I hope I delete this next part of my post. I hope that in writing out some frustrations and brain static that I arrive at something worth reading.

[Spoiler alert: this is about as good as it gets.]

I don’t know what “down time” is. I have no off-season. No off-switch. No inner sanctum, no “nothing box” where I can retreat at a moment’s notice from the constant barrage of demands that come with this mom life.

When I’m home with my kids on a “day off,” no matter how independent they have become in many respects, I don’t know how to do what only a dad can do with them on his day off.

How can he be in the next room, staring at some screen while blissfully forgetting he has children? How?!

I don’t yell and swear like I used to.

Or maybe I save that for school days…?

No, I’m pretty sure if I’ve scrubbed my mouth out with soap recently, it’s only because I thought it handy to pump toothpaste (handsoap!) onto my toothbrush, scrub for a while, and only then remember that toothpaste shouldn’t taste like flowers.

But I came very close to dropping a curse word the day before Christmas as I did all the housework and kid care under the illusion that my husband was working on a Christmas surprise upstairs. When I asked what he’d been working on (he’d come down for a snack), he at least had the sense to tell the truth.

I had the sense to smile through my fury in case the kids were watching. And then I walked away and tried to do whatever I wanted for a change. So I went to the bathroom, er, my thinking spot, so I could be alone and think.

How does a man, even a conscientious, industrious, brilliant one like my husband, ease himself out of Responsible Mode and into Recumbent Mode?

The answer has been percolating through my brain, apparently. A mixture of music, logic, and emotional irresponsibility filtered reality until I was left with my version of the truth.

A man can turn off his brain to watch sports because of basic economics–someone has created a market by exploiting the weakness of their candid audience. At least I think that’s basic economics. Like popcorn and soda at the movies. You’re already there to exit reality for two hours, so why not forget about healthful food and reasonable prices while you’re at it? Enter product and high demand.

Anyway.

When a song gets stuck in my head, and I don’t know all the lyrics, I eventually invent new ones. Just to slow the spinning record for a moment, try to derail the needle from the track it’s stuck on.

Which song is it this time?

With the holiday season come two things that I both love and hate. Football and Christmas songs.

They’re always the same–full of nostalgia and full of repetition. Stress-inducing and reassuringly unifying.

But even the best carols, hymns, “Last Christmas” renditions, and choral numbers fall prey to my “one more second of this, and I’m going to write Santa and tell him what I really think!” threats.

[If you let this mom write such a letter, next thing she’ll want is a big, red “CANCELED” stamp to ink across the TV screen, the Amazon deliveries, the radio, and the beautiful Christmas cards she doesn’t have time to respond to, let alone read. The Grinch would have nothing on such a mom.]

I remember trying to cancel Christmas one year, and I don’t want to be that mom again.

So I take a subtler route. A passive-aggressive attempt at passing off my anger as humor. Because after hearing my children ask a thousand times, “Mary, Did You Know?,” I think, “Yes! Of course she knew! Mothers know everything!! That’s why people ask them questions all day instead of asking their fathers!”

So now, some questions for those fathers.

“Larry, did you know that your La-Z-Boy won’t take you to the bowl game?

Larry, did you know that your La-Z-Boy won’t help them cross the goal plane?

Did you know that your La-Z-Boy gives you a perfect view?

The play sent to review, they could have just asked you.

Larry, did you know that your quarterback can’t hear you say who’s open?

Larry, did you know that he’s hiding pain with loads of ibuprofen?

Did you know that insurance folks know you’re a sitting duck?

The nest egg you’ve been growing, you’re leaving up to luck.

Larry, did you know…over and over

Watching you sit, her anger’s lit

But she won’t kill you yet.

Your wife can see your high BP

And checks your policy.

Larry, did you know that the Mayhem guy died briefly in his real life?

Larry, did you know your insurance rates stay higher than your wife’s?

Did you know that your La-Z-Boy won’t keep you uninjured?

And your wife lets you keep watching because you’re insured.

[My husband rarely watches televised sports, so I’m just spoiled by what an attentive husband and father he usually is. This photos shows a more accurate depiction of how he spends his time in front of the TV.]

Original Song and Lyrics by Mark Lowry

Mary, did you know that your baby boy

Would one day walk on water?

Mary, did you know that your baby boy

Would save our sons and daughters?

Did you know that your baby boy

Has come to make you new?

This child that you delivered, will soon deliver you

Mary, did you know that your baby boy

Will give sight to a blind man?

Mary, did you know that your baby boy

Will calm the storm with his hand?

Did you know that your baby boy

Has walked where angels trod?

When you kiss your little baby

You kiss the face of God

Mary, did you know?

Mary, did you know?

Mary, did you know? Did you know?

Mary, did you know? Mary, did you know?

Mary, did you know? Mary, did you know?

Mary, did you know? Mary, did you know?

The blind will see, the deaf will hear

The dead will live again

The lame will leap, the dumb will speak

The praises of the Lamb

Mary, did you know that your baby boy

Is Lord of all creation?

Mary, did you know that your baby boy

Would one day rule the nations?

Did you know that your baby boy

Is heaven’s perfect Lamb?

That sleeping child you’re holding is the great, I Am

Mary, did you know? (Mary, did you know?)

Mary, did you know? (Mary, did you know?)

Mary, did you know? Oh