I just poured hot water from the kettle into my cracked green cup. Time for the nightly chamomile and and spearmint tea, the cap to every day, no matter how long, happy, or miserable. I'm sure the tea will soothe me tonight, but when I replaced the smudged kettle, I stopped a moment in the dark kitchen to put my head in my hand. Inside, I feel a nagging heaviness, the lingering consequence of an explosion in my chi this morning.
I'd taken a few minutes to write and when I turned around, the downstairs was a mess. The girls had been enjoying themselves, and proof of their jovial time was all around me. Every room had been tipped on its side, and though it was gorgeous outside, we'd not only have to dress and ready everyone, but then we'd have to clean up. And cleaning is soooooo boring. Though the girls are independent and can do a fairly good job cleaning, I've been picking up after children for almost ten years now (I can hear you seasoned parents scoffing). Sometimes I just want to stuff it all.
"Who wants to clean ALL DAY?" I demanded. "Not me! Let's get going here!" I asked Elspeth to tidy, but instead she did things like roll around on the ground and set her pencils in a pattern on the kitchen table. I could feel the tension building up inside, and I knew I'd be sorry later, but the wave hit me full in the face and I started spitting.
It was not a pretty sight, especially when my anger hit the utterly ridiculous repetitive stage and I stuttered, "Put it away! Put it away! Put it away!" Ad infinitum, and so on and so on. I heard Bea in the adjoining room wondering aloud, "Why she saying, 'Put it away, Put it away?'"
Not a pretty sight. After I'd yelled for a bit, I felt a headache creeping up the front of my skull. Not surprising.
And then it was all over and I was talking on the phone and showering and the girls watched Sesame Street and we all went for a lovely walk.
But I just hate it when I lose my temper. As always, I apologized. Seeing your child's face crumple in bewildered grief when you yell has to be the worst thing in the whole world. Why can't I be chill all the time, and controlled, and cool, and surf the top of every swell? Why do I end up under the wave, rolling, hitting the sand, my suit full of seaweed and my nose full of saltwater?
Maybe I should develop a coping twitch like the pitcher I'm watching at the moment. Somebody from Detroit. He's got a whole set of crazy little things he does before every pitch. Tug on the ball cap, spit, shrug, shrug again. The kids would see me twitching and they'd know to jump to attention. Watch out for Mommy. She's warming up. She's doing her thing. No yelling required.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
the day
Things I did on my & Bea's birthday included:
played racquetball (worked on my wrist action)
went for four brisk walks outside, two of those with two little kids smashed into one stroller, arms around each other, grinning into the other's face like they were on their honeymoon as we flew down one hill after the other
ate a delicious lunch at my friend, Sal's house, followed by a delectable chocolate cake
sized up the various boxes in our front hallway that arrived in the post
helped a bunch of first and second graders wipe the excess paper mache off newspaper strips to plaster their very first volcanoes
folded a load of laundry
found, in my mailbox, a glorious bouquet of purple and yellow flowers wrapped in an embarassment of pink tissue paper
paid our bills
chatted over the fence with a kind, bearded man whose three boys swung on our gate and exhanged warm hugs with a friend, T, in the windy parking lot of St. Ann's preschool
read a card from Sal that made me tear up a little. . .and opened some really beautiful stained glass butterflies
tried on my newest thrift store T shirt, Abraham Lincoln with florescent green earphones and a turn-table
proofed my short story, "Patron Saint of Trees" that will soon go to print at Southeast Review--hurrah!
dropped by two littlest daughters at Elesha's house for pizza, where I later found them snug on the couch with Elesha, looking at photos of China
sat in Dairy Queen booth, eating a huge vanilla soft serve cone while Bea covered herself in chocolate icecream and seven kids tore around, high on sugar
talked to my mother, my father, my sister, my sister-in-law, my brother, my mom and dad-in-law on the phone (six different happy birthdays!)
drank tea and chatted away a morning with my dear friend, Nancy Greenthumb
ate reheated ham and mashed potatoes on the couch with Martin while watching "Scrubs"
bathed all day in sunshine and the oceans of love washing over me from all of you, my family and friends, my whole world of goodness.
played racquetball (worked on my wrist action)
went for four brisk walks outside, two of those with two little kids smashed into one stroller, arms around each other, grinning into the other's face like they were on their honeymoon as we flew down one hill after the other
ate a delicious lunch at my friend, Sal's house, followed by a delectable chocolate cake
sized up the various boxes in our front hallway that arrived in the post
helped a bunch of first and second graders wipe the excess paper mache off newspaper strips to plaster their very first volcanoes
folded a load of laundry
found, in my mailbox, a glorious bouquet of purple and yellow flowers wrapped in an embarassment of pink tissue paper
paid our bills
chatted over the fence with a kind, bearded man whose three boys swung on our gate and exhanged warm hugs with a friend, T, in the windy parking lot of St. Ann's preschool
read a card from Sal that made me tear up a little. . .and opened some really beautiful stained glass butterflies
tried on my newest thrift store T shirt, Abraham Lincoln with florescent green earphones and a turn-table
proofed my short story, "Patron Saint of Trees" that will soon go to print at Southeast Review--hurrah!
dropped by two littlest daughters at Elesha's house for pizza, where I later found them snug on the couch with Elesha, looking at photos of China
sat in Dairy Queen booth, eating a huge vanilla soft serve cone while Bea covered herself in chocolate icecream and seven kids tore around, high on sugar
talked to my mother, my father, my sister, my sister-in-law, my brother, my mom and dad-in-law on the phone (six different happy birthdays!)
drank tea and chatted away a morning with my dear friend, Nancy Greenthumb
ate reheated ham and mashed potatoes on the couch with Martin while watching "Scrubs"
bathed all day in sunshine and the oceans of love washing over me from all of you, my family and friends, my whole world of goodness.
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