Domestic Monastery
In the morning I get up first. It's always too early in my mind, but actually I'm always about 15 minutes behind. I turn on the computer to soothe me into the day with emails and news. I never feel soothed. After I take my shower I feel better but I'm still not really ready. I wake the reluctant kids and suddenly it's mayhem and everything moves too fast. My level of crankiness soars as I'm trying to get the kids dressed and ready to go downstairs to have breakfast. The bus pick-up is always looming. The more I try to be patient and sunny the closer I feel to a meltdown. Veronika is always in her own world, needs to be told everything twice. I usually end up dressing her, because the alternative is to start yelling. I don't want to yell. I guess she will just need a maid when she's in college. Ivan is more present but he is two: I want dis shuh-wt, not dis pants, no dis socks... etc. Only the baby doesn't complain about getting dressed. Once we are downstairs and they are sitting down and eating I relax a little. Fifteen minutes later I start another round of herding to get Veronika (and Ivan, he has to come along) dressed to go to the bus stop. By the time I'm back I'm beat. It's been almost two hours.
I turn on the TV for Ivan and put the baby down. I go upstairs to make a list. This is my favorite time of the day. It's relatively quiet. It's short. It's the only time of the day where I feel somewhat in control and am firmly anchored in the illusion that everything will go well. After that the onslaught of physical labor, organizational demands (bills! phone calls! appointments!), conflict resolution (but I had it first!) and oh-how-much-do-I-hate-it meal preparation reduces me to a mere survivor at the end of the day.
This is not news, I know. It's just what I do, what tons of people do. It looks like nothing much. It's a lot of work but it doesn't look all that significant. It doesn't even feel significant to me, because it's so repetitive, whatever is done is undone the next day. True, what you have to show for at the end are your grown children, hopefully good people, hopefully successful etc, and it may seem that that would make a difference in the infinite string of tiny repetitive moments... but not really. It is the ultimate goal of course, but its effect and shine dissipate when you find yourself at the beginning of yet another day, facing these little people who expect everything from you, seeing all the tasks in front of you, knowing that most likely you will not talk to any other adults while you do them and knowing that nobody will have seen what you did and how much self-control it took.
I think the loneliness is the worst. We depend so much on who we are to someone else. While it's wonderful to be a mother, I can't turn into this role permanently. But it's so hard when 99% of your day it is who you have to be. At the end of the day it messes with my head. I shrivel up mentally. I am cranky, dissatisfied, drained. In those moments when I feel I can't do this... I can't empty the dishwasher anymore. I can't clean up these crayons. I can't go and find out who hit who... I summon up all my strength, all my awareness. This is today and this is me and these are my children and all I have is now and I will give up this minute and do what has to be done out of love, which I don't feel right now, at all. Sometimes this doesn't involve much doing, but just surrendering. This process ends up being my big daily drama, my inner fight, my scrambling to stay the course, to remind myself what I believe life is about and that in the end God will not ask me what I did but how much I loved.
So I know that it's the "how" that makes the difference, not the "what", but I always feel like I'm just now realizing it and only just attempting to put it into practice. This is not the kind of job that makes you feel accomplished on a daily or even yearly basis. It's not a job, where you check off a list or which you could summarize to give to a potential employer... "Made about 300 dinners a year, improved taste by 34.5% over the course of 8 years, accomplished keeping everyone alive and not hungry in the process; Implemented new disciplinary measures, made children unhappy short term, long term results are as of yet unknown, will provide update in 13-15 years..." Most of what I do is invisible, it is not quantifiable, it can't be measured. Only I know what it took. I can't even really describe it or "tell" someone. This loneliness is the hardest. It's not just not having someone around, it's the nature of the job: seemingly simple tasks on the outside, incredible spiritual demands on the inside. And I fail so spectacularly at both. Those are the moments where I wish I could just run away. I can't turn myself into a cleaning and nurturing machine (one solution) nor am I capable of turning washing dishes into loving joyful worship like a monk (other solution). Instead I send angry emails to my husband and eat chocolate.
My biggest accomplishments are not big finished projects, but more things that need to be described in clunky sentences like: "Today I did not yell at Ivan when he spilled his juice twice." "I took the kids to the park on foot, which was good exercise (also for the dog) and saved gas and also I didn't really want to go, but I did it anyway." or "I went to sleep on time because I didn't read my Time magazine even though I wanted to, but it made a difference because I wasn't as cranky and it made the kids be in a better mood." These things are a big deal. They are also not really explainable. This is the enormous challenge of my daily life, making myself available, making conscious choices, fighting my anger and frustration. On the outside it just looks like a bunch of housework and babysitting. But in reality it's my shot at making a difference in the world and creating a meaningful life for myself. And sometimes when I'm having feelings of futility and invisibility I think of my friends, of the other mothers who do the same things and feel just the same and I make myself one with them for a moment, because I do see them and I know it's not for nothing.
Posted at 09:30 PM on October 27, 2008 | Comments (10)Universal
"With all that he never succumbs to dispair. Every so often he'll snap out of a doze, gaze around at whoever happens to be hanging around his chair, and sigh in his New England accent, "Ahn't I fohtunate, having you all home like this." Having never been exactly what you'd call a demonstrative family, we bask in this reflected warmth, emboldened to let out all the stops. We have always depended on him, but now he is gripping our hands, grabbing our shoulders accepting our help. The effect is transformative. We, who tend to communicate by ridicule, blurting out, "I love you, Dad" - right in front of everyone. We, who have always prided ourselves on our sarcasm, are reporting back to each other on his every word and move, in voices hushed with reverence. When we look at each other, tears flow so spontaneously it's like breathing: after a while, we don't even bother to wipe them anymore."
Posted at 04:47 PM on October 26, 2008 | Comments (1)Mount Desert Island, Maine
(Click on the photo to view album)
Ten days ago we came back from our best family vacation so far. It would've been easily done since it's probably our second (not counting visiting relatives), but it was so spectacular in terms of experience and relaxation and lack of problems that it will be hard to top in the future. We had rented a cabin in Maine, close to Bar Harbor deciding to go in fall mostly because of the off-season rates, but I must say it was probably the best time to go regardless.
I feel completely inept to write about it besides relentlessly repeating myself... "It was really really GREAT. SO GREAT. No, you must understand, it was GREAT!" I will spare you, but you are invited to look at a selection of photos which was narrowed down to 49 from uhm, 400. I wrote commentary to most of them, because it was the easiest way to remember it all. If you view it with the slideshow the photos are more impressive, but you won't see the writing, so basically you have to watch them twice. Cheating is ok as long as you comment enthusiastically.
Posted at 02:26 PM on October 22, 2008 | Comments (4)