On
today's menu: Alphagetti with a lovely crisp and chewy baguette
from the Ace bakery.
<sigh>
<tuesday
august 12, 2003 - 10:30 p.m.>
This
afternoon I found myself wishing that a professional caregiver
would magically appear and move into our house while I took
off to some exotic locale, alone, with nothing
but a bathing suit, my journal, my camera, a toothbrush and
a credit card.
Parental
love is an interesting phenomenon. As a mother I am perfectly
capable of killing/throttling/beating the pulp out of someone
who hurts my children. I wouldn't even need a weapon.
I
wouldn't think twice about using my body to shield theirs
from a hail of bullets. I would leap into traffic to push
them out of the way of oncoming cars. I would easily attack
a rabid mountain lion who had one of them in its giant maw.
I would hang by my fingernails to save one of them from a
freezing current of deep water.
As
unlikely as these scenarios are, my point is that if there
was anything harmful happening to my daughters I would spring
into action without a second thought or concern for my well-being.
I would protect them from any evil and wrongdoing.
It's
immensely powerful, this desire to protect.... this feeling
of love towards another human being. But here is the crazy
thing. As great as this love is, sometimes I really wish my
children would leave me alone for five minutes when I really
need the time for myself.
The
last few days have been like this, but this afternoon in particular,
between 2-3:00 p.m., I honestly thought I would jump out of
my head.
They
refused to nap, refused to be quiet, refused to share, refused
to listen, and generally refused to cooperate with me or each
other.
I
admit, it was really me who needed the nap. I can practically
set my watch by the daily downward spiral of my bodily clock.
It comes around this time, every day. And if I'm hungry, mildly
dehydrated or lacking iron or caffeine than I'm the worst
witch of the west.
In
my anger and frustration I collapsed in Sarah's bed (read:
a crib-size mattress), and actually slept for a fitful
10 minutes while they hollered, banged around, dropped and
tripped over toys, slammed doors and jumped on my weary and
war-torn body.
I was as done as a doornail.
But
I after I got up I felt refreshed. Maybe it was because that
window had come and gone. I got up, made a coffee (in the
biggest mug I could find) ate an animal cookie and felt better.
My
point here, however, is that I truly do not know how stay-at-home
parents do it. How do they maintain their sanity and sense
of self? It's not just your children's meltdowns you need
to help prevent, it's your own.
Oh
yes, later on in the afternoon, Sarah peed in a cushioned
chair while I negotiated a diaper for her, Emma pushed Sarah
and she split open her lip, and just when I thought Sarah
had stopped putting non-edibles in her mouth I found her in
the living room with several marbles in her mouth.
When
I haven't been yelling, clutching my head in frustration,
preparing to launch into the heimlich maneuver, or saying
"do you understand what I'm telling you" over and
over again, I have been on the verge of having a heart attack.
Today
in the yard:
a
furry brown caterpillar. I can't believe he survived being
mauled by the likes of Emma. I think she may have, literally,
loved him to death.
a
snail in his shell
many
white moths
a
butterfly
a
cicada (something like this).
I heard rustling in a flower bed, and thought it was a small
bird. I looked to see this huge bug (although it's not nearly
as large as one would expect from the sound that it makes
when it's up in the treetops - think 10000 crickets singing
one long buzzing note). I watched it for awhile, and then
it let go of the stem and flew away, crashing into Sarah's
arm as it went. Hey, she said with her trademark
little scowl. You hit me? It cracked me up.
Today
in the house:
a
unique species of plumberus brownus overallus came
to inspect our sewage and waste pipes.
This
is an insurance issue. We got a registered letter in the mail
from our broker saying that we must have all the cast iron
plumbing replaced or they're going to drop us.
The
plumber ballparked 2-3K for the plumbing work alone. This
doesn't include the cost of the work that would be required
to fix the walls and ceilings after the plumbers were done
with them.
This
would would mean three days of noise, inconvenience, and strange
men tromping around the house. I don't know why I care. The
plumber that was here today has already seen the array of
Feminine Hygiene Products under the sink. I have nothing to
hide now. He knows more about me that almost everyone else.
I
think I am secretly concerned that I am going to find out
that someone has been rifling through my underwear drawer.
Anyway,
this plumbing issue, along with impending costs, is getting
me down.
Argh.
What a day.
