My husband and I are living in perpendicular universes.  Not parallel, but perpendicular.  While he arises the second the alarm rings and leaves the house by 6 a.m., I drag out of bed as late as possible, which means 8 a.m. on a school day.  He telephones me every afternoon, exclaiming how fast the day has gone, how many meetings he’s been in, how many people he’s talked with, how busy he’s been.  “And how are you?” he says, “Anything exciting?”

And every day my answer is the same:  “No.”  My day is dragging.  I am dragging.  I am in slow-motion, barely creeping through life.

I begin working at about noon each day and my job responsibilities are routine.  I seldom interact with my co-workers since I am a “remote” employee.  I am seriously boring and oftentimes, bored.

My husband, on the other hand, is very engaged in his job and often has stories to tell about crazy stuff that has happened at work.

And for the past two hours, he’s been sound asleep while I’ve been working.  He’ll call me in twelve hours, shocked at how quickly his morning slipped away and I will tell him that nothing much has happened, unless you count laundry.

* * *

Last night, I put away the Christmas decorations.  My grandmother used to just put her fully decorated tree in a closet until the next Christmas.  I have a great aunt who is rumored to leave her tree up until Valentine’s Day–but I’m not sure if that’s true or just a fanciful story I made up in my head.  Have you undecorated?

Three weeks ago, she couldn’t wait to get outside into the snow.

Today, it began to snow again.  Our streets have been clear, only big sandy piles of plowed snow left in places to remind us of the record-snowfalls we received over Christmas.

My daughter said, with conviction, “I am done with snow!”

My 10-year old son, on the other hand, is sorrowful that the snow is turning into rain already.  The inch is melting into slushy water as we speak.

Personally, once January 1 hits, I am ready for spring.  This is just one of many reasons why northern Michigan and I were incompatible. *One year we lived there the first snow fell in October and it was March before we saw the grass again.  Six straight months of snow on the ground is about five and a half months too long, if you ask me.  I want to see crocuses emerging from the February ground.  I was to see trees budding by March.  I want daffodils in riotous bloom by April.

One more day, then the kids go back to school on Tuesday and life as I have come to know it will resume.

*We lived in northern Michigan–look at your right hand; see your middle fingernail?  Right about there–for four years.  I have lived in the Pacific Northwest most of my life, with college and newlywed stints in Missouri, North Carolina and Connecticut, so northern Michigan was a foreign country to me. 

When my parents were my age, I was in college.  I met my husband when my parents were my age.

At my age, I live with four kids who aren’t even remotely close to being college material.  My daughter is only six.  My teenagers are fifteen but I cannot even imagine them driving a car, let alone attending college or answering to a boss.  I know things will change and they will mature and grow up and, hopefully, move out.

But in the meantime, I’m worn out from their company.  An extrovert who finds refreshment in the company of many fellow human beings might find herself energized living in this house with its constant stream of neighborhood kids, not to mention the five other people who live here and who can’t seem to return return any item to its rightful home.  (For instance, at a glance, I can see shoes and a random chopstick and a crocheted afghan and an empty water bottle.)

People wear me out, even people that are related to me.

These are the thoughts of a mom on the second week of Winter/Christmas vacation.  The week prior to “vacation” were complicated by snowfall, so my daughter hasn’t been to school in three weeks.  I’m not sure who missed it more–me or her.

I feel pretty terrible about feeling so wiped out.  Did Ma Ingalls ever lose her cool when Mary and Laura got on her nerves?  Did Mrs. Cunningham complain about the Fonz popping in to see Richie too often?  Did Mrs. Cleaver ever roll her eyes at Eddie Haskell?  Did Mrs. March ever scream her head off because Jo, Beth, Meg and Amy would not stop bickering?

No.  No, no and no.  But I have felt trapped and delirious and screamy at my kids and my life and my house.  Especially since I told Sugar we can no longer be friends.  (“And take your cousin, White Flour, with you!”)

* * *

On another abrupt note, I saw “The Curious Tale of Benjamin Button” today.  The movie was really good, beautifully filmed and acted and all that.  You really need a “willing suspension of disbelief.”  (I fixed that sentence thanks to Julana.)  I did enjoy it, though.  However, I read the short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald the other night–I skimmed it to see the plot–and it was so vastly different that I kind of regret having done so before the movie.  The short story and the movie shared only one or two points:  a character name and the idea of aging backwards.  (The synopsis and link to the story can be found here.)

My husband and I saw “Valkyrie” the other night with Tom Cruise.  We liked it, too.

Both movies were free of cursing (maybe one or two mild expletives) and nudity (except for one bare bottom), but subject matter is not for children, in my opinion.

And now, I’m going to put my 6-year old to bed.  Hooray.

A review of my blog reveals that I have been a rotten blogger this past year.  Good thing I don’t charge admission or I’d have to close the thing down, considering the economy and all.

Seriously.  Where else can you read this stuff?

For instance, here’s what happened when I did the laundry a little too efficiently

Then, my grandmother died.  She’s just turned 102, but still. Gooseberries remind me of her. I thought about my own life while packing her stuff into boxes

Weirdly enough, I dreamed about swimming with walruses

I contemplated my own mortality.  I missed the old days when my kids were little.

Then I ranted a little about the habit my family has of opening more than one container of EVERYTHING. I made a public service announcement about killing fruit flies.

I lamented my tendency to speed through life – of maybe I was complaining about how slow everyone else is.

And I ended the year with the realization that my life is more about being stripped than being accessorized.

This year, I started working full-time from home.  I traveled to New York City on business, then to California for a writing conference.  My husband spent a long weekend with college buddies in Michigan.  My teenagers turned 15, my younger son turned 10 and my daughter turned 6.  I had a tooth pulled.  My husband resigned from our church and started a new job.  I read a lot of books, saw a lot of movies, sat by the pool as much as possible.  I had some writing published, gained weight and grew my hair long.

Happy New Year!  May your year be free of fruit flies (but if it’s not, you know what to do).