling @la_gringa’s car. I’m not even sure La Gringa wanted to sell her car, but it was an action item and I do action items very well. By 1 p.m. I’d taken four pounds of Whole Foods mac’n’cheese to my mom in the hospital and pretended that seeing her sick doesn’t make me want to chuck her in a wheelchair and bust out of there.

Today I was reminded of who I was before being a mom, when my tasks were the most important tasks. Everything now has to fit between children and family and I like it that way. At 1:35 p.m. exactly I turned into a mommy — hugs and homework and snacks and stories. It was the happiest part of my day. I guess until the three guys showed up from their seven-hour roadtrip to buy the car. And then I did the car thing, working the deal:  yesithasadent, yesithasbeenserviced, noithasntcrashed. I worked the car sale until my Vicodin-induced BFF called post-facelift. She was chatty — how a woman with a face completely wrapped in compression bandages can be chatty is beyond me.

I made the cool Pakistani guys cookies and coffee. I poured wine for one that had gone astray from Islam and got teased relentlessly by their friends about watching porn. I wish I cared. Buy the car, buy the car, buy the fucking car already. Four hours later, they did.  And, just in time to pull out the Hooka pipe. They didn’t have apple flavor so I didn’t partake. Well, I wouldn’t have anyway but that was my excuse. Back to L.A. they went.

The phone rang. PTA needs a tie-vote broken. Um, okay, nevermind dinner.

Oh, and mom. I didn’t go back to the hospital to see mom.

And the pasta broccoli takes like crap with wheat pasta.