I haven't told you the whole truth. I have another job, of sorts. I'm a private early child care provider, if you want the report for the resume. I'm a babysitter, if you want it plain.
Twice a week I'm a SAHM, two kids, both mine, 3 years and 9 months. Once a week I've got my two and a third, a boy, 2 years old. The other two days I've got four kids in all, ages 0, 1, 2 and 3. Three boys, the oldest mine, and then my baby girl.
The day I realized I was super badass is the day I realized my mom, mother of six, a SAHM for 20+ years, never had this many kids, so close in age, home at the same time.
It is, without a doubt, the hardest thing I've ever done.
So, Occupy Wall Street? Anyone else amazed and hopeful? I walk through my house, wiping food from the hardwood floors with generic Clorox wipes, putting random CDs on -I let my 3 year old pick from his daddy's CD shelf and hope the swear words aren't audible, being not-a-music-person myself- and dancing with babies, one on each hip, and I hope for the future so fiercely it hurts.
I just believe in humankind. For no good reason, against all odds, I just believe in us. We're mostly good. We're working our way to better, even though it doesn't always look like it.
I mean, what's the alternative? Babies and dancing can't be in a world without hope.
The leaves are changing. What does time mean when you're no longer shackled to a narrative? My present story has been written down on paper, but it seems I haven't quite caught up to it yet. Or maybe it to me. Things speed up and other things slow down. Time is going faster than ever -can it really be mid-October already?-, but allowing things to unfold at their own pace -routines, and the suppleness needed to navigate the days gracefully- is excruciatingly slow. I'm bad at it.
I'm bad at allowing things to unfold at their own pace. I'm impatient, mostly with myself, but it slips over onto other people too.
And yet I keep choosing things that take time to unfold. Pursuing paths that require patience that I can only hope resides in my toes I'm digging down so deep.
We try, and we fuck up. And then we try again.
There's only ever hope and trying.
Any other way, the story ends.
And this feels so much like a beginning.
Twice a week I'm a SAHM, two kids, both mine, 3 years and 9 months. Once a week I've got my two and a third, a boy, 2 years old. The other two days I've got four kids in all, ages 0, 1, 2 and 3. Three boys, the oldest mine, and then my baby girl.
The day I realized I was super badass is the day I realized my mom, mother of six, a SAHM for 20+ years, never had this many kids, so close in age, home at the same time.
It is, without a doubt, the hardest thing I've ever done.
* * *
So, Occupy Wall Street? Anyone else amazed and hopeful? I walk through my house, wiping food from the hardwood floors with generic Clorox wipes, putting random CDs on -I let my 3 year old pick from his daddy's CD shelf and hope the swear words aren't audible, being not-a-music-person myself- and dancing with babies, one on each hip, and I hope for the future so fiercely it hurts.
I just believe in humankind. For no good reason, against all odds, I just believe in us. We're mostly good. We're working our way to better, even though it doesn't always look like it.
I mean, what's the alternative? Babies and dancing can't be in a world without hope.
* * *
The leaves are changing. What does time mean when you're no longer shackled to a narrative? My present story has been written down on paper, but it seems I haven't quite caught up to it yet. Or maybe it to me. Things speed up and other things slow down. Time is going faster than ever -can it really be mid-October already?-, but allowing things to unfold at their own pace -routines, and the suppleness needed to navigate the days gracefully- is excruciatingly slow. I'm bad at it.
I'm bad at allowing things to unfold at their own pace. I'm impatient, mostly with myself, but it slips over onto other people too.
And yet I keep choosing things that take time to unfold. Pursuing paths that require patience that I can only hope resides in my toes I'm digging down so deep.
* * *
We try, and we fuck up. And then we try again.
There's only ever hope and trying.
Any other way, the story ends.
And this feels so much like a beginning.
When you care for 4, do the times with 2 then seem easier? That could be a benefit, as I'm still finding 2 a lot more work than 1!
ReplyDeleteI went to Wall Street with R. and a couple of other parents and young children. Very inspiring.
The days with 2 seem like an unimaginable breeze! Like I hardly have to do a thing for just 2. A few people told me, when I was just starting this, that after a certain point it stops getting harder. Like: 4 is easier than 2! You just get used to it! Maybe I'm just not used to it, but 4 is really, really hard! The mealtimes are the hardest. The rest of the day is fairly manageable, but meals are super difficult!
ReplyDeleteIf I loved this post any more, I would be forced to drive to NY--charging gas on a nearly maxed credit card all the way--to hug you for it. this says so much of what I believe about the world. Especially this:
ReplyDeleteI just believe in humankind. For no good reason, against all odds, I just believe in us. We're mostly good. We're working our way to better, even though it doesn't always look like it.
I mean, what's the alternative? Babies and dancing can't be in a world without hope.
Thank heavens there is you in the world to say these things. You make me feel less alone.