Monday, March 15, 2010

Scribo Ergo Sum

Princess starts Real School (as I may have mentioned before) this fall. I've heard some rumors about the school, and how the parents are all sorts of *snotty-money-Hummer-people or something, so I've been preparing myself for my journey as a School Age Kid Mom. In my head. I *ALWAYS* prepare in my head. (Nodding and smiling) You can't be too prepared.

Clearly, I'll have to drop her off in the Bitchy German Luxury Car. Assuming we haven't sold it for being such a GIGANTIC German pain in the ass. (As we speak, The Man is probably buffing out invisible dents and lamenting his rims and lack of acceleration power.) If I drop her off or show up in the Crappy American SUV, well, it won't be obvious that we're People of Means. (We're not.) (Shut up.)

I'm sure there will be inevitable meetings and play dates and questions.

Imaginary Woman of Leisure Mom: My husband is an international investment banker and I sew clothes for orphans between spa trips. What do YOU do, Mrs. The Man?

Me: Um. (blinks) I'm a mom. I stay home with the Children of the Corn. (Note to self: MUST stop saying this to strangers and at church.) (Yes I HAVE said it at church.) (I know.)

Seriously, what DO I do?

I understand verbs. ER and OR are suffixes indicating action. WritERS write. ActORS act. (Don't ask me to explain ER vs OR and all that jazz. I'm just not up to it.)

Before I landed in this sweet, sweet paradise of unwashed linens, cursing children and seeping dog wounds, I was a writer. I wrote. I was an actor. I acted. (No, I'm not published and I don't have my SAG card.) (Shut up. I already explained the suffix thing to you, what more do you want?)

I still write. Evidence? You're reading it, homie. During my daily vacuuming, I try to mentally prepare (!) the plot I've been kicking around. And acting? Have you ever seen me or heard me re-tell a story? Tres theatrical darlings.

And when I argue with The Man? It's HIGHLY DRAMATIC. I really think we should get our own reality show. Except all the reality show people get divorced and end up seeing Dr. Drew, so maybe not.

(I know rehab has great food. And therapy.) (I'm not ruling it out.)

I've rather given up on my acting dream. Don't get me started or I'll start crying again and show you my tattoo. Then I WILL need Dr. Drew...

But writing is something as totally innate to me as is, well, talking or breathing.

So yeah. When the *Money-Snotty-Hummer moms ask what I do, I'll tell them I'm a writer. And if it gets dicey, I'll explain suffixes. Or I'll just carry my diploma in my Bitchy German Luxury Car. I'm sure that will solve it.

Scribo ergo sum. (I write, therefore I am.)

*I'm sure they're really lovely people. I don't know them. They're just rumors. Whatever.

Comments, questions, are you People of Means?