Jan 28, 2006this probably indicates that I need to take iron supplements
"Mommy! wake up!"
"what?"
"Will is waiting for you!"
"why?"
"he's finished! you have to wipe his bottom! he's been waiting for you for AN HOUR!"
this morning while I was tramping around the apartment I noticed a narrow, sharply defined ray of light radiating from my sons' room. a little flare illuminating the limits of my own little world. the blurred windows prominently displaying the trace of multiple hands pressing against the panes. every toy, each little car and Playmobile telling a story of its own. I sat there for a while absorbing the innocence and perfectness of that moment. my boundless love for my children echoing off the walls. the giggling, the singing, the cuddling, dwelling in every little corner of the room. and emphasizing the meaning of my life.
when I picked up my boys after artclass today they were blue. smurf blue.
today I also faced two of my biggest fears: the pediatrician's office waiting room and dog poop. both at once. and no, you don't want to know the details.
for my next birthday I want a personal life coach
it's time to stop. trying to find answers to the same questions and searching for balance in a life where too many people are depending on me. it's time to let go. my husband turning his paternal feelings on and off at will and the oppressive obligation of scheduling every day to give my sons the secureness of a routine. it's time to contemplate and absorb things instead of trying to work them out. it's time to indulge. winter sales. eating healthy and more desserts. it's time to listen. my favorite CD saturating the apartment with chords in A major. it's time to accept. my writing, doubtful and brittle, sitting in front of my laptop for hours trying to reach the place where my words would gather some sort of significance and resonance, and fail. it's time to implant my life with what's really important. a spiral notebook, holding my husband's hand and Dora bubbles.
hey, it's ok
if you can knit nothing but scarves and hats.
to watch Extreme Makeover and feel curious about what difference a lipo would make in your life.
to think you're so cool because you just bought this book and a copy of this magazine.
if you want to write a book but still don't know what about.
to clamour for attention and crave for validation. and comments.
to feel inadequate sometimes and think you should be recalled by whoever has manufactured you.
to shuffle through life with that fretful panting, desperate for meaning and a sense of purpose.
and unashamedly tell everyone about that day when your son came up to you saying his index finger was smelling like poop and stuck it up your nose.
to want to be a super mom.
encouraging openness to various types of music and an emotional foundation conducive to handling multiple languages
single parent day #10. I am tired. the kind of exhaustion you get when you've spent too much time negotiating an emotional minefield. too much time with kids. I crawl into bed and nestle with a book in the familiar pokiness of my bedroom. without the boys' screaming voices and fighting over who's going to go pee first, I can hear all these other lives seeping through the walls. footsteps on the ceiling. the elevator door opening. laughter under my feet. and the same song playing in my head over and over again.
"baby I've seen it all before... baby I've seen it all before... baby I've seen it all before... I ain't gonna be a fool, anymore."
only after a few weeks singing in the car with my boys, it sounds more like this.
"bebe I seen it oh Clifford... bebe I seen it oh Clifford... bebe I seen it oh Clifford... I and be a foo... animal"
I smile. somewhere, Amos Lee weeps and is banging his head against a wall.
last night
I blinked for a few seconds and shook my head with disbelief. Italy. he'd just told me he was in Italy. I buzzed my husband up. his eyes were beaming. his pride shinning like a beacon. I could not believe it. he was here. like a dream surviving the real world. we held each other for a long, long time ignoring the how and why questions, our hearts overflowing with an impossible yearning for this moment to never end. later we engaged in rambling conversations about the boys and climbed into bed, making spoons. sinking in each other's embrace. our souls coinciding. as I idly ran my fingers over his face I could feel the glorious blanket of sleep closing over his tired body.
he snored.
6 hours later he was gone again.
"friendship is a knot tied by angels' hands"
a bunch of friends. an old tradition. a couple of queens.
a secret revealed. Wobbles the rabbit. peaceful.
"it's where you sit down that determines everything in life"
going out to meet my friends is like straying beyond my orbit. venturing into a world peopled with childless, rushed and high-heeled. my old life. I ordered a chai tea latte and a piece of raspberry cheesecake and looked around for a vacant chair where I could perch while waiting anxiously for familiar faces to appear. but the place was crowded. I padded my way through the small tables holding my tray, flushed with inexplicable embarrassment.
some days, Starbucks is just like high school cafeteria.