December Eve

Time keeps moving. Not sure if it is forward or backward. All I know is there are still little lines around my eyes, a few more than there were six months ago, which is when I last posted something here.

Yes, I am certain I will retire 20fingers20toes. Its time came and went, pretty much tied to when I was home full-time with my once small, non-English speaking toddlers. This went on for 2-3 years before I shipped my little ones off to pre-school, then elementary school and I started working a 40 hour per week job. I am glad to have a job. I was glad to have had the time to work with my growing children when we were running the marathon that is very early childhood. But those chapter book reading, amazing art creating, singing, fighting, drama filled 8 year-olds don’t need me writing about them and their trials and tribulations. There aren’t enough hours in the day for such things once homework and dinner and baths and books and all of it must be completed. And I am not desperate to connect with the outside world regarding child-rearing and the collapse of my identity like I was back in 2008. That old identity is dead — long live whatever seems like the current one until something else changes the trajectory of this one. Control is an illusion, and I have no illusion of being in control of anything. I’d say there was a solid three-four years of focus on 20/20, here with you. I’m okay with that. Thank you for that connection.

Stop that Chattering!

beenie_blocks.jpgDear Beenie,

I put you and Mimi down for your nap over an hour ago. First, you wouldn’t go to sleep because you pooped your pants. Okay, I can handle that. I came up, told you I loved you, changed your diapers, cleaned up the poo, kissed your sweet face and gave you more books to look at to help you go to sleep. And still, you are awake. I even brought you a small, supplemental bottle to take you through that transition into your very important nap. I can hear you now. Da, da, dat? Dud beh, beh? Ah ba ba. You’re probably pointing to the items in your room. Naming them, being brilliant. But the only thing I want to hear right now is the hum of the refrigerator, the sound of my fingers typing on my laptop keyboard. You need to sleep or you will be a crankity crank crank later today. Not to mention that your sister, Mimi, is peacefully slumbering in her crib, next to yours, somehow blocking out your no-nap rants.

I do appreciate your genius and quick absorption of information, readily applying it to your daily life. I really do. I am grateful to whatever force in the universe that brought you and your sister to me. You two are the best people I know, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your mama. But right now you are kind of driving me crazy. I need to have some quiet time to think. If you could PLEASE go to sleep, even for an hour, I would feel much better.

Days with no naps are hard, and I want to have a regular day, not a hard day. I want to write emails, research possible writing jobs and arts grants, drink more coffee. All by myself.

I will welcome you and Mimi back into the fold of the conscious, but you need to pay the small price of taking a nap first. I’d happily do it for you, and would like you to reciprocate for your poor, old, tired mama who is covered in the yogurt I gave you and your sister for brekky. I love you. Now go to sleep…