Scene from Monday Evening

For my domicile, there used to be 2 community sized dumpsters and about 8 individual sized recycling trash cans that were inconveniently placed in a parking lot about 200 yards and down a hill from my condo.  Somebody at the HOA recently had the genius idea to remove all of the recycling dumpsters and just label one of the two existing community sized dumpsters as recycling only.  So the 20ish homes sharing this setup now have half of the capacity to put their trash in, and the dumpsters have been overflowing as people literally just place their garbage on the ground next to the dumpsters.  I decided not to contribute to this mess on the ground with my disgusting diaper filled trash bags and so I had been letting my garbage build up to the point that the trash can on my patio was overflowing. 

On Monday when I got home I decided I had had enough, as the lid could no longer even close on my trash can and so I decided to roll the thing down the hill and deposit the garbage whether there was room or not.  I was managing ok rolling this stinking heap down the hill when I felt a small tickle on my right hand and looked down to see a giant field mouse escape from the depths of my trash can, jumping onto my hand then down off my leg before scurrying away into the street.  I stopped, cursed, laughed, then proceeded to kick the can a few times and demand to know if any more little fuckers were hiding in there.  Satisfied that I heard no squeaks or other movements, I continued, more cautiously this time, to roll the trash can down the hill.  Because I was now being more attentive, I immediately saw when the next giant behemoth of a well fed field mouse emerged.  I shrieked like an 8 year old girl, threw my hands up, dropping the entire trash can, sending all of the putrid contents spilling out onto the sidewalk, and then clutched myself and writhed in horror as I watched the mouse speed away to safety. 

I then collected myself and the garbage and finished the job.  The end. 

I AM IN CHARGE

They say if you repeat a lie often enough it becomes the truth.  Well, I'm not sure they actually say that, but it certainly sounds like something they might say doesn't it?  In any case, I'm vigorously testing the veracity of this statement.  Long ago I decided that when it comes to parenting, it's of the utmost important to establish dominance during the toddler years.  This obviously doesn't guarantee success (relative, of course) for the remainder of the child rearing process, but if the child doesn't respect your authority early on, you've got a deep pit to climb out of by the time the kid is a school aged monster.  So, with 2 just around the corner, my approach to becoming a credible authority figure is simply to continually claim that it is so.  When Maya is at the height of her disobedience, I conjure my most dominant energy, pound my index finger into my chest multiple times and assert that "Maya, I AM IN CHARGE.  YOU, are NOT in charge!"  Then I lay out my next set of commands, and come hell or high water, make sure that my will is actualized, because I AM IN CHARGE (Mommy is also in charge). 

But here's the thing.  I'm not in charge.  Not remotely.  Not even a little.  Not in any aspect of my life.  In fact, in the history of life on this planet, it's hard to imagine that there's ever been a living organism less in charge than I am.  Usually the  moments when I'm pounding my chest with false bravado are the very moments when the degree to which I'm not in charge is at its zenith.  The idea of a person like myself trying their best to prop up this charade of authority is so absurd that it's almost overwhelmingly hilarious sometimes. 

Oh well.  Onwards and forwards.