Two Ninety Nine

what if it were my real job?

then would it be okay that they mindlessly eat breakfast during the second hour

of Tom & Jerry?

while I sit here nourishing myself on waffles and the laptop

surely, I can justify the $2.99 download

if it’s childcare for work

what about for unpaid work?

housework?

to read to eat my breakfast in peace?

for pursuing a passion?

multiply the corresponding level of guilt, divide by the amount of energy you have

raise to the power of what else is on your plate today

factor in cultural expectations

(well, your own impossible expectations of yourself, I mean)

and consider the iTunes bill so far this month

and how many hours have they played outside

well, there’s even more to it-this set of formulas I use to determine whether it’s okay

I couldn’t possibly explain it all to you right now

how quickly I run through the calculations while I slowly stir sugar into my coffee

and contemplate my next (immediate) move

open the laptop and push away the guilt

and that nagging question about the passion

(do I have enough?)

(how do I know?)

(really, is it okay or not, would somebody please tell me, this is the unknown in my equation still, to pay for childcare, to justify the expense, to plug them in or drop them off ignore forget
be someone without them
for a passion?
or only for work?

paid work, right?)

it’s only $2.99

only one morning

only my life

three bites in she’s insisting to be on my lap

dragging cut up bananas and tangled hair and her attention away from the screen

setting her plate between me and the laptop

going back for her napkin buys me another few lines

a short moment to switch gears
recalculating my next (immediate) move

The Difference

I looked her up online

she’s a real one

looking for clues to the how

how can she do it?

with three?

there’s a picture of her desk online

it’s just a slightly messy desk on hardwood floor in the middle of the house with evidence of
kid stuff all around

not a special office hideaway retreat space dedicated quiet clean

a lot like my desk, house, hardwood floors
kid stuff all around

so I have no excuse

well, there’s the MFA and the job teaching writing

and the long list of what’s been published already

that I lack

but we’re the same age, hair color, freckles busy distracted

the other one also had the degree professional official resume publications

plus unique upbringing, memoir worthy

interesting

and blonde

but then I found out about her by sitting across from her

at a training

because some of the work we do is the same, actually

with the same qualifications

but I’m not blonde or memoir worthy, so, there’s that

and they started a long time ago and focused on this more and some other excuses

wait, I have them here somewhere

they claim, they all claim, when I look them all up

the real ones

in my search for the clues to the how

to fight self-doubt and -loathing and fear and all the things I’m feeling

so that’s the same

and makes them seem not so special after all

but then what is the difference?

is it just the doing it?

I fear I don’t care enough

just an A minus B plus kind of care

like I always was in writing classes

just enough to want to write the first time but, oh, the editing

well,

yeah I know how important it is blah blah

I’ve told my students that, insisted upon it myself

but the editing is

a judgment

and boring like practicing piano

and living up to someone else’s standards of what it is supposed to be

maybe it’s all about the editing

committing to worrying about someone else’s standards of what it is supposed to be

that’s my sticking point

or maybe it’s the not worrying about someone else’s standards of what it is supposed to be

it could be that, the confidence

or is it just the doing it?

I Have Been Writing...

I have been writing
appointments and post-its, endless post-its
I have been taking the time to write notes to summarize meetings that take time away from me
I have been writing
how to spell certain words and what we're out of
I have been writing
emails to take care of things
the kids' names on labels
to do lists
I have been writing
lesson plans and html code and letters to the teacher
I recently watched a TED talk about writing poetry
I recently read an article about writing
I recently bought a book about how to encourage your child to write
I recently made a "book making kit" for my 6-year old
I have been writing
notes to remind me of things I'd like to write about and stuffing them in my grandmother's wooden secretary and my digital folders
I have been dreaming about writing
but
I have not been writing

- 04.01.12

When Everything is Overdue

I'm trying really hard not to cry at the fact that my last post was nearly a YEAR ago.


Which means a year's worth of writing (here or elsewhere) basically hasn't happened.  I have a stack of not-followed-through-on post-its to show for it, others that I went ahead and tossed because they made me too pressured, guilty, and sad, and yet more ideas forever swirling around in my head, mostly unprocessed, waiting to be freed somehow.


It's not a good place for me to be.  Having a brain that is next to impossible to shut off and letting it run rampant for a year leads to not only the frustration of the accumulation of unfulfilled creative ideas but also the stress, anxiety, and sadness of keeping too much inside.  I realize that it's really important for me to process everything- little crap that happens throughout the day and big stuff that hangs over me, too.  And I'm such a verbal processor.  I need to either talk it out or write it out and I've had a huge lack of both of those this year.  No time to write.  Not nearly enough time to talk over things with Backtire, family, and friends.


And on top of it I feel bad that I haven't made a point to carve out time for myself to write (or get a haircut or exercise or buy sorely needed clothes or or or or...).  So, I rarely put myself first and then I feel guilty about rarely putting myself first.  Isn't that great?  Beating myself up for that?  It's like kicking myself when I'm already down.  Then I feel guilty about feeling guilty about it because I know that won't help anything and then I'm headed very quickly down a spiral of inner craziness.


Instead, I'm trying to remind myself of the good way to look at it: I have been in the throes of Fox's first year on the planet and Turtle's first year of real school, doing my best to do right by them, manage the household, and keep up at work, too.  Plus all the junk that goes along with keeping a post-second-kid-mid-life-mid-career-exhaustion-how-did-I-get-here? marriage afloat.


I already look forward to the days when I'll look fondly back on all of this!


So, here I sit at a downtown coffee shop with free wireless, having forced myself to leave the house with laptop in hand and make myself sit down and write even if it's crap and even if I put four posts up tonight and not again for another year, just to try to get back in it again.