Long time no right
I have never allowed this many months to pass without writing. Never. Not one time since I started this almost 10 years ago.
Maybe because I was happy. Maybe because I didn’t think I had anything to say. Maybe I was just avoiding the idea of writing down things.
I didn’t forget.
There are so many things that are changing so fast. So many life experiences I am moving so fast far away from and simultaneously fast-moving towards. I look at friends with infants and toddlers and the reality that I will never again have one of those, never nurse a baby in the middle of the night who has a fever, never try to rationally talk to a 3-year-old barely formed person about the idea of ownership and being careful, never cleaning up pee or vomit out of someones bed or my own after cleaning their bed, never teaching anyone to tie their shoes, pick out their own clothes, wash someones hair or brush their teeth. No lap time story time, no swings and parks and playgrounds and no carrying a thousand snacks and drinks in my purse. No small people who fit perfectly into my arms sleeping next to them in bed.
It might be easier to forget about that, that time but there are so many things that will always remind me. My children still smell delicious usually except for the boy’s room-it smells like feet of dead people and we just try to keep the door closed and sometimes the stink slips out from under his door. The girl is like a hurricane all whiney wind and debris everywhere and sometimes it is easier to just stay a safe distance away.
Despite the individual repellent qualities of my children something draws me to them despite myself and innate self-preservation. The compulsion of motherhood is confounding. I keep thinking I am at the end. This is it but it’s just the constant penultimate. Its like ground hogs day the movie, the same day compelled to live over and over again like bad karma. Or good karma.
The key, I am finding is that I am not relieving my own life over and over in the lives my children but side by side with them as they carve out a life of their own and knowing that pulling them into my lap, closing the door and keeping them close won’t change a damn thing.
I seem to have so many lives I have to live. Woman, friend, wife and mother. They don’t fit together and work together. Living your life is not like riding a bike. Well, its like riding a bike but the bike has 3 seats and 4 sets of peddles and you have to do it all at once or you just don’t get up the hill.