“Don’t sweat the small stuff; like socks, crumbs, or bath night. Sweat the big stuff, like running out of chocolate.”-Chel Owens
“Let’s do lunch” is a fallacy; a farce; a cop-out. For, when uttered, it is the closest either party will get to meeting. No, you’re not going to “do lunch” any more than you’re going to “let’s.” You’re each going to get in your car, drive off to your millions of daily tasks, and forget you ever suggested something as organized as a lunch date.
Some say, “Let’s do lunch” as an intentional mis-lead. Insincerely, they throw out the idea so as not to look bad. Really, they’re saying, “Sure, I want to hang out again -at least, I want to appear that I want to.” Inside, they’ve breathed a sigh of relief that they won’t have to see the other person again. Much like answering, “Fine” to a “How are you,” they throw out their “Let’s do lunch”es with careless aplomb.
But let’s say you do want to meet someone again. Let’s say you do want to join them for a midday meal. Here’s what you do: pull out your phone/planner/calendar/spouse right then and there. Say, “Which day works best for you?” Both of you then put the date and time in your schedules.
Then, of course, you’ll reschedule once the children get sick or the car blows up or an asteroid hit your house -still, you made the effort.
No matter what, though, it’s not lunch’s fault. Heaven knows it already gets a lot of flack for being the middle-child meal of the day. No, it’s the fault of good intentions and unforeseen circumstances. It’s never the fault of lunch.
©2020 Chel Owens
Why do I write
When it is night
When there’s no light
With kids, a-fright
With bedtime fights
Without a knight
To see my plight
‘Cause he’s out-right
His eyes shut tight
While I still write
©2020 Chel Owens
“You know you’re doing a good job as a parent if they let you back in the house, after locking you out.”-Chel Owens
Ironically, I didn’t go so far between posting back when I was far busier. The problem is that, last year, I made a goal that never saw fruition: to be nominated for my friends’ Blogger’s Bash. So, I wrote every day. I posted tips, quotes, advice, etc.
And, I spent the sleepless days and nights in nauseated discomfort from being pregnant.
Still, the blog looked good. And, on the plus side, I was able to proudly display my every-day-writingness for things like applying for a writing job (that fell through), and applying for more recent jobs (those also fell through).
What does that leave me with?
A baby -well, nearly a toddler. Today, as I put clothes into my dresser that he pulled out again, I realized where daily-bloggingness had gone: right where all the socks and underpants were now going. Even while I was pregnant and busy, my children were older. When they slept, they slept (mostly). When I wanted a break, I could do things like send them outside or put on a Minecraft video.
So, I’m not sure where this mom blog will go. Perhaps, like with the children, it will see occasional nourishment and care*. Perhaps I’ll try scheduling poems again. Or, perhaps I’ll pop in now and then to feel guilty that, again like with the children, I’m just not telling the blog I love it enough*.
For those loyal, wonderful, amazing, beautiful, handsome, intelligent people still following, thank you. You are all of the previously-listed attributes and more.
©2020 Chel Owens