lulling sunlights and the scent of laundry powder pervading my house. complacency and procrastination dangling as my sons wax lyrical on the joys of wrapping in comforting routine.
thank you IKEA.
the last few days have been punctuated by a couple of conspicuously dramatic realizations. I hate to engage in arguments with my husband in public places. I love knitting. I take a shower before going to the gynecologist. I brush my teeth before going to the dentist. I even wash my hair before going to the beauty parlor. and my kids grow up too fast.
my eyes sail through my sons' baby photo albums as if they were someone else's. I remember the flurry of activities and the domestic combats, the long nights and even longer days. I remember the smell of everyday burps, the familiar dirty diapers. I remember the rush and the moral decay. apathy worming in and day-long lamentations about the purpose of my life. but I can not recall one single hug or kiss. and this devastates me.
I wish I could go back. just one day. one hour. it is true. with children, the days are long but the years are short. God, if only I had known.
grocery shopping is like driving with colorful ads and signs blinking and parading on each side of the highway polluting the view. it's like kryptonite to Superman.
it gives me dull headaches.
I can't believe it's October already. and morning is stunning. people are hunting every trace of persistent summer illusions wearing coats and sunglasses, warming up and recharging under the final rays of sun. 6 days. I've spent the last 6 days wrapped in sheer exhaustion and painkillers. it would not have been so bad if only I didn't feel like losing it every hour, every minute. it is very troubling to face adversity with an acute awareness of the fact that a lot of people do not have what you've got. this usually incites human empathy. and gratitude. but this past week it caused distressful isolation. I yelled. I was irritated. I was despotic. I foiled guilt and shame with educational TV programs. I abdicated all my parental responsibilities. I love my kids. I love them more than life. but when I'm buckled up in a dysfunctional body, every trace of my abiding dedication is discarded.
but I'm back now.
6 days.
thank God I think they still love me.
many things have happened lately. a new Hello Kitty toaster. a new car battery. my first PTA meeting. and while I try to gently conceal my glaring inability at maintaining a functioning household and gather up broken bits and jagged edges to write a decent post, my life is insistently reminding me of all the things that still have to be done. nothing is adequate or legitimate. nothing is ever completed. and everything is critical. I sniffle with disbelief as the reality of life with kids usher in. there's just so much to do. always.
the groaning sounds of my tormented dog ricochet around the room and parades the full theatricality of my life. 10 days of single-parenting. again. the dominant, recurrent, indubitable theme of my life. my sons are three and a half years old. everytime I look at them my heart reels with admiration. they're my trophy. I've survived. and if life is fair, motherhood should now involve minimal difficulty and effort. but then I think. hey. if life was fair, my maiden name would not be Bang.
every morning I strap on a backpack of lingering exhaustion gently, yet assiduously, deflecting all domestic duties. today I am imbued with stiffness, a sad result of my pitiful attempt at jogging two days ago, and try to navigate a happy balance between quality time and kids cable network. but when I told my mother over the phone that Sean and Will had been watching tv for 3 hours, she kidnapped them for the evening and is now holding them for acceptable ransom. that is, my two-hour napped, sane headed, remote-control freed, vitamin c-ed self. and I think, that's pretty fair.
sometimes every attempt at capturing moments on my camera fails as if someone is telling me to rest and lay roots rather than carve artificial memories. and sometimes life pauses as another day begins darting out its early flares, mining the depths of my heart and reclaiming a sense of purpose that is beyond everything I know of.
I spend my solo days with an unexpectedly delicate sense of contentment that I embrace with gratitude. but at 4pm, the almost illicit silence enclosing my home is violently dismantled as my sons detonate impudently. after a week of public school immersion I suspect that the rocketing whining and fussing and crying have more to do with my children's need of releasing and discharging frustration at the end of the day than with a flawed education. I am usually adamant about the rules in our house but lately I've conceded a little more contradiction, noise, jumping on beds, harmless acts of rebellion, tv watching and california-rolling with blankets. I try to be a recipient, a bridge, a bundle of mushy love expanding as much as needed. and I have absolutely no idea whether what I'm doing is right or resolutely wrong. some things change and it is pure and simple. and some shifts are more challenging.
I'm still trying to figure out what time is most appropriate to load the dishwasher.
Oct 11, 2005
