The soft electric hum from the florescent lights that hung from above may have lulled me into a daydream, or perhaps the temporary escape to a waking-sleep was my mind’s way of protecting itself from the horrors that filled this tiny room.

I sat awkwardly on the only seat, a small corner chair, that was mounted to the wall.  With my knees to my chest and my arms wrapped tightly around my legs, I pondered how I found myself in the place again.

The three dingy white walls had mysterious stains and smudges that I tried not to think about too intently, and there were random spots of graffiti left by women who came before me in this place.

The fourth wall seemed to be nothing more than an ordinary piece of reflective glass.  Ah, that was the real danger though, for if you gazed upon this mirror your wildest fears would be realized and laid out before you.  Once you looked into the glass there were things there which could never be unseen.

Escape was nearly impossible, or at least there would be no immediate flight to safety.  The door to this small room full of large scale truth and pain was latched securely, held firmly closed by a sturdy lock.

Though I felt confined, I could here people freely moving just outside.  Who they were, where they were going, or what I was doing here, in this place, again, I did not know.

And I do know this place…

I shut my eyes tight and open them abruptly to find I’m still curled in triangle shaped seat a couple feet above the faded carpet.

As I ease off the chair, knowing what must be done, my feet carefully find my shoes where I had abandoned them before retreating to a far off place inside my mind’s eye away from all this…truth.

My breath catches in my throat, and for a moment  I feel as though this space might swallow me whole.

Deep breathes.

Deep breathes.

Deep breathes.

I tell myself to be brave.  Truthfully, there is no other choice.

I am reaping what I have sowed.

And sowed.

And sowed.

And sowed.

Standing tall, bare shoulders back, I open my eyes to face my truths…

Some define insanity as the act of doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

And if that is true, I am insane.

For here I stand…

After another cold winter’s slumber…

Pale and yearning for the sun’s darkening kiss…

Skin stretched and muscles soft from childbirth and defeat, elasticity robbed and never found…

Here I stand …

…in the swimwear department’s dressing room.

Again.

Image from thegloss.com

Somehow I always expect it won’t look just like this.

Do you hate bathing suit shopping? What’s your strategy? I bring a flask, a best friend, and a bag of cookies with me when I make the hellish shopping expedition once a year. Got a better idea? Leave me a comment, I’d love to hear it!

Here’s a short, sweet, and to the point public service announcement from me to you.

Keep an eye out for more PSA’s from me. You’ll be able to learn lessons in Motherhood (and beyond) the easy way…through my astute observations in 30 seconds or less.

I’m not a morning person, and having kids who wake me up early every day, hasn’t helped me morph into one.  Still, I dress and feed my children with a smile and do my best to get through our morning rush so I can sit down and slowly wake up with a gallon of some coffee.

I’m not sure if it’s the extra effort it takes to be pleasant despite my natural tendency to want to growl and hiss my way through the early morning hours, or if it’s just the pre-coffee energy that’s expended in trying to get everyone fed, dressed and off to school on time, but by the time my Keurig is brewing my java, I’m fumbling around the kitchen for my cream and sugar.

The gurgling and churning sounds of the coffee brewing gives me the extra push to find my other ingredients. Yesterday I needed it too since my husband has been in Boston since Sunday and I’ve been manning the fort solo.  This is usually not so bad, but all three kids have taken turns at night up coughing, sneezing, and generally being miserable.  Not having a partner to tag off with makes the nights long and the early mornings even longer.  Thankfully, he’s returning Friday and I plan on cashing in some Mom-Me time.

So Wednesday as I reached for the refrigerator door to fetch my half and half, I was running on fumes and not at all prepared for Jake’s blood-curdling scream.  As I quickly turned to rescue him from the grips of a zombie, or to perhaps fashion a tourniquet to stop the blood loss from losing a limb, or to save us all from a rabid animal that had found its way into our kitchen, I felt a surge of adrenalin that would have to give me the energy to face the crisis that was unfolding before my morning cup of Joe.

“Jacob!” I instinctively cried out to my four year old before I even turned all the way around.

I stood now facing my middle child, who prior to the primal sounding scream, I didn’t even realize was in the kitchen with me, and I was perplexed.

He wasn’t being killed by some monster.

All his limbs appeared to be intact.

There were no animals about to attack.

When he covered his mouth to stifle a giggle I didn’t know whether to hug or strangle him.  Before I could reprimand him for scaring me the way he just did, I points behind me, assumes a defensive stance, and yells out, “Dino attack!”

There in the fridge, this scene awaited me:

Thanks to Jake’s scream I was able to cut my coffee consumption in half that morning.

Have your kids ever taken years off your life with a trick?  Leave me a comment!

And I should mention that the voting at Circle of Moms Top 25 Funny Moms ended on Wednesday, and thanks your votes we made the list!  If you haven’t already, I encourage you to check out the full list (there’s 175 funny blogs) where you’re guaranteed to find some laughs!

While you’re here, please give me a quick vote on Top Mommy Blogs just by clicking the banner below. One click and that’s all it takes! Thanks!