A lovely distraction.


I received a friend’s Christmas card in the mail today.

It wasn’t a postal delay; it had been mailed on January 14th. At least she did better than me. I didn’t send out a single card. Simply never got around to it.

Which of course led to my New Year’s resolution: no more putting stuff off. And right at the top of my “TO DO” list? Getting back into the groove of writing this blog. Thus, I’ve sequestered myself in a corner of my favorite public library to write this post.

Now, no sooner had I resolved that 2011 would be my year to Get Stuff Done than I stumbled across a New Yorker piece about this very subject. (Um….yeah…I was procrastinating at the time.) The article explores the history, sociology and science of the all-too common, all-too human act (non-act?) of dragging our feet.

Turns out I have some very illustrious company in putting things off till later, including Civil War General George McClellan and author Victor Hugo, who “would write naked and tell his valet to hide his clothes so that he’d be unable to go outside when he was supposed to be writing.”

Sounds like a very motivating method. Not sure the librarians here would appreciate my trying it, though…



There are torn jeans that need mending,
and thank-yous that need sending,
bills I should be paying,
and a garden that needs spraying.

I’ve got closets that need cleaning,
a rug in need of steaming,
potatoes that need boiling,
plus a roast I should be broiling.

There’s my blog I should be writing,
lots of other work I’m slighting,
dirty clothes that need collecting,
and a car that needs inspecting.

I have dishes that need stacking,
and lunches that need packing,
Christmas stuff to put away,
and a workout gone astray.

There’s a smoke detector beeping,
wooden floors I should be sweeping,
appointments to be making
and a shower I should be taking.

Yes, you’d think that I’d get going
with this list that’s ever-growing,
but I have to keep it waiting:
I’m too busy…procrastinating.

©2011 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz


Supermom, Schmupermom

I can bring home the bacon. Fry it up in a pan. And never, never, never let you forget you’re a man! ‘Cause I’m a woman!

I know the words from the Anjolie perfume commercial by heart. I had them drilled into my head growing up in the 70’s.

When that ad was popular, women had already come a long way, baby. Thirty-some years later, on International Women’s Day, we recognize that we’ve come even further.

However, as a woman – specifically a mom — there’s a certain ideal I feel compelled to live up to. Society puts it out there, of course, but I can take responsiblity for it, too. I hold myself up to this crazy and often impossible standard when it comes to being a mother, a writer, an employee, a homemaker, a friend and a lover. Even a few minutes spent with today’s Oscars red carpet pics delivers plenty of evidence of moms who feel the need to alter their bodies to uphold our society’s standards of beauty. And moms who don’t.

But damn, we’re not perfect, and we’ll drive ourselves crazy striving to be. So today, I’m not frying up any bacon or spraying about anything but Eau de Lysol. I’m getting take out and serving it up in a lovely ensemble of sweatpants and t-shirt.

‘Cause I’m a woman.


SuperMom, SchmuperMom

SuperMom, SchmuperMom.

More like…In-A-Stupor Mom.

Sick-and-Tired-of-Poop-er Mom.

Oh @#%! Another Blooper Mom.

Fevers-Colds-and-Croup-er Mom.

Runny-Nose-with-Goop-er Mom.

Pass-the-Chicken-Soup-er Mom.

Late-For-Our-Playgroup-er Mom.

Stay-at-Home/Commuter Mom.

Bargain-Hunting-Two-Fer Mom.

I’m-Tired-of-Being-A-Trouper Mom.

Bit-Off-More-Than-I-Could-Chew-per Mom

Life’s-Thrown-Me-For-A-Loop-er Mom.

I-Nursed-So-Now-They-Droop-er Mom.

SuperMom? SchmuperMom.

© 2009 Carlotta Stankiewicz