Blog Archives

Sunday, January 28, 2007

Rants and Sunnier Days

I have been a bear the past few days.

If I could step away from myself, like a child trying to escape its shadow, I would.

Whether it's the weather, which has been gray and cold, getting our hopes up with a few random flakes but then fizzling out
or that time of the month when everyone and everything is too much to process
or just me
I don't know.

I was driving along today, gloriously alone
(having driven everyone away, I presume)
and thinking about motherhood.

The pressure to do it all and look like you are doing it well.
The pressure to make your kids look happy enough
so that people believe part A.
The pressure to look like you are enjoying it all, all the time, lest someone sic social services on you because you look like you might eat your young.

Let's face it, parenting in general and motherhood in particular, is not all fun and games.
Sometimes it feels like the last hours of exam week, when you haven't had any sleep and you want nothing more than to find a hole somewhere and sleep for the next 48 hours.
You're hungry, you're tired and you are just plain depleted.

If you are lucky, then you marry someone who is the Ying to your Yang.
Up when you're down.
Encouraging when you are flagging.

The See to your Saw, so to speak.

Well, our See Saw done broke.

Rob and I have spent the weekend playing Hot Potato with our kids, tossing them back and forth in an effort to not be caught with the group when the music stops.

(oh my god, I just read that, I can't believe how awful it sounds!)

I think they are none the worse for wear.
We did some things together and tried to also give each other a break.
We went ice skating, I took the kids to the bookstore, Rob took them out to ChickFilA.

Hopefully, I can pull up my big girl panties (I think the elastic on this pair is just plain overstretched!) and get a grip going into this week.

I wish you a great week as well.
Oh, and PS-
If you are a reader, or a lurker, post a comment or send me an email so I know you are out there!

Dreaming of Sunnier Days


Richard Lewis said...

Michelle and I don't play hot potato with our dog, Hviezda. The arrangement is simple enough: I take care of her when I'm home, and when I'm not (as I haven't been mostly for several months attending school in New York), she grudgingly does.

Nothing is ever that simple, however.

The fact is, Hviezda is a welcome leftover from a first marriage gone awry, a happy-go-lucky, headstrong and loving dog who helped greatly to ease the pain until I met Michelle.

Considering that bit of history, it was no surprise that Michelle didn't eagerly partake in Hviezda daycare. Hviezda was, after all, my dog, with whom I communicated in Slovak of all things, which must have been really annoying to her.

Michelle tried of trying to pronounce Hviezda's name and started calling her Louie. She dedicated a song to Louie, which I thought was really thoughtful. Until I heard the lyrics.

"I'm going to kick Louie in the head/
Kick her 'till she's dead/
Kick her in the head."

My wife has a sick sense of humor.

I was annoyed by the song at first, but I gradually warmed up to it, because it had a catchy tune, and, well, I know Michelle, and she wouldn't act on her impulses, no matter how strong they may be.

Still, she had an uneven relationship with Louie that vascillated from a blithe disdain to ill-concealed contempt. This began to worry me over time, that maybe these ladies would never be able to coexist.

But I'm here to tell you that a funny thing happened along the way. Michelle and Louie became friends. They got to like each other. Michelle grew fond of Louie. She took her on long walks. She played with her, petted her. She held her tongue when Louie did the domestic equivalent of Dumpster diving. The relationship blossomed.

Until yesterday. Louie snuck some chicken bones from the counter, developed bowel problems and pooped two piles in the front foyer. She's nearly 12 years old.

Michelle gave me an earful. I think we're back to square one. And I may be heading home sooner than I think.

Gina said...

Ah Leeann... hot potato is just part of parenting. At least you guys actually did stuff with your kids. Our version of hot potato is a lot closer to benign neglect. Bob watches tv, I read, we both zone out until one of the kids needs us. Then we have a staring contest war to determine who is going to have to stand up and be a parent.