Sign them up for something. Don’t make them do anything. Sleep late. Wake them up on time. School them. Unschool them. Make friends with screentime. Make them suffer Monopoly. Sew. Bake bread for the second time in your life. Freak out. Calm down again. Eat something else.
Do feed them. Otherwise, take a deep breath and feel good that you are keeping them in, doing a tremendous act of community compassion and something downright Un-American, sacrificing for the few.
We’re doing the best we can. Be good to yourself, tell your judgemental inner voice to shut the hell up and have a glass of water, or wine, whatever you want. Be yourself and enjoy the hell out of your kids. Pretty soon they’ll be grown and out of the house, and avoiding your phone calls. So just sit down and watch a movie again. It is okay.
*if you must work out of the house, we feel you. all of us. and we love you, too.
so, i’m making a conscious effort to make my social media ‘feed me’. right.
so there are plants. and lots of ’em.
and lately, a friend pointed to a woman who wrote a book about her life (on being human) and her hearing loss. and i’m literally like. what?. a person has hearing loss and is a mom and functions socially? and writes about it? everything is punctuated by my own incredulity.
(i’ve ordered it, but haven’t read it, or anything about it.)
as if i can’t google things myself. as if i don’t know that there are hearing loss forums and such. as if i haven’t learned and forgotten a million times.
so.plants. and hearing loss. next up? women who are unsatisfied with their lack of productivity, but somehow manage to keep on going in humor and life and stuff. and then, writers who aren’t sure they want to sell anything or fit into a format that is sellable. those people. i want to find my people. in real life, too.
I’ve been sleeping poorly, now, two nights in a row, unable to regulate my temperature. So, I’m hot, I’m cold, I’m sweating and I have a headache when I wake. This is not ideal. (she laughs hysterically)
Yesterday I called in the LM and he arrived, and I rallied. Stood up, took a bath, got it together. Because having someone around is supposed to be a support. Who knew? I mean, really, just having him here making chitchat with the littlest while she does Barbie whoknowswhat? Made me feel more in-control, less likely to snap in my tiredness and just made the whole thing SO MUCH GODDAMNED BETTER.
Maybe its only the times I’ve been on my own, even when married, that make me see the incredible value in presence. I think it is. the difference that having another adult in the house can make…
I’ve made an appointment for therapy because i think i’m actually being hit by a bunch of things at once… an anniversary with LM, which freaks me right the hell out. a repetitious relationship with an ex, which saddens me every time. one kid who thinks i’m going back to the ex, eventually, still, which makes me want to vomit with guilt for all that he does not know.
and so i’m doing whirligigs here, internally. LM is just amazing and even when I say things that potentially might undo him, he is listening and staying and holding on to me. Its astonishing, frankly.
and so, i need therapy again.
DID I MENTION IT IS SCHOOL VACATION WEEK AND WE ARE ALL HOME TOGETHER?!
except my 14 year old, who has been on two skiing trips because you know. 14. sigh. beauty and stretch.
i do love you. hope you are well.
OH, and my cold or whatever this is is affecting MY HEARING, which means everything is muffled and I have to put my face into someone elses to hear. which makes mothering spectacular.
OH, and the fastest way to get relief is to call my ex, which gives me great anxiety.
OH, and school vacation. Did I say that?
OH, and i’m working on a childrens book and I love it, and I am too invested in imaginary illustrations already… sigh. know any agents? (hysterical laughing)
hi. I’m at the end of my recovery day, from yesterday’s full 24 hours of hell, from both ends. the kids were at school for the bulk of it, but after school were play auditions for two kids, and a soccer game so I needed to ask for help. and it came, with trumpets. kids were taken to tryouts, soccer was watched and that kid got to go out to dinner with his dad…dinner was served to other kids, homework was done. a small crew of 3 adults did what I do on a normal Wednesday.
I’m not going to tell you I’m not proud of my life.
and I’m going to tell you that you are lucky if you have family and love like I do. so lucky.
today is recovery. fair amounts of water, boredom in bed, sickness at the thought of food, but hungry. by the time the bus rolled around today, I had moved myself to the kitchen cozy. spent an hour just chatting with my girl because I missed her yesterday. an hour. the bliss of it. just cozied up. I learned about the lady who did all the math for the moon. (Katherine Johnson) Everything stays the same, yes? but these tiny differences? that my girl sits on my lap and tells me all about the LADY that did all the math to save the men who traveled to the moon? oh, it’s rich with possibility. if this were a comic, we would turn the page to the next ms. marvel.
but since I’ve been in bed all day, I now can’t sleep, as weak and ridiculous as I feel. and so I’m here, apologetic.
I thought it would be so cool to go through it and pick out the things that I loved, that I have written, those bits of beauty that slipped through and away during those years.
and I can’t. I read the first post, and the second, and did some flipping. and it is just unbearably sad. I was so sad, all the time, and mad, and lost. like the perfect puppy who lives under the bridge while the happy family walks by, unseeing. I hate ‘near miss’ movies, and I’m pretty sure I lived one for a long time. Maybe the hate comes from the experience.
It was ten years of my life, that writing. and makes two volumes, when divided chronologically. the first is so fat, rich with hope and trying. and the second volume thin, with so much less of everything.
I don’t want to look into the memories, or remember what the code was in my stories, as I was trying so hard to communicate with my husband my devastation at what i was, what we were.
Its been crushing me a little, into sickness maybe? and this is the season when I feel devastation the deepest. if one has any choice in that, at all.
so there it is. my late-night blog. what the hell do i do with all that?
its the way I describe that feeling, when i’m too stressed about things that are much bigger than I am. but fuck it. we’re dealing with absolutely unprecedented levels of fear and anxiety these days. fucking ‘cataclysmic’ isn’t even an exaggeration anymore, or a word I have to explain to my kids.
school shootings are a thing. if you touch me on that subject, I burst into flame. my kids are all in public schools and I can’t even begin to consider.
there is an island of trash. people don’t recycle and still litter and it is pretty irrelevant to me whether this is just ‘natural earth cycles’ or not, because litter and pollution in the skies are pretty much human problems. there’s no snails responsible.
and immediately? the icecaps are fucking melting. and so our weather has changed and is changing and i’m not sure we’re not already doomed.
how the fuck do I talk to my kids about THAT?
and certainly, it bears mentioning that I live in the United States and I have a president who is behaving unbelievably recklessly. the situation that is being created by his actions and lack of integrity may in fact settle us into war, with the world.
I mean, what the fuck man? does being nice at the grocery store help with any of this? does enjoying a snuggle with my kid balance out these IMMENSE disasters? I have a sick kid here today and she’s responded well to meds and has that glazed, overly illuminated look while she makes a drawing and talks to me. I’m staring at her, because she’s amazing, and I don’t know what the world will be like for her, in her adulthood. at all.
I find this level of bullshit extraordinarily hard to handle.