And you sit here in your freezing house because you ran out of oil and the wood stove only heats one room and is so much work to keep going and the kids are miserable and cold as are you sleeping fully clothed, shivering, not remembering the last time you were warm and the kids ask "why can't we all just live together?" and you cry quietly in the bathroom for all you have lost and the poverty that has crept in to your life and another night of pasta for dinner and the endless oddjobs that you do just to make ends meet when they really aren't meeting at all and your husband, cause we are not divorced yet, sits in your house with your name on the mortgage papers entertaining girlfriends in your dream home in your fancy bed that you bought together because of the painful sciatica you had in the 2nd, 3rd and 4th pregnancies, the bed where you conceived children, the sheets you bought, the blankets your grandmother knitted, the house you made a home, the chicken coop left barren and empty, the yard you tried to beg into submission all left unattended and you brought this all on yourself as you sit lonely and stewing as you sent him away with best wishes and intentions just a few days ago to pursue his life and you think this really sucks.
rant off
I've been holding back.
I've been holding back. I have family, and ex-family-in-law, and friends, and foes, and lovers all reading this thing.
This fucking thing. This blog. It is the dinosaur on my back. I love it so much. The outlet to write. To spew forth. Yet, i have lost it. And tonight. Tonight i am pissed off.
I am pissed off at all the women in their thirties and forties who feel the need to be all boobed up and tightened and highlighted. The men who make this misgiven, mistaken beauty persevere. Ugly eighties porn has become the norm for women who are in their most beautiful, confidant bodies they will ever have search for twenty-something.
Divorce's become desperate, men and women, to go back to who they were in their twenties. Who really wants twenty back? Uncomfortable, unsure, in every single thing you do. Will i succeed? Am i good enough. Am i strong enough. Can i face this world.
In your thirties, whatever your circumstance, you begin to realize that this is it. This is what life is. You can let it all in. Embrace it. The kids, the job, the sex life that matures and becomes boring – ready to be renewed in a thirties body.
And despite whatever i have said – divorce sucks. It really fucking sucks. Starting again. Initially titillating. Quickly becomes another job. Another stress.
And you see yourself out there. And you fancy yourself different. But soon, you are worrying about a life alone. You are not what you thought you might be. You are just another single mother. In a long line of single mothers.
And i am pissed off to be censored, by me, by you.
The thing is i am really ready for spring. I know i am a little wimpy but it snowed all week here and yesterday we woke up to 30cm of snow on the ground. A winter day. In spring. The kids and i all looked out the window and we didn't even want to go out and play. We are tired of the cold, the damp. Our garden is sitting ready to plant. New raised beds built. Plans made.
Winter is tough for most people. It is hard for me. I have spent the last six months going through the motions of a life. A constant trudge through the guck. Working, sleeping, parenting. Thinking that "it will get better, it has to get better." Spring has sat on the horizon with it's promise of new beginnings. Winter was the segue between married and divorced. The long intermission in which we paced back and forth waiting for the second act to start.
The long period of denial has passed. Now i sit alone on the weekends. Part of me relishing the peace and quiet. The moments without children and interruption. Part of me lost without the security blanket of motherhood.
I am terrified of the future now. On the far side of my thirties life is starting again. I have to figure out how i am going to support myself and my children for the rest of it. Will i ever own a home again? Will i find a career? Will i spend the rest of my days trudging through small menial jobs, working for the weekend, for the paycheque. Chained to servitude.
I enjoy being a waitress. I like the escape that the restaurant provides. Completely immersing myself in the stories of the night. The craziness of the service industry. In a strange way it fuels my need for human contact, to be up and alive at night, to create small memories for people. Spending long moments at tables while i make tableside caesar salads and flamb??s. Chatting away about celebrations and the marking of special events in lifetimes.
I wish it was an occupation that was more accepting of maturity. Female servers are rarely in their 40's. It is a profession built around youthfulness and beauty. It makes me cringe to think, for the first time in my life, i am getting old. The thought of finding another job or going back to school makes me weary. Bone tired.
This week my kids are on their second week of spring break. I am running a spring break camp at the school. All five of us are dragging our sleepy butts out of bed at 7am every morning to come and play for ten hours a day. Many parts of me are wondering what the heck i was thinking spending long days taking care of 12 children.
But, when we roll in to bed completely exhausted at 8 pm and sleep soundly i know we are having great days.
It is a good reminder for me, looking after other children. It reminds me that my children are just as happy, and in many ways happier, than other kids. They have their little quirks. But they are filled with challenges, love and activity. They are great little humans who are confidant about their places in the world.
There are better ways we could spend our break. We could be in hawaii. But this place? The school they are completely comfortable at, surrounded by friends and wide open fields? This is perfect childhood bliss for them.
As i was wandering through my day with the kids i realized how much i have missed this year. I have been so tired, so sad, so overwhelmed, so busy. In many ways this year has been a blur.
If you ask me about BlogHer last summer i have barely a story, barely a memory.
I looked at eliza today, really looked. And my god that girl has grown. She has blossomed. She is reading. She is growing in to that red-headed feisty clich??. She stands her ground with me more than any of my other children. She dares me to be angry with her while smiling that freckle-faced dimpled grin that she was born with.
And what happened? What happened to the year. I have memories here and in photos. But, my mind draws a blank when i try to think of little moments.
I remember her as a baby and a toddler. All chubby goodness and giggling grins. Days and weeks in the hospital with her. Allergies and asthma. Failure to thrive. Worry.
And here she is now. Today. Such a beautiful, wonderful little girl. My shadow, my reflection. It is so difficult to show her how much i love her when she drives me so crazy with her confidence.
And it makes me a little sad to see them growing so quickly. The threads of babyhood and toddlers long broken. Me so wrapped up in my own pain and change, missing the little nuances.
I need to slow down again. Life is here, right in front of me. I need to wake up. I need to stop beating myself up about everything i don't have and can't do. I need to be present again before it is all done.