The following vlog was inspired by James Franco’s poetry reading he recently did for Obama’s inauguration. (Franco was very good in Freaks and Geeks, love him.)
It’s a poem about being a mom.
A mom desperate to get through yet another hectic morning without having a nervous breakdown.
Watch my video to see if I can make it through another day.
Mourning My Morning
In the earliest unborn hours of the morning, my heart beats, frantic with a
rushing of blood, pounding incessantly…
Overshadowed only by the digusting guttural groans emanating
from my husband’s gaping maw
as he snores and slumbers beside me…
I want to reach out, slam his windpipe with my pillow–
–but I resist–
Morning breaks, my mind cracks like an egg
dripping over the edge of a moldy crust,
undercooked and runny
Needs more salt.
But sandwiches are to be peanut buttered!
juice boxes to be tossed around!
hair to be untangled!
Untangle the mess….
a frantic dance of
Have you seen my socks?
Where are the keys?
Will you help me construct a diorama of a rainforest using only toothpicks and glitter?
….Mrs. Hardison says it’s due today
“Someone spilled my Cheerios!” I cry.
“Look! All over the floor!”
“Did you spill them?” I ask my son.
His attention elsewhere…always elsewhere….
“Someone spilled my CHEERIOS!”
I wail, my plantive cry falling on deaf tween ears, ears that only respond to digital beeps.
My son–hazel eyes forever glued to the tiny magic box, glowing ghastly white.
“Someone spilled my cheerios….”…I sputter to no one, hopeless,
the taste of sweet oats and honey forever lost to my lips.
He finally turns his head, raises his brow,
and the insidious words roll off his tongue
like water off a paritally submerged iPhone in a dirty toilet:
“Whatevs, Mom” he says.
81 thoughts on “Quick, what rhymes with Franco?”
That was pure Monday morning perfection!
Sigh. Wasn’t it, though? I can barely get enough energy to type this comment out to you, Honie.
Hahaha! I love your existential poetry as your heart “rush….rush….rush….es” and my coffee “splat…splat…splat…ters” on the computer screen!
Just more solid proof that poetry can be dangerous, Susie.
You had me at the pillow slamming of windpipe – even though you resisted. Very Poe – etic.
I almost left that part out, but sometimes poetry can be painful, Renee. Just trying to keep it realz.
BOOM! HA! Oh. My. God. This was so worth the wait. I’m going to get myself in trouble here, with the headphones and the stifled laughter and the why-the-hell-is-everyone-here-at-the-office-so-early?!
Needs more salt and whatevs got me, especially. Oh wow. The title of this post kills me, too.
I was going to title this “Fun With Poetry” but I wanted people to actually click on it.
It was very hard to get through this without laughing, JD. But thankfully, I’ve got the deadpan thing going on because I was born on the same day as Bob Newhart.
Ha! Oh man, you nailed it.
BTW I may still be staring at this Adam Levine vid. His feet are…big. (Okay I need to stop this.)
Also he does yoga. OKAY I’M DONE NOW.
For a sec I thought you were talking about Franco. Oh, yeah! Adam does yoga. Naturally. Now whenever I do yoga, I’ll think of him.
You got me, as well, with the windpipe bit–and the juxtaposition of snores and slumbers! Though the toothpicks and glitter thing was pretty damn good, as well!
Eking out another morning,
Nothing says ‘poetry’ like the word windpipe, Kathy.
I only have one child to get ready for school in the morning, but he has to be up to the bus stop just as the sun is rising. I look back to when my six adult children were little and I have no idea how I did it. I remember getting them all into the car one morning and yelling, “Hurry, hurry! Don’t you know what that word means by now?” Then I spied a sweet little old man within earshot…
Well, I bow down to you for sure! My mom had to raise six of us as well. I honestly don’t know how she did it. I am dreaded in a few years when my son has to get on an even earlier bus to go to middle school. It actually picks the kids up at 6:55 am. That is just wrong, wrong, wrong.
That is extremely wrong, but so very Maine. I get up at 5:30 a.m. each week day morning just so that I *might* get 30 minutes alone to have a cup of coffee.
You too, huh? Sadly, the past week I’ve been wide awake at around 3 am. I’m not exaggerating. I seem to want to operate on only five hours of sleep now. Baffles me! I live for sleep!
I am a firm, and lifelong, believer in a good nap. I am a crappy sleeper as it is, nap or no nap. I went to bed late last night—way late–almost midnight and the child was with his father so I didn’t have to get up. I woke up at 5 a.m., wide awake. I am post menopausal, though, so…;-)
I was up watching the game. I figured I’d sleep in at least until 5 am. But nope. Wide awake at 3. I do blame hormones. I am not entirely post menopausal, more like stuck right in the middle of menopausal. I don’t see an end to this either. I think I’m doomed to never sleep a solid 7 hours again.
Do you want the truth, or a lie? I can’t lie. I totally stink at lying. I am two years out and I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in, well, I cannot remember. I do not think I have even had the uninterrupted hours in that time. You get used to it—sort of…
Great! Just great! I’m all for telling the truth, even if it’s about me never getting sleep again. I thought I was over the sleepless nights when my kids were babies. Dammit.
Sorry…truly! I am so sorry!
Your poem was great and funny!!! About your hormones, don’t stress…things get better eventually. I know it sounds lame, but think positive…I always enjoy having the house to myself while everyone is sleeping(I have three kids)….I LOVE the quiet, though I prefer to be sleeping too… 🙂
You’re so right, gotta keep thinking positive. I actually did sleep well last night for the first time in months. Things are already looking up.
So much fun to do a vlog, but I’ll never figure it out.
After your poem, I feel more sane already!
p.s. Love your hair.. when did you have time to do it??
Oh, that would be wonderful if you did a vlog! If I can do it, anyone can do it. And my hair? haha! The trick is to roll outta bed and don’t do anything to it. I’m lucky it didn’t look worse in that video.
Oh the resisting. I found it oh so hard to resist this morning when he and the entirety of my house was snoozing, while I was up and functional (sorta) at 5:50 am!! And they were all STILL sleeping when I left the house at 7:15. Not ok. Really hard to resist on these kind of mornings. Sigh.
Your poem was divine and dripping with the painful honesty of a mom’s morning. Bravo!
Jim claims I snore too. Yeah, right. I was up at 5 am today and for me that’s sleeping in. But it’s great because I get to come on here and respond to comments in peace. By the way, Misty, I am truly sorry I said the Ravens make my blood boil. They don’t. I just am not that fond of them. At all. 😉
Ok, your poem made me a bit sad. Maybe it’s because last night I watched my good friend’s 14 year-old daughter roll her eyes at her mother in front of everyone because she breathed funny or something, and it was painful to watch. I know “this too shall pass”, and we were all that 14 year-old once, but it still has got to hurt? How you mothers take that pain and still love them is amazing.
It is amazing! The things us mothers have to endure. This is why Mother’s Day is such a big deal to us. The only day our kids and husband have to pretend to appreciate us. What’s really scary to me is there will be a time when both my kids are teenagers. I am having heart palpitations just thinking about it.
Every mother’s worst nightmare:
Will you help me construct a diorama of a rainforest using only toothpicks and glitter?
….Mrs. Hardison says it’s due today
This was hilarious!
God, that Mrs. Hardison really fries my taters.
“What ryhmes with Franco?” How about blank-o? Because that’s how I feel most mornings, drawing a huge blank in my head. Until the alarm goes off for the third time and then true TERROR sets in. The sock thing kills me. My daughter has grown accustomed to wearing mismatched socks. She’s starting a new trend at school.
My kids had this odd aversion to wearing socks for years. Just getting them to not only find a matching pair but to put them ON? It was like pulling teeth.
What’s in that coffee you’re drinking, Darla and can I have some? 😉
Why, sure! It’s really just coffee. With Kahlua. And a sprinkling of my tears of desperation. It’s delish!
You’re a poet and I didn’t even know it! (ha, get it?)
You can have some of my Cheerios any time. (But not my coffee.)
I was going to title this ‘Someone peed in my Cheerios’ but I thought that was taking it a bit too far. Gotta keep things classy around here.
Argh! That ‘tween apathy. The travesty! And no one cared about your cereal. Heathens. I felt your pain, anguish, and angst.
No one cares about poor mom in the mornings. But the best part of the morning is when the kids are in school, hubby’s at work and I’m alone with the quiet and the coffee pot. ahhhhhhh
Resist- always resist! Might want to get hubby some sort of hard plastic windpipe protector just in case…
Y’know, he really should. I can’t be responsible for the morning I can’t resist anymore.
I sometimes snore – my wife finds it irritating, generally disturbing and disgustiing. My wife occasionally snores as well, she thinks it’s funny and cute.
As for rhyming with Franco,
I think I’d pick Panko,
It’s not just a bread crumb,
I think you should try some,
Yeah, my husband insists I snore too but I don’t believe him for one second.
Man Code: Section 16, paragraph 8, subsection 3A states: if you can get away with telling a woman she does the same things you do, you are required to do so, even if it’s not true. These offenses include, but are not limited to: snoring, farting in their sleep and rolling their eyes during stories of your high school sports accomplishments.
Confession: I do all of those. At the same time even.
Someone spilled my cheerios is my new battle cry.
I should be glad no one peed in my cheerios.
That was pretty moving. Nice work. Next maybe you could do some perfume commercials, aka Brad Pitt.
Okay, what I was really thinking about while reading this…you (and me too) have been doing more and more audio type blogs, vlogs, whatever you call them. It’s like this weird blog evolution… but what’s the next step? It’s getting harder and harder to be funny with just the written word. Don’t you think?? Thinking maybe we need to gather together and start a “Saturday Night Live” of the blogging community… or a “Prairie Home Companion”… or a…. (insert idea here)?!?!?!?!
Ooh!! Yes! Saturday Night Live! God, wouldn’t that be great? Do some stupid sketches…make some video parodies…that would be like, totally awesome, duuuude. (sorry, been hanging around my son too much lately…)
God, now THAT is a brilliant idea. My next vlog is going to be a Brad Pitt-like commercial. I love that.
The expression on your face throughout the video is priceless. I was moved by the whole poem, but I was especially stirred by the line “I wanted to reach out, slam his windpipe with my pillow.”
I had a feeling you might like that line, Weebs.
I love this poem! I love your reading!! so appreciated this morning moment that could mirror my own. perfect. whatevs, indeed.
I really had to restrain myself during that reading. My anger was bubbling just underneath the surface but I’m a mom and I’ve perfected the art of keeping it together.
you really have. i found it dripping in exhausting and sarcaasm but not anger.
True, I’m more of the sarcastic type than angry. Anger is much too exhausting.
So full of the talent! “Whatevs. Indeed.” might just have to be my theme for the day 🙂
Y’know, it really is a motto that could cover most everything in life. Whatevs, man.
That was…sheer poetry. No, really. At the very end of your recitation (stellar, by the way, simply stellar), YouTube put up a collage of other offerings under the category “Poetry Reading”. They suggest Birches by Robt Frost, Amazing Peace by Maya Angelou, The Sun Rising by John Donne, and a bunch of other peeps who are apparently trying to ride on your coattails and drive traffic to THEIR blogs. Jeesh.
So, so good. Seriously, what can’t you write about? 🙂
Lily you are always way too sweet and kind. Your comments always make me smile. I can even write about breaking my ass (see most recent post)
Boy, does this ever take me back
: “Will you help me construct a diorama of a rainforest using only toothpicks and glitter?
….Mrs. Hardison says it’s due today”
Funny stuff – for someone who’s kids are now adult and going thru the same (the eldest). Frustrating, too, I know. But you’ll survive
what helps is lately I’ve been getting up at around 3 or 4 am. So I have a few solid hours of peace and quiet now!
Monday’s suck sometimes, this as bad as it might seem was perfect.
Sounds like you need a long vacation without family. Maybe in a few years when they’re all grown up…can you wait that long?
No. No I cannot, Susan.
Yeh, the morning hair…. please don’t lie. You got up extra early and met with your stylist in the downstairs powder room and he was eating bobby pins and talking through pinched lips and telling you how fabulous you are and then you went upstairs and recorded this vlog. I know that’s how it happened. I just KNOW it!
My, oh, my. You paint quite the vivid picture there, Spectra. And it’s true. Every bit of it. I have to pay someone big bucks to maintain looking semi-crappy.
Your delivery was brilliant! So poignant ‘the sweet taste of oats and honey forever lost to my lips” Your anguish is palatable. This is what Saturday mornings are for, coffee and laughing out loud to blogs.
I’ve been spared “whatevs,” at least so far. But this: “…ears that only respond to digital beeps.” I get that, all too well.
I knew you would, Charles!
Thanks. It took a lot of energy to be so wistful.
Your talent has no bounds, Darla. This was amazing. The words – the presentation – the music. Boom.
Lenore! I’m so happy to see you! Where the heck have you been, girl??
are you back to blogging again?
I wish. I have two days ‘alone’ this weekend, which is giving me time to read and catch up. I hope to write, but inspiration does not always cooperate with time and convenience. It feels good just to read you guys again, though.
Enjoy your time alone, that is awesome!! I hope you do write again, I miss it.
Pingback: Unexplained Mysteries of My Universe (Part 2): Blog Anniversary | She's a Maineiac