Things I wish I was better at, but I’m not OR I suck at these pursuits and I’m not likely to improve anytime soon.

  
 

 

 

 1) I wish I were a warm nurturing Italtian Mama.

 This one is where I picture myself bear hugging and smooching my children, and loving them unconditionally like on TV!  Sadly, I have started to become my cold unfeeling martyrific mother. She has all of the overbearing nightmarish qualities without any of the warmth. I have the endless emails warning me of the horrific demise of myself and my children by all sorts of household accidents that she tells me I have not prepared for, as well as rare diseases she assures us we are destined to get. She attaches little blurbs from cnn.com and the medical websites upping my anxiety meter and guaranteeing that the level of fear by which I live my life remains constant and steady.

Look! It's me, and I'm not yelling.

Look! It's me, and I'm not yelling.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2) I wish I were a good cook.

This is more or less an extension of the above wish. I imagine all sorts of healthy exotic ingredients on my new granite counter top, (that I have yet to install mind you) and they all come together with magic fusion and very little effort on my part, because I am naturally talented. This desire of mine is also one I am very likely never to grasp. While I like the way it sounds (and looks in my mind) there is nothing more angst filled than ten minutes in my galley kitchen trying to whip up a bowl of kraft macaroni and cheese, or even the all time easiest, cous cous. For the final irony, I would like to add that I type this while watching the Food Network. I kid you not.

3) I wish I were less apt to explode in a spectacular rage.

There is an hour in our house that usually starts around five where all hell breaks loose. People stop listening, adults have reached their emotional and physical exhaustion levels, and children are pushing all the right buttons. Embarrassingly, I must admit to the occasional complete breakdown of the entire family. It’s raw and not pretty to watch. There is screaming and then there is SCREAMING. I’m talking about the frightening guttural wail that widens the eyes of all three kids, and sends them scattering to different areas to get away from me. Instantly, all questionable behavior stops and is replaced by the “mom’s gone crazy emergency plan”.

4) I wish I could muster the energy to recycle.

Like so many other things, it sounds so good in idea form. However, when the time comes to put it into practice, all the pieces crumble. I so very much want to be green, I do, it’s just that to a woman who hasn’t gone to the bathroom or taken a shower without someone hanging on her leg for seven years, it feels as though sorting garbage is a waste of perfectly good time that could be spent yelling or changing diapers.

5)I wish I were better at expressing myself.

There are times when unable to conjure the proper ideas or words to communicate these ideas, I just give up. Many times I come across as a loud stuttering boob. Neither of these options is appealing. Recently however, after viewing numerous video tapes that my husband was converting to disc, where I served as camera man and narrator, I came to the conclusion that I should NEVER express my self verbally again unless forced to. All I could think to myself while viewing what should have been precious family history was, “who could stand that grating nasal jibber jabber day in and out?” There is not one bit of footage untainted by my incessant yakity yak. It made for an excrutiating watch.

I’m sure there are thousands of things my friends and family would love to add to this list (including “we wish you were a better speller and had a far better command of the english language”) but that is all one human can deal with for today.

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