This used to torture me. "Which child do I let down? Which child will feel unloved? Which child will I be MISSING out on?"
Have I mentioned my kids are 16, 17 and 21?
Nevertheless, I have HIGH expectations for myself that fall just short of being able to beam myself to all events seconds before they begin and actually BE the hero everyone (and by everyone I mean me and my Grandmother) believes me to be.
It never occurs to me, however, that no one else happens to share in my torture.
After hearing the sweet pickle girl sing at Heritage Village, the little sweet pickles decide not to attend the annual Ginger Fest with me. I am hopeful they will show up later, so I lick my hero wounds, buy the hugest bag of kettle corn known to man and head toward the parking lot. I don't even FEEL like crying, so I know my superpowers are working. And just to amp up the power, I stop to share my popcorn with a stranger, because sharing with strangers makes me feel less alone in the world.
"Whew, I can do this, 'holidays will never be the same' thing. I got this."
"What's up?" I ask all cool, trying not to choke on kettle corn.
"Her keys are in choirboy's pocket and he's still inside. She just wants to change," says a choirgirl.
Then, I hear, in the snarkiest tone, "Oh, here comes MOM to save the day, as usual." With an eye roll, scowl combo that would make Judge Judy proud. I will not say which of my sweet baby pickles uttered this, but all I can think is: My own people, resenting my superpowers.
I shove more popcorn in mouth, open the door and remind them that Ginger Fest will be going on for awhile, and I hope to see them there.
Still no tears. Superpowers in tact.
I kill a little time driving around South Dallas, trying to find another building to fall in love with, so I can dream about my own future and not be so uh . . . tied up, I mean . . . tied to, oh . . . alright, strangled holding onto theirs.
Then I make my way to Deep Ellum and Ginger Land. BY MYSELF.
I am greeted by friends, adorable children, the smell of apple cider and mountains of candy.
I'm gonna be fine, I reassure myself. And I would have been fine, if it hadn't been for that dagblame Mariah Carey and her "Baby, Please Come Home" song to send me right over the EDGE. Tears in my icing and on my red vine fence. One thing, I mean, one thing will go my way today!!!!
Luckily, I was surrounded by Hershey's Kisses and M&M's, so I just shoved some in my mouth, licked the icing off my hand, identified with Jesus about how often I don't do what he wants and soldiered on.
Here's my casa de ginger to prove it.
|Before Rich made me some bonfire smoke.|
|After Rich made me some bonfire smoke:)|
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