Humanity

Chump

I got stood up on a first date. I only waited fifteen minutes. I bought myself a sundae anyhow but didn’t want to pay a dollar for the slices of banana and so robbed myself of a little joy. but there was hot fudge.

(online dating bites the big one, also without banana)

i wore my yoga pants backwards this morning, to yoga. I’m not sure if anyone could tell but man, its that feeling, when you recognize that you are kinda sorta only basically functioning.

I spend a lot of time excusing people, making up imaginary scenarios in which there is a good reason for their bad behavior. I am beginning to see what a waste of my time that is. It is hard to let go of a pattern I’ve had since childhood. Some things are just inexplicable.

I’d like to tell you that I’ve been patting myself on the back for dodging a bullet but that would not be true. I wonder to myself if he saw me, and ran away, like they do in the movies. I am not 27 anymore and my exotic bird characteristics are not for everyone.

And then I think to myself I will stop looking. And then I recognize that it is possibly one of my defining traits, to be looking, seeking, curious. So then what? A break? I have fear that if i do that it will be permanent, I will somehow float off into the woods never to be seen again, disconnected entirely from the world of my body and of men.

and maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. but then there’s these kids that still need to be shepherded to adulthood. and stuff. and i should probably feed the dog. yah.

CHUMP.

thats right. its been that kind of week. And i’m pretty sure its just Monday.

Humanity

so. summer. its here. (sustain)

Its tuesday, it is technically the fourth and a half day of summer. (not counting the weekend when they are at their dads, if so, that would be two more days, because facts matter. actual facts, i mean.) I have had children tell me they hate summer salads. I have had children crying because they can’t do something every day. Teenagers have cried on the inside at my absolute bitchery. what happens on the outside is sullen, and often involves speed-dialing their dad to complain. this makes me feel SOOOOO good.

Also? this is the second day of non-beachy weather and so, kindof home-bound. I have had talks about how we can’t get ice cream every day and if we’re going to buy the ‘pitch back’ and the ‘gymnastics bar’, then we are going to have to figure out how to like summer salads, because take out is for special events, not EVERY GODDAMN DAY. I have had talks, to deaf ears (not my own) about how to fill time when bored. Today I will take a phone away, for the charges I found when I woke up this morning. It will be banner. BANNER.

GUys. This is tuesday, of the first full week.

(and i have 30,000 words to write in the next ten days.)

(i’m getting up very early. werk.)

I’m fine! I really am! I’m going to be fine! I’ve done this before. I’m totally chill. I don’t mind driving them around, I don’t. I could do with a little less complaining for their charmed lives, but I’m fine. we’re good. Next year, everyone is getting a damn job. Less time means less complaining, right?

european-rabbits-bunnies-grass-wildlife.jpg
Not my bunnies. But just like ’em..Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I’m still poet-ing with my old friend and I just love it. There is a piece of me that is so damn happy to still be alive, alive enough to be poet-ing.

the latest thing I wrote in that exchange? This:

-am watching a baby bunny outside,

clover and green are what sustain.

and me too, these small things sustain.

Sweet, right? So tiny. but so lovely.

sustain, baby.

love love,

me.

Humanity

Focus, foooocus.

Cynthia Lee prompt again, and something I have struggled with today.

How to focus. What to focus. What to focus on.

I went to the beach after dropping off my youngest, completely forgetting my Tuesday writing group…. Its only been a few years, that’s all, that I’ve been writing with the same women every Tuesday morning. (evidently a few years is not enough to permeate my long-term memory cache- which would make sense for me, on a lot of levels)

I’m reminded of real cameras, and focus, and the f-stop, the way you decide how much light to let in. (thank you leonard cohen, once and always) There is a relationship between the light and the focus, and I am mindful of it.

I went to a plant sale and came home and planted them, even though it is overly sunny. THAT was a rare bit of focus, to get that job done, rather than letting them languish on the front porch, or worse, in the trunk of the car.

I think focus and avoidance sometimes hold hands in the woods. well, lack of focus I suppose.

I just got up to make sure I had my phone, and I stopped in the kitchen and filled the dishwasher, but didn’t turn it on because the kids are responsible for that. but I hate that it is an unfinished thing, so then i washed off the pan I cooked last night’s empanadas on, because I had to fit dinner in between a million things and everyone had something different, and none of the kids will wash the empanada pan. I had french fries from mcdonalds. And I forgot to bring my phone back in here at all. And the whole reason I came in here in the first place was to start the process of getting a beach pass.

and here I am writing. Sigh.

I’m not focused or I’m out of focus.

Is there enough light in me? Do I need to draw it in or let it out?

My brains are fuzzy.

I do remember my name though, for what its worth.

I can write for hours about the things I get distracted by, but I want to pull it in, get myself together. The things I choose to focus on? Kids. Humor. Pleasure. Expression.

I planted a lupine and some yarrow today, I’m feeling wild gardens to come. Lupine do not like to be transplanted so she will be watched overnight and watered mightily. Such a great pleasure for me, to see these things grow, to have an appreciation for the shape of a leaf. (THAT is why I love the lupine, isn’t that crazy? Its got this enormous, phallic bloom in the most beautiful colors, and I love the leaf, devotedly.)

I can’t get it through my head to be single-minded about anything. There is literally almost nothing that I do, start to finish, all in one sitting. nothing.

Is it just me? What am I doing? Am I using the wrong aperture? Is there too much light coming in? Not enough? How big is the lens I use?

Fstop my heart,

love love,

kate

Humanity

Yesterday. all my troubles were… on display.

I had it all arranged. All of it. I felt like I had 38 kids. I did. I had to involve the entire community but all the kids were covered to go all the places they needed to in one afternoon. Nobody was going to miss anything. I was the Queen of the World.

One was going to another school to play lacrosse which he loves but i’m freaked out by because seriously, only rich kids play that game. or long islanders. anyhow. my issue.

but the other one was getting picked up by other parents from one sport to be taken to another sport and i was going to drag all three to watch and then bring ’em all home by 8 pm. somehow food was going to happen too.

the third one was to be picked up at school by me, taken to gymnastics and then the grandmother was grabbing her to bring her home and i was going to sneak out and try to have an in-person meeting with someone I don’t know except virtually who happens to be male. Because I actually have a place in my own life, too. I should embolden that sentence, but I won’t, because now that I’ve typed it, it would be weird.

and on the way to school in the morning, the littlest got that look.

THAT LOOK.

She’d been really grumpy and tired all morning but you know, Mom was on fire with keeping the schedule intact so that she could maybe take a shower before the ‘meeting’.

Well. THAT LOOK. the look which means, Mom, something is about to happen, I know not what… but I really don’t feel good and any end is open for evacuation.

So, Mom throws her hands up in the air, turns the car around and drives her carefully laid plans back home to tend.

no gymnastics. no go get em. Ah. whatever.

I did go meet the guy and thats a whole ‘other post having to do with my expectations and desires and how confused I am still by my own sexuality. like, Man, my fires ARE BURNING. and, yet, I don’t want someone who only wants me when I am on fire. (no, I was not showing him any flames, but still) I have not yet found a balance, or a man who has the patience to wait and watch me figure it out, whatever it is. and take me to a delicious dinner, and walk in the woods and stuff, and laugh with me. so.

today i have another one home, different stuff. so there, plans. just stuff it, already.

life.

love love,

me.

black illustration on white printer paper
FIE! I say, FIE! to you and your plans!! FIE!! Photo by Matej on Pexels.com
Humanity

Bossy pants: mom, sister.

This title is completely and utterly misleading, fyi.

Today my teenager momentarily refused to go to school. Out and out refused to get out of bed.

Yes, I reacted strongly. And I reacted like I was dealing with my brother thirty years ago. My teen was actually righteously enraged that I thought he was ‘serious’, which of course, is debatable. (He was refusing to get out of bed. WTF?)

My brother was a ‘delinquent’ of sorts. When you love someone, the words have a different meaning, and empathy is always a part of everything, which makes it all complicated like it is. So even the ‘delinquent’ has to be qualified somehow. I spent a lot of my teen years trying to control or mediate with him, between him and consequence. Throwing away his cigarettes, paying him to stay home, turning the attention to myself so it would relieve the attention on him? Yes. Did any of it work at all? No. The feeling of uselessness is strong. Useless, helpless, fruitless. Those. SO.

The level of panic I had this morning at my teenager was intense. It occurred to me to call the police, friends. For real. Did he go to school? Yes, totally. Ate breakfast with his brother and tolerated a sincere hug from me. I had a chance to explain some of my reactions and a little bit of my history, and apologize for my panic and rage. Not for yelling, but for the level of it.

He was still mortally offended. (I’m sad he felt that way going off to school but basically he was a turd and he got called out, so whatever.) He got out of bed when I told him I was going to disassemble his computer. And I would have sold it for parts. For real. All the way through.

I’m still shaken now, trying to process the panic through my body, the panic that is a fear that things are spiralling, that the tight control I have on my family is unravelling, that they will all be in mortal danger if I don’t hold it all so tightly. The trick is, you have to actually let go of it, and let consequences happen. And that is very hard to face.

( I do not think my kid will end up in a crack den because of today’s activities. My brother did not. He’s a good, mature guy now. But he was kicked out of the house for a good bit of time, into the foster system.)

so there is today’s parenting boys moment. and its still coursing through me, a good 90 minutes later.

Whoosh, baby.

love love, me.

One beautiful eye.