Conflicted. November 25, 2008

I’m finding it harder and harder to sleep each night these days.

I’m happy.

I promise.

 

But this time in my life is quite difficult.

I spend anywhere from 50-60 hours a week working. Not just pushing a pencil or typing reports. No, I wish sometimes. My day is labor intensive, emotionally and physically exhausting, exhilarating and trying.

I take care of a two year old on the Autism spectrum. Some days are amazing, filled with new words and discoveries, hilarious dance moves, gentle kisses and long naps.

And some days are filled with time-outs and tears and throwing food and banging his head and endless jibberish and hours and hours without even any eye contact from him. 

Some days I think I’m really making a difference in his life. Sometimes I think he has finally come to see me as a person, as someone to talk to and play with and love on and miss when they are gone. Sometimes he says such adorable things and my heart melts into puddles on the floor for his jumping pleasure, because on those days I would do anything for him.

But some days…some days he won’t talk, won’t look at me, won’t color without eating the crayons, won’t play blocks without trying to hurt his brother with them, won’t eat his food without spitting it out in my lap, won’t sit still for even a second. Those days I feel broken, weathered away, grinded down to a useless nub of a person. I come home on those days and swear at innocent people on the subway for walking too close and scream at my husband, who I love and appreciate more than anything in the world, for something like sighing at the wrong time, and i lock my dog in his cage for trying to lick my hand.

 

I can’t help but think this job is making me a bad person, and cold wife, and cruel owner, and neglectful friend.

And I don’t know what to do.

 

I have applied at 3 schools for the spring semester.

Still waiting to hear back from them.

Prayers and well-wishes and good vibes are welcomed.

Wish me luck. 

 

 

…I have so much more to share but I’m too tired. I’ll nap, and come back and share happier thoughts. Forgive me my negativity.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation. July 30, 2008

Day one was spent cleaning, organizing, and doing laundry.

There’s something about the smell of detergent and the feel of warm clothes fresh out of the dryer, ripe for the folding, that feels like home.

That I’ve made it. That I’m here, that this is my life, and I’ve made it mine, and I’ve done well.

It also makes the bedroom smell great.

I put up new curtains in the bedroom and living room.

I baked a pie!

I lit delicious scented candles.

I remembered how it felt to have the whole apartment to myself.

I watched a lot of lifetime tv.

On day two I met my husband in the city for a gigantic lunch of burritos and margaritas.

I deposited my paychecks in the bank and let my eyes grow big as dinner plates at the new balance. It’s never been so high! What a feeling.

I watched a lot more of lifetime tv.

I showered for as long as I could stand it, and pampered myself.

I have a tan, and that’s unbelievable.

We went to a small bar in Ft. Greene that has a patio and celebrated Kate’s birthday.

Someone spilled a drink on my new skirt, which made me sad, but I’m sure it will come clean.

I wore my hair down. …I never wear my hair down.

Day three, today, I made a mug of tea and watched Golden Girls and kissed my husband goodbye when he left for work. (I’ve done this every time, I’d never dream of letting him go without a smooch and telling him how much I love him and how proud of him I am.)

I’m going to clean the bathroom.

A photographer is coming at 1pm to take pictures of Steve McQueen, who is currently fast asleep on the loveseat. He looks like a deer when he sleeps, the way he tucks his paws up underneath himself. It’s quite precious. I can’t believe how enormous he is.

Tonight we’re going to see Joshua Radin play at the Blender theatre in Manhattan. I’m wildly excited as it’ll be my first time ever seeing him play, and I hope he sounds every bit as lovely in person as he does on his albums. I hope there aren’t too many screaming little girls who make me feel like an old married woman.

On a side note, if my sweetheart departs my life too soon, I’m going for one with an accent next time around. A real Andrea Bocelli type. Yes sir. But I love my sweetheart. Even though he always forgets his wedding band on the bathroom sink. Sigh. That man.

I have no idea what I’ll do tomorrow, but Friday my dear Casey arrives to spend the weekend with me.

Saturday we’ll play in the park and eat too much and get too much sun and teach Steve McQueen to catch a frisbee.

And Sunday is my twenty fourth birthday. I’m a big girl now.

My Favourite Chords July 30, 2008

They’re tearing up streets again,
they’re building a new hotel.
The mayor is out killing kids to keep taxes down.

And me and my anger sit
folding a paper bird
letting the curtains turn to beating wings.

Wish I had a socket set
to dismantle this morning;
just one pair of clean socks,
and a photo of you.

When you get off work tonight
meet me at the construction site,
and we’ll write some notes to tape
to the heavy machines.

Like: “We hope they treat you well,
Hope you don’t work too hard,
We hope you get to be happy sometimes.”

And bring your swiss army knife
and a bottle of something,
and I’ll bring some spray paint
and a new deck of cards.

Hey, I found the safest place
to keep all our tenderness,
keep all those bad ideas,
keep all our hope.
It’s here in the smallest bones;
the feet and the inner ear.
It’s such an enormous thing
to walk and to listen.

And I’d like to fall asleep
to the beat of you breathing
in a room near a truck stop
on a highway somewhere.

Well, you are a radio,
you are an open door.
I am a faulty string
of blue Christmas lights.

You swim through frequencies,
you let that stranger in,
as I’m blinking off and on
and off again.

And we’ve got a lot of time
(or maybe we don’t),
but I’d to think so…
so let me pretend.

Well, these are my favorite chords,
I know you like them too.
when I get a new guitar
you could have this one.

And sing me a lullaby,
sing me the alphabet,
sing me a story I
haven’t heard yet.