Mark left to work in the city for a few days so it’s me and Mother Love (our baby nurse) and the girls. I thought I would get a jump-start by having the Ford truck inspected since it was 6 months past due (I grew tired of driving down dirt roads fearing the po po). Anyways, my great mechanic grimly told me “no no.” No no? What? He delivered the tragic news that it was “time to bury the big white girl” that being my Ford F150 b/c it’s so rusted it’s hanging by a thread. Shit!
My drive back to the farm was filled with horrific fears about my truck as I drove 40 miles per hour. “What if the truck falls off it’s axel and hits someone and we both die? If I die then that leaves Mark having to be a single dad?” Or, worse “what if I actually survive and become disabled with bags and tubes attached to every one of my holes and Mark having to care for all three of us?” Yes, this was my madness of mind. The other side of crazy if you will. Yes, just call me Dark Martha. Needless to say, I made it home in one piece, but now I had no wheels in the middle of nowhere.

Something happens when you have children. I had been warned and dismissed it. But it’s now fer reals. It’s like your brain gets all but sucked out by the universe leaving you a parental zombie. Yes yes yes my dear friends I GET IT! SHIT YES I GET IT! What happened thereafter is funnier more today than it was yesterday.

I decided to check on the trap Mark set for the wild cat that’s been gang banging our poor kitties MiMi and Cheddar. He set the “Have-A-Heart” (does it really have heart? Really?) in a large box. From what I could see, the trap door was closed. OMG! BINGO! Did we get the wild sociopathic feline rapist? I stepped a little closer. Then a little closer then it become very very clear. We had caught a beast all right but, it was the kind that sprays nasty rancid eye tearing fog and stomach wrenching skank into the air. I ran screaming like a 3 year old. A skunk! Why today?”

It was time to feed, burp and wash up the sweet treasures we call our Lady Bugs. It became clear when I entered the room that another skank smell had taken over inside the house. CC had a goo poo in her diaper. When I unearthed the pamper green and brown crap came flying out followed by a stank that could be used for chemical warfare. “OH MY GOD! “ I cried out. Lady Love started to laugh but within seconds of her mocking she soon echoed my pain with an “OH LORD HAVE MERCY!”

So, being the Daddy, I started to wash the green-brown mush explosion within the damaged perimeter. Just as I had her all ready for her clean sweet smelling pamper she decides to power pee all over my hands and sweatshirt. I thought only boys power shot like that? Oh contrare.
After washing the girls up I decided to start calling car dealers about a new car and what kind of deal I could get. Well, I went on line and offered up my phone number to contact me at home. Within seconds I had call after call after call after call from dealers wanting my business. Note to self: “NEVER EVER EVER GIVE YOUR DIGITS OUT!” I’m changing our number forever!
Calling out from the nursery upstairs Lady Love asked “Do we have more formula?” Gulp. Shit. Gulp. Double Shit Shit! We didn’t have a drop left and we were also out of breast milk. WTF. Could we feed them Skunk stew? I had ordered some forumla from Amazon.com however my zombie brain clicked the wrong shipping method! We were out of breast milk and formula with no car in the middle of red neck utopia. I glanced at Mother Love and half jokingly said “Are you sure you can’t breast feed?” She’s 74.

Thankfully, we had Ingrid here and she kindly loaned me her Yaris. A Yaris? It sounds like an ass rash of sorts. Well, the “Yaris” is basically a go-cart that only my left butt cheek could fit into. Yes, I squeezed my 6’5” middle aged ass in and drove off to Walmart to get formula. Yes, Walmart….DO NOT JUDGE ME! Well, contrary to popular belief, Walmart does indeed run out of items. And yesterday they were out of the formula we needed. Next, Rite Aid. THEY HAD IT. PRAISE THE BABY J! I left like I had won the lottery.

As I sat in the parking lot at Rite Aid with my formula in hand I pondered my feelings. I missed Mark terribly as he’s a terrific grounding source for me. What would Mark ask me right now? Got it! “Are you hungry, angry lonely or tired? H.A.L.T.” Yes, I was exhausted but I can handle that. Angry? Just with myself. Lonely? Sure. Hungry? MASSIVELY. Shit, there was no food in the house and there was NO WAY I was venturing into ShopRite in Monticello. Hell no. So, I decided to call Lady Love.

“Lady Love?” I asked.

“Yeees” she most sweetly responded in her perfect Trinidadian accent.

“Do you wanna go to the dark side with me today? Will you partake in…..in…..in…..a WENDY’S HAMBURGER AND A FROSTY?

“YEEEEEESSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!” she squeeled with excitement. No, we both squeeled in excitement.
Driving 74 miles per hour back in my trembling Yaris with windows wide open, burgers and shakes in the seat and the cool Fall mountain air madly tossing about my newly Kerotined hair, I laughed as I salivated thinking about what a Wendy’s was going to taste like. Bliss.

The sun set. I made supper for me and Lady Love (leftovers from, from…from….oh screw it I can’t remember) and then sat on the sofa contemplating the day while eating a Lindt salted dark chocolate bar. I dozed off deep only to be awakened by the feeling of a mushy dark wet texture under my backside. What the? What is that? Jesus! Alas, I had fallen asleep on my chocolate bar leaving a 17 inch smear all over the sofa and my ass. So, I scrubbed and scrubbed, conjuring up memories of my mother wildly attacking the stains, smears and crud we would leave on her white wall to wall carpeting. Hey, it’s all good. At least it’s not brown-green goo poo. Perspective is key.
Right now it is very clear that whatever the chaos that swirls about on my best planned days there will always be lovely calm in the center of the chaos that I call home.

My children.
My partner.
I am finally home. It’s a shit show and I love it.
*BTW, please don’t tell Mark about the Wendy’s Burgers. The judgement will kill me.