Mama Meilz, this is your life

Do you ever feel like you're starring in a sitcom?

As a kid, I longed to live on Sesame Street. I was sure that Bert and Ernie would be able to find a place for me in their cramped bedroom and that even Oscar the Grouch would be friendly. (back in those days, there was no Abby Cadabby or Flying Fairy School, but had there been I know I would have fit right in).

During my angst-filled early teen years, I loved My So-Called Life. I just knew that I was a twin to Angela (from the top of her henna-red hair, right on down to the toes of her doc martin combat boots) and that all I needed was my very own Jordan Cattelano to make my life complete. I had the flannel thing on lock and loved to write bad poetry and smoke Marlboro Lights.

By college, I was too smart to have cable tv and gleaned my news and pop culture information from the University Star newsroom. I fell in love with movies like The Royal Tennenbaums, Best in Show and Waiting for Guffman. Movies that, I believed, only witty people could understand.

These days, I definitely feel like I'm living in a sitcom of an entirely different variety. It's a little bit of the Middle and a little bit of Roseanne and there's a splash of something else entirely unique thrown in. You see, I work (part-time) with a group of wonderfully talented, socially conscious, fashionable, friendly people. Everyone except me happens to be gay. This is not a surprise, considering the magazine I work for profiles gay leaders in the Austin community.

At work, when we aren't breaking down stereotypes and shattering misconceptions, we'll often talk about what is going on in each of our respective lives. C tells me about the events he attends and keeps me abreast of the latest political news. He fills me in on what's going on around town, from a new television show being filmed, to an art show opening to a gourmet food trailer that just popped up. A shows me stunningly beautiful photos that she takes on her trips to exotic locales, lets me know what local animal rescue groups are up to and what wonderful music is playing at The Long Center, ACL Live and other great venues. But when it's my turn to share, I swear to you, even I get bored listening to myself, but somehow I just can't stop.  I talk about my crock pot meals. About G's preschool (Mother's Day Out). How I just don't think I can possibly wash another poopy diaper, so I'm thinking about switching back to disposable diapers.

A typical conversation might go something like:

Mama Meilz: "Hey C, how was your weekend?"
C: "Amazing. I went to the W for drinks on Friday. Spent Saturday lounging by the pool. Checked out a great new restaurant on Saturday, saw an exhibition at Arthouse, hopped over to Eastside Showroom and finished the night dancing at Rain. Sunday I brunched and then spent more time at the pool How 'bout you?"
Mama Meliz: "Oh, good. Grace peed her pants on Saturday, but I think she was just tired because she didn't take a nap. R knocked over an entire canister of flour and it took me 4 hours to clean it up because I had to keep stopping to nurse her, but Sunday we finally made it to the grocery store. We're having pot roast tonight."
C: "Oh, that's.... interesting..."

When did I become so un-cool?

If it seems like I'm complaining, let me assure you, I'm not. I love sticky fingers and even stickier floors (seriously), because I love the little hands that made them that way. I love singing the Wheels on the Bus and driving around in my Kia (momobile) with animal crackers ground in to the carpet, because I recognize that even though the days feel long, the years will be short.

One, "I love you Mommy, you're the best Mommy in the whole world," from G and one sloppy open mouthed kiss followed by "Mamamamamamama" from R makes up for a year of dancing till the sun comes up. I'll take Disney World over Bora Bora any day.

I'm not sure when it happened, but this is definitely my life.