Humanity

All quiet

For the first time in my fifteen year shift as mother, all three children were throwing up at the same time. (first, and only. RIGHT?)

Its quarter to ten in the morning, and everyone is lying down somewhere, even the dog.

I haven’t been out to let the chickens out as I’m finding it hard to take more than ten steps at a time. 🙂 I’ve been through tougher spots than this. There was a two week period a few years ago, where the kids all went down consecutively, so there was never any break. This was just one night and at some point, they all stopped throwing up long enough to catch a few hours of sleep.

and now its quiet.

I have a book at my side that is creeping me out, called THE HUNGER, by ALma Katsu. For those of you who regularly read scary things, this is probably not scary. But I’m a novice, and I’m getting spooked by the ominous and the foreshadowing. My brain already knows whats what, but I am waiting, waiting, waiting to find out who and how. Its set in westward expansion times (Donner party) and there is a wagon train and bloody mystery. (even mormons, for godssake.)

So this is what I’m doing, after stumbling to the study to pick up this piece of computer, I am going back to it. Reading. Listening hard for coughing that will lead to more throw-up or throw-up laundry. We shall see. This is the gig.

When my kids were sick last night, they were so grateful. It was insane, but I recognize it. When someone takes care of me when I am ill, I am also so grateful. I love it, in fact, because I get to say to my children out loud…. I love being your mother, all the time, even when you are sick. You are my babies, forever and ever, and I will always take care of you.

Getting to say that, in the middle of the night, to a weak child, while feeling weak yourself? Stunning. Adding to that the sincerity involved? Massive.

So, its all quiet here. And I’m okay so far. Fingers crossed on this. all the fingers, please.

Its not all bad. Not even nearly.

Humanity

All done.

I’m done with a bunch of things. I ate a bunch of broccoli yesterday to attempt to keep my damn kid out of my bed last night. She is adorable, and often I love to have her sleep as she is the most adorable thing in the world. However, I am also a fan of my ‘own’ bed.

But honestly, why my brain would make me think broccoli was a good plan? Sigh. Slept like shit. farty shit. And now I am here, at almost eleven am, exhausted. Yelling at my kid who is 15 now to get out of my room so maybe I can take a nap. He is farty too, or I’m hoping thats the smell there. but I want just one place in the house that is mine, that the messes are mine, that the laundry I launder is just mine. MINE.

I’m all done with sharing. can i be? can i be all done with sharing my bed with children? is there some lost chance, some missed opportunity to snuggle that i will regret forever?

I’m done with my big project. Yes, another will arrive in a month, because it is luck to have work at all. This one was a particular challenge as i was morose and not working at all for a week, then the kids were here and recovery and grief and all, and suddenly i was in deep shit. brutal encouragement did the trick. but today, it is done.

now i go off to look at the class i signed up for, and get dreamy again, and maybe clean out the fridge. I’d like to rent a truck to move furniture to the dump. because otherwise i have to burn this messy house down. another thing i am done with.

teenagers. not done, but done, if you know what i mean. done.

sigh. i want some energy. where is it? did i have it before the broccoli problem? last year? When?

another thing I am done with? thinking that I should be all done with this pandemic thing. I ‘should be’ moving on, getting through, getting out. I should be moving, losing the weight, turning it around. The numbers are great, so great, comparatively. My mother is fully vaccinated, as are my in-laws and many people I love. And I don’t know how to accurately express the emotional salad bowl I have going on in me. What’s my resistance? What’s my problem? Why do I want to make another cake when I start thinking about it? Shit. fuck.

Done.

What are you done with? Really. I mean it. What are you done with?

close up photo of stacked brownies on chopping board
Brownie cake will do just fine. Photo by Marta Dzedyshko on Pexels.com

Humanity

Drop the Flinch, February.

I have a new office.

My back is turned to all of the kid action and there aren’t any plants or birds to stare at. The desk my laptop is on is empty still, empty of knicknacks and unnecessariness. Its definitely strange. The two pieces of artwork in front of me are fascinating me. They are darkly colorful and I dig it.

I have new guilt.

I can’t really hear the boys who are remote learning. I don’t see them start milling about when it is time for lunch. This is roughly my third day with this space. Today was my first day with kids in school and an actual routine and I forgot to make them lunch. I forgot to make them lunch. I’m pretty sure they just ate snack food all day.

Hmm. Am I a 70s mom?

I don’t think of myself as a helicopter parent at all. but clearly, it is not necessary for me to be in the middle of the action.

So is this guilt or am I feeling a loss of relevance? Or, have I done my job so fucking well that they function at a subsistence level without me just fine? Like, the wolves will not get them, ya dig?

I’m here, its almost dinner time and I’m still in here, typing. I got three times as much done today as I usually do. Its all the uninterrupted time, looking at the damn computer, that’s what it was. What will happen now that I know this trick?

When the boys were little I was in a shock-and-awe phase for quite a while. They were so damn risk-friendly, I was flinching all the time. After a while, I got over it, as a survival mechanism, an adaptation to have a healthier life. There is a point you have to look away, for your own health.

And that’s where I find myself again. Looking away, at least, more often. What will open up for me? What will open up for them?

I know, I know, Virginia Woolf. I know.

but yeah, that. here it is.

love love.

Humanity

Last day of the longest vacation ever, February.

EVER.

the boiler broke down. the sink clogged for two days. Now I have some kind of problem with a circuit and I have no stove or microwave. I’m totally chill. Last night I cried, on the inside, waves of self-pity.

I’ve gotten the boiler fixed. I fixed the sink and I’m waiting on God to help with the circuits because whatever has happened is defying all logic. And I’m just going without until it solves. Yes, I am.

So, the self-pity is not inaction. Its just getting worn down, feeling like quitting. I have this sometimes as I’m sure all humans do. Last night was my night for just feeling like a failure, because things aren’t easy, and they keep being that way.

BUT then, in getting takeout, I kvetched to the lady about the circuits, and she told a story of her brother ‘fixing’ a faucet and causing a geyser in the kitchen which went through to flood the basement. So we laughed, and put our heads on the countertops in defeat. And she gave me two pieces of chocolate cake for free.

There is kindness and laughter and its just life. I can handle it. I get tired sometimes, and I can handle that too.

I have crockpots and matches, so I’m good without an oven. Its going to be fine. My stiff upper lip is vibrating with heat, so I might be lying about that. (there’s always a tell when i’m lying to myself, always.)

My nephew is here and its been awesome how much that has lifted them all off their screens. Snow play, ‘hotel’ making, just plain running and a whole lot of trash talk… its been good. But now I want to take a big nap and not wake up at 4:30 for a little long time. February vacation indeed.

Fingers crossed for Thursday, when all three kids will be in school at the same time, one for the first time, since last March.

Fingers crossed and words to heaven, please.

love love,

me.

Yep. pretty much how its been. One boy throttling another, in humor. Or is it?