I love and I mean love getting Christmas cards. I want to see your kids smiling, in knickers, with bows. Show me taffeta, mall Santa. Spread your glitter and cheer, beckon me closer with your tiny print and your gay suggestions for frivolity in the new year.
I LOVE Christmas Cards.
I love Christmas letters. No one does them anymore but good lord how I love the chatty, newsy letters with tidbits about the kids, the jobs.
I thrill to the handwritten "ho ho ho" on the back.
I take no exception to the "b" list cards, the you sent to me because I sent to you. I choose instead to assume you sent yours out late this year.
I adore the Christmas card.
Adore it.
except...
Except the beach vacation photo.
No no, not the one where you all had the forethought wear Santa hats on the dunes of some gorgeous locale. That's clever. Appropriate. I mean the candid one. The one where the best picture you could find of your prepubescent child was them partially unclothed.
I have a friend who yearly uses the shot of her boys lounging on the beach.
Yearly.
and I mean EVERY year.
And inevitably, every year as I look at those shining boy faces I dont think "Oh my, how they've grown" or "Oh my, so cute"
Instead I think, just for a fleeting second, uncomfortably, that it all looks faintly NAMBLA.
Id say something but then who's the weirdo.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Ending the Year With An Ending
2011 I am done with you, and you of me.
I am sick of you, and you of me.
I am tired of you, and you of me.
and I'd like to move on.
Will we then? Part as friends? Take it as a growing year? Its not you it's me?
Sounds like a plan.
I am sick of you, and you of me.
I am tired of you, and you of me.
and I'd like to move on.
Will we then? Part as friends? Take it as a growing year? Its not you it's me?
Sounds like a plan.
Bring Back The Holly, and Mistletoe...
I'll admit I seem discouraged.
Depressed even.
Perhaps ungrateful.
Again, we go back to "first world problems".
Is something truly wrong?
No. Certainly not.
I think perhaps I'm just... dare I say? Lonely.
Really.
Amidst the daily interactions, the interplay of social networking, the hustle and bustle of errands, chores, and minutia...I'm missing...intimacy.
I'm missing connecting to people.
Good lord daily I talk to many and they to me. I see people - sitters, other mothers. My phone rings, my phone dials. So it's not that I crave adult conversation or companionship.
I'm craving authentic honest conversation.
Im craving commune.
Serious connection.
...with someone I know well enough to not worry where the conversation will end up.
Im tired of the banal. The park chit chat. The seeing every side of everything. good christ, cant we put a stake in the ground and express an opinion that doesn't wreak of acceptance ALL the time? Isn't anyone else tired of being pc, being polite, being fair? Could someone say, just once, that "Yes, Jenny IS kind of a douche and she made her own bed and her choices sucked." without the caveat of "Jenny had to do what was right for Jenny and Jenny's a good person, dont get me wrong" Can't Jenny, for the sake of a single moment in time, be a drug addict because she's weak-assed versus driven to it by her genetic disease and negligent parenting?
Sigh.
Im off track. Nor do I want to sit around being mean about fictitious Jenny.
Listen, Im a huge believer in wanting what you've got, and the key to happiness is not in envy, in accumulation, in desire. Im not wishing for my life to suddenly get bad - or worse for someone elses - so I can "feel", but I miss having a substantive discourse.
I suppose that why I like blogging, and reading.
My kingdom for depth. For substance. Even from myself.
I simply am missing my sister, busy after her separation with two jobs and a new partner. Im happy for her, I just miss her.
I'm missing my cousins, too far in miles to see casually, yet close enough to get to with only a little application. Not for an hour visit, but days. I'd love to sleep there, wake up there, knit with, clip coupons with, stay with. Have conversations about everything and anything.
I miss being around people I love and when I am with them, I'm sad that I'm torn 3 ways chasing small legs and dangerous tiny hands or wee lads that havent the slightest concept of physics.
I understand that some people cant have children.
I understand that my life is charmed.
I get it.
You dont need to tell me to appreciate it.
I dont need to tell myself to appreciate it.
But you can have tons of things, tons of security, and still miss human connection.
Ive never been acquisitive, not for things. Not for vacations, or toys, or ipods, or material gain.
But yes, I am greedy for closeness.
And I can't really get that 20% off at Kohls today.
Depressed even.
Perhaps ungrateful.
Again, we go back to "first world problems".
Is something truly wrong?
No. Certainly not.
I think perhaps I'm just... dare I say? Lonely.
Really.
Amidst the daily interactions, the interplay of social networking, the hustle and bustle of errands, chores, and minutia...I'm missing...intimacy.
I'm missing connecting to people.
Good lord daily I talk to many and they to me. I see people - sitters, other mothers. My phone rings, my phone dials. So it's not that I crave adult conversation or companionship.
I'm craving authentic honest conversation.
Im craving commune.
Serious connection.
...with someone I know well enough to not worry where the conversation will end up.
Im tired of the banal. The park chit chat. The seeing every side of everything. good christ, cant we put a stake in the ground and express an opinion that doesn't wreak of acceptance ALL the time? Isn't anyone else tired of being pc, being polite, being fair? Could someone say, just once, that "Yes, Jenny IS kind of a douche and she made her own bed and her choices sucked." without the caveat of "Jenny had to do what was right for Jenny and Jenny's a good person, dont get me wrong" Can't Jenny, for the sake of a single moment in time, be a drug addict because she's weak-assed versus driven to it by her genetic disease and negligent parenting?
Sigh.
Im off track. Nor do I want to sit around being mean about fictitious Jenny.
Listen, Im a huge believer in wanting what you've got, and the key to happiness is not in envy, in accumulation, in desire. Im not wishing for my life to suddenly get bad - or worse for someone elses - so I can "feel", but I miss having a substantive discourse.
I suppose that why I like blogging, and reading.
My kingdom for depth. For substance. Even from myself.
I simply am missing my sister, busy after her separation with two jobs and a new partner. Im happy for her, I just miss her.
I'm missing my cousins, too far in miles to see casually, yet close enough to get to with only a little application. Not for an hour visit, but days. I'd love to sleep there, wake up there, knit with, clip coupons with, stay with. Have conversations about everything and anything.
I miss being around people I love and when I am with them, I'm sad that I'm torn 3 ways chasing small legs and dangerous tiny hands or wee lads that havent the slightest concept of physics.
I understand that some people cant have children.
I understand that my life is charmed.
I get it.
You dont need to tell me to appreciate it.
I dont need to tell myself to appreciate it.
But you can have tons of things, tons of security, and still miss human connection.
Ive never been acquisitive, not for things. Not for vacations, or toys, or ipods, or material gain.
But yes, I am greedy for closeness.
And I can't really get that 20% off at Kohls today.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Oh blogger. I only turn to you in times of need.
Years from now, my children will (may) look back on these writings and think
"wtf Ma, did we ever DO anything??? Didnt you ever write about the good days?"
Assume the days are good.
I only write when they are bad.
Mommy was so Morose.
Here's what I miss:
I miss walking. I miss the feeling of striding so long that I felt like I might break into a run because my walk wasn't fast enough. I miss the feeling of my heels hitting the ground, my toes springing up, my arms pumping...swinging to Suite Judy Blue Eyes, a song no one before or after me ever considered a fitness song. I miss the feeling of being winded, of my abdomen tightening. I miss coming home happy, sweaty and just a bit frenetic.
Water water everywhere yet nary a walk around it.
I miss sleeping late. I miss sleeping. I miss the feeling of down duvets covered in cotton, windows open to the freezing cold, warm under blankets. Teeth-aching cold when feet hit the bare wood floor in the morning. I miss rolling over and star-fishing, feet hanging over the bottom of the bed. I miss cocoons of pillows. I miss sleeping alone, I miss sleeping as if I didnt have an ear open hoping my children were breathing in bed. Were safe. Were whole. Healthy.
I miss feeling pretty. Belted sweaters, knee boots. Different coats not just for seasons but days within seasons. Trenches, fleeces, cardigans. Colors besides gray and black. Vintage things, wools in patterns and colors unexpected but workable. Handbags. I miss red brocade David Meister asian inspired hand sewn dresses. I miss glossy hair, moisturized skin. I miss black flat front Martin Pants from Banana Republic. I miss being able to take off my sweater, my jacket, and not feeling ashamed. Uncomfortable. I miss turning heads.
I miss feeling a sense of accomplishment. I miss being buoyed up. I miss my old neighbors. I miss my friends, some close some far. I miss a lot of "what ifs". I miss the days of my imagination - beach days, romantic days, days spent with friends.
I miss sitting on the couch with Heather, watching bad tv. Starving b/c her anorexia left her with nothing in her house but babyfood and diet coke.
I miss my old apartment. My lemon yellow furniture, now repurposed into my son's bureau and my daughters dresser. I miss reading a book until 5am, then walking in the cold snap of morning to the train, seeking out another page. Going to the library taking out entire series of books just so I could read them in sequence.
I miss the security of only 10 months ago. When I thought the people I was close too would stay close and the people I pushed far were truly well rid of.
I wish for a lot of things.
Never have I had so much and so little.
It's like going backwards.
Learning a lesson I thought I learned long ago.
Replying a tape. A discarded cassette that you were sure would never be played again.
When will my mind shut up?
When will I look around and say tomorrow is now, and live it.
But I dont miss freedom. I dont miss my life before my family now. I have said it before and I say it now.
I used to wonder, at night, why god gave me the capacity to love if he didnt intend for me to use it. And then one day, they came.
I love my husband. My children. More so then I imagine. I might even love me too - although to be fair, I dont like me as much as I did. Tripped on yer own pride, eh? Ahoist on yer own petard?
I was meant to lead this life. My children were meant for me, thank you for the gift; and I was meant for them, "thanks a lot" they'll think "for the curse".
Someday I'll write again about all that's beautiful in my days, but for now, in the dark, radiator groaning, eyes blurry, head aching, wondering exactly who will wake up first in this game of sleepless house chicken, I feel like its an endless swim upstream..
Tomorrow I will smim. And the next day, and they day after.
But really, oh how I wish for sleep. Not eternal. Just 7 hours.
Years from now, my children will (may) look back on these writings and think
"wtf Ma, did we ever DO anything??? Didnt you ever write about the good days?"
Assume the days are good.
I only write when they are bad.
Mommy was so Morose.
Here's what I miss:
I miss walking. I miss the feeling of striding so long that I felt like I might break into a run because my walk wasn't fast enough. I miss the feeling of my heels hitting the ground, my toes springing up, my arms pumping...swinging to Suite Judy Blue Eyes, a song no one before or after me ever considered a fitness song. I miss the feeling of being winded, of my abdomen tightening. I miss coming home happy, sweaty and just a bit frenetic.
Water water everywhere yet nary a walk around it.
I miss sleeping late. I miss sleeping. I miss the feeling of down duvets covered in cotton, windows open to the freezing cold, warm under blankets. Teeth-aching cold when feet hit the bare wood floor in the morning. I miss rolling over and star-fishing, feet hanging over the bottom of the bed. I miss cocoons of pillows. I miss sleeping alone, I miss sleeping as if I didnt have an ear open hoping my children were breathing in bed. Were safe. Were whole. Healthy.
I miss feeling pretty. Belted sweaters, knee boots. Different coats not just for seasons but days within seasons. Trenches, fleeces, cardigans. Colors besides gray and black. Vintage things, wools in patterns and colors unexpected but workable. Handbags. I miss red brocade David Meister asian inspired hand sewn dresses. I miss glossy hair, moisturized skin. I miss black flat front Martin Pants from Banana Republic. I miss being able to take off my sweater, my jacket, and not feeling ashamed. Uncomfortable. I miss turning heads.
I miss feeling a sense of accomplishment. I miss being buoyed up. I miss my old neighbors. I miss my friends, some close some far. I miss a lot of "what ifs". I miss the days of my imagination - beach days, romantic days, days spent with friends.
I miss sitting on the couch with Heather, watching bad tv. Starving b/c her anorexia left her with nothing in her house but babyfood and diet coke.
I miss my old apartment. My lemon yellow furniture, now repurposed into my son's bureau and my daughters dresser. I miss reading a book until 5am, then walking in the cold snap of morning to the train, seeking out another page. Going to the library taking out entire series of books just so I could read them in sequence.
I miss the security of only 10 months ago. When I thought the people I was close too would stay close and the people I pushed far were truly well rid of.
I wish for a lot of things.
Never have I had so much and so little.
It's like going backwards.
Learning a lesson I thought I learned long ago.
Replying a tape. A discarded cassette that you were sure would never be played again.
When will my mind shut up?
When will I look around and say tomorrow is now, and live it.
But I dont miss freedom. I dont miss my life before my family now. I have said it before and I say it now.
I used to wonder, at night, why god gave me the capacity to love if he didnt intend for me to use it. And then one day, they came.
I love my husband. My children. More so then I imagine. I might even love me too - although to be fair, I dont like me as much as I did. Tripped on yer own pride, eh? Ahoist on yer own petard?
I was meant to lead this life. My children were meant for me, thank you for the gift; and I was meant for them, "thanks a lot" they'll think "for the curse".
Someday I'll write again about all that's beautiful in my days, but for now, in the dark, radiator groaning, eyes blurry, head aching, wondering exactly who will wake up first in this game of sleepless house chicken, I feel like its an endless swim upstream..
Tomorrow I will smim. And the next day, and they day after.
But really, oh how I wish for sleep. Not eternal. Just 7 hours.
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