The Beginning of Letting Go

I'm back to the blog. Why is this always such a long road for me? I spend my days thinking in prose with plans to write the definitive treatise on grief or saying good bye to my baby on her first day of school, but instead of writing I circle the computer, surfing Facebook, writing clever emails, and yelling at the Internet, feeling so uneasy that I won't even open my blog to have a look at what I last wrote about. A reminder of what I hadn't done. And here I am - finally - with more meta about writing. Or not writing. Maybe a treatise on writing about not writing is my niche. But let's have a go at the other stuff anyway.

I last wrote in May about the crazy my house was under. The summer in contrast, was calm and happy, laced together by my divine daughters dodging sprinklers, dock fishing and wave jumping. The summer between baby and big girl. Those beach towel cuddles growing ever less common. And then summer ended the way it does, with the first day of school. Up early, the girls put on their special first-day-of- school dresses and I braided their hair. We went outside for pictures; Mimi with her worried smile. And off we went. And a little bit of my heart stayed behind.

When I pick up Violet at school, she races into my arms and presses her cheek to mine, still fully surprised and thrilled to see me. It is the high point of my day. It is a primordial hug. It feels like the reason I was born. That's a lot for a 30 second hug, but this is my baby and she isn't home with me anymore and that makes me cry a little some days. She is so shy and I worried so much, but she's happy in school. She shares the stories of her day with such brightness and joy, sending my gut flip flopping with melancholy and satisfaction.

When I pick up Mimi at school, she flops her backpack and lunch at my feet, starts explaining why she didn't eat and can she go to the park and she's hungry and thirsty and hot and cold. Before all of this, I peek at her and see that serious face. So inside her own head. There are few running, leaping hugs from this one. It's the age maybe or the kid. She sat on my lap on the train recently and it occurred to me how rarely I get to hold her anymore. I also had a flash of missing Mimi the baby, the one that wasn't so complicated. The one that didn't need to clean up her own mess or figure out how to read and pronounce the, when th comes out zuh. The one that didn't get the impatient end of my patience.

This one sings school songs with her sister though and admits mistakes to her friends, inviting them to play after previously excluding them. She has held on to our secret mission to get frozen yogurt with a precious persistence, and she made a bookmark for a new friend, telling her she could change out the stickers or color it a different color if she wanted to. She's magic and mayhem.

I'm holding on and they are scrambling down my legs to go play. I push them out the door and they cry to stay home. Holding on and letting go.

Regina Spektor, rad singer, philosopher and writing muse, sings a deceptively peppy song about taking the best of what you are, loving it and then putting it into someone else's heart, and then doing it again and again. We listen to Regina while I cook dinner, which is a happy time of day for me, and as is often the condition with parenting, I don't think of Adam when I hear these lyrics (he who has so gracefully carried the best and the worst of me in his heart for 13 years), I think of Mimi and Violet.

I am home alone now. I am here to get a life of my own now. But their faces are always in front of me. I have tucked myself into their bursting hearts and now I wait.

Blame Greensboro

My poor blog. I've let it down so. It was there for me. It was called Back to Me! It was a symbol of my reemergence into grown-up life. A life that included things like writing and, um, watching TV and cooking bulgur. Well, it's a symbol for sure. A symbol that the shit that moves me isn't necessarily the shit that comes first. (Clearly, I've honed my exposition skills since my last entry.)

When I wrote those early entries so full of excitement about the year and the start back to being a whole person, someone who might someday work at something other than raising decent children, I didn't anticipate that it might be something else that derailed me.

Did any of you ever find yourself with a man so good that you forget how good he is? You forget about the same train he takes to the same job every day to sit at the same desk to bring home the same bacon every day. The bacon he fries up every Saturday so you can sleep in? Did you ever flip through pictures of your kids as babies and see that look on your good man's face? The one that says, damn, this is a great kid. I've got a man like that.

And he's trying to figure out how to leave his cleats on the field. And this maybe means leaving our comfort zones. And we talk about this everyday. And my head could explode. And it's hard to write.

I probably shouldn't chat up Adam's life anymore than I already have, but needless to say, having endless conversations about big change is a lot easier than committing to it.

Some facts:

Am I spoiled princess that likes my yellowfin and lattes? A little bit.

Am I also 34-years old with two children and no career to speak of? Check.

Am I also trying to figure out how to be more than that. Check. (Well, I've perfected aging. It's the career part that is supposed be to going somewhere.)

Do I obsessively worry about this, but actually do very little to change? Very much so yes. And so does Adam. Obsess that is. You see how the endless conversations might be, oh, endless.

Am I doing that right now? Of course.

Do I want to leave my cleats on the field too? Some days more than others.

Does this cause a domestic collide? Some days more than others.

I've got this kid and she's 4 and she's quirky as hell and she yells 'scramble!' when you least expect it and she treats minor injuries like impalements, but during the free dance portion of her ballet class, she totally lets go. She feels the music. She uses the whole space. She's understands how to release her body and just be. She's free.

Around our house lately we've had a tough time being free.

We want more. More time; more creativity; more doing; more space. Less of the same-o. A little more life in our life. And maybe Adam wants it more than I do. For today, at least. And it casts a shadow. And so we turn away from the conversation and proceed as we have. The life we have is pretty nice and we are damn lucky. But soon we are going to feel the music and let go. Soon. At the very least, I know we will talk about doing it.

In honor of my birthday and all the agita 'round the house, plus the general wackadooness and code-talking in this post, I think a little Dr. Seuss is in order:

If we didn't have birthdays, you wouldn't be you.
If you'd never been born, well then what would you do?
If you'd never been born, well then what would you be?
You might be a fish! Or a toad in a tree!
You might be a doorknob! Or three baked potatoes!
You might be a bag full of hard green tomatoes!
Or worse than all that.....
Why you might be a WASN'T.
A Wasn't has no fun at all. No he doesn't.
A Wasn't just isn't. He just isn't present.
But you..... You ARE YOU!
And now isn't that pleasant?

In blogging news (yes, I am reinstating this feature): IDOL!!!! And FNL, Gossip Girl and maybe sad, dying Izzie and George.

Mimi and Violet and Coach and Dan Humphrey, oh my

With the mister still out of town, my lazy blogging has veered towards blog-negligence. I endure though and instead offer small summaries of the goings on in my life and on television. This requires thinking and writing in tiny doses. Single motherhood has exhausted me, so tiny doses are good.

First, a shout out to my daughters. I'll admit that when Adam left for his trip I feared for my sanity, but they have been sweet and helpful and understanding that the schedule is a little different and Mommy a little more tired. Violet has slept with me most nights and even with her feet in my neck I love the softness of her sweet self there next to me when I lean over to hit the snooze button 5 times every morning.

This morning when I dropped Mimi off at school, she was already sitting at a table intently cutting out a shamrock before I had even left the classroom, and my heart ached a bit for the baby that she isn't anymore. I know she's only 4 and that later tonight when she is screaming in the bathtub, because a droplet of water splashed in her eyes, I will yearn for her to be older and self-bathing, but this morning I wondered where the time had gone.

I wish sometimes that I was more present for them in the present. We are always cleaning up or rushing out or getting ready for a meal, bath, bed, whatever the next thing is. I'm not a great player, so we watch a lot of movies and read a lot of books and I direct them to things that they can play with together. Lately we've been watching Beatles videos on YouTube, which has been fun. I just hope that they like the mother that I am. I also hope that maybe when they are in a different stage, I can like the mother that I am a little more or at least cut her a break. (sob)

That was heavy, dude. Let's move on.

Friday Night Lights

I am TWO recaps behind on FNL, for two reasons. One, time is not my friend lately and two, as much as I enjoy writing about the show, it either ends up as a straight up summary or my analysis ends up more or less the same every recap, because great as the show is, its themes don't change. It's about growing up, taking responsibility, messing up and fixing it — these things, when told well, are very moving, but difficult for me to write about in an interesting fashion every week. I think. Or maybe I just haven't had time! So, a quick run down. Street moved to Jersey, despite me telling him that it is too expensive. I found that whole story a little Pollyanna, but I loved him and Riggins male-bonding in New York.

Tyra's boyfriend turned out to be pretty suck. The pill-popping lead to the money-owing and the man-handling of Tyra and a lot of sweating. I still don't get where the baby mama from a few weeks back fits in? I guess he was lying about that and he is the father or she was trying to collect on someone else's behalf. I wish Tyra could get her shit together. I liked Coach in romantic mode, wooing Tami at the hotel, but I also liked him in protective mode, picking up Tyra and keeping the Rodeo junkie away from her. Coach is multi-awesome like that.

Saracen and his mom seem to be forging a nice bond, and despite her being a worthless mother for most of his life, she is at least there now, telling him to go to college and not give up his life for Grandma. I do love Grandma, though. She isn't trying to hurt Saracen and she raised him to be such a good guy. She's just scared. Saracen and Julie seemed to have settled into a nice post-coital romance. Looks like Coach gets an eyeful next episode though. I'm thinking that's going to be awkward for him.

Saracen is a wide-receiver* now and he and Riggins were making plays and getting it done in the play-off game. JD is showing his nerves a bit. I think that's a nice direction to take this kid. Anyone else think he is awfully little? I know quarterbacks aren't huge, but he is tiny. There is clearly trouble brewing between Coach and Mr. McCoy.

Riggins and Lila got into fight about Riggs going to college, but he stopped being a dumbass and appears college bound now. How is all of this going to come together if FNL gets renewed? I want more, but not if it means they all go to Dillon Tech together, 90210 style. But FNL: The Next Generation is weird too. Thoughts?

Gossip Girl

In theory, I'm so happy it's back! Woot! Woot! In practice, last night's episode was only a lukewarm lava bomb for me.

The Chuck stuff is so, so, so lame. I guess it was all a set up to bring back the scuzzy guy and show what a true heart Chuck actually, maybe, has. But does Chuck even go to school anymore? Does he even see his friends anymore? He's like 40 now. And boring. I got excited just seeing him sit and wait for Blair, hoping to get a little bit of pop to add to his fizzle, but nope. She's going to be with scuzzy guy now, because she is apparently embracing the fact that she isn't very nice. I appreciated her telling Serena not to try and convince her that she is actually a good person. She isn't particularly. And all of this Yale business has really brought out the worst in her and not even in a fun way.

The Age of Innocence is one of my favorite movies, so I found it cool(ish) that the senior class was putting it on as a play. The director storyline was just annoying, although initially I thought he might be Serena's new man and was pleased that he was so much hotter than greasy Aaron. He ended up being a dick and gay, so it doesn't matter.

Dan Humphrey and Rachel the Idiot Teacher were still getting it on and it was hot, but she was lame and I didn't understand how Dan Humphrey could go from someone like Serena to Rachel. I mean, brain-wise I suppose I see it, but we didn't have enough to work with in that department either. And she dressed so badly! I think I wore her professional version of mini, tank, cardi combo in like eighth grade. Dan Humphrey telling his dad to step back was pretty killer. I like a little bad-ass in my geek boys.

What else? Jenny still looks like a 25-year old Lower East Side bartender circa 1999. Nate and Vanessa have nothing in common, which is just shocking! Nate's assertion that Age of Innocence was 'heartbreaking' was about as convincing as Charles Isherwood actually liking the play the Gossip kids put on or Vanessa quoting Vincent Canby. Contrary to CW's belief system, there is something between neophyte and savant, be it film or literature related.

I'm intrigued by previews that show a possible Blair/Nate hook-up. I thought we had retired that couple. Also, word on the street is that Georgina is coming back. Not sure how I feel about that one. xoxo

This has run on too long for me to get into Idol business, except to say, no more dancing or Sally Jessy glasses out of you Danny Gokey!

In blogging news: When Adam gets home, I get back on track. That's the plan.

* The scene where Coach threw passes to Saracen as a try out for receiver was everything perfect about FNL. It was football; it was heart and it was funny.