Funky La La Hippie Land

The other day my dear sister-in-law, Cari, started telling me an unsettling story about a mom who lives in I don't know where, with a bunch of kids, (a whole litter of them, apparently). The unsettling part is that she homeschools, makes organic-homemade-from-scratch kind of food and has time to write about it. This is the type of mom that makes me feel like Little Miss Small.

As Cari was telling me about this person, I did what seemed most natural to me, I promptly brought my hands over my ears in hopes of droning out the sound of the story.

Sometimes it's just easier to live in La La Land. It's prettier there. Heck, I'm prettier there. I do a lot of cool stuff there. I like La La Land (a hippie sort of one).

I go to Funky La La Hippie Land often. Usually, I go there when I'm in my car driving home from work. When the sun is shinning the birds are singing and my baby is quiet in the car I get over inspired. I have visions of myself getting up early the next morning, BEFORE my baby wakes up, making myself a cup of coffee and spending time praying, reflecting and reading. It sounds so glorious to be awake by myself, calm and serene. Once Penelope is up I would then proceed to the making of fresh vitamina (fruit shake) with a calm, serene look on my face to accompany our oatmeal. Our day would be filled with educational activities and long walks and earthy snacks.

I would then energetically and happily prepare a healthy dinner comprised of many fresh organic vegetables, whole grains, hummus and tofu and rice milk. I would be dressed in funky thrift store finds and leather sandals, long hair parted in the middle and smelling like patchouli oil. My house would always be clean and it would smell like lavender and chamomile.

I know, I know, what am I thinking? As soon as the early morning comes I'm thinking I'm the biggest idiot who comes up with stupid plans like waking up BEFORE my baby does. As if. Once she does wake up I'm thinking that sugar filled, BHT invested Life cereal is looking like a great option for breakfast. Fruit? I don't like fruit. I only like having it around because of all the colors. (Christopher always asks me why I buy fruit if I don't eat it. My answer is always the same, "It's so pretty.")

By the time I get out of my pj's I realize I don't own anything funky. Let's face it. I don't live in Uptown and I'm not funky. I live in Suberbiaville and the only thing I've got going in that whole look it the long hair parted in the middle. The only problem with that is without the patchouli oil and without the funky clothes my hair makes a different kind of statement: frumpy.

Educational activities? Does Elmo count? I LOVE Elmo time. (It's Elmo time right now, that's how I can be on the computer. Computing, by the way, is an activity in my book.)

When time for dinner comes around, I'm thinking buttered noodles sounds remarkably nutritious. It's whole grain noodles, after all.

So there it is. Whenever I hear of a mom who is actually doing some things that I only imagine myself doing in moments of over inspiration, the thing that feels most natural to do is to plug my ears and wait for another hippie la la moment to come around. I don't know, maybe next time I'll actually buy some patchouli oil.


Note to self: Do something about the hair.