Denial

Some of you may not know this about me:  but I reside in a little community in my head, that goes by the name of Denial.  It's nice here.  Lovely, actually.  Because everything is perfect.  And nothing is wrong. 

In Denial, I'm not 8 months pregnant.  Oh no.  In fact, in Denial, I have yet to purchase one piece of maternity clothing.  Instead, I just squeeze my 5'11 rapidly expanding frame, into my regular clothes.  This includes bathing suits and workout gear.  The innocent bystanders in Denial, don't notice that I'm pregnant either.  That by boobs are so high up in my sports bra, they are actually grazing the bottom of my chin, as I go on my 4 mile waddle.  I will be damned to pay money for an article of material that has an expiration date.  I would rather look like a fool.  And I must...because a really loving friend just brought me an entire bag of maternity clothes.  But then, she's not from Denial.  She's from a little town called Reality.

In Denial, kids never go back to school.  I don't get it when parents jump for joy when the kids enter back into the institution where square pegs are forced into round holes.  Don't think for a second, that I love spending endless days of quality time with my kids.  It's more that I am lazy.  I hate being "on" for dreaded Homework duty, random project due dates, and extra activities like field trips, and Walk A Thon's.  I would much rather go to the beach, take the girls swimming, and sleep until 8am each morning, while the twins dole out Cheerios.  In Denial, the summertime schedule works to my strengths.

In Denial, my youngest child would never, ever say anything in public to humiliate me.  In Denial, she would act like an angel, with a glowing halo.  In Safeway, if she saw an elderly fellow slowly walking past us in the cereal aisle, she would never sing a song called, "Old Man, Old Man, you are so slow, Old Man.", leaving me to hush her.  And pray that Old Man, was so hard of hearing, he didn't actually catch  any of the tune written and sung solely for him.  In Denial, my four year old, would never yell out things from the car window, that would make a grown man cringe. For example, while on vacation, our driveway was blocked by the neighbor's vehicle who decided to park anywhere she pleased.  When the neighbor finally came out to move her car, the child yelled out, "What are you?!  DRUNK?!"

In Denial, I have 2.4 kids, a white picket fence, and a husband who resembles Hugh Jackman.  In Denial, rainbows and unicorns are abundant.  I'm not 38, I'm 28.  And I certainly, don't have garden hose pregnancy induced varicose veins.  In Denial, I am still going to Chico State, riding my bike everywhere, and well, doing whatever the hell I want.

Who am I kidding?  Reality is okay.  But it's just that sometimes, I go to Denial for a visit.  Sometimes it's a short visit.  But other times, require an extended stay.  You should come see me sometime.  Really... there's plenty of room for visitors in Denial.