Short And Sweet: Myself Talks Back

plantsI talk to myself a lot these days. Sometimes myself talks back. Usually the jibber jabber goes something like this:

Oh, good grief…who left the flipping wet towels all over the bathroom floor? Whatever, I’ll just toss them in the next load. Oh, I should grab the new jug of detergent in the mudroom on my way. Is it lunchtime? Wait, Crap! Is today Tuesday? Damn it, I forgot to put the electric bill in the mail. Ack!

I’m not entirely sure how I got into this muttering rut. It might have started years ago and in a seasonal cycle it tends to get worse in the cold months. These days, with two small children and nary another adult in sight my ongoing inner dialogue has become my ongoing outer dialogue to the chagrin of my family. For example, the other day I exhaled a snarky reply of uh huuuuh to my husband. Clumsy mouth.

Maine winter can be rough I know this. But there is something particularly brutal about being stuck inside for months on end with children. I have memorized the annoying theme song to every single PBS kids show. I have built 386 pillow forts. I have dressed up, spoken in funny voices, made every imaginable version of cupcakes, read our entire kids book library with a puppet on my hand. I have been a trooper and let my loud child lead the decision making for a day. I have given up and poured my evening glass of wine at 3:30 in the afternoon. The term cabin fever should be redubbed claustrophobic winter boredom insanity.

And while I wait for spring I sing more mindless theme songs with my child as I foolishly plants seeds in the window garden hoping for some green to tide me over. I cannot wait until the temperatures rise enough to run screaming in delight through the backyard without having to spend 25 minutes getting snow gear onto two small children. And then having to undress them 37 seconds later when one of them fills his diaper.

If I am this over winter, I can only imagine how my poor four year-old must feel.

When will winter finally be over? I ask myself.

When groundhogs fly out of my derriere. Myself answers.

sarah cottrell

About sarah cottrell

Sarah Cottrell is a member of the Stay-At-Home-Mom Club and proud herder of two loud boys. She earned her MFA in 2012 and then accidentally washed it in a load of laundry. Sarah's work can be found on popular websites like Mamalode, BlogHer, and Scary Mommy. Her work will appear in two new parenting anthologies in 2015.