This isn’t the post where I promise that I will write more frequently. It’s not, necessarily, my lame excuse for why I haven’t been posting anything new lately. It’s just me, aching to get a few sentences written down before I fall asleep, or the pager goes off, or somebody wakes up from a nightmare.
Before I had kids, I knew that I didn’t want kids. I knew that they sucked the life out of you. I knew that their survival and their happiness necessarily came before yours. But then I had kids anyway, and it turns out I was right. What I didn’t know then was that I’d get sucked in so completely. Or maybe I did know that and my rational self just got overwhelmed by some weird biological mandate. But there it is. Before I had two kids, I had a co-worker who insisted that having “one is none”. Offended by her assertion, having worked so hard on having just one, I ignored this piece of wisdom. But it’s true. Having one child is nothing compared to having two. The co-worker in question had three, so I really should have listened.
So many things have occurred in the 4 months since I’ve had the peace of mind to enter anything coherent into this sphere that I’m not going to bore you with them. I’m not sure I can even recount them all. I can’t even remember to tell my husband the funny anecdote that I remembered on my way home in the car this evening that I can’t remember now. I might remember it three days from now, and, if I’m lucky, also be in a position to tell him, who, if the stars are aligned right, will not be also otherwise pre-occupied and will also think it’s funny.
Bundle I and Bundle II and I went to a birthday pool party today. Bundle I had already been to a pool party previous to this one for another school friend, and Bundle II, who has begun to speak in two or three word sentences, understood enough to get exceptionally excited that she was going too, three days before hand, so that she would frequently exclaim “poo pahtty!” which sounds suspiciously like “Poop! Potty!” and had us jumping up and running for the bathroom for a few days before we figured out what she was saying. When we actually got there, Bundle II had a perfectly good time, but Bundle I was clearly treating the event as a sacred occurence, and as I observed the children tightly circling the Birthday Girl as she opened her presents, I was struck by their seriousness. Bundle I has a birthday in April. She’ll be five, and it is a very serious event. As such, she has changed her mind about what kind of party she is going to have about thirty times. Bundle II, on the other hand, has very specific ideas about her existence but they change depending on what is in front of her that very minute. It’s hard to keep up. By the end of the day, my mind is in no shape to both take on complex thoughts and then render them into entertaining English sentences, preferrably with some kind of underlaying theme. So I post one or two clevery aligned words in Facebook accompanied by a pasted link, then I close the laptop and fall into an exhausted sleep until the morning, when I wake up to the sound of either an alarm clock or the sound of someone getting upset because they are tangled in blankets….and well, that’s really all there is.
You’d think I could separate these moments from my political beliefs or my ongoing love affair with sugaring season, but I can’t. We tapped out two weeks ago and then had a cold snap, and I could have waxed psychotically about February, but I didn’t. I should be able to give you an entire treatise on the Republican mysogonist attack on women’s basic health care by trying to deny access to contraception, but here’s the kicker– its been said already. It’s not that I have a hard time caring. It’s that I care too much, and the words to describe what I believe don’t even exist. About climate change. About income in-equality. About the food stream. About my daughters. About my life. About anything.
And that’s where I am. I’m not gone. I’m just not here, necessarily. Actually, I’m in way too many places all at once. And I’m definitely not promising anything.
Except to keep trying. Eventually, I’m sure, it’ll all come back together as brilliantly as it has schizophrenically scattered apart.
Wait and see, wait and see.