For the third time this summer season, I spent the afternoon pruning roses. And wondering what the neighbors thought about my compulsively well cared for rose bushes.
An hour or so later, I pulled a vanilla sheet cake from the oven. And caught myself looking through each of the kitchen windows to double-check my mad pruning skills.
I asked my teenage son immediately as he arrived home from school for his opinion. I also called my husband to demand that he examine my handy work from the street on his drive home from work. To be sure I didn’t miss anything.
Hang on. It gets better… This morning, I nearly had to tie myself to a chair in order to keep myself from running out to the curb where two other moms chatted after seeing their kids to the school bus. My having passed by the hall mirror was probably what saved my 3 year-old daughter from being towed curbside.
My hair looked as if birds had taken up residence.
One day last week when taking a walk with my daughter, I noted the cul-de-sac where our home is located is adjacent to three additional cul-de-sacs. How is that possible?
I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience just thinking about all of this. I mean, when did I become Bree Van de Kamp?
Apparently, I missed the metamorphosis.
I don’t recall the exact moment I truly realized I had landed in suburbia. I thought it was merely a move into a new family home in the beginning. I guess the freshly baked blueberry muffins delivered by one of the neighbors immediately after the moving vans pulled away should have helped to clue me in.
Don’t get me wrong. I love our little burb. The crime rate is low. The schools are great. Everyone recycles. The grass is literally greener. But I never imagined myself in the role of suburban stay-at-home mom blogger.
I never imagined myself not directing business functions, not leading others professionally, and not checking in and out of the corporate culture each day. It was a difficult transition. But I would make the same decision again if offered a do-over.
Now, my children and I can actually stop to smell the roses. It sure beats looking at them from the car as we pass by.