Pumpkin Pie Blues

It may have been the piece of pumpkin pie I shoved into my mouth right before I headed off to bed. I rationalized it. Of course I did. I had made the pie with a real pumpkin, not the stuff from a can, so therefore the pie was good for me, healthy, organic even.

I couldn't sleep that night. I saw midnight, then one, then two, three, and then around 4:30 a.m., I finally thought it might be time to fall asleep. I had planned and written out a workout the night before while I wiped pie crumbs off my face, so my workout notebook sat waiting on my dresser by my IPod. My plan was to get up with Farmer Boy's alarm which goes off at 4:50 a.m. and get to the gym early.

I didn't get up.

When I finally got up I didn't feel like working out, so I decided that instead I would clean my house like a crazed Mennonite woman and take back my house room by room. All you Mennonite women out there know exactly what I'm talking about.

I started with a list on a pink sticky note which outlined my plan. It wasn't a plan of attack because everyone knows that Mennonites are Pacifists and don't attack anyone or anything. It was just a plan.

Anyway, my kitchen was the first thing on the list.

I dug in. I loaded the dishwasher. I tried to lift my knees high and squat low to get a better workout. I stacked dirty dishes by the sink after curling them several times like a barbell, so they could wait their turn to dive into my warm soapy water. I stripped the tablecloth off the table with gusto, turning side to side to work my obliques, and put a nice candle in the center in my attempt to reset the tone of the day. Lizzy came down ready to begin her day.

"Mom, can I make puffins?"

"Sure. Good idea."

My mind was already conjuring up the cozy aroma of baked puffins. A lit candle, goey chocolatey puffins (with whole wheat flour and flax seed of course) fresh from the oven, and a small flicker of hope that this day was going to be better than I thought.

Lizzy got busy. I kept up my tasks, washing dishes, sweeping, squatting, cleaning the front of the dishwasher, the oven, and the inside of the microwave.

Lizzy got her puffins in the oven and I was still at it.

"Mom, are these done?"

"Hand me that towel and I'll check." I wrapped a thin dish towel around my hand to pull out the muffin tin. Instantly I felt heat on my hand and jerked it back.

"Sh..t! That's hot!"

"Mom!"

I looked at at my feet and on the oven door was a mass of goey dough, melted chocolate chips and a upside down muffin tin. Not only had I swore in front of my sweet, sweet girl, I had dumped her half baked puffins all over the open oven door where some of them slipped through the crack and onto my recently mopped kitchen floor.

I felt terrible. I looked around and Lizzy had vanished.

I hung my head in shame. I had swore, I had made a mess,  and I had scared off my girl. She must have sensed my mood and figured it was best to simply clear the premises.

I started cleaning it up.

The phone rang.

"Hey beb," Farmer boy chirped in his overly cheerful fashion, "what's up?"

"Nothing. Just cleaning."

"I just got a text from Lizzy."

My head popped up. Lizzy was still nowhere to be found.

Betrayed by my own flesh and blood.

For a brief instant I reevaluated my stance on Pacifism.

"She said you dropped the 's' bomb."

"Maybe."

With the sound of his cruel laughter in my ear, I clicked him off and went back to cleaning up my mess.

I went to a yoga class later that day. I downward facing dogged my way to some semblance of redemption. I took a long hot shower after class and poured myself a glass of white wine and read a little before I went to bed.

I slept like a baby.

The end.

Happy New Year!