I'm sitting downstairs, working on a relationship piece for the New York Times, which is making me nuts. Too corny. Too honest. Not honest enough. More bite, less bite, oh, why the hell am I trying to write something for the New York Times???
Then I get to go through all the critic voices in my head - you suck, you can't write, you only get posted on your own blog because it's your own blog...
On and on... I feel like there are enough to have a small cocktail party. Serve some self-pity hors d'oeuvres - you know, something high fat, high calorie that tastes good for a minute then is too heavy and too rich.
And I hear Ben and Jake upstairs. Now, I should have noticed I had not been hearing Ben and Jake upstairs for a while but I was too busy beating myself into a pulp. I hear Jake say, Mom is going to kill us.
Like a good hostess, I excuse myself from my pity party and say, why am I going to kill you?
Giggles break out.
What is it?
Well, Ben says as they start down the stairs, We put on some mascara.
They both pause mid staircase.
They both jumped the rest of the way to the landing.
Indeed, they got into the eyeliner and mascara.
Go wash it off, I said. And please put it away, it's not a toy.
Mind you, the only reason why I have eyeliner and mascara is for my once a year drag dress up party at Walter and Allan's house. Playing girl for a night.
I know. I'm pretty heavy handed with the eyeshadow.
They ran back up and laughed as they tried to wash the grease off their faces. I have to admit, Ben and Jake get along so seldom, I almost wanted to show them where the eyeshadow was kept.
After they were done, I heard Ben say to Jake, You know, we should probably stick to Legos instead of Makeup.
Yeah, Jake agreed, probably as easily and quickly as he did to the original suggestion to put the makeup on.
A quick reminder to all my critics sitting at the table - I might not be talented enough for the New York Times? But I have kids smart enough to know, Legos are a better idea than make up.