The messy, messy genius?

I have always been an excellent procrastinator. An expert, actually, with lots and lots of things to keep me from the things I should be doing. This would be all well and good if the things I neglected didn’t stress me in the wee hours of the morning. But they do- often I awaken at 5 a.m. to pee or to let my dog out and all I can think about is the laundry that so desperately needs to be done. Or the cabinets that look like a bomb has been detonated inside of them. Or the piles of paperwork that need to be shredded or burned.

My mother says I have always been this way- messy, 100 projects going at once a sort of maniac. I agree. But I think that’s also what makes me ME, the wonderfully creative girl who can scrapbook a decorated cake and sing about it. My BFF jokes about this, but it’s true, and I wouldn’t trade my genetic makeup with anyone else on the planet. I meet other mothers who seem to have it all together- in their minivans with their tennis visors and mounds of children. They sit together during the football games and school plays, exchanging crockpot recipes and planning the next cookie swap. I have no interest in these activities. While I wait for my son, I am usually writing, or reading or studying. They call me antisocial but I call them lunatics- so it evens out I guess.

When I decided to return to school, my beloved backed me 100 percent. He understood when suddenly, the kitchen table became home to piles of textbooks and even more piles of paper. He maneuvers through our living room like a pro now, dodging half-done projects that have been abandoned for the next “big thing.” I have taken classes to learn how to decorate cakes, knit, crochet, watercolor/ pastel paint, do yoga, Zumba and line dance. I am always looking for what I am going to be when I grow up. While most of my friends have one job and are happy to come home to care for their families, I feel like I am always on the run from something called “normalcy.”

I am sure one day I will be happy to settle down and do what “good housewives” do. I’ll sit with the other mother’s during our children’s activities and share my own tip for removing stains from my husband’s polo shirts (as soon as he actually BUYS a polo shirt.) But until that day (which will probably be the same day I completely lose my mind) I will continue to be the off-beat artist Mama, toting a journal in place of a household budget book.