IMG_1682What was that I said about cosmic retaliation? Good grief, that’s the last time I joke about that. Did you see the hail pounding San Diego today? What happened to our 74 degree winter? All week we’ve been hit by a succession of storms that alternated wind, driving rain, hail, sprinkles, sun, and then the whole list again, over and over, in ten- to twenty-minute intervals. Today, my three five-year-old boys and I weren’t able to duck out between rain intervals to run off energy at the park as in previous days, and as a result my almighty “I am Queen Serene” attitude was put to serious test. Imagine sharing the same four walls with three squirrelly, sometimes cranky, sometimes giddy, always vocal little boys, for ten hours straight—with one of them pounding on wood with plastic tools much of the time. It was like having a woodpecker trapped in my head… a woodpecker who would smile up at me sweetly whenever I moved to to de-hammer him and say, “Hi, gorgeous. I wuv you and I’m building you a surprise.” Of course he got to keep his hammer each time. He knows all my buttons and EXACTLY when to push each one.

Then there was the child who built an ant house out of Jenga blocks . . . and unknown to me put BAIT in it. Anyone got a good cure for ant attack? The darn things are everywhere now.IMG_1685

And lastly there was the child who stayed up until 10:30 last night, unable to sleep because his brilliantly serene mother had made him nap on a day that would not allow him to go outside to tire again for bedtime. (I said I was feeling serene, not smart.) He wasn’t even close to tired when bedtime came and we all paid the price today. Oy, the whine of a tired child. Made me reconsider the constant hammering as music to my ears.

I’m relieved to say that my serenity held up, but it was severely weatherbeaten. Instead of channelling Pollyana and Mrs. Teaberry, I warped into Frank Costanza. You know, Mr. “SERENITY NOW!!!!!” And I have to say, the benefits of the Pollyanna’s Glad Game aside, there is something very satisfying about using the word “serenity” in a cuss word fashion. For one thing, it is safe if overheard by young ears. For another, it reminds me each time of the serenity I’m supposed to be gathering to myself like warm waves in a summer sea.  But most importantly, it always, always puts a smile on my face because the voice I hear leaving my lips when I say it is not mine but that of a certain loud, irascible, neurotic, abrasive, and fabulously eccentric fictional father figure played to perfection by Jerry Stiller. Who in the world would’ve guessed when they cast him for that part that his would become the voice of serenity?

The face of serenity, well, I wouldn’t go quite that far…

frank