It was one of those Mondays.
You know the kind that you wish you could pause on Tivo and bloop over to Project Runway to escape?
The kind that has you reeling about why you ever opened your email inbox in the first place and all anxious to just get on. with. Tuesday. already?
The kind of Monday that involves an entire box of Puffs with Lotion, two hours more television than you are comfortable with your toddler ingesting and hopefully, hopefully ends with a pepperoni pizza, four vitamin C tabs and a big ass glass of zin (yes yes yes, the red kind)? The kind of Monday when your VCR refuses to regurgitate a tape and What About Brian? premieres and you've recently become fixated on Studio 60?
It has been one of those Mondays.
Just to keep me on this side of Zoloft (teetering, teetering), here are a few reasons to cut through the crappiness on a day like today:
1. This slayed me. And gave my erratically-flipping ovaries pause. Hmmmm. Is there something to this? Thanks to MamaElisa for keeping me in the intelliberal reading.
2. The Bluest Eye, the phenomenal book by Toni Morrison, adapted for the stage at my favorite escape in the city, Steppenwolf Theatre. I wasn't sure what to expect since this is the most intense, difficult book I've ever read. The translation from page to stage was impeccable. It was poetic and powerful, uncovering and honest. It was the voice whispering to you that there are bigger webs to unweave than crabby co-workers and email miscommunications. Racism, sexism, homophobia, violence, neglect, spirituality, sisterhood, hope and madness are all tangled up in this performance and it spoke to me just as it did my first week of grad school. If you haven't already, read it. If you are able, see it.
3. Babies, babies and the hope of more babies. If you count the times I've pulled out the big tub of cards and unrolled the glossy stork wrapping paper, it would seem that October is a good month for babies. Our neighbors just welcomed a sweet little girl to their family while another friend patiently waits for the arrival of her second child. Over the weekend, I snuggled a sweet newborn baby just born to a Playgroup Mommy and sent my good wishes to two other Playgroup Mommies who are occupied with injections and transfers as they pray for more precious bundles.
It makes me all gooey inside to think of this time, two years ago, when I pushed Lil E around the block (it was as far as I could go in the early, early days) and trudged to Starbucks just to prove I would leave the house once the weather turned.
It also brings me back to the tape in my head, I'm not ready. I'm not ready. Not yet. Not yet. All the while, it makes me smile to think of what is (hopefully) ahead.
4. No crapmail. At least if I had to peer into my inbox and see 30 cranktastic, over-analytical work messages glaring back at me, I didn't see any "Forward to eleven friends in the next seven seconds or your husband will be hit by a train...you do have eleven friends, don't you? Loser. Freak." or dancing emoticons or pleas to hit that mammography button one. more. flipping. time.
5. Soccer in the park, Lil E style. Five whiffle golf balls, a drumstick, a mini-basketball, a pocket-full of wadded up tissues and Daddy home early from work. We danced, we kicked the ball, we watched the tweens fielding grounders, we crunched little piles of leaves and chased each other while Lil E called out in his sing-songy way, "I gonna get me, I gonna get me!" He sniffled while he hit da ball to Mo-mmmmmmyyyyyy and I let go of the day, of my worries, of everything outside of the park, my boys and my time away from anything blinking, boo-hiss or buzz kill.
And with that, I say buh-bye Crappy Monday. Bring it on, Please, God, Let the Kiddo Clear Up in Time for Co-op Tuesday.
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is a single mama in the city, super-savvy editor, writer, video host and shameless shoe whore.
Thursday, October 12, 2006 
